Fulfillment

By

Kimberly Zant

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 2

© copyright by Kimberly Zant, March 2008

Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, March 2008

ISBN 978-1-60394-139-6
New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 3

Chapter One

I suspected my belly was beginning to look like origami. It tied itself into another
knot as I watched Christian ‘Chris’ Jones weave his way to the bar for yet another drink.
He wasn’t a drinker, ordinarily, which made it abundantly clear that he was even more
disturbed by our plans than I was.
Or maybe not. I was pretty stressed about it myself.
He was my best friend, but we hadn’t exactly hit it off when I’d first gone to work
for Mueller Enterprises the year before. Chris suffered from what I called optical-
rectumitus—he had a shitty outlook on life—worse even than mine. I supposed, once I
got to know him better, that he had every reason to. He was gay. Life had been hell for
him just because he was ‘different’. It didn’t help that his life partner, whom he’d been
with since college, had just recently dumped him for a younger man.

Oddly enough, it was his jaded view of people in general that had drawn me to

him. He was critical of everyone and that just aroused a need in me for his approval. I
supposed part of it was because he reminded me of my favorite uncle, the one person in
the world I adored more than anyone else. A person had to be exceptional to earn his
approval and I wanted to be exceptional.
Chris also had a viper tongue—another similarity to my uncle—and a rapier wit.
He could cut you to pieces without breaking a sweat and I admired that in a man—as
long as it wasn’t directed at me, which was another reason I desperately wanted his
approval. I wanted to stand behind him and watch in admiration while he cut other
people to the quick—not me.
Anyway, I did eventually earn his respect and once I had we’d become best
friends. He was actually the best friend I’d ever had. I could talk to him about
anything—anything—without worrying that he would look down on me. He might not
always approve, but he always accepted me for what I was.
It was his willingness to listen that had led me, in a moment of weakness, to
confess just how devastated I was that I’d never had children and how frightened I was
that I’d missed my chance and never would.
I’d met my husband in college and fallen truly, madly, deeply—So truly, madly,
and deeply that I was content for a long time just to worship and follow him around like a
hopeful puppy. He didn’t want children—not right away. He was ambitious. He wanted
to build his career. He wanted to have me all to himself.
He didn’t want to have to pay child support when he dumped me.
I don’t think I ever tumbled to the fact that I was ‘career building love slave’ until
I found myself staring at the divorce papers. I might not have wised up then except that
Todd already had wife number two—younger and better connected—waiting in the

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wings for the ink to dry on the divorce papers. He threw the usual at me—I’d ‘let myself
go’. We’d grown apart. I didn’t want the same things he did, etc., etc. but the
unpalatable truth was that he’d never intended to do anything but use me to pay the bills,
cook, clean, and provide sex on demand until something better came along, and he’d
known better would just as soon as he had his career on track.
The prick had married a debutante fresh out of college.
She was already pregnant when they got married.
I thought about killing him for a while. I really wasn’t a violent person per se, but
he brought out the killer instinct in me like no one else. I finally decided, though, that I
couldn’t just throw my entire life away on the prick. I’d already wasted more time on
him than I could afford. Spending the rest of my life in jail, or going to the electric chair,
wasn’t going to appease my need for revenge.
I had to show him that what he’d thrown away was better than what he’d ended
up with.
As motivations went, it wasn’t the healthiest I could’ve come up with, but it was
all I could muster at first. I’d ‘let myself go’ because I was too busy working to support
the bastard and slaving for him when I got home to spend time on myself. I ate on the
run, and it stayed with me.
Picking my trampled pride up out of the dirt, I dusted it off and focused on
‘showing’ him. By the time I’d managed to get back in shape and gotten a start on my
own career, which I’d neglected trying to support him, I’d managed to put most of my
rage and hurt to the back of my mind and go on with my life.
There was one vital part of my goal that seemed out of reach, though. I was in
my late twenties by the time Todd dumped me. That didn’t give me much time to get on
my feet financially—yes, the bastard got half of everything even though I’d actually paid
for almost everything we had—find a new husband, and conceive. I tried marathon
dating. I allowed anyone that would to try their hand at matchmaking.
None of it worked and I finally realized it was because I had developed a deep
hatred and distrust of men in general because of what Todd had done. The right man
could’ve knocked that wariness right out of me and I would’ve been just as gullible and
vulnerable as I had been with Todd, but the right man didn’t come along.
I didn’t have time for the right man to come along!
Every time I managed to convince myself I’d just take what I could get and get
what I really wanted—a baby—I realized I just couldn’t stomach marrying someone I
didn’t care two cents about. I looked at every man that I dated like someone shopping on
the sales rack—trying him on for size, but none of them ‘fit’—in bed or outside of it.
This one was great in the sack—everybody said so because he’d already fucked
everybody and was still looking for new territory to conquer. That one was steady and
reliable but stunk in the bedroom. This one had a seriously weak chin that I didn’t want
to pass on to my offspring. That one had a name that would bring torment down on any
child we had. This one kissed like a vacuum cleaner and I didn’t think I could stand
much of that, and on and on.
Deciding I was being too picky, I tried harder, but I finally realized that if I
couldn’t stand to date them I sure as hell couldn’t live with them.
Option number two came to mind—artificial insemination.
That was a bust because I just couldn’t afford it.

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It was along about the time I reached an all time low—and had a few too many
drinks—that I finally wept all over Chris and told him I was never going to be a mother
and my life was meaningless.
That was when Chris, who’d also had a few too many drinks, decided to be my
very best friend and offered to be my gene donor.
Drunk or not, I immediately saw a LOT of problems with that very kind and
sympathetic offer. Next to my uncle, I loved him better than anybody else in the world,
but it would be like screwing my sister. Alright, my brother. I didn’t love him that way.
He snorted his mixed drink through his nose when I pointed out that I didn’t think I could
get a ‘hard on’ for him, told me I didn’t need to. I could just lay there and ‘receive’.
The second problem was that Chris was gay. He wasn’t the kind of guy that went
both ways. He was strictly gay. He didn’t ‘do’ females.
The third problem was that we worked together and aside from the fact that I
didn’t want to wreck the best friendship I’d ever had, I also didn’t want to have problems
with a fellow worker—particularly since Mueller Enterprises was very strict about inner
office relationships. Becoming intimate with Chris could, potentially, wreck both of our
careers, especially if it got out, and things had a way of doing that in the office.
Contrary to what I’d expected, Chris didn’t pretend amnesia about the discussion
once he’d sobered up. It seemed, in point of fact, to have planted a seed in his mind that
had taken root and grown like wild fire. He reminded me of a movie where two friends, a
gay guy and a straight woman, had had a child together. I reminded him that it had not
only ruined their friendship, but it turned out that it wasn’t the gay guy’s baby at all.
He dismissed the small details. That wouldn’t happen to us because we wouldn’t
let it. He actually liked the idea of fathering a child, but he didn’t consider himself parent
material. He’d continue to be my buddy and be content to let me be the parent all by
myself. Changing diapers and wiping snotty noses just weren’t his ‘thing’.
He got so ‘in’ to the project, he was following my cycle more closely than I was,
had developed his own chart of my peak fertility periods by stuffing a thermometer in my
mouth whenever he got the chance.
This was when he’d come up with the wild scheme that was currently driving him
to drink and tying my stomach in knots.
‘Fate’, he decided, was smiling upon us. My peak fertility period coincided with
the conference we were both scheduled to attend and that would be the time to shoot for
the goal. Everyone, he assured me, would be so busy with their own rendezvous they
wouldn’t notice us. We could do ‘it’ away from the office, pretend we were just two
strangers scratching an itch, and then go about our business.
We hadn’t discussed what we would do if it didn’t ‘take’.
I wasn’t sure what the conference had to do with it, but I’d begun to realize that
what appealed to Chris about it was that he could pretend it wasn’t me in his bed, and he
thought he could go through with it.
I wasn’t sure I could. It was all very well to say we could pretend, but once it got
down to business, could we really?
The scheme was crazy—and right up Chris’ alley.
He’d given me his room number. The two of us had split the additional expense
to pay for him to have a room all to himself—a bungalow actually, which was a good bit
more expensive than a room in the hotel proper, which was what the company had paid

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for. We would attend the welcome mixer and then he would leave after an appropriate
amount of time and go back to wait for me. I would stay long enough to lull suspicions
and then follow.
I’d thought it was an insane plan when Chris hatched it. The more I watched him,
the more certain I was that it wasn’t going to work.
If nothing else, he was going to be too drunk to perform.
How the hell was I supposed to just ‘lay there’ and receive when he could hardly
walk already?
“Your boss?”
I glanced distractedly at the woman who’d walked up to me. “I beg your
pardon?”
The woman settled in the chair across from me, nudging her chin in the direction
of the bar. I glanced that way obediently, discovering in the process that the woman was
right—sort of. Nicholas Mueller, my boss, was at the bar, and he was now staring
directly at the two of us or, more likely, the woman who’d addressed me. Horror washed
through me in a cold wave as it occurred to me that, if the woman had been observing me
staring at the bar and thought my interest was focused on my boss, she might not be the
only one who’d had that thought.

Nothing good could come of a personal interest in Nick Mueller, as proven by the

women who’d been dismissed over the years. He didn’t put up with any kind of hanky
panky going on in the office, and he wasn’t the sort of person who believed in ‘do as I
say, not as I do’—either that or he just had no interest in his female employees.
Rumor had it—according to my ‘source’, Jane the receptionist who was also his
personal secretary—that ‘Nicky’ was something of a playboy outside the office. It stood
to reason. The guy had a drool factor of ten on a scale of one to ten. He was not only
handsome, the fit of his suits made it obvious he was built like a god. He was wealthy,
single since his divorce three years earlier, and above and beyond all that, he had a sexy
voice, and he was James Bond debonair.
I wasn’t blind or dead from the neck down. I’d noticed. I’d been damned careful,
though, not to appear to notice because I’d been informed right off that the surest way to
leave Mueller Enterprises under a cloud was to make eyes at the boss or even to appear
to be flirting.
I thought his standoffishness was probably self-defense, even though most of the
women in the office just considered him a prick. His wife had been insanely jealous,
though, also according to rumors, and despite his efforts to pacify her by being a total,
cold asshole to the women who worked for him, she couldn’t be convinced that he wasn’t
cheating on her and she’d finally divorced him, nearly breaking him—financially, at
least. I had no idea how it had affected him emotionally. No one knew him well enough
to even guess at that—though they speculated that he was too cold blooded to have been
effected by the divorce in that way.
Beyond that, though, his divorce settlement had made it clear he couldn’t afford a
lawsuit for sexual harassment. It had taken all he could do to hold the business together
and build it up again after his ex had walked off with half his assets.
Maybe I’d read him wrong, but that was what I thought anyway.

“What’s it like working for him?” the woman asked, obviously taking my silence

as a confirmation that I had been staring at my boss.

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Thrown for a loop, mostly because of the woman’s blatant sexual interest, I
blinked rapidly at the question. Before I thought better of it, I followed the direction of
the woman’s gaze and turned to glance at my boss again, Nicholas Mueller—Mr. Mueller
to his employees, Nick or Nicky to the women whose calls filtered through the
receptionist at Mueller Enterprises. Almost as if he felt my interest, he looked my way
again at just that moment, the easy smile curling his sensual lips slowly dying as our
gazes locked across the room.
I felt my face heat, felt my heart skip a beat and then execute a little two-step as it
tried to catch up its normal rate. With an effort, I dragged my gaze from his and tried to
pretend I’d just glanced toward the elevators. Stalling for time, I cleared my throat,
trying to think of an acceptable comment. “Good,” I managed finally. “He’s very fair,
and the benefits at Mueller are better than average. You looking for a new position?”
The woman grinned. “If it’s under him, yeah.”
I felt my color fluctuate again. I was fairly certain the comment had been
deliberately suggestive but couldn’t decide whether to respond in kind or pretend I hadn’t
caught the double meaning. “He is the CEO, now. His father retired last year.”
The woman stared at me for a long moment and finally chuckled. “I meant under
him,” she clarified. “Is he as good in bed as he looks? They so rarely are when they look
that good, but one can always dream.”
I was abruptly sorry I’d eschewed alcoholic beverages for the duration. Not that I
drank very often anyway, but if the circumstances had been different I would’ve allowed
myself at least one to calm my nerves. The conference had a relaxed air about it given
the setting—Hawaii—and everyone was working hard to combine vacation with work.
Unfortunately, I had a date with destiny—I hoped—and allowing myself even a small
drink wasn’t an option.
I wasn’t offended by the suggestion, but it made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t as
if I hadn’t noticed the boss was drop dead gorgeous, but I liked my job.
On the other hand, plenty of women called the boss about anything but business.
He was catnip for the female of the species. And maybe the boss was open to a little
flirtation away from the office, business or not? I wasn’t about to ‘pimp’ for him—not
that he needed any help—but I also didn’t want to say anything that would sound as if I
was ‘guarding’ him. I didn’t want comments I’d made that sounded even vaguely
personal to get back to him. I smiled with an effort, forced a chuckle that held little
amusement. “I wouldn’t know personally. He’s a stick ….”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a hand settled on my shoulder—a male
hand. My head snapped to the side in a guilty jerk. I eyed the hand on my shoulder and
then looked upward to identify the owner of the hand.
Mr. Mueller was standing over me. My mind went blank.
“Stick?” the woman asked, her eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “Stick in
the mud? Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”
I could’ve cheerfully strangled the woman. Obviously, Mueller had realized we
were discussing him, although he might have decided that glance I’d exchanged with him
was a plea for help—business-wise. “Mr. Mueller!” I exclaimed, trying to hide my acute
discomfort. “I was just about to explain to Ms. … uh …,” I glanced quickly at the
woman’s name badge, “Chancellor about the services the company offers. She’s with
Dillon and Sons.”

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They exchanged greetings. Betty Chancellor made no attempt to hide the fact that
she was summing him up, and she didn’t have business on her mind at all. The woman
grinned. An icy finger of fear sliced through me when I saw her amused expression and
it occurred to me that she might tell him what we actually were discussing.

“Actually, I was trying to steer her away from business talk and into a bit of ‘girl’

talk.”
He lifted one dark brow, but although that was generally accompanied by a stony
look that could freeze an employee in their tracks and turn them into a blithering idiot, a
touch of humor gleamed in the depths of his green eyes and his lips curled faintly. My
heart did a little flip flop despite the fact that I knew that look hadn’t been intended for
me at all.

“Should I leave?”

The woman chuckled. “I hope not. You were the subject under discussion.”
I felt my face redden again when he sent me an indecipherable look.
“I was wondering if you were as good in the sack as you looked and she
explained that men who look as good as you do rarely are.”
I felt my eyes widen with pure horror at that ‘artless’ comment. Repressed
laughter danced in the woman’s eyes, but it was impossible to decide whether her teasing
was intentionally malicious or not. I thought not. On the other hand, it put me in a
difficult position. Mr. Mueller sure as hell didn’t encourage that sort of familiarity with
employees. Glancing at my boss, I sent him a weak, apologetic smile.
“Did she?”
Again, his expression was completely unreadable, but there was a deep note to his
voice that sent a shiver along my spine and made warmth blossom in my belly.
The woman laughed. “No, actually, she didn’t. I just couldn’t resist teasing her.
She was struggling so hard to talk shop in spite of my curiosity. I believe she was about
to tell me you were a stick in the mud.”
This was getting worse and worse. I gritted my teeth and tried to smile. “I was
going to say you were a stickler for business—very professional at all times, Mr.
Mueller. We don’t discuss private matters at work—so I wouldn’t know. Or want to
….”
He looked at me again. This time, though, his gaze flickered over me assessingly.
“If you’ll excuse me?” I added hurriedly, miserably aware that I was just getting
myself in deeper the longer I babbled. “I just remembered something I forgot to tell
Chris earlier.”
I didn’t wait to see how either had taken my abrupt departure. Instead, I hopped
up and headed straight for Chris, trying not to appear as if I was fleeing. Chris looked
up, saw me bearing down on him, and paled. Gritting my teeth, I continued until I
reached him. “Just nod your head, Chris.”
He stared at me, but finally nodded. “What’s this about?”
“Never mind,” I said. “I need a drink.”
His brows rose. “I thought you said …?”
“We’re not going to talk about that, though, are we?” I reminded him.
Straightening, I turned and headed toward the bar. “I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri—
Shirley Temple,” I said with a sigh when the bartender gave me his attention.
The man seated on the barstool beside me glanced my way. “That takes all the

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fun out of it,” he murmured.
I smiled wryly, but shrugged. “I’m not here on vacation, though,” I responded
easily.
He glanced at my badge. “Me either. I’m with Trinity.”
I focused on paying for my drink, but my heart had given an uncomfortable leap
at the name. It was one of the accounts I’d earmarked. I smiled at him easily as I turned
with my drink in my hand, resisting the urge to try to get a better look at his name badge.
He didn’t make any bones about studying mine—although it was debatable whether he
was actually looking at my name tag or my boobs. “So—you’re here with the trade
show, too?” I asked as casually as I could.
He nodded but flicked a hand dismissively. “No shop talk. I’m all talked out
after today.”
Disappointment filled me, but I kept my smile in place. “I’m not sure I’d know
how to carry on a conversation that didn’t include that,” I said jokingly.
He studied me for a long moment, seemed to search his mind, and finally grinned.
“Nice weather,” he said.
Caught off guard, I laughed. “Is it? I haven’t been outside all day.”
He grinned at me. “I got a glimpse from the window.”
As disheartening as it was that he wouldn’t allow me to lead him into a discussion
that might end in me landing a much coveted new account, it was a relief that it wasn’t
too much of a struggle to keep a light, friendly conversation going. The tricky part was
steering clear of anything too personal.

