Two hundred and thirty pounds of amorous ape pressed her backward over the desk, sending papers and ledgers flying in all directions.“Come on, Stevie”—his breath was enough to make her faint—“lay those lips on me, honey.”“Ah . . . ah,” she couldn’t breathe. Her right hand slapped the desk behind her in a frantic search for something to hit him with. The adding machine fell under her grasp. Not the adding machine, Stevie! She kept searching, and gasping.“Sweet, sweet, Stevie Lee,” he crooned, his hand groping up her leg.That did it. She went back for the piece of office equipment, wrapping her fingers around the side and swinging it up in a desperate arc. But before she could connect it with his head, he released her. Stevie slid to the floor with a thump. Kong was less than a second behind her.Pulse racing, lungs burning, she stared at the mountain of man sprawled on the floor in front of her. What in the world had gotten into him? And what in the world had happened to him?
