TINA Blake is messing with me. I’m convinced of it. He lets me in and disappears into the shower. I can hear the water running in bursts, can imagine him under the stream of the showerhead all too well. Glistening muscles come to mind: pecs, firm and rounded; water sliding down a well-formed chest to brush against abs… I’ve got to get my mind off that before I go any lower. No—too late now. I can feel my body heat and I sigh, trying to imagine that the sound of water means anything other than Blake naked a scant few yards from me. Like…baby elephants playing in a stream, splashing each other. Really ugly baby elephants. It works, kind of. At least I’m no longer flushing by the time the water cuts off. He comes out wearing jeans and…and… Nope, that’s it. Jeans. I wad up an advertising circular that’s sitting on his desk and throw it at him. “Put on a shirt.” “Am I distracting you?” He smiles, like he knows that he is. “Yes. You’re going to catch a cold, idiot, and then where will you be?”