He was obviously interested in me sexually. I could see that in the way he looked

at me, but he was intelligent, and not drunk enough to be blatant. It was just as well. He
wasn’t a particularly attractive man—not too hard on the eyes, but nothing to give me
even a slightly accelerated heartbeat. Even if he had been, I wasn’t interested.

The lighter skin on his ring finger might mean he was recently divorced, and it

might mean he’d just decided to be single for the conference.

I had an agenda that wasn’t strictly business, but it wasn’t getting laid—not per se

anyway—and I sure as hell wasn’t interested in using sex to land a new account, no
matter how sexy the account was.

The conversation actually soothed my nerves a bit—and I needed it—keeping my

mind occupied enough that I was able to beat back the issue that had been preying on me.

I’d thought it was a bad idea to start with—Chris was the one who’d suggested

it—and now it seemed painfully obvious he was having problems dealing with it.

Maybe I should just forget it?
Reluctance settled in the pit of my stomach the moment I thought about it.
The sad truth was that I was teetering on the brink of being too old to safely try to

have a baby or I wouldn’t have considered the plan to begin with. I adored Chris, strictly
as friend, but I was desperate or I wouldn’t have entertained the idea for a moment. Now
that I had, now that we’d made all the plans, I was so fixated on the possibility of having
a baby I was reluctant to give up the idea for any reason.

Jittery nerves were to be expected, on both sides. Chris hadn’t said he just

couldn’t go through with it, and I was by damned going to give it a shot!

* * * *

Nick was annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to pinpoint why he was annoyed when

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he certainly shouldn’t have been, but he was definitely aware of a knot of conflicting
emotions in the pit of his belly as he surreptitiously watched Carly Nelson with the CEO
from Trinity.

He was certain of one thing. He didn’t like the way Bill Trinity was looking her

over as if she was a choice piece of steak.

The thought made it hard to dismiss the fact that at least part of his resentment

was the sense that the man was poaching on his preserves. Carly Nelson not only wasn’t
‘his’, though, she was an employee, and he made it a policy to steer clear of involvement
with anyone around the office for a lot of damned good reasons.

Obviously, he thought wryly, he’d already imbibed more than he should have and

his judgment was impaired. It wasn’t as if he’d never noticed Carly. He had tried hard
not to, but it took an effort—a constant effort—to keep his mind on business whenever
she was around.

It had piqued him, he realized, that she’d shot up from her chair and took off

almost the moment he’d settled—almost as much as the comments had irritated him.

There was something wrong with being professional? He was a prick because he

behaved himself around the office instead of chasing every ‘skirt’ in his employ?

Not that his ex-wife had believed he knew how to keep his dick in his pants. If

she had, she wouldn’t be his ex now.

Betty Chancelor ‘accidentally’ stroked her leg along his, dragging his attention

back to her.

He allowed a half smile to curl his lips, wondering whether it was her that had

made the comment about his supposed prowess in bed—or rather lack of it—or Carly.
He didn’t know what irritated him more—the implication that he was too conceited about
his appearance to spare the time to please his partner, or the fact that the comment made
him feel defensive when he knew damned well he had no reason to be … because he
thought it might be Carly’s opinion of him, he realized, and that was what really bothered
the hell out of him. He didn’t particularly give a damn what Betty Chancelor believed.
“So …,” Betty said conversationally. “Want to fool around?”
A jolt of surprise went through Nicholas even though she’d been pretty blatant
about her interest. No mixed signals here, he thought wryly. “Is that a trick question?”
he asked, sparing for wind while trying to think how to respond.
She chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, husky. She wasn’t a bad looking woman.
He didn’t know why he wasn’t particularly interested aside from the fact that he
wasn’t really thrilled about women who took the initiative, especially when they didn’t
bother with any of the niceties, like flirtation, first. Maybe he was old fashioned, but he
liked the game.
On the other hand, she was from Dillon and Sons and he had no clue of her
position in the company.
She blushed faintly, enough to tell him she wasn’t ordinarily quite as forward.
Maybe the drink she was nursing had given her a little false courage?
“I take it that’s a no?”
“I didn’t say that,” he drawled.
“You didn’t say you were interested either,” she said, obviously piqued, although
she made a of show of pretending to pout, as if she didn’t care one way or the other.
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Maybe I’m just not used to women being

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so frank.”
She settled back in her seat, studying him in turn. “I think you are. You just
don’t like it when a woman foils your hunt.”
He grinned. “Perceptive.”
She shrugged. “We’re only going to be here a few days. I figured, what the hell?
It isn’t like there’s time for a lot of beating around the bush when I already know what I
want.”
Nicolas held his smile with an effort. “And what, exactly, is it that you want?”
She took a healthy draught of her drink. “A good fuck. You game for a little
bareback riding? I got the old tubes tied.”
Warning bells were ringing in Nicholas’ head, but part of his uneasiness was the
possibility that if he slighted her he was liable to have problems with landing the Dillon
and Sons account. Another part was the uneasy feeling that she might be more closely
connected to Dillion or sons than her name implied and he could be looking at worse
than losing the chance at the account.
That was the problem with women hanging on to their maiden name. A man
never knew when he was fooling around with dynamite. He frowned at his own drink,
idly turning the glass on the table top. “That depends on what’s at stake,” he said finally.
“I’m a little old to enjoy the ‘excitement’ of diving out windows at the discovery of a
husband, or boyfriend, beating at the door just when things are getting interesting.”
She stared at him a long moment and began laughing. “There’s an image.”
Annoyance flickered through him when she didn’t bother to respond to the
question he’d so tactfully asked. “Is there a husband or boyfriend in the picture?” he
asked bluntly.
She met his gaze, smiling in a way that made him distinctly uneasy. “Nope.”
God! He hated women that could look a man in the eyes and lie, and he had a bad
feeling she was one of those women.
He felt his gut tighten—and not with pleasurable expectation. “So … your place
or mine?”
She relaxed fractionally. “Are you in the main hotel? Or in one of the
bungalows?”
“Bungalow.”
“I guess it’s your place then.”
That didn’t make him feel a hell of a lot better. It had definite vibes of she didn’t
want to get caught. It could just be a matter of discretion, despite her ‘straight for the
jugular’ approach, but it could also mean serious trouble. He glanced as casually around
the room as possible, trying to discover if there was a man somewhere in the room
studying him with death in his eyes. He didn’t see one, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t
a Mr. Betty somewhere around … maybe waiting upstairs in the room she didn’t want to
take him to.
He pushed away from the table and got up. “Shall we, then?”
She smiled up at him. “I’d just as soon not be the main menu of the office gossip
when we get home. Why don’t I follow you?”
He felt his uneasiness increase. “Good thought. I’ll see you in a little, then.”
She nodded. “What number?”
“Fifty two,” he threw over his shoulder, turning and heading toward the doors that

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led out of the hotel to the beach path.
It wasn’t until he was halfway to his bungalow that it suddenly dawned on him
that he’d given her the wrong bungalow number. He’d traded with Christian Jones after
they’d arrived and discovered that the bungalow he’d been assigned was further back
from the beach than he liked.
He paused, considered going back, and finally dismissed it. Chris could set her
straight—or not. He thought he’d be just as happy if she discovered he’d sent her to the
wrong bungalow and was too pissed off about it to meet him.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 13

Chapter Two

I was certain ‘the plan’ was disintegrating before my eyes. Of course there were
just some things that couldn’t be anticipated, but the entire plan had been haphazard to
begin with. Beyond arranging for the private bungalow and suggesting, vaguely, that the
rendezvous was to be after the first cocktail mixer of the conference, and that we would
be acting out a stranger-meets-stranger fantasy, we hadn’t planned anything—no careful
attention to details. I hadn’t honestly thought there would be any details that would be a
problem beyond the personal ones both me and Chris had and neither of us had really
wanted to discuss those.
Neither of us had expected the hotel to arbitrarily decide to give our boss a
damned bungalow so close to our ‘love nest’ that there was a very real possibility that he
might spot me going to or coming from the love nest. I tried to tell myself that that was
not only unlikely given that we—or rather I—would be sneaking around very late at
night, but that it was fairly common knowledge that Chris was gay and no one would
suspect what we were up to anyway, but with indifferent success. I was hyper-paranoid
about the entire plot.
I certainly hadn’t taken Ms. Betty Chancelor into consideration. Who could’ve
anticipated that I’d run into a woman with such a sick sense of humor that she would
decide to bait my boss with sexual innuendoes that I had supposedly suggested? Or that
he would catch me in his crosshairs when I least wanted any sort of attention from him at
all?
Paranoia, I told myself. I was just imagining that every time I glanced in
Nicholas Mueller’s direction he was studying me. Ms. Chancelor’s body language alone
was enough indication, even if not for the remarks that had preceded it, that she had a
rendezvous of her own in mind and Nicholas Mueller was going to have to do some
serious two-stepping to avoid the trap she’d laid for him unless he just wanted to get
caught in it. He had problems of his own.
If the boss was looking at me at all, I assured myself, it was only because he
wasn’t comfortable with the idea that I knew what was going on between him and Ms.
Chancelor.
I didn’t know if I was more relieved or more anxious when the party began to
break up and the conference attendees began to leave by twos and threes to go back to
their rooms—or someone else’s. I was both, I suppose, relieved that the ordeal of
pretending I had no dastardly plans was over, unnerved that the moment of truth was
virtually upon me.
Mueller left the gathering first—at least he was the first I noticed. Chris,
apparently still aware enough of his surroundings to notice, got up and wove a path to the
door behind him. Excusing myself from the man I’d met at the bar, who hadn’t bothered
to give me his name, I made it a point to be seen heading back to my own room
upstairs—alone. My roomy for the conference, June Monk, was in the bathroom when I
arrived in the room.

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I paced the bedroom, trying not to think about what I had ahead of me one
moment, trying to decide on the details in the next—for instance getting out of the room
again without arousing my roomy’s suspicions. After a little bit, I realized that I wasn’t
just anxious about doing the nasty with my best buddy. Sexually speaking, I was wired.
I didn’t know if it was because I was at peak fertility, or if it was because I hadn’t been
laid in so long I wasn’t sure I’d know a cock when I saw one, but there was no doubt a
good bit of my nervousness wasn’t nerves at all but rather anticipation.
By the time June came out of the bathroom I’d come up with what I thought
might be a believable excuse for leaving again. I decided it was actually pretty brilliant
the moment the thought popped into my head.
I was going for a late night swim to ‘unwind’. This not only gave me an excuse
to leave that probably wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion given the location of the
conference, but I wouldn’t have a lot of clothes to battle my way out of once I reached
the rendezvous.
Grabbing my suit and the beach robe I’d brought, I dashed into the bathroom as
soon as June came out with her hair in curlers and her face coated in some kind of green
facial product. After I’d struggled into the bathing suit, I had second thoughts. Why
bother with the suit? The robe covered me from neck to mid-calf and if I didn’t wear the
suit all I’d have to do would be to untie the belt and drop the robe.
The vision that popped into my mind at that thought strongly appealed to me—not
because I thought Chris would think I looked sexy slithering out of the robe but because
it meant I wouldn’t be exposed more than a few moments.
“Where are you headed?”
I froze, turning to look at June like a deer caught in a hunter’s crosshairs.
“Swimming.”
June looked startled. “At this time of night?”
I managed a credible, I thought, shrug of nonchalance. “I’m wound up. I thought
I’d take a quick swim to relax.”
“At this time of night?”
I tried not to glare at her. “So I can sleep,” I emphasized.
“Don’t forget your room key. I’ll probably be asleep before you get back,” she
said irritably.
“I’ll be careful not to wake you,” I responded, heading for the door with a strong
sense of relief.
The breeze off the ocean, laden with salt and the smell of vegetation, both living
and dead, prickled at my nose as I stepped from the hotel. A shiver, mostly from nerves,
chased its way down my back. Clasping my flapping beach wrap against the gale-like
wind that had instantly assaulted me when I stepped outside, I glanced around to get my
bearings and headed along the path at a brisk clip, hoping I wouldn’t run into anybody I
knew since I was stark naked beneath the wrap and uneasy that it might be noticeable.
I’d figured one or the other of us was going to lose their nerve if I arrived fully
dressed and had to struggle out of my clothes. It had seemed like a good idea at the time
to make sure all I had to do was throw off the robe and climb into bed with him. That
way we could do the deed quickly and I could dash away again.
I was less sure that it had been that great an idea now that I was battling the wind
to try to preserve my modesty and my bare coochy was quivering with the faint chill of

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the night air. I hadn’t envisioned the possibility of having the robe ripped off by the wind
and having to streak naked through the hotel, but that had begun to seem like a very real
possibility.
I hadn’t gotten directions from Chris to his bungalow either, damn it!
Unfortunately, by the time it had occurred to me that I might need them Chris was
already three sheets to the wind. I was lucky I’d even had the forethought to ask him the
bungalow number before he was too drunk to remember it.
The scrape of a shoe against stone came to me from nearby, sending an
electrifying jolt through me. I stopped abruptly, twisting my head to discern the direction
and leapt off the path and into the tropical jungle that bordered it just moments before a
woman appeared around the bend headed in the same direction I was.
Hoping against hope that she hadn’t seen me, and that there weren’t any tropical
serpents in the brush with me—or anything else—I stood shivering behind the fronds of a
palm and what looked like a banana tree until the woman had passed. Shaky with relief
when she didn’t even glance in my direction, I stumbled onto the path again.
“This is ridiculous!” I muttered to myself. Of all the hair-brained ideas I’d ever
entertained in my life, this had to take the cake! I hadn’t even done anything this
outrageous when I was kid!
Which was what I felt like creeping around the hotel so late at night wearing
nothing but a thin beach wrap—like a wild teenager expecting any moment to be caught
by parents and grounded for the rest of my life.
Except there was no thrill.
Alright, so maybe a little thrill but it had nothing to do with the prospect of
getting caught.
I debated turning around and heading back when I reached the end of the path and
glanced around at the darkened bungalows uncertainly. Chris would probably never even
know the difference. No doubt he was already tucked into bed and dead to the world.
I might not even be able to rouse him—from unconsciousness, let alone arouse
him enough he could perform.
Shaking my cowardice off, I moved close enough to the nearest bungalow to
discern the number on the door and then checked the one on the other side of the path.
The even numbers seemed to go to the right. Chris had said he was in fifty four.
I saw the woman ahead of me as I paused to peer at the number of the next cabin.
Ducking behind a palm tree, I waited for several moments and stepped out again. Chris
had said he was right on the beach. He hadn’t been terribly happy about it. He was
convinced the water would be up to his door at high tide and he wouldn’t get a wink of
sleep for listening to the waves slap against the pilings. Seeing that the numbers seemed
to indicate that I was on the right track and the woman had disappeared, I began to move
more quickly, hoping I could find Chris’ bungalow and get out of sight before the
woman, or anyone else, spotted me.
Not that I was worried about any of my fellow co-workers except the boss.
Nicholas Mueller had left the bar before Chris, though. Surely he was in bed asleep by
now?
Shrugging the unnerving thought off, I began jogging along the beach, glancing at
the doors of the bungalows as I passed and wondering what the hell the hotel was
thinking to build so many of the damned things! God! Did nobody actually stay in the

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damned hotel?
Between nerves and the jogging, I was so winded by the time I finally reached the
damned bungalow I had to stop to catch my breath. Now that the moment of truth was
upon me, I wasn’t just scared shitless, I was actually beginning to feel a thread of real
excitement—not about the sex, although I certainly ought to have been considering how
long it had been since I’d been laid. No, my focus was entirely on the seed I planned to
collect and the possibility that I might actually hit pay dirt this very night!
The thought steadied me. Dragging in one last deep breath, I headed purposefully
for the door of the bungalow, checked the number and then reached for the door knob.
It wasn’t locked. I breathed a sigh of relief. Chris couldn’t have been too drunk
if he’d remembered to leave the door unlocked for me.
Unless he was just too drunk to realize he had?
Shaking my head, I turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door behind
me. The bungalow was dark. Even though I’d expected it, it rattled me a little since it
abruptly occurred to me that I might have accidentally gone into the wrong bungalow.
As my eyes adjusted, however, I saw that the bed held only a single occupant, and
that he had roused up as I’d come in and was watching me. A mixture of relief and
uncertainty assailed me. I shook it off, firmly repressing the urge to say something,
anything, to try to banish the sudden awkwardness I felt. We’d agreed to maintain the
illusion that we were two strangers. If I opened my mouth, Chris was liable to balk.
With shaking fingers, I untied the belt of my wrap and shrugged it off, leaving it on the
floor by the door.
He shifted from the center of the bed as I approached, throwing the covers back.
This was going to be easier than I’d thought!
Shivering slightly, I climbed on the bed and lay down beside him, mentally
preparing myself to ‘receive’ as Chris had put it.
His warmth enveloped me instantly. Letting out a pent up breath, I shifted closer
as his hand settled on my hip and he tugged at me, urging me closer.
I couldn’t relax. I felt stiff as a board and I knew he had to notice. Chris had
promised I didn’t have to do anything, though. He’d handle it.
It was a pleasant surprise to feel his cock begin to rise instantly against my thigh.
At the back of my mind, I’d been sure Chris would discover he just couldn’t go through
with it.
He began stroking me.
What the hell was he doing?
Not that it didn’t feel really nice, but wouldn’t it spoil everything when he
realized I didn’t feel like a man?
Shrugging the thought off, I decided to take my cues from him. He was driving
the boat. I didn’t know what sort of fantasy he’d come up with to make this work for
him, but I knew if I didn’t cooperate I was liable to spoil it.
As long as he didn’t decide to ‘do’ me in the ass, we were going to be alright.
It took an effort to relax but between his warmth, the surprisingly delightful feel
of his body next to mine, his sure touch, and sheer determination on my part, I felt the
tension begin to ease from me. As I began to relax, my mind slowly shifted focus from
internal chaos to awareness of him.
I hadn’t realized how well built Chris was, but then I’d never looked at him as

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anything but a friend and it wasn’t the sort of thing friends really noticed. He was
wonderfully hard all over, though. Wondering if it was going to screw things up, I still
couldn’t resist the temptation to do a little exploring of my own.
His chest was surprisingly hairy. I hadn’t expected that. I also hadn’t expected to
discover that he was so massively muscled. Weird how he felt so big when I’d never
really noticed that he was!
His breath brushed my face as he shifted closer to me and I inhaled his essence,
feeling a tingling warmth follow the path as I dragged it inside of me. He nuzzled his
face against mine. The roughness of a five o’clock shadow on his cheek made my skin
pebble. My nipples stood erect as he turned his head and brushed his lips along my
cheek in search of my mouth.
Surprised but not reluctant, I angled my head to meet him. His lips felt firm and
warm as they found mine. He used his lips to explore mine, barely grazing at first, then
alternately pressing the surfaces to my own and sort of nibbling. The teasing was driving
me crazy. My lips tingled. My belly tightened. I responded in kind, wondering if he
was trying to decide whether he actually wanted to kiss me or not.
Probably.
He took the plunge just when I’d decided, with a good deal of disappointment,
that he wouldn’t. He covered my mouth with his own and plunged his tongue boldly
inside. A jolt went through me. It took me a split second of debate to decide whether I
liked it or not. The taste and texture of him delighted my senses, however, and I felt my
body respond even before I’d consciously decided for myself that I did, most definitely,
like the feel and taste of him—a lot.
He seemed to like what he’d found, too. He rolled over me, pinning me beneath
his weight and kissing me more deeply, with more enthusiasm. It was contagious. The
more ardently he fed on me the more excited I became. Within moments the last of my
reserve melted away like snow before sunshine. His heat and taste filled me with a
drugging lassitude that was in sharp contrast to the frantic pounding of my heart, the
laboring of my lungs, and the lava flow of heat through me. I lost touch with everything
except him and the way he made me feel. I was more keenly aware of him, though, and
the effect he had on me than anything I’d ever experienced before.
The weight of his body, pressing down on me, felt deliciously wonderful. The
brush of his skin along mine as he moved restlessly against me seemed to stir electric
currents that I absorbed through my own skin and directly into my bloodstream. It joined
the molten pleasure already pumping through me from the feel and taste of his mouth on
mine and all roads led to my core, which was heating up like an atomic reactor
approaching melt down temperatures.
It flickered through my mind, briefly, that if he could do this to me with just a kiss
I was in serious trouble. I dismissed it. I wanted to feel everything. Impatience moved
through me to feel absolutely everything.
Almost as if he’d read my mind, he broke the kiss at last, sucked in a ragged
breath, and dove to explore fresh territory with his lips, charting a path along one cheek
to my ear, investigating the sensitive shell briefly and then moving on, as if too impatient
to explore everything at once to linger too long in one place.
A trace of doubt entered my mind as I realized he was heading to my breasts. Did
gay men ‘do’ breasts? The thought had barely formulated in my mind, though, when he

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reached his goal and totally blew my mind. He didn’t tease. With the same air of
impatience that seemed to have seized him almost from the moment he first kissed me, he
made his way straight to the closest turgid tip and opened his mouth over it. I lit up like a
light bulb plugged into a two twenty outlet with the first pull of his mouth on the ultra
sensitive tip. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I’d had a minor orgasm right then. Everything
inside of me seized and quaked as if it had—or as if I’d actually stuck my finger into an
outlet.
I couldn’t catch my breath for several moments. All I could do was cling to him
frantically and make strange gurgling noises in my throat while I tried to suck in air. He
didn’t seem to be put off by the noise. In point of fact, it seemed to galvanize him. He
tugged more frantically on the aching tip. My womb felt like it was being turned inside
out.
I managed to suck in a desperate breath when he came up for air, briefly, and then
dove for my other nipple, tugging and pulling at it so hungrily I thought I might have
blacked out, briefly from sheer ecstasy. When he finally let go and sought my mouth
again, I began frantic, mostly useless attempts to mount the cock I could feel somewhere
in the vicinity of my belly, wiggling beneath him and trying to trap that lovely piece of
meat where I really wanted it.
He seemed to sense my desperation, either that or my frantic movements had
redirected his mind to his own ultimate goal. Without breaking the kiss, he shoved a
hand between us, grasped the anaconda and guided the serpent to the quaking hole
waiting to receive. I moaned into his mouth when he found the opening after a brief
search that nearly drove me over the edge and plugged in. I’d managed to free my legs
sometime during our wrestling match and took advantage of that fact. Wrapping my legs
around him, I tried to use them to force him deeper.
Although we, apparently, had the same in goal in mind, we battled briefly over
the meat and where we wanted it. I pulled. He fought me off and struggled to find a
position to give him more leverage. It took me a few minutes to figure out that was what
he was doing, though, and in the interim I fought him like a tigress, certain he meant to
retreat completely.
He broke the kiss, sucked in a few desperate gulps of air, and plowed a little
deeper. As indignant as I’d been about him breaking the kiss, the thick shaft embedding
itself in my sensitive passage redirected my mind to the throat of my sex which, despite
the fact that it was slippery with my arousal, didn’t seem to be cooperating well with my
need for deep penetration. Feeling myself slipping up the bed, I tightened my legs, trying
to counter his thrust and engulf him.
He shook. Sweat popped from his pores with the strain. I heard his teeth
grinding.
He eased off, repositioned himself and drove again.
My head hit the headboard with a resounding crack that effectively distracted
both of us for a few moments. Grabbing my hips, he dragged me down the bed again,
reconnected and began pumping his hips with grim dedication that was finally rewarded
with full penetration. We were both slick from the sweat of our labors by that time,
however, and almost too out of breath to reap the benefits. He paused, breathing gustily.
I panted, struggling with the urge to seize the imitative and finish myself off because I
was so close I knew it was only going to take a few pumps before I went off like a roman

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 19

candle.
It niggled at me while we were both struggling for breath that there was
something that wasn’t quite right about the ‘fit’ between us. It probably wouldn’t have
except that I found myself nuzzling his chest when I thought I ought to be a lot closer to
his mouth—which was what I wanted—full penetration at both ends.
He banished the wayward thought from my mind when he settled his upper body
weight on his elbows and began the rhythmic thrusts I’d been yearning for. I discovered
I hadn’t been wrong. I was so close that I’d barely had time to really start enjoying the
wonderful friction of his flesh along my passage when the first shock wave hit me,
tumbling me over a dark cliff of bliss and dragging me under like an undertow. I shook
with force of it, gasped for breath, groaned as my climax pounded through me in
rapturous waves.
I wasn’t certain if he keyed off of my climax or he’d just already been as close as
I was, but he stiffened when I went off and began to shudder and groan with his own
release. The feel of his hot seed spilling against my womb was pure bliss of another
kind, adding the joy of delightful possibilities to the pleasure of release.
We sank together in the aftermath, weak in the wake of expenditure. I floated in a
blissful haze, reluctant to surface toward reality again. Somewhere in the rounds I did
something I hadn’t intended. I dozed off.
I woke some time later totally disoriented by the mouth tugging on my breast and
stirring currents of warmth in my belly. Unwilling, at first, to examine the doubts
fluttering at the back of my mind, I lay perfectly still, simply enjoying it, thinking, dimly,
that it was Todd. Caught up in that scenario, I raked my fingers through his hair and
began stroking every part of him I could reach with loving fingers. He made an
appreciative sound in his throat and obligingly moved to the other breast.
By the time I was conscious enough to realize it wasn’t Todd, and I wasn’t at
home in my own bed, I was past caring about anything beyond the building desire inside
of me. It did flicker through my mind that Chris had undoubtedly enjoyed sex with me
far more than he’d expected to if he was interested in seconds but beyond considering
that, briefly, with a touch of both pleasure and feminine ego I wasn’t terribly interested in
exploring it at the moment.
He shifted upward to cover my lips after a moment with that wonderful mouth of
his.
God! I loved this man’s mouth! It was perfect and he knew just how to use it to
excite me. I was completely sure I’d never had a kiss before that even came close. I’d
never been with a man who could so thoroughly and completely arouse me with no more
than a kiss that I was ready with no more foreplay than that.
He sat up, pulling me with him and across his thighs. As drunk as I was already
from the aphrodisiac of his kiss, I had no trouble instantly grasping the game plan and
straddled him, scooting forward to press my sex against his. His cock, already fully erect
and as hard as stone, nestled between the lips of my sex as if it knew the way home. I
undulated my hips against his flesh as he grasped my waist and pulled me upright.
Skimming his hands upward along my ribcage once I’d risen to my knees, he framed my
breasts with his big hands, massaging them, lifting them to meet his mouth again. I
braced my hands on his shoulders, holding perfectly still, relishing the feel of his mouth
on me, enjoying the heat and excitement gathering inside of me.

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I was more than ready by the time he dropped his hands to my hips, aligned the
head of his cock with my sex and began to bear down on me, guiding me. I was shaking
with need, breathless and panting for breath. I couldn’t get him inside of me fast enough
to suit me, but I restrained myself, allowing him to guide my hips up and down until, at
last, he was embedded so deeply inside of me I paused to catch my breath, to delight in
the deep connection for a handful of heartbeats.
He threaded his hands in my hair, dragging me close for a kiss. His mouth was
hot, his movements tinged with the same desperate longing that had my heart racing so
hard I felt faint.
Breaking the kiss abruptly, he caught my hips and lifted me upward until only the
tip of his sex was nestled inside of mine and then bore down my hips again, guiding me
until I found the cadence he wanted. It was perfect for me, the deep, swift strokes driving
me toward the edge of the precipice within a matter of minutes. I squeezed my eyes
tightly closed, struggling against the release I could feel building toward explosion. It
had been wonderful before. I didn’t want it to end as quickly, though. I wanted to hold
on to it as long as I could.
I didn’t consciously acknowledge why I felt the terrible need to stave off
completion as long as I possibly could, but it was there in the back of my mind
nevertheless, taunting me.
Almost as if he’d read my mind, he stopped abruptly. Tipping me from his lap,
he crawled over me, engaging his body with mine again and seizing control. The brief
disconnect cooled my blood a little, but not enough to stop the tide or even slow it
appreciatively. Within moments I was back at the peak, teetering, only this time he had
control and I couldn’t staunch the flow of fire through me. I sucked in a sharp breath as
my climax, pent up before until it had built in magnitude, hit me with far more force than
I’d expected. The waves of ecstasy blew me away, shattered my connection with the
world around me.
Dimly, I felt and heard him as he reached his own release, but I was too out of
touch with reality in general to really feel the crushing embrace he held me in as he
shook and groaned with his own ecstasy.
The shattering convulsions gave way in time to a blissful floating sensation that
was almost as pleasurable as the climax itself. I allowed my mind to drift with the
current, enjoying paradise. The lethargy became more profound after a while and I
realized I was hovering on the edge of dropping to sleep again. It beckoned, and I
wanted to go with it but there was something that nagged, something that kept pulling me
back from the dark drop off.
Chris’ hot, moist breath against my neck finally roused me to my senses. He was
dead to the world—where I wanted to be, but I sure as hell couldn’t do it here! Still
sluggish and weak, I struggled until I managed to wiggle out from under his weight. His
hand tightened on my hip just when I thought I’d escaped.
“Stay,” he whispered huskily.
Surprise brought me more fully alert. “Can’t,” I whispered back, reluctant, but
realizing that he was too far gone to fully appreciate what he was suggesting. One of us
had to keep a clear head.
His hand tightened a moment and finally relaxed. I wasn’t sure whether he’d
yielded to sense, or succumbed to sleep, but I rolled off the bed, wavering for a moment

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as I looked around the darkened room, trying to get my bearings. Fortunately, the robe
I’d worn was white. Even in the dimness of the room, the white stood out in the
shadows. Glancing a little wistfully down at Chris’ contented, sleeping form, I turned
away resolutely and headed for the robe.
I glanced toward the bed again when I’d slipped the robe on and tied the belt at
my waist. Chris was sprawled limply across the bed, his face burrowed into the pillow he
had his arms around like a lover. Sighing with a mixture of amusement and tiredness, I
slipped out the door, checking to make sure it locked behind me and then stumbled down
the steps.
The tide was in and Chris had been right. It washed in right to the bottom step of
the damned bungalow. It felt downright icy, too, damn it, as it splashed up my legs!
Muttering under my breath, I waded out of the water to higher ground and hurried back
to the hotel, hoping they hadn’t locked me out.
Thankfully, they hadn’t. The entire hotel seemed deserted, however, as I hurried
across the lobby to the elevators. I glimpsed a couple of members of the hotel staff
wandering around cleaning, but I knew I had to look like hell. I figured if I didn’t look
directly at them they couldn’t see my face and identify me later.
June was snoring fit to wake the dead when I eased cautiously into the room.
“Lovely,” I muttered, wondering if I was going to get any sleep at all.
I headed to the bathroom first to bathe. I was halfway through my shower before
it dawned on me that I’d gone to a hell of a lot trouble collecting the semen I was so busy
washing off. Trying to convince myself that the fastest swimmers were already too close
to victory to get washed down the drain, I finished up quickly, dried off, and collapsed on
my bed wearily without bothering to dress. No doubt June would be shocked if I kicked
the covers off in my sleep, but I figured it couldn’t bother her half as fucking bad as her
snoring was bothering me.
I managed to pass out from sheer exhaustion despite the racket, but I felt as if I’d
barely closed my eyes when the damned phone started ringing. Blindly, I searched for
the thing until I managed to grab the receiver and bring it to my ear. “Good morning,
Ms. Monk! This is your six fifteen wake up call!”
“This isn’t Ms. Monk!” I growled. “Ms. Monk managed to sleep through the
damned wake up call, but I’ll be sure and wake her!”
I slammed the phone down again and pushed myself upright, fixing my burning
gaze on the woman in the other bed—who was still snoring. Mayhem flickered through
my mind. I envisioned myself staggering to the bathroom, filling the trash container with
icy water and dumping it over her head. I considered pulling my spare pillow off my bed
and holding it over her face until she stopped wiggling—throwing something at her.
“June!” I yelled instead. “Get your ass out of that bed!”
She woke with a snort. “Wha …?”
“You asked for a six fifteen wakeup call?” I reminded her.
She stared at me for a long moment and finally pushed herself upright, yawning
and stretching. Flopping back down on my own pillow, I pulled my covers over my head
and composed myself for sleep again.
“You aren’t getting up?”
“No.”
“We were supposed to be at that talk at nine.”

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“And maybe I’ll make it,” I muttered, regretting that I hadn’t smothered the
woman in her sleep.
She stumbled around the room for the next hour and a half getting ready and
finally left. As annoyed as I was, I’d been out screwing half the night and the moment
peace settled once more on the room, I was out like a light.
She came back to wake me at twenty minutes till nine.
Considerate bitch!
“If you hurry, you’ll just have time to make it to Mr. Mueller’s talk.”
“My god! To think I might have missed it!” I growled. “Thank you so much,
June!”
“You’re welcome!” she said stiffly and marched out the door again, slamming it
behind her hard enough to rattle my brains in my skull.
For at least five minutes I struggled to go back to sleep. Finally, realizing I
couldn’t afford to have everyone speculating as to why I hadn’t shown up at the boss’
talk, I fell out of the bed and stumbled in to take a quick shower. My eyelids felt as if
they’d been glued shut. By the time I’d bathed, dressed, and slathered enough makeup
on to hide the black circles beneath my eyes, I’d managed to lift my eyelids by about a
quarter of an inch—just enough to navigate my way downstairs.
The noise level at the breakfast bar was enough to give me a headache, but I
zeroed in on the coffee and grabbed a cup. Chris, looking nearly as bad as I did, met me
at the coffee urn.
“Morning.”
I glanced at him dully. Feeling a flicker of pleasure despite my exhaustion as my
mind instantly filled with the night we’d spent together, I managed a weak smile. “Is it?”
I asked wryly.
He blushed. I’d never noticed that he had the tendency to blush. It was so cute!
“You wouldn’t happen to have any kind of painkiller with you, would you?”
“Not with me—in my suitcase. We can go up and get it after Mr. Mueller’s talk.”
He blushed harder and took an incautious sip from his cup, turning redder still
when he choked on the hot coffee. “I think I’ll just head over to the hotel shop and grab
something,” he said in a strangled voice. “My skull feels like it might explode.”
Consternation filled me as I watched him beat a retreat.
Because that was what it was—a retreat.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 23

Chapter Three

I hadn’t felt particularly enthusiastic about Mr. Mueller’s talk to begin with.
After the ‘morning after’ confrontation with Chris, I felt even less enthusiasm. Since I’d
fallen out of bed because I didn’t want to be notable by my absence, however, I followed
the herd inside and found a seat close to the door.
Chris didn’t appear as I’d hoped.
I tried to tell myself that the distress I was feeling was way out of proportion to
the situation. Obviously, poor Chris had a hell of a hangover. No doubt that accounted
for most of his odd behavior and maybe he was also a little uncomfortable because he’d
remembered our rendezvous the night before?
Maybe he was feeling a little strange because he’d been so passionate?
Maybe he was having a sexual identification crisis?
It must have come as a shock to him, regardless of the little role playing game
we’d come up with, that he’d had sex with a woman and enjoyed it so much, I thought,
feeling a mixture of anxiety about his mental state and, at the same time, a touch of
feminine pride.
Applause from the people around me brought my mind to focus on the present, at
least briefly, and I joined them, glancing toward the podium at the front as Mr. Mueller
stood up and moved toward it. He, of course, diverted my mind even further, looking
good enough to eat. I’d never really thought I paid that much attention to body language
and yet there was something about the way the man moved that was sexy right by itself.
It was more than the action of moving, more than the surprising grace he achieved for a
man built like a line backer, it was the power and confidence he exuded, maybe even a
touch of arrogance.
If anyone had the right to be proud, I thought wryly, Nicholas Mueller certainly
did—all that brains, brawn, beauty, and beautiful money all rolled into one were bound to
create a monster.
The smile he favored his audience with caught me by surprise. It was broad,
relaxed, completely genuine, not the practiced, coolly professional smile I was used to
seeing and it made me tingle right down to my toes when he flashed it in my direction, as
if it was actually meant for me.
I drew a shaky breath. Boy! Would I be in trouble if he actually did bend that
twenty four carat, bad rich boy grin on me!
It flickered through my mind to wonder who had put that smile on his face,
relaxed the tense lines I was used seeing in his face, put those faintly dark circles beneath
his eyes—who accounted for the fact that his hair was not quite as perfect as it usually
was—what almost amounted to a transformation from machine to man?
And the moment those thoughts popped in my mind an image followed—of the
woman I’d met the night before and then almost run in to on the beach.
A mixture of amusement and churning envy hit me at the same time.
Apparently, her hunting expedition had been a successful one and she’d tamed the

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 24

savage entrepreneur.
You go girl! I thought, trying to actually feel some sisterly connection there when
what I really felt was more depressed than I’d felt a few minutes before, and that was
saying something.
It wasn’t him, I told myself—just like I’d been telling myself ever since I’d
started working for Mueller Enterprises.
Chris hadn’t looked the better for our rendezvous. In fact, he’d looked downright
distressed—alright, maybe a little sick.
Heaving a woeful sigh, I tried to focus on what Mr. Mueller was saying, but for
once I couldn’t seem to control my wandering mind. I divided my time between simply
enjoying the sound of his voice without actually listening to anything he was saying,
mulling over the encounter with Chris, and reviewing my night of wild lovemaking.
Alright, breeding.
It had sure as hell felt like lovemaking to me, though, damn it!
Or, at the very least, wild, mutually enjoyable sex.
It occurred to me about the time Mr. Mueller finished up his speech that I was
ovulating. That meant I was not only at peak fertility, it also meant my hormones were
spiking. Maybe I’d just imagined Chris was avoiding me! After all, the poor guy had
gotten drunk on his ass the night before and he wasn’t a drinking man.
What he probably needed was TLC and understanding, not psycho woman.
I got up and headed out while everybody was clapping—peripherally aware that
that was a strong indication the speech was over—surveying the corridor for any sign of
my wayward buddy. Seeing no sign of him, I debated heading to his bungalow to see if
he’d crashed, but the probability seemed high that he’d grabbed painkillers and done just
that. He wouldn’t appreciate me beating on his door if he was trying to sleep it off.
After the night I’d had, sleeping strongly appealed to me, too. I considered it
rather longingly but finally decided that at least one of us had to try to be productive—
besides the personal production we’d worked on. Heading toward the refreshment table,
I grabbed another cup of coffee in the hope that I could down enough caffeine to get my
brain to functioning at a level above zombie mode.
I was doctoring the brew with cream and sugar, hoping to take some of the bite
out of it, when other conventioneers began to flood into the corridor around me. Bracing
myself, I sipped at the coffee and turned to survey the lemmings headed for the
refreshment bar in hopes of spying likely prey.
Mr. Mueller had exited the room but had been waylaid by my roomy, who was
gushing over his speech.
Suck up, I thought uncharitably, dragging my gaze from the pair and continuing
my scan for a likely victim. The man I’d chatted with at the bar the night before, I
discovered, already had me in his sights. He sent me a friendly smile as I met his gaze
and made a bee-line for me.
Fuck! Too late to pretend I hadn’t seen him. I smiled back and waited where I
was, flicking a glance around to see if there was any possibility that someone might
‘rescue’ me—which was when I noticed Mr. Mueller had stiffened like a pointer. The
bored look had vanished.
Glancing around, I spied Betty Chancelor.
She had a pinched look about her face that didn’t strike me as consistent with a

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 25

well laid woman, but I didn’t see anyone else Mr. Mueller might be looking at. Besides,
I’d seen her sneaking down the beach. She had to be his rendezvous the night before.
Thoroughly confused, I looked at Nick Mueller again and got the jolt of my life.
She snubbed the grand stud of Mueller Enterprises!—walked right past him as if
he was invisible.
Actually, not as if he didn’t exist but rather with the practiced, ‘you’re invisible’
contempt of a woman scorned!
‘Nicky’s’ color fluctuated from dark red to white and back again as she walked
briskly past him as if he was part of the wallpaper, completely ignoring the slow, sexy
grin he’d favored her with. Confusion and anger flickered over his face as he followed
her progress with his gaze.
I was suddenly wide awake, all sorts of thoughts tumbling through my head.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to really sort through them. My friend from the
night before stopped to chat. By the time we’d exchanged pleasantries the drama that
had unfolded right beneath my curious nose was over.
I discovered when I surreptitiously peered around my companion’s bulk that Nick
Mueller had not only recovered, he was coming our way.
“Bill!” he said with a pleasant nod, offering a hand.
‘Bill’ smiled good-naturedly and returned the handshake, but I could see he was
on guard now.
“I see you’ve met one of my top sales people,” Nick continued, glancing in my
direction.
I looked around to see who had come up behind me. Discovering none of the
other sales staff nearby, I returned my attention to the two men and discovered that both
of them were eyeing me with amusement, although there was a flicker of irritation in
Nick Mueller’s eyes, as well. I felt my face heat and squirmed inwardly, wishing I could
think of an excuse to escape.
“We met at the welcome mixer last night,” Bill agreed. “I thought we might
pursue our acquaintance at the luncheon if I could persuade her to join me at my table.”
Actually, we didn’t—not really. I hadn’t even known the man’s name was Bill
until Nick Mueller addressed him. That wasn’t ‘meeting’ in my book. I managed a
smile. “I’d love to,” I said politely. “I suppose I should try to find the next seminar right
now, though.”
“I’ll walk you there,” Nick and Bill said almost at the same time.
Fuck! Churning at the back of my mind was the thrill of discovery and the
burning need to unburden myself of my suspicions to Chris. Seeing no hope for it,
though, I smiled an agreement and allowed the two men to herd me between them, too
preoccupied with my thoughts to do more than paste a bright, interested expression on
my face in agreement with the conversation between the two men.
It wasn’t a total loss. Nick Mueller excused himself once we’d arrived at our
destination and I discovered Ms. Chancellor was in attendance.
It sucked that I couldn’t actually hear the unfolding drama, or even see as well as
I wanted to, but I saw Mueller pause beside the empty chair next to her and speak to her.
With obvious reluctance, she removed the purse she’d undoubtedly planted there to
prevent anyone from sitting next to her. Despite the distance, I could see that Mueller
was struggling with polite conversation and she was barely responding.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 26

Ouch! Delicious! Chris was going to freak when I told him!
Oh, she was giving him the cold shoulder, alright! I knew he wasn’t used to that
and it brought all sorts of interesting possibilities to mind.
Chris, I knew, would be able to piece the entire scenario together once I gave him
the dirt. He was a master at this sort of thing.
I had my own ideas, of course, but I needed to bounce them off of Chris and see if
he agreed before I could fully, maliciously enjoy the gossip.
Not that I could actually share it with anyone but Chris, but, really, he was the
most fun anyway and I didn’t actually want to cause Mr. Mueller any problems. I just
wanted to savor the fact that Mr. Wonderful had his own little waterloos like everyone
else.
I didn’t manage to spot Chris until the damned luncheon and, unfortunately, Bill
spotted me before I could pretend I’d forgotten I’d agreed to sit with him. Settling a hand
beneath my elbow, he escorted me to the table he’d claimed for himself. The moment
we’d seated ourselves and the other people began to introduce themselves my attention
was completely diverted to business.
Bill wasn’t just with Trinity. He was Trinity!
I felt faint when I realized how close I’d come to giving him the slip in favor of
gossiping with my bud! I was pardonably, I thought, pleased with myself once the
luncheon ended. Due entirely to my distraction with personal problems, mine and Nick
Mueller’s, I’d managed to make a favorable impression on Bill Trinity by not trying a
hard sell. He rewarded me by asking me to give an off the cuff presentation of Mueller
Enterprise’s services. I outlined them briefly and allowed him and the other people at the
table to draw me out into further discussion.
Things were definitely looking up!

* * * *

Things had definitely taken a downward turn, Nick thought irritably, still trying to
figure out what the hell was going on. He’d thought it was a damned piss poor idea to
give in to Betty’s prodding for a romp in the bedroom to start with, but it had been one
hell of a pleasant surprise.

He’d thought so, anyway, right up until she’d given him the cold shoulder.
It occurred to him that she might have a reason for that beyond his first gut

reaction—the unpleasant suspicion that things might not have gone quite as well as he’d
thought—that it might not have anything to do with him at all, per se, but rather the fact
that they were in public.

That didn’t augur well since it seemed to support his earlier suspicion that she

wasn’t unattached, but then it didn’t necessarily follow that she was. Maybe it was just
as she’d said the night before? She just didn’t want to stir up gossip that she’d have to
deal with when she got home?

That didn’t explain why she was barely civil, though.
Considering what had passed between them, she should have been fucking

purring at him or, at the very least, giving off vibes that she’d welcome a repeat
performance.

Unless it had occurred to her that he might expect to make a sale with her

company based on their late night adventures?

Actually, he wouldn’t have been against landing a contract with Dillon and Sons

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 27

based on his performance the night before, but that wasn’t his priority at the moment.

His priority, although he knew damned well it shouldn’t be, was pursuing the

interesting connection they’d made the night before and seeing if it would be as good the
second time around as it had been the first.

It had actually been pretty damned mind-blowing sex.
At least he’d thought so.
He spent a good half of the day pursuing her while she deftly avoided him and he

found himself getting more and more pissed off about it.
Granted, he’d been pretty damned wrapped up in the best sex he’d had in forever,
but he didn’t think he’d been so focused on his own enjoyment that he’d imagined she
was enjoying it, too, damn it to hell! Reluctantly, he admitted that she might not have
been as blown away as he was, but unless she’d been faking all those little moans and
sighs, she must have gotten something out of it!
He finally managed to corral her entirely by accident when they broke from the
seminars for the afternoon. They had about four hours of ‘free’ time before the dinner
and dance scheduled for the evening’s entertainment and he’d decided, after prowling the
hotel in search of her, to head back to his bungalow for his swim trunks to try to work off
some of his frustrations with a swim.
She was standing in the shade of a palm tree, sipping on one of those fruity mixed
drinks, almost as if she was waiting for him. He stopped, trying to decide whether he
actually felt up to risking another snub and finally sauntered toward her, scanning the
picture she made in her swimsuit. She actually had a pretty decent figure, but there was
something about it that nagged at him. She was a little taller than average, which he
actually preferred since he was tall himself, but she hadn’t really seemed tall the night
before. He distinctly remembered that he’d been surprised to discover they didn’t fit
together quite the way he’d thought they would. He’d reminded himself, then, that she’d
been sitting down and he hadn’t actually gotten her measure.
She didn’t seem quite as rounded as he remembered either.
Still puzzling over it, he sauntered toward her, pausing when he reached her and
she straightened away from the tree.
She hadn’t just seemed tall because of her build, he realized then. He found
himself staring at her almost face to face.
She didn’t look particularly welcoming.
His irritation flared. He glanced away from her, scanning the area to make certain
no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. As he did, Carly Nelson caught
his gaze.
His heart stuttered to halt as he watched her progress across the sand toward him.
Not that she was looking at him. She had a hand up to shield her eyes and was
staring toward the chaises lined up at the edge of the beach.
She was the next thing to naked though, wearing one of those postage stamp
swimsuits that left a lot more exposed than it covered. She was wearing a white beach
wrap, but it was open, parted by the wind and fluttering behind her.
Good god! He’d always thought she was built like a goddess, but he’d also
figured his imagination was a lot better than reality.
She flicked a glance in his direction when she came abreast of him and Betty,
gave him that startled, wide eyed look she usually favored him with when she came face

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 28

to face with him, flicked a glance at Betty, and took off like she’d been shot in the ass
with a rubber band.
He frowned, partly with irritation, and partly in confusion, glancing down at her
bare feet when it dawned on him that the top of her head had barely cleared Betty’s
shoulder.
Betty was glaring at him when he finally managed to drag his attention from
Carly. He stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. “So …,” he
managed finally, “it occurred to me to wonder if you’d be interested in a repeat
performance tonight.”
Oh! That was smooth!
Betty gaped at him in dawning indignation, which didn’t surprise him a hell of a
fucking lot considering he’d just stuck both feet in his mouth. “Oh, I don’t think so!” she
snapped. “Last night’s performance was enough for me!”
Nick felt his face heating uncomfortably. He couldn’t help but flick a glance in
Carly’s direction again, just to make sure she’d been far enough away it wasn’t likely
she’d heard either his ‘smooth’ move or the trouncing he’d just gotten. Her face was
pink.
He had a bad feeling she’d heard every fucking word.
“I take it you weren’t impressed,” he managed finally—because he was too off
kilter and too pissed off to let it drop.
“Oh, I was impressed,” she said dryly. “If you didn’t want to, I don’t know why
the hell you didn’t just say so!”
Nick felt his jaw sag. She’d whirled on her heels and stalked off before he could
wrap his mind around the fact that she’d just given him a flat ‘F’ in the fucking
department. Hell!
He stared after her retreating form, trying to decide if he really felt like taking any
more abuse and finally decided he wasn’t in the frame of mind to handle it at the
moment. Turning toward the beach, he stalked across it and into the water until he was
waist deep and dove into the next wave.

* * * *

I couldn’t believe my luck! And it was entirely due to circumstance and not
premeditated on my part! I’d just spied my quarry—Chris, who’d been giving me the
slip all day—and was marching purposefully toward him when I’d had the great good
fortune of overhearing the latest installment of ‘A day in the life of Nick Mueller’!
Reaching Chris, I flopped excitedly to my knees in the sand beside the chaise
where he was lounging. “You are not going to believe … oh fu …udge!”
I clapped hand over my mouth when I discovered Nick Mueller was right on my
tail. He looked fit to be tied, however, and relief surged through me when he didn’t so
much as glance in my direction.
Chris, I discovered, was eyeing me warily when I looked at him again.
I registered it, but only peripherally. I was a lot more focused on the completely
uncharitable excitement and amusement boiling inside of me and fighting to break free
with an appropriate audience. “I just saw Mr. Mueller shot down by Betty Chancelor!” I
whispered excitedly, moving closer to make sure no one over heard me. “You are not
going to believe what’s going on! Ok, so I’m not sure I know what’s going on, but I have
an idea.”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 29

Still looking uncomfortable, but intrigued, Chris sat up, moving a little closer.
“What?”
Thus adjured to ‘spill it’, I came up on my knees and planted my ass on the chaise
beside him, beginning with the meeting I’d witnessed the night before. “It was crystal
clear she was looking to get laid, and then I saw her on the beach when I was heading out
… uh … you know!”
I couldn’t help but notice that Chris looked a lot more appalled than pleased about
the tale.
“Betty Chancelor?” he echoed a little hoarsely.
“Yeah, she’s with Dillon and Sons.” I waved that away as insignificant to the
story. “Anyway, I was too wrapped up to think much about it last night beyond being
worried that she might’ve seen me, but she snubbed him when he tried to catch her eye
this morning and then, just a minute ago, I happened to be walking by them and heard
him say something about performance and she informed him that she wasn’t impressed—
words to that effect, anyway. So … what do you think?”
He was looking a little green, actually.
“Are you alright? I thought you would’ve had time to get over the hangover by
now,” I said sympathetically.
He got up abruptly, nearly dumping me into the sand. “I’m not feeling well,
actually. I think I’ll go back to my bungalow and lay down for a while.”
I stared up at him in consternation, but the sun was in my eyes and I couldn’t see
his expression that well. His color looked a little off, though. “Maybe a swim would be
better? Fresh air? A little exercise?”
“Why don’t you go on in?” he threw over his shoulder, striding away from me.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Far be it from me to get in his way when he looked like he needed to puke!
Poor darling!
I debated whether I actually wanted to go in—seeing as how I’d seen Nick
Mueller heading into the water—but finally decided to wait around and see if Chris
actually did come back. I’d never been much for sun worshipping, though, and besides
that, the conference was only three days—actually not even three full days. The dinner
dance was tonight and we’d be heading back the following afternoon. Since I knew we’d
be tied up all morning with seminars I decided to at least take a dip. I didn’t want to
return from Hawaii without ever having gone into the water.
After helping myself to some of the sun block Chris had conveniently left by his
chair, I headed out to the water, trying to surreptitiously locate Mr. Mueller and make
sure I wasn’t any where near him. The gleam of sunlight on the water didn’t help, but I
thought I spied his dark head plowing through the surf a good twenty feet away and
decided it was safe to go in.

* * * *

Nick didn’t actually make a conscious decision to change course and intercept
Carly. In point of fact, considering the blow to his ego he’d already taken, he would’ve
realized it was a really fucking bad idea if he’d been thinking with his head—well, he
was thinking with his head, but it wasn’t the one that had a brain.
The moment he saw her heading for the water, though, the confusing thoughts
that had been plaguing him most of the day were instantly usurped by a burning need to

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 30

get take a closer look at her assets. He managed to catch up to her at almost the same
moment a wave broke just behind and above her. Seeing that she was gazing off in the
direction Chris had disappeared, he called a warning. The only result it had wasn’t a
good one. Her head whipped in his direction and she gave him the ‘deer caught in the
headlamps’ look that was really starting to annoy the shit out of him.
Fuck! You’d think he chewed her up every morning for breakfast!
“Mist …,” she managed to get out before the wave clocked her.
He dove just as she vanished, pushing off from the bottom with enough thrust to
reach her with no more than one stroke. Curling an arm around her waist, he dragged her
against his length and broke the surface with her.
She’d strangled on the water. It took her a good five minutes to control the fit of
coughing that seized her. Not that he minded. Between the coughing and the surging
water surrounding them, he had the opportunity to fully enjoy every inch of bare flesh
thoroughly.
Her eyes and nose were both red by the time she managed to catch her breath,
shove the wet mat of hair out of her eyes and peer up at him.
“You alright?”
She nodded, averting her gaze—which was when she discovered she had her
hands braced on his chest. She stared at his chest for a long moment, her brow wrinkling,
and finally pushed away, sending him a strange look.
“I was just about to warn you about the wave,” he said absently, feeling a peculiar
sense of deja` vu the moment she moved away and he managed to gather his rattled wits
a little.
She blinked, rubbing at her eyes, and glanced around. “Well … uh … thanks.”
He chuckled. “My pleasure.”
She reddened. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. He searched his
mind for something he could say that would keep her from dashing off. “How did the
luncheon go?”
She smiled more easily, obviously more comfortable discussing business, he
thought wryly. “Good … I think. Mr. Trinity wouldn’t let me talk business last night,
but he seemed receptive at the luncheon.”
Irritation flickered through him. “I bet,” he said dryly.
She looked at him questioningly.
He sloughed the water from his face, glancing toward the beach. Spying Chris, he
glanced at Carly to see if she’d noticed. She had. “Just watch yourself tonight if he
approaches you,” he said pointedly.
A frown flickered between her brows and disappeared. She nodded. “I’ll be
careful, Mr. Mueller. I already know he doesn’t like a hard sell.”
Nick’s lips tightened. “He’s old school. He doesn’t believe there is such a thing
as sexual harassment. Him and his wife have been estranged for months now. Rumor
has it she just filed for a divorce. Don’t let him steer you off into any dark corners. If
you land the account—good. If not ….” He shrugged.
Carly gaped at him. The thoughts that flickered through her mind in quick
succession were easily readable in the expressions they reflected on her face. Surprise,
he noted, wasn’t actually one of them, unless he counted the fact that she seemed to be
surprised that he was warning her against using flirtation—or more—to land the account.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 31

She didn’t deny that the man had already made a pass at her, which didn’t surprise him
but did piss him off. She smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Mueller. I’ll watch myself.”
He stood watching her until she met up with Chris—who promptly picked her up
and pitched backward into a wave. Shaking his head disapprovingly at Chris’ rough
horseplay, he turned and dove into the next wave. Carly’s shriek of laughter stayed with
him, though, and by the time he’d swam out as far as he dared he’d arrived at the
conclusion that his love play the night before had undoubtedly been way too tame for Ms.
Chancellor. Nothing else seemed to fit, seemed to explain her blatant contempt of his
efforts when he knew damned well he’d brought her off at least once, damn it!
Well, if she liked it rough, he definitely wasn’t her man. He didn’t go in for that
shit! He wasn’t even particularly in to ‘kink’. Sure he could see it if a couple had been
together a while and wanted to add a little spice, but, by and large, he was a meat and
potatoes man. Why fuck with perfection? What the hell was wrong with ‘ordinary’?
By the time he’d swam back to shore, he’d begun to have second thoughts. Just
because it wasn’t something he needed to get off there was no reason he could see why
he couldn’t play a little rough if that was what rang her bell.
The real question was, could he convince her that he was willing to put in a little
extra effort if that was she wanted?

* * * *

The hangover, Chris decided peevishly, was bad enough without everything else
he had to deal with. He hadn’t even realized alcohol could have that kind of effect on
anyone, let alone ever had first hand experience with it!

What really galled him, though, was that, despite the urban legends to the

contrary, he didn’t have a convenient case of amnesia the following day.
Oh hell no! He remembered way more than he’d wanted to and way too vividly!
Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover how he felt about it. He’d told Carly he
could handle it. He’d honestly thought when the idea had first popped into his mind that
he could and the more time he’d spent trying to convince Carly that he could, the more
convinced he’d been.
Right up until he’d found himself facing it.
Actually, a little before that. The drinks, though, those were supposed to provide
a person with courage! They were supposed to produce a ‘don’t give a damn’ effect.
The only real effect that he’d noticed it had had on him was to leave him wide open for
humiliation.
He’d practiced what he’d meant to do in his mind over and over on the trip from
the mainland and he’d convinced himself that, if a problem arose—with something not
arising as planned—he’d just flip Carly over on her belly, close his eyes and pretend it
wasn’t a female’s ass he was fondling. He could handle that.
Instead, he’d staggered back to his room and passed out. Things still might have
worked out if she hadn’t decided to get him going with a blow job. He’d almost been
ready to blow when he’d woken up, totally disoriented, not only by sleep but the vast
amount of alcohol in his system. It had given him a really nasty jolt to grab the ass
bobbing in front of him and plant his face in a female’s genitals, so nasty his cock had
deflated like a popped balloon.
The face full of pussy had jogged his memory, but it had been way too late by
then for him to grasp any of the fall back plans he’d worked out. Dick was down for the

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 32

count and none of his feverish efforts to revive the bastard had worked.
He’d felt bad enough when he’d thought it was Carly that had finally rolled off
the bed and stalked out, slamming the door of his bungalow so loud it sounded like
cannon fire. He’d felt a hell of a lot worse, though, when it occurred to him that it wasn’t
Carly at all.
It wasn’t until he’d woke up this morning that it had finally dawned on him that it
couldn’t possibly have been Carly he’d been frantically finger fucking the night before
and trying to stuff his half baked sausage in to. Because he’d gotten so damned drunk
he’d forgotten to tell her he’d swapped bungalows with the boss. He’d spent an hour
hanging over the toilet puking his guts out when that had occurred to him and then
another couple of hours trying to convince himself that he actually had told Carly—that
was the part he had amnesia about.
The moment she’d smiled at him this morning, though, he’d known. There was
no way she would’ve left so pissed off with him and beamed at him so sweetly the next
morning if it had been her in his bed the night before.
He didn’t know who the hell it had been, but he was almost positive it hadn’t
been Carly.
And he’d still tried to convince himself he was wrong. Carly was just being
understanding about the whole thing—which wasn’t the least out of character for her.
He’d almost managed to convince himself of the lies, too, until Carly had told
him the deliciously scandalous gossip she’d culled about the boss!
Oh, they were in deep shit!
And poor Carly didn’t even know it yet!

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 33

Chapter Four

Chris was stunned when he finally nerved himself to return to the beach and spied
Carly and Mueller in the water together. The way he was curled around Carly so
possessively sent a jolt through him, but then a mixture of relief and amusement filtered
into him.
“You go girl!” he muttered, feeling almost weak with relief. He didn’t have to
tell her!
Thank god!
He hadn’t realized just how unnerving the thought of confessing what a mess he’d
made of things had been until it hit him that he didn’t have to.
He couldn’t wait to grill her for the details!
Alright, so maybe he would wait. All things considered, he didn’t really want to
remind her, at the moment, that it was his fuck up that had brought her and the boss
together. He was just relieved that it had turned out so well. Clearly the boss wasn’t
pissed off about it.
Talk about blatant! Feeling her up right on the beach in front of god and
everybody and looking at her like he could eat her up right then and there!
He felt downright giddy about the gene donor she’d ended up with, though. The
boss was a hunk, a hunk of burning love! She couldn’t have done better for herself if
she’d managed to scrape up the money for a frozen pop!

* * * *

“I don’t know what happened last night—maybe I had more to drink than I
realized. But, let me make it up to you. Meet me tonight.”
Betty tipped her head back to look up at him with a mixture of doubt and
hopefulness. “I don’t know. I was really disappointed the last time.”
The barb stung, but Nick could see that she was wavering, that she wanted to be
convinced.
He leaned closer to whisper near her ear. “You won’t be disappointed this time. I
promise. I’ll make you scream.”
She shivered, leaned away to favor him with a provocative pout and finally
relented. “Promise?”
“I swear it,” he said promptly.
She smiled tipsily. “Scouts honor?”
He grinned, knowing he’d snagged her. “Absolutely.” It occurred to him that she
was a little drunk. “You sure you can find your way?”
The song ended and she pulled away, stabbing him in the chest with one finger.
“I can find my way,” she said pointedly. “You just be sure you can!”
He grinned at her with an effort, but it was more of a baring of teeth than anything
containing humor. “I’ll watch the alcohol intake.”
Nodding, she turned and left him on the dance floor. His eyes narrowed with
annoyance as he watched her weave a slightly drunken path toward the bar. If she could

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 34

even find her way to the bungalow tonight he’d lucky, he thought irritably. He didn’t
even know why he’d so determinedly pursued her when she so obviously wanted nothing
more to do with him … except that it bothered the hell out of him that he’d made such a
piss poor impression.
Prompted by the first strains of the next song, he scanned the tables scattered
about the room and finally strode from the dance floor, heading toward the Mueller
Enterprises enclave. Thankfully, he’d only brought two women on this jaunt, a far
smaller group than he generally brought to any of the conferences or trade shows,
primarily because of the staggering expense of the location. Bowing slightly to June
Monk, he extended a hand. “Would you care to dance?”
She looked stunned and then thrilled. “I’d love to, Mr. Mueller!”
He smiled back at her a little uncomfortably, taking her hand and leading her to
the floor. He’d always made it a practice at the dinner dance that brought the
conferences to a close to offer to dance with any of the female employees that he brought
on these jaunts. They were generally flatteringly grateful, and it was a harmless way of
promoting good will between himself and his female employees.
He had no reason to feel guilty about it just because the poor thing was so
painfully grateful for the attention.
Except that he’d been focused from the start of the evening on getting Carly into
his arms and had been carefully avoiding her to prevent anyone, least of all her, from
realizing that she was his primary target. He would do his duty by dividing his attentions
between the wives of potential clients, then his employees, and save the pleasure of the
only dance he was actually looking forward to for last.
The brief interlude at the beach had primed him. He hadn’t been able to get it out
of his mind since.
If he’d been a smart man, he wouldn’t even be contemplating dancing with her
after that, not when he was already having problems getting the feel of her out of his
mind.
He could work it out of his system with Betty, he reminded himself. As irritating
as the woman was outside of it, she was dynamite in bed.
Bill Trinity spiked his guns by getting to her first. Glancing at his watch
impatiently, he found a spot near the dance floor, waiting for the song to end, watching
the horny bastard waltz her around the floor through narrowed eyes.
He didn’t let her go when the song ended. Instead, he detained her by talking to
her.
He was obviously waiting for the next song to start to grope for another round of
dancing!
Enough was enough!
Nick strode purposefully across the floor toward them as the strains of the next
song began, halting beside them just as Bill pulled her into his arms again. “Sorry, Bill.
This dance is mine,” he said implacably.
Trinity paused, glanced down at Carly and then at him. Nick could see reluctance
in every line of his body. Carly pulled her hand from his shoulders, however, turning to
him with a relieved smile, leaving Trinity with no choice but to step back or look like a
dunce.
Slipping a hand around her slender waist, Nick clasped one of her hands and

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 35

pulled her a little closer than was strictly proper for the dance.
But what did he give a fuck, he thought recklessly?
She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Maybe I should put my shoes
back on?”
He stared at her face blankly, unable for several moments to direct his mind away
from her lips, feeling his mouth go dry as he stared at them. “What?”
She shook her head. “I just thought it might make dancing together a little less
awkward if I was wearing stilts,” she said teasingly. “I hadn’t realized you were so tall.”
He stepped away from her to look down at her bare feet. A disorienting sense of
deja`vu swept over him as he pulled her close again and looked down at her. He
frowned, trying to figure out what had prompted it and finally dismissed it when he
realized it was undoubtedly from the embrace they’d shared at the beach earlier.

Not that it had been an actual embrace, which was a pity—close, but not quite

close enough to suit him.

“We’re a perfect fit,” he murmured lightly.
She blushed. He stared at the intriguing tint in her cheeks for a moment and

struggled for something to say to get his mind off of the brush of her breasts against his
chest with the movements of the dance. “You looked relieved.”

She grimaced. “I was. He stepped all over my feet. That was the main reason I

thought I might better get my shoes.”

The comment startled a chuckle out of him. He tightened his hold on her. The

rubbing of her breasts was driving him crazy. He could feel her nipples. “I’ll try not to
step on your feet.”

Carly cleared her throat, trying to ignore the heat rising between them. His

cologne was the most heavenly scent she’d ever smelled. She had to fight the urge to
plant her nose against his neck and sniff him ecstatically. “You’re very good.”

He favored her with a slow, seductive grin. “I’ve been told that a time or two.”

Unfortunately, most recently, he’d been informed that he stank.

She sent him a startled look and then chuckled. “I’ll bet it was more than once or

twice.”

Not recently, he thought grimly, wondering why the hell he cared. It wasn’t as if

he had any intention of pursuing the liaison beyond the conference.

He knew why it bothered him, though. He’d thought it was the best sex he’d ever

had. It rankled that the admiration wasn’t mutual.

He felt his cock rise and shifted to put a little distance between the two of them

before she noticed, annoyed that he’d let his mind focus on sex when he needed, at the
moment, to distract himself from it. “Any other problems with Trinity?”

“Aside from laying it on with a trowel?” she responded tartly. “The man has no

grasp of subtlety. He’s an outrageous flirt, but he’s harmless.”

“Don’t you believe that for a moment,” Nick retorted grimly. “’Harmless’ men

don’t make it in the corporate world.”

She looked slightly taken aback. “Does that include you?” she asked after a

moment.

“Especially me.”

* * * *

“Last chance,” I muttered to my reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to boost

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 36

my flagging courage. Even to me I looked scared, excited, and doubtful all at the same
time.
I shook off the doubts. Chris and I had agreed on two tries. One might have done
the trick, but two would be better and we were both hoping to accomplish ‘the goal’ with
this one trip so that we could put it behind us and resume our friendship and pretend it
had never happened.
I’d begun to believe we could actually do that, that once I was pregnant I could
focus entirely on the baby and conveniently forget how he’d gotten there.
It was stupid, anyway, to feel so unnerved at the prospect when I’d already done
it once, and it wasn’t as if Chris was still acting strange. Undoubtedly, what I’d
interpreted as reluctance really hadn’t been anything but the aftereffects of too much to
drink. He hadn’t been avoiding me as I’d feared after our night together. He’d just felt
like hell.
He’d been his old self when he’d joined me for a swim—actually, almost giddy.
He was expecting me, and it wasn’t as if it hadn’t been fabulous.
What a way to make a baby!
Alright, so in the back of my mind, despite the fact that it had been fabulous, I
was thinking about Nick Mueller—whom I had no business thinking about at all!
In the two years I’d worked at Mueller Enterprises I’d managed to, mostly, block
from my mind that he was a man and focus on the fact that he was my boss. Nothing that
had happened on the trip should’ve changed that, and yet it had. I wasn’t sure how it had,
but something had broken down the barrier I’d built up so carefully.
Maybe the incident at the beach?
I’d tried really hard not to think about it, but the fact was, as impersonal as it
undoubtedly was to him, I’d been keenly conscious of being so close to him the next
thing to naked.
The dance hadn’t helped. In fact, it had set every nerve in my body to sizzling
with pent up need.
I quashed the thought resolutely. I wasn’t needy! Not after last night! And, if I
was unusually horny because I’d been wallowing all over the boss and could still smell
his cologne all over me, well Chris would take care of dousing the fire.
“Show time!” I muttered to myself bracingly, looking down at myself to check to
make sure I wasn’t indecently exposed.
I’d had second thoughts about going nude beneath my swim wrap as I had the
night before due to my uneasiness in route, but it had worked well. I didn’t want to take
the chance of making things awkward tonight.
“Get in. Collect the donation. Get back,” I reminded myself. I couldn’t afford to
fuck half the night. I needed to get up early and have one last try at landing at least one
new account before we had to leave for the airport. Mr. Mueller wasn’t going to be
happy with me if I didn’t earn my ‘keep’ and have something to show for the money he’d
laid out bringing me to paradise!
June was snoring like a grizzly when I let myself out of the bathroom and headed
on tiptoe for the door. She snorted as I eased the chain off the door and I froze, waiting
with breath held to see if she would rouse enough to notice I was sneaking out. When
she resumed the snoring, I opened the door carefully and closed it behind me with equal
care.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 37

My heart was already racing when I stepped out of the hotel and walked briskly
along the path to the bungalows. I was so preoccupied with my rendezvous and the
tingle of anticipation between my legs, I almost ran smack in to Betty Chancelor.
Braking to a halt, I leapt behind a bush as she glanced back to see who was
following her.
She stared owl eyed at the empty path, glanced around, and finally turned and
began walking a little faster.
Holding my heart, I waited until it stopped thumping so painfully, and returned to
the path, moving a little slower to make certain she didn’t notice she wasn’t the only
nocturnal wanderer.
I tried not to think about who she was meeting, but I knew.
It put a severe damper on my own mood.
Jesus, he was a ho’ dog! I was wasting my time fantasizing about the man!
It was just what I needed, I told myself bracingly. It was dangerous to allow my
mind to wander in his direction—at all—even in fantasies! Anyway, if luck was with
me, I was going to get the only thing that really mattered to me on this trip. I was going
to come away with a bundle of joy and bring true fulfillment to my life, a future,
someone to give me purpose and direction.
The thought of the baby steadied me.
The baby was the only thing that really mattered, I reminded myself when I
reached the bungalow, paused to gather my nerve, and resolutely entered.

* * * *

Feeling pleasantly relaxed from the two cocktails he’d allowed himself, Chris
sighed happily and sprawled on his wide bed, smiling faintly to himself. Carly and
Mueller! Who would’ve thought!
And it was all his doing!
Here he’d spent the morning hiding in bed and trying to figure out how he was
going to break it to Carly that he’d screwed everything up and they were in deep shit and
all the time they’d hit it off like Romeo and Juliette!
He chuckled. Mueller must be in a dilemma! All that big talk about firing
anybody that got mixed up in an inner office romance and he was so smitten with Carly
he couldn’t keep his hands off her!
He shrugged. So, maybe nobody besides him had noticed the two of them on the
beach today, but there was going to be some fallout from the way he’d held onto her
when they’d danced together. He’d thought the boss was going to kiss her right there!
Sighing blissfully, he closed his eyes and allowed the pleasant buzz of alcohol to
carry him away. It felt as if he’d just sunk into oblivion when a click jerked him wide
awake again.
Despite the buzz and the disorientation of sleep, his mind instantly connected the
sound to his door and he jerked his head in that direction. His heart thudding almost
painfully in his chest, he stared with a mixture of dismay and fear at the dark, shadowy
figure standing just inside.
Carly?
Why would Carly be in his bungalow, though?
It was a woman for sure.
Groping toward the bedside lamp, he switched it on.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 38

The woman caught in the lamp glow was not only a complete stranger, she was in
the process of disrobing and there wasn’t a stitch of clothes under the robe! His mind
instantly leapt to the woman who’d crawled into his bed the night before and he uttered a
strangled squawk.
She screamed, jerking the robe closed again, and whirled, pulling frantically at
the door for several moments before she managed to get it open, squeezed through the
opening, and vanished.
Chris slumped against the headboard, holding his hand to his racing heart, staring
blankly at the door and trying to gather his scattered wits.
It dawned on him after a moment that the woman was the same one from the night
before—Betty Chancelor.
She’d been just as startled and horrified as he had been, but she’d come in as if
she’d been invited.
A wave of nausea washed over him. Mueller had invited her.
Mueller didn’t know!
“Oh god!”
If Betty Chancelor was at his bungalow then Carly ….
Leaping from the bed, he ran around the room in a circle, searching for something
to put on, hoping like hell he could intercept Carly before she was discovered. Finally,
he merely grabbed his swim trunks, which he’d left in the floor when he’d come in from
his swim, pulled the cold, wet shorts over his hips and dashed outside.
He skidded to a halt when he reached Mueller’s bungalow, watching in horror as
the door closed.
Was it too late? Or had Betty found her way to Mueller’s bungalow after all?

* * * *

Deja`vu, I thought when I discovered the room was as dark as it had been the
night before and Chris was sprawled in the bed just as he had been the previous night.
He sat up as I came in, though, watching as I discarded my robe and moved
toward the bed.
It actually unnerved me.
Not nearly as much, though, as the fact that he leaned forward, grabbed me, and
hauled me forcefully onto the bed!
I sucked in a sharp breath as I hit the mattress and he dove at me, fastening his
mouth firmly over my surprise parted lips and spearing his tongue into my mouth without
any preliminary. It was an assault to my senses, not just my sensibilities. His kisses, at
first, had been languid, savoring, the night before, coaxing heat from me. There was
nothing the least tentative about his exploration now. He was bold, hungry, impatient,
possessive, his hands fervent, almost rough with his eagerness as they roamed my body.
The heat and taste of him was drugging, his touch galvanizing. Almost the
moment his lips closed over mine I felt like I’d shot up with endorphins. My lungs felt as
if they’d collapsed. My heart ran away, frantically pumping scalding blood through my
veins that heated up my entire body.
I was nearing blackout from oxygen deprivation by the time he released my lips
and went in search of new territory to conquer. I managed a handful of panting breaths
as he gnawed a trail down my throat with his teeth that had goose-bumps racing back and
forth across my body madly and colliding with one another. My nipples felt like drill

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 39

bits. My pussy was clapping together and screaming ‘here boy’. My toes curled so
tightly I got cramps in my arches.
Then he bit down on one of my nipples and it felt like the top of my skull flew off
and I’d punctured a lung. I made a strange gurgling noise in my throat. My back arched
up off the bed of its own accord.
I dug my fingers frantically into his hair to ground myself.
He ignored the tug, pulling at my nipple and then scraping it with the edge of his
teeth until I was so dizzy I might have fallen off the bed if he hadn’t had me pinned
down.
I managed to suck in a reviving breath of air when he let go of the nipple he’d
been torturing. Since he immediately transferred his attention to the other, however, it
punched the air right out again.
A minor eruption quaked through me, tying every muscle into knots, particularly
the muscles along my channel, which clapped together and discovered they had nothing
to squeeze. I gasped frantically for air, sounding like an asthmatic horse but too mindless
to care.
Relief flickered through me when he stopped torturing my nipple. It was short
lived.
He gnawed a trail down the center of my body to my belly, nipping at the
quivering flesh until my belly cramped. I was hazily aware that his objective, however
delightful I might find it, wasn’t actually supposed to be in the game plan.
When he grabbed my thighs and jerked them apart in a ‘make a wish’ gesture,
however, and dove for my nether lips, I completely lost my mind. Actually, that came
after he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked my womb through it.
I couldn’t decide whether to shove him away or hold on to him frantically. It was
just as well. He didn’t give me a choice.
Five seconds flat after he clamped down on my clit, I hit climax number two.
This was no minor quake, however. It hit a ten on the Richter Scale before he finally let
go long enough for me to stop screaming and catch my breath.
I was still panting for breath when he flipped me over onto my belly. Weak as
water, I flopped like a rag doll.
He burrowed his face against my ass and started gnawing again, nipping at first
one cheek and then the other until I was as tense all over as if I had a steady current of
electricity flowing through me.
His breath was almost as ragged as mine by the time he’d nibbled a trail up my
back and grabbed a handful of my hair. Mindless pleasure suffused me as he used it to
tug my head to one side and bit down on my shoulder, sucking hard enough to bring the
blood to the surface.
Slipping an arm beneath me, he jerked my hips upward until I landed on knees.
His cock, feeling a lot more like a wooden post than flesh, parted the cheeks of my ass.
A moment of panic hit me as he plowed it along my cleft. I sucked in my breath, ready to
object strenuously if he tried to shove that monster up my ass.
I was briefly relieved when he plugged into the right outlet—briefly because me
and him both discovered at the same time that my pussy seemed to have grown shut. For
all that I was practically dripping wet, the muscles along my channel felt as if they’d
clamped permanently into the ‘hold’ position. Despite his tether on my hair and his hard

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 40

grip on my hips, I plowed the bed with my face when he curled his hips and thrust.
Releasing his grip on my hair, he grabbed my hips with both hands, shoved my
legs wider, and tried stuffing me down over his erection the second time.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” he growled, shaking all over.
Not to be deterred, he sat back on his heels, pulled me upright and, after gripping
his cock to keep it from buckling under the strain, bounced me up and down a couple of
times. The tightly clenched muscles along my passage relaxed fractionally, intrigued, no
doubt, by the lure of having something, at last, to grip. I sheathed the head of his cock
and the first couple of inches of shaft.
Both of us were shaking like we were palsied, however. I’d broken a sweat. He
was drenched. Whenever our skin brushed, we stuck together like briar rabbit and tar
baby.
Leaning forward, he positioned me on my knees again, sawed in and out of me a
couple of times and then gritted his teeth and drove all the way in until he hit bottom.
Stabbed with a blunt object, my womb screamed and tried to crawl higher in my belly. I
might have passed out—briefly.
Grabbing my hair again, he began to pound into me like a bronco rider on top of a
wild mustang. It took me a few moments to decide whether I liked it or not, but he was
pounding so insistently against my g-spot my body had no trouble figuring it out. He’d
barely gotten going good when I climaxed again, bucking mindlessly against him as if I
was a wild mustang, my screams of ecstasy muffled by the mattress.
Uttering a hoarse sob of breath, he drove so deeply inside of me I felt cartilage
crunch—not sure if it was his or mine—and shot a scalding fountain of semen at the
mouth of my womb that was still fluttering in ecstasy like a bellows.
I could almost have sworn I felt my womb suck it up.
He leaned over me, his weight on his braced arms, his heated breath cooling the
dampness along my back and making me shiver. After a few moments, he pushed
himself upright, uttered a hiss as he pulled out of me, and then collapsed beside me on the
bed.
Unable to move for several moments, I remained as I was, my ass still in the air.
Barely conscious, I struggled with the dilemma of how to get my ass down for a few
moments, trying to decide whether it would be easier to straighten my legs or to just tilt
my weight and allow gravity to take over. In the end, it wasn’t a choice. I tried to
straighten one leg and fell over.
A sense of bewilderment fluttered through my dead brain as I drifted mindlessly,
willing my heart to slow down so that I could catch my breath. Dimly aware that what
I’d just experienced went way beyond a mere ‘deposit’, I tried for a while to figure out
why that just didn’t seem right somehow.
My discomfort finally overshadowed it. I was sticky all over. Gathering myself,
I rolled to edge of the bed and half fell half climbed out, looked around for the bathroom
and finally staggered toward the closest door. After staring blankly at the closet for a
moment, I closed it again and made another search of the shadows.
His voice came to me as I grasped the door knob. “I’ll give you a minute and join
you in the shower.”
I glanced back at him, puzzling more over the sound of his voice than the
promise. Unable to grasp just what it was that bothered me, I finally nodded and went in,

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 41

closed the door and flipped the light switch, blinking as the room flooded with blinding
light.
There was a man standing at the window of the bathroom. If I hadn’t been too
near dead to actually react with more than a jolt of surprise, I might have had heart failure
right then and there.
Chris, who’d ducked, popped up again, staring at me wide eyed.
I stared back at him blankly, a frown slowly forming on my face.
He motioned a little frantically with his hand, mouthing something at me that I
couldn’t for the life of me translate.
“What are you doing out there?” I whispered blankly when I’d opened the
window. How had he gotten out there, I wondered, the idea flashing through my mind
that he’d gone outside for some reason and the door had closed and locked behind him?
“I’ll explain later,” he hissed. “Climb out before he decides to come look for
you.”
“He who?” I echoed blankly.
“Mueller!”
I clutched at my heart, whipping my head toward the bathroom door as if I could
see through it. The heavy thud of feet hitting the floor prompted me to dive for the
window, however. Chris grabbed me, dragging me through. We sprawled in the sand
together, but I could hear a tapping at the door and that was enough by itself to get me on
my feet. Leaping up, I glanced around frantically and launched into a run without any
clear idea of where I was headed. Chris grabbed me, swung me around, and took off in
the other direction, dragging me behind him. I tried to outrun him. My legs almost
outran me.
I stubbed my toe on the steps of the bungalow as he hauled me up them and
sprawled out hard enough on the porch to rattle my brains in my head. Grabbing me
around the waist, Chris lifted me bodily and hauled me inside, dropping me as soon as
we’d cleared the door and slamming and locking it behind him.
Heaving for breath, he slumped against the door for a moment and finally slid
down it, joining me on the floor.
I couldn’t seem to wrap my mind around what had just happened. I struggled
with it while I caught my breath and finally gave up. “What was Mr. Mueller doing in
your bungalow?” I demanded finally.
Chris looked at me guiltily. “He wasn’t in my bungalow. He’s in his.”
I stared at him blankly unable to translate. “But ….” I thought about it, but I was
sure it was the same bungalow I’d been to the night before. “You mean you switched
with him? And you didn’t tell me?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but I’d gone back to trying to make sense of
something that didn’t make any sense at all. Getting to his feet, he leaned down to grasp
my hands and haul me up to mine. “Why don’t you use my shower while I look for
something you can wear?”
Until that moment I’d forgotten that I was stark naked.
I’d climbed out the window and run all over the hotel grounds without a stitch of
clothes on.
God! I hoped they didn’t have security cameras in the trees!
Nodding, still too shocked to gather my wits, I went into his bathroom and bathed,

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 42

discovering I’d collected a lot of sand during my adventure since I’d been ‘basted’ in
semen and sweat before I’d wallowed in the beach sand. My hair was full of sand, too.
The bath calmed me a little—not a hell of a lot—but enough my brain began to
function somewhat. And I still couldn’t figure out what had happened, primarily, I think,
because I was trying so hard to block certain memories—like everything from the
moment I’d stepped into Mr. Mueller’s bungalow until I’d fallen through the door of
Chris’.
Chris shoved a pair of his boxer briefs and a t-shirt at me when I cracked the
bathroom door and peered out. Taking them, I dressed and left the bathroom. Chris was
pacing the room, his hair standing on end.
I watched him for several moments. “How did you know I’d be in his
bungalow?” I asked finally.
He halted abruptly, staring at me. “Oh god! This is such a fucking disaster!
We’re dead! Fired! Our careers in the toilet! And that’s just the best case scenario!”
Since similar thoughts had been running through my mind I couldn’t think of
anything to say to head off the hysteria in Chris’ voice. Feeling weak and dazed now that
the worst of the terror had fled, I moved to Chris’ bed and flopped down on the edge.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d switched with Mr. Mueller?”
Chris didn’t pause that time, just continued to pace and pull at his hair. “I was too
drunk to remember that I hadn’t told you!”
I digested that in dawning horror. “Wait a minute! You’re saying …. Are you
telling me …? That was Mr. Mueller last night, too?”
“Of course it was!” he snapped testily. “How do you think I figured out where
you’d be tonight?”
The first flicker of anger sprang to life inside of me. “I don’t know, Chris! Why
the hell don’t you tell me how you figured it out and why the hell you didn’t think to tell
me? Because I don’t know what the fuck is going on!”
He stopped pacing, stared at me for a long moment and finally collapsed into the
nearest chair, covering face with his hands. “We’re screwed! We’re screwed!”
I glared at him. “NO! I’m screwed—was screwed!”
Chris glared at me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have a clue!”
“Why would I?” I snapped angrily. “We arranged this before we ever left home!
He was waiting for me like he expected me … in your bungalow, damn it!”
Chris let out an irritated huff. “He was waiting for Betty Chancelor. Don’t ask
me how that happened, because I’m sure I don’t know! Obviously, he forgot the number
of the new bungalow. She showed up at my door last night. I thought it was you—
because I was expecting you. It wasn’t until the next day that I figured out you’d gone to
his bungalow and she’d come to mine!
“I feel so despoiled! I can’t believe I was wallowing around in my bed with that
woman! I’ve scoured every inch of body over and over until my skin is so dry it looks
like elephant hide! I’m going to have to moisturize all over.”
I bounced off the bed in disbelief, ignoring his distress over his rendezvous with
Betty. “You figured it out and you still didn’t tell me!” I said accusingly.
He gave me a hurt look. “Well, god, Carly! You were wallowing all over him
when I got to the beach! I thought you and he had figured it out! What was I supposed
to think?”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 43

I stared at him, casting my mind back, but I really didn’t need to. The truth was,
it had probably looked like they were necking in the water. I’d felt like we were if I was
honest! Another unwelcome truth settled in my mind.
I’d ignored any number of ‘clues’ that should’ve told me something wasn’t
clicking together the way it should’ve.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 44

Chapter Five

I wilted back onto the edge of the bed. “He didn’t know,” I mumbled. “He still
thinks he screwed Betty Chancelor. I watched him chasing her around all day,
wondering what had happened.”
No wonder he’d seemed both confused and angry, I thought. The night they’d
spent together had been fabulous. I’d thought so, anyway. He must have thought it was
pretty good or he wouldn’t have been trying to hook up for another night, to say nothing
about his bewilderment over Betty’s behavior.
Undoubtedly, Chris had had a little problem despite his certainty that he wouldn’t.
Chris perked up, looking at me hopefully. “You think he won’t figure it out?”
I blinked at him, feeling a touch of hopefulness myself for the first time, ignoring
the twinge of dismay that joined it. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Chris frowned, going back over everything more carefully. “He didn’t actually
see you. I imagine there’s a chance he’ll realize at some point that he sent Betty to the
wrong cabin, but he knows I’m gay and will figure I just sent her over.”
I frowned. “What happened tonight? She did show up again?”
Chris reddened. “We’d agreed to try both nights, but I thought you were banging
the boss and you didn’t really need me after all. Anyway, I forgot to lock the door. It
woke me right awake the minute I heard it open—which was when it hit me that it might
be you. I switched the light on—just to be sure.
“It scared the piss out of me when I saw it wasn’t you. I think I might have
screamed. I know she screamed. And then she left.
“I was all to pieces for a little while and then it dawned on me that she wouldn’t
have shown up if it hadn’t been ‘arranged’—or I didn’t think she would. I decided to go
check on you, just to be sure.
“Honest to god! I thought security was going to catch me peering in his
windows! But I was convinced by then that you still didn’t know. I couldn’t just leave
you hanging! So I waited until I heard you go into the bathroom and, sure enough, I
could tell just by the look on your face that you didn’t have a clue you’d just been having
wild monkey sex with the boss.”
I might’ve been amused by the tale except for one thing.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that I’d spent the last two nights collecting the boss’
semen for my little project!
“Oh my god! I fucked the boss!”
Chris gave me a sympathetic look. “I know, sweety. But he doesn’t know it was
you, so we’re fine.”
“We are NOT fine!” I snapped, surging to my feet. “I’m ovulating! What if it
took?”
Chris shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, sweety, he’s a fine specimen of a man, if I
do say so myself. What are you complaining about? I’m betting you got your baby!”
“Yes! But it’s his baby!”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 45

“It’s your baby. Remember what we talked about, Carly. It’s just yours. That’s
what you need to stay focused on. Just pretend he was an anonymous donor and get on
with it.”
“But he wasn’t anonymous!”
Chris frowned at me. “We need to focus on him not finding out. Otherwise,
we’re in deep shit!”
I settled on the bed again, covering my face with my hands. “How am I supposed
to act like nothing ever happened when I know it did?”
“Don’t think about it!” he advised.
“I can’t help but think about it!”
Chris, I discovered when I dropped my hands, was studying me with patent
interest. “Was it good?”
I glared at him.
He held up a hand as if warding off a blow. “Fine! If you don’t want to share.
We need to focus on what to do, anyway. For starters, you need to get back to your room
before your roommate discovers you’re gone. Not that it’s any of the old bat’s business,
but you don’t want rumors going around the office that Mueller might get wind of. We
don’t want him putting two and two together. I think we just need to stay low on his
radar for a little while—just until you aren’t so shaky. Even if he’s suspicious, he’ll
never figure it out if we don’t confess. It’s just too bizarre to be believable! If it hadn’t
happened to me, I know I’d never believe it.”
I glared at him. I supposed he’d had an ‘experience’ himself, but he seemed to be
forgetting that it had actually happened to me and I was the one that was going to get
canned if Mr. Mueller figured it out.
I felt like informing him that it was all his fault we were in the mess to start with.
In all fairness, though, I realized I was just as much to blame. If he hadn’t gotten drunk
none of it would’ve happened, but then I had to assume I’d placed a great deal of strain
on him or he wouldn’t have gotten drunk.
Plus, I’d ignored all the little clues along the way. I distinctly remembered that
I’d been confused about how big he seemed, and the hairy chest—I’d noticed when I was
swimming with Chris that his chest was practically slick, but I’d dismissed it, deciding
he’d waxed or shaved for the beach.
I got up abruptly when I happened to glance at the clock and discovered it was
nearly four. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” I said resolutely.
“You wearing that back?”
I looked down at myself. “What do you suggest? I knock on Mr. Mueller’s door
and ask for my robe back?”
“Good point!”
I discovered when I got back to my room that that bitch June Monk had gotten up
while I was gone and put the chain on the door!
I deeply regretted not choking the life out of her the night before.
I closed the door again, realizing I had only two choices and both of them
involved June Monk knowing I’d been out. I could bang on the door until she got up and
let me in, or I could go back to Chris and spend what was left of the night with him.
Banging on the door didn’t seem like a very good idea. It seemed likely, given
that she slept like the dead, that I’d wake up everybody else on the floor before she came

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 46

to. Feeling very much as if fate was working against me and my entire world was about
to collapse, I returned to Chris’ bungalow.
“That bitch locked me out!” I growled when he opened the door.
Chris blinked at me. “Well shit! Damn it! Fuck! Hell!”
“Are you going to let me in? Or just stand in the door and swear at me?”
He opened the door. “We’re screwed! We are so fucked!”
“I’m too tired to care right now. I’ll think about it tomorrow.”
Heading for his bed, I sprawled out face down on it, cuddling a pillow with my
arms. I really wasn’t cut out for this kind of shit, I thought wearily—sneaking around in
the dead of night to get laid, having wild sex with my boss, climbing out windows, and
racing around the hotel grounds like a teenager.
My last thoughts as I fell into blackness were various possibilities for murdering
June Monk and getting away with it.
The knock on the door sounded like someone was using a battering ram. I
jackknifed upright, but I couldn’t seem to get my eyes open. The pounding came again
just as I was considering falling back against the bed and pulling the pillow over my
head. I lurched in that direction, falling out of the bed. Grunting, rubbing my knee, I
glanced around and finally hobbled to the door, jerking it open.
Nick Mueller stood on the side of the door.
I’d only managed to get my eyelids open enough to peer at him through my
eyelashes but the sight was enough to pop them wide open. I stared at him with my jaw
at half mast, my sluggish brain scrambling madly for an excuse for why I’d crawled into
his bed the night before.
I don’t know why it popped into my mind unless it was guilt, but his expression
was transformed within seconds from slack jawed, stunned surprise to the gathering
darkness of a thunder storm. “What are you doing in Chris’ bungalow?” he growled.
I blinked at him as each word hit me like a physical blow. “Chris’ bungalow?” I
echoed, turning away from him to survey the room and trying to figure out how I’d
gotten there.
Before my mind could supply the answer, my gaze lit on the bed.
Chris was sprawled across it bare assed.
I gaped at his bare ass disbelievingly for a split second before that connected in
my mind with Mr. Mueller and I whipped my head back in his direction, hoping against
hope that he hadn’t seen.
“Who is it, sweety?” Chris mumbled from the bed. “If it’s room service, tell them
come back later.”
“Mr. Mueller,” I croaked.
Chris bounded out of the bed as if he’d been catapulted from it. “Run! Hide!” he
screeched, running around the room in a frantic search for something.
“Too late,” Nick Mueller ground out.
Chris bolted to a halt and snatched his trunks from the floor, covering himself and
whirling to stare at Mueller owl eyed. “We went for a late night swim!” he croaked.
“I can explain!” I exclaimed at almost the same instant. “Nothing happened!”
Mueller pushed the door wider and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Gulping, I scurried back to Chris, grabbing his arm and digging my fingernails
into him.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 47

“Ouch! Damn it, Carly!”
“Sorry!” I muttered, releasing my frantic grip on his arm, although I couldn’t drag
my gaze from Nick Mueller, who was strolling around the room, looking it over.
“Your roommate reported you MIA,” he said tightly.
The bitch!
“She locked me out. I didn’t want to wake everybody up, so I came to Chris’
room to sleep,” I said quickly, relieved that that wasn’t a lie.
“The question is, where were you before? According to her, it was around three
when she checked the clock and you weren’t in the room. The dance ended at midnight.”
I looked at Chris hopefully.
“We went for a late night swim!” he said promptly, flapping his swim trunks.
Mueller stared at him for a long moment. “And she went swimming in … what?”
Chris’ eyes looked they were going to pop from his head as he turned to look at
me. I licked my lips, thinking, but it was no use. Between the night I’d had, very little
sleep, and the shock of discovering Nick Mueller at my door, my brain was DOA.
“Nothing,” I said since it occurred to me he might look for the non-existent swim suit if I
claimed one.
His eyes narrowed on me. “You strolled naked through the hotel and down to the
beach for a swim?”
It popped into my mind that I’d abandoned the robe I’d been wearing in his room.
A cold sweat broke over me. “I wore this,” I lied, plucking at the shorts I was wearing.
Mueller scanned my attire as if he could measure the size just by looking at it.
One black brow quirked in disbelief.
I set my jaw belligerently. “It’s mine. I sleep in it.”
I could tell he didn’t believe me for a moment. His lips tightened. “I guess we
can call off the police.”
I felt like my eyeballs were going to pop from my head. “You called the police?”
I managed to ask in a squeaking voice.
“Ms. Monk alerted the hotel staff, who searched the hotel grounds. When you
didn’t turn up, she called the police.”
OH! That woman needed killing!
Maybe I was doing the woman a disservice but I didn’t believe for one fucking
minute that the bitch had actually been concerned about my welfare. She’d seen the
opportunity to really screw me over—maybe just for the hell of it, maybe just for fun—
and she’d seized it, knowing she could come out smelling like roses for being a
‘concerned’ fellow employee.
Not that it seemed likely she was going to be a fellow employee much longer.
Mueller moved toward the door. “We’ll discuss this—at length—Tuesday when
we get back to the office. Right now, you two need to get it together so that we can get
to the airport before we miss our flight.” He paused in the doorway and turned back to
survey the two of us. “I won’t be happy if we have to take a later flight.”
I glanced at the clock the minute the door closed behind him and was stunned to
discover it was almost noon. We’d slept through the entire final day of the conference!
“We are so fucked!” Chris moaned, staring at the clock in horror himself.
I wilted weakly to the bed. “I don’t even have any clothes,” I said dully. “I’m
going to have to stroll across the hotel lobby in your underwear.”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 48

Chris stared at me sympathetically. “I’ll get dressed and go grab something for
you if you’ll pack for me.”
I felt like crying. “Oh, Chris! You’re such a life saver!”
He sighed glumly. “I wish. I’m not looking forward to tangling with your
roommate, I can tell you.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “My god! Everybody in the
office is going to be gossiping about me being straight!”
I stared at his retreating back in slack jawed surprise as he headed into the
bathroom to shower and dress. Depression settled over me when I heard the shower.
It had been a simple plan, really. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how it
had gone so completely awry. One teeny, tiny mistake and it was like the little Dutch
boy and the dam! A complete catastrophe!

* * * *

The plane trip home was worse than the trip out. At least when we were outward
bound I’d been hopeful. I was looking forward the possibility of landing an account that
would translate into a bigger paycheck. I was looking forward, nervously granted, to the
possibility of having my one true dream realized.
The trip back was hell and then some. Not only was flying a sheer misery in the
physical sense from being trapped for hours in seats that had been designed, I was sure,
by former torture specialists, but every time I glanced around I caught Mueller employees
either studying me and Chris surreptitiously or whispering among themselves.
I didn’t think it was paranoia that made me feel as if Chris and I were the subjects
under discussion.
I tried not to think about the possibility that I’d hit pay dirt in the infant
department.
Mueller was going to be livid if he ever figured it out.
I prayed he never would, but I’d never been a big believer in a kindly old gent
that watched over foolish mortals.
I caught a glimpse of Mr. Mueller as we changed planes in LA. He still looked fit
to be tied. I had bad feeling he was going to be wearing that same expression when I was
sitting in front of him Tuesday morning. By the time we landed in Atlanta, though, I was
past caring—at least for the time being.
I slept what was left of the night and most of the day when I finally lit at my
apartment and spent the rest of it doing a job search and glumly tallying my assets against
my debts. Fortunately, I had a fairly tidy nest egg for emergencies, but it wasn’t going to
last long if it took me a while to find another job.
I hoped I wasn’t going to have to resign myself to clerking again—I’d have to
take two jobs just to afford my apartment or find something cheaper—a lot cheaper—but
I wasn’t counting on getting a good recommendation from Mueller Enterprises.
Maybe Chris and I could room together since we’d both be out on our asses?
As if thoughts of him had conjured him, Chris arrived on my doorstep bearing
food later that evening. Glad to see him despite the circumstances, I invited him in and
we settled at my coffee table in front of the TV to eat the Chinese food he’d brought.
“We need to get our story straight,” he said decisively when we’d finished.
“Ok. What’s our story?” I said, game for a try at keeping my job.
Chris frowned. “Well we already told him we went for a swim so we need to
keep that part. You came down to invite me to swim with you and I went because I was

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 49

worried about you. Then we went back to my bungalow and talked shop for a while, got
carried away, and then discovered it was really late—blah, blah, blah—bitch locks you
out. No choice but to let you crash in my bungalow.”
I liked it. Simple. Straight forward. Nothing complicated to trip either one of us
up. I frowned. “Why were you naked, though?”
He considered that. “Ok—we had some drinks. I was drunk.”
I scrunched my mouth up thoughtfully. “You think he’ll go for that?”
“He knows I’m gay! Why wouldn’t he?”
“It still looks really bad,” I said unhappily. “If it had been anybody but Mr.
Mueller ….”
“Oh they would’ve really screwed us if it had been anybody else! At least he
isn’t likely to mention that part.”
“You being too drunk to think anything about getting naked in bed with me
doesn’t put you in a very good light—especially when you got smashed the night
before,” I pointed out.
I could see he wasn’t happy about it either. “How’s this?” he asked after a few
minute’s thought. “Me and my boyfriend just split. I was depressed. You’d come down
to cheer me up and we went for a swim, but afterwards I was still depressed, drinking—
we talked—you left, came back—I was drunk and half asleep?”
I stare at him unhappily. “Why is it that the truth sounds so wrong?”
“Because we know what happened before we went to bed!” Chris said promptly.
“Mueller doesn’t know.”
“Yet.”
“Don’t start that! I can’t deal with that right now. Let’s just figure out how to get
our asses out of this sling before we start worrying about other problems.”
“Yes, but it’s part of the same problem! What if he’s already figured it out? I left
my robe in his room! The same damned robe I was wearing at the beach! And he looked
at me when I walked by in it. He’s liable to remember any time if he hasn’t already!”
“It was just a white robe!”
“With my initial on it!”
Chris looked like he was going to pass out. “And you didn’t think to mention that
before!”
“I had other things on my mind!”
Chris got up to pace. “Your full initials?”
I shrugged. “Just a ‘C’. I didn’t have it custom done. I just bought it because it
had a C on it.
His face went slack with relief. “Betty’s last name was Chancelor, wasn’t it?”
“I doubt she wears low end department store fashions,” I said dryly.
Chris waved that off. “He’s straight. Believe me, straight guys have no fashion
sense. He won’t think anything about it. Anyway, he was born with a silver spoon in his
mouth. I doubt he’s ever been near a Save-Mart.”
I gnawed my lip worriedly, but hope had sprung to life. “You think?”
“Forget the robe, Cinderella. He isn’t going to spring that on you.” He sat down
again. “I think we should just stick to the original story we came up with and told him.
If he pries, you can tell him I’d just broke up with my boyfriend and wept all over you
and had a few too many drinks and went to sleep. You don’t know when I took my

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 50

shorts off because you were asleep, but I woke and realized they were still wet and just
got rid of them—that’s what actually happened. It’s the truth. It ought to sound like the
truth.”
I mulled it over. I didn’t really like it, but I couldn’t think of anything better.
“Supposing we don’t get fired, what are we going to do about the office gossip?”
He sighed glumly. “There’s nothing you can do about that. They’ll enjoy it until
something else comes along. We’ll just have to live with it until it dies down …. Unless
you want me to see if one of my friends would be willing to pose as your boyfriend long
enough to give them something else to talk about?” he ended hopefully.
It was almost tempting. “Don’t get me wrong, Chris. I know this isn’t entirely
your fault. It’s my fault, too. But I’d just as soon not try another one of your plans.”
He looked affronted. “I don’t see how it could possibly backfire!”
“We didn’t see how this one could, but it did!”

* * * *

“You can go in now, Ms. Nelson,” the secretary said coolly.
I looked at her automatically when she spoke and then glanced at Chris. He was
pale, but he gave me a bracing grimace I translated into a smile of encouragement.
Dragging in a deep breath, I surged to my feet and followed her, thinking how quickly
people could turn on you. The woman had always been friendly before. Now she acted
like I was a felon she was escorting to the gas chamber.
She closed the door behind me after I stepped inside.
My belly knotted.
Trying to swallow past my heart, which was lodged in my throat, I glanced warily
around the room when I discovered Mr. Mueller wasn’t at his desk, hopeful for a small
reprieve. He was standing at the window looking out, his hands clasped behind his back.
I moved to the chair sitting in front his desk and dropped weakly into it.
The fucking seat sounded like a whoopee cushion. I squirmed uncomfortably,
feeling my face light up like a neon sign.
There was no amusement in Mr. Mueller’s eyes when he moved from the window
and dropped into his chair so I assumed he either hadn’t heard the rude rush of air from
the cushion or he didn’t keep the chair for amusement.
Some of the hectic color from my embarrassment waned.
His face looked like it had been carved from wood. Leaning forward, he picked
up an ornate letter knife from his desk and began to toy with it. “I suppose you realize
you’ve put me in a hell of a position,” he said tightly.
My heart stammered to a painful halt. “Sir?”
His gaze met mine. “I don’t know what the hell was going on in Mr. Jones’
bungalow between you two, and I’m sure I don’t want to know, but the company rules
are that employees are required to keep their personal lives separate from their
professional lives. You and Jones were on the payroll—company time.”
Relief made me feel almost faint. For a moment there I’d thought he’d figured it
out. Resentment followed the relief. Technically, it seemed to me since the ‘incident’
had occurred after the end of the party that we’d been on our own time. I was about to
point that out when I abruptly recalled that we’d slept through the last of the conference
because of our nocturnal adventures. “It was … irresponsible, I know,” I managed to say
finally. “Chris was depressed.”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 51

He gave me a look. “You gave me the impression that you and he had just
decided to take a late night swim.”
“We did!” I said quickly. “It was my idea, really. He was depressed and I
thought I’d go down and cheer him up.”
“It certainly looked like you’d spent a lot of time cheering him up!” he snapped.
I felt my face heat. “I know what it looked like, but nothing happened. He fell
asleep with his wet swim trunks on and just pulled them off—he told me. I was asleep.”
“That part I believe since it was obvious you had just rolled out of the bed when
you answered the door,” he said tartly.
“I guess Chris forgot to set the alarm,” I said lamely, wondering if it would do me
any good if I got down on my knees and begged him not to fire me.
Somehow, I didn’t think so.
He slammed the letter knife down on the desk so hard I nearly jumped out of my
skin. “That is the lamest excuse for missing half a day’s work that I’ve ever heard!
Particularly half a day at the rates they charge at that hotel!”
I stared at him miserably. Unfortunately, the hard set of his mouth didn’t prevent
the memories that suddenly surfaced of that hard mouth covering mine, moving all over
me in intimate caresses. I dragged my gaze from his mouth to his hands, remembering
the way they’d felt. Heat wafted through me. “Under the circumstances,” I stammered,
“I wouldn’t be … I’d completely understand if I wasn’t paid for the time put in at the
conference.”
He studied me for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes, flitted briefly
across his features.
I wasn’t sure what it was but I hoped like hell it wasn’t a sudden memory like the
one I’d just had.
He shook his head. “Go. Send Jones in. You wait outside until I’m done talking
to him.”
Nodding jerkily, I leapt to my feet and hurried out, trying to compose my
expression. I knew some jerk was probably hanging around to see me and Chris come
out of the lion’s den so they could add that tidbit to the gossip no doubt already
circulating. “Watch the chair,” I muttered when I’d flopped down weakly beside Chris.
“It has a built in whoopee cushion.”
He looked at me blankly, nodded, and rose stiffly.
I watched him pityingly as he disappeared into the maw of the boss’ den.
I had to fight the urge to chew my fingernails off while I waited. I knew Mr.
Mueller had decided to question us separately to see if he could trip us up. Good thing
Chris had had the forethought to make sure we had our stories straight!
Chris was white face when he came out some thirty minutes later. “Which story
did you tell him?” he asked uneasily.
I gaped at him. “The one we agreed on!” I hissed.
“Yes, but which one was it?”
“Oh god, Chris! What did you tell him?”
“Ms. Nelson! Mr. Jones!”
Chris and I broke off, turning to look at Mr. Mueller guiltily. Feeling like a child
summoned to the principle’s office, I braced myself and headed for the door, hoping my
knees would hold out. Mr. Mueller gestured toward a second chair in one corner. I fled

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 52

toward it and flopped down, grateful to be out of the line of fire. The seat broke wind.
“I meant bring the chair here,” Mueller said dryly.
“Oh!” Getting up reluctantly, I dragged the chair across the room and wilted into
it again. Fortunately, the damned seat hadn’t had time to suck enough air in to break
wind a second time.

Who the hell designed office chairs with cushions like that? What was it’s

purpose? To break the ice? Or just to make the poor idiot that sat down on it feel lower
than dirt?
“We’ve got a problem,” Mueller announced.
Oh fuck! Here it comes, I thought.
He divided a look between me and Chris. “Aside from the fact that your stories
don’t mesh.”
I resisted the urge, barely, to give Chris a killer glare, wondering what in the hell
he’d told Mr. Mueller.

* * * *

Nick leaned back in his chair, surveying the two ‘culprits’ angrily. The workout
he’d gone through before he’d headed in to the office hadn’t helped one hell of a lot at
taming the raging beast inside. He still felt like punching something.
It wasn’t entirely because of the two sitting in front of him looking like two
school kids that had been caught smoking in the bathroom.
He still couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened with Betty, but he figured
she was a nut case and he should probably just be relieved that she’d climbed out the
fucking bathroom window and took off!
Not that he was, but he figured he should be.
Jones and Nelson were another matter—two of his best employees and not only
had they broken the golden rule, they’d done it so damned publicly that there was no way
to just sweep it under the rug and pretend it hadn’t happened.
He felt like firing June Monk for her damned interference, damn her hide!
She’d tried hard to act concerned, but he wasn’t buying it. He could’ve forgiven
her if she’d truly been worried about Carly, if she’d really believed Carly was in trouble,
but he was ninety nine percent certain she hadn’t thought so any of the time. Why lock
the fucking door if she’d been worried about Carly? Why make damned sure Carly
couldn’t get back in without alerting her?

She’d had a good idea of what was going on, alright, when she sounded the alarm.
Or at least thought she did.
Hell, he wasn’t as sure as he’d like to be—not as sure as he’d been before he’d

seen Chris sprawled naked in the bed with Carly looking like she’d been well occupied
all night.

He’d known Chris longer than he had Carly, though, and it had been a well

known fact for years that Chris only went one way—the gay way.

Then again, it might be rare, but it did happen that gay men discovered they could

be interested in a woman if it was the right woman.

He tamped the thought. It wasn’t any of his business as long as they didn’t neck

on company time—or screw in the mail room.

The problem was that it at least looked like they’d been caught screwing on

company time.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 53

“Shit!” he muttered under his breath, getting up to pace. “You two know the

rules, damn it! What the hell were you thinking?”

Chris and Carly exchanged a nervous glance. Chris cleared his throat. “I was

thinking Carly couldn’t sleep in the hotel lobby.”

Mueller rounded on him, glaring. “That wouldn’t have been an issue if she hadn’t

been out traipsing around in the middle of the night to start with! The dangers of such a
thing aside, you were there to work—not play!”

“It’s June Monks’ fault!” Chris muttered under his breath, ignoring the jab Carly

aimed at his ribs. “We were trying to avoid a scandal! If she hadn’t locked Carly out,
there wouldn’t have been one and Carly would’ve had a decent night’s sleep and been on
the job—and I would have. It isn’t like we were the only ones that decided to do a little
unwinding.”

Mueller turned to study him thoughtfully. “What were the others doing?”
Chris reddened.
“Do you know? Or are you just guessing?”
Chris squirmed. “I don’t feel comfortable ….”
“But you’re going to spill it if you know something because it’s the only way

you’re likely to have a job come quitting time this afternoon,” Mueller said grimly.

Chris paled, glanced at Carly and finally broke. “Farley and Deisen picked up a

couple of hookers in the bar not long after we arrived. That was why they were late
arriving at the welcome mixer.”

Mueller’s expression hardened. “You’re sure?”
Chris nodded. “I’d just gone down to the bar myself. I saw them as they were

leaving. They went straight to the elevators and went up to their room.”

“You’re sure it was hookers?” Mueller asked dryly.
Chris gave him a look. “I’m sure it wasn’t their wives.”
Mueller nodded and returned to his chair. “Get back to work,” he said

dismissively, turning to his intercom. “Ms. Singleton, locate Mike Farley, Phil Deisen,
and June Monk and tell them I want to see them in my office … now!”

He glanced at Chris and Carly, who hadn’t moved. “You waiting for an

invitation?”

They bolted from the chairs and scurried toward the door. “By the way, Ms.

Nelson, congratulations on the Trinity account. He called this morning.”

Carly jolted to a halt and turned to look at him wide eyed. He was surprised at

the relief that flooded him. Right up until he’d seen the look of amazement on her face
he’d suspected she’d been out working on the Trinity account the night she ended up
sleeping in Chris’ bungalow.

“He decided to sign with us?”
He nodded. “He’s opening an account—a small one. You’ll have to impress

him.”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 54

Chapter Six

Nick felt better when he’d chewed out his entire sales team, starting with June
Monk for deliberately locking her roommate out and thereby possibly endangering her
and certainly embarrassing the company by making it into a production that ensured that
most of the other conventioneers knew about it. She left in tears. He wasn’t particularly
moved by them since he was less convinced than before he’d talked to her that she’d
actually been concerned that Carly had met with foul play.
When he’d finished chewing out Farley and Deisen for romping with hookers
instead of focusing on the job they’d been paid for—in rooms he had paid for—he was
reasonably satisfied that he’d distributed the blame for poor behavior widely enough he
could get away with not firing Chris and Carly without appearing to be showing
favoritism, but he was still pissed off at being put in the position to start with.
Both of them had always been completely reliable employees. He couldn’t
imagine what wild hair they’d gotten up their asses in Hawaii.
He spent the rest of the day trying to catch up on work that he’d set aside to attend
the conference, but he had trouble focusing.
The truth was, he didn’t know what the hell to make of Betty Chancelor’s antics.
She hadn’t acted like a lunatic. If she’d seemed unstable he wouldn’t have had anything
to do with her start with.
She’d been drunk, though, just like she had the first night—strong indications she
was a lush.
Which still didn’t explain her climbing out the fucking window!
He wouldn’t have been so uneasy about if not for the wild sex they’d had just
prior to that, but putting the two together was sobering if not downright unnerving.
She’d come, damn it—three times! She hadn’t complained. Hadn’t called a halt,
told him to ease off—nothing! He’d been pretty damned aroused himself, but he hadn’t
been so far gone he wouldn’t have noticed if she’d displayed signs of distress. She’d
given him every reason to think she was enjoying it as much as he was.
He still felt like a rapist and had the horrible, churning feeling in his gut that her
climbing out the window was a strong indication she’d viewed it in that light, too.
He didn’t know what wild hair he’d gotten up his own ass, he thought
disgustedly. What in the hell had given him the idea that she wanted it rough? Or even
given him the idea of trying it when it wasn’t something to his taste to start with?
What had she meant by that crack about his performance any damned way? If he
hadn’t wanted to she didn’t know why he didn’t say so?
It had sounded like she’d been insinuating he couldn’t get it up—which was a hell
of thing since they’d had sex twice!
They would’ve had sex more than that the second night if she hadn’t decided to
sneak off!
He was still brooding over it when he returned to his apartment that night and he
still couldn’t put it together and make any sense of it. Mixing himself a drink, he

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 55

wandered into his bedroom, hefted his suitcase onto the bed and started to unpack and put
his clothes away.
The robe she’d left by his door was on top.
He glared at for several moments and finally took it out, unfolded it and looked it
over. It was one of those things women called beach wraps, not a bathrobe, and even so
it struck him abruptly that it looked awfully small for a woman as tall as Betty.
The moment that thought stuck in his mind he remembered he’d thought she felt a
lot smaller when they’d been in bed together … well, shorter, rounder.
She hadn’t been wearing it when he’d met up with her on the beach. She hadn’t
been wearing anything but a swimsuit with something like a shawl tied around her waist.
Suddenly something that had been nagging at his mind snapped into place and he
recalled glancing around and seeing Carly heading toward the beach.
He’d been focused on the curves her barely there two piece had displayed, but
she’d been wearing a robe.
This robe.
He sat down on the bed, struggling with the thought that popped into his mind.
He had to be mistaken.
Maybe he just wished it had been Carly, he thought disgustedly?
Frowning, he put the robe to his nose and sniffed it.
Not surprisingly, it smelled like a woman’s toiletry products—flowery, maybe a
hint of some fruit-like shampoo. He wasn’t much for scents and he sure as hell couldn’t
remember what the woman’s perfume had smelled like.
He could remember what her pussy had tasted like, though.
Great! If he could get Carly down and put his face in her crotch, maybe he could
identify her!
Sarcasm aside, the thought by itself was enough to give him a hard on.
It was crazy—crazier than Betty climbing out of his window.
Tossing the robe aside, he got up and focused on his task, but he kept turning his
memories over and over in his mind.
He’d given Betty the number of Chris’ bungalow because he’d still had the
original bungalow number in his head. She had to have gone to Chris. She wouldn’t
have found her way to his bungalow otherwise.
Why hadn’t Chris mentioned that when he’d pointed out that he and Carly
weren’t the only ones that had decided to take the opportunity to unwind?
Self preservation?
Maybe, but Chris was impulsive. He had a tendency to say what was on his mind
and regret it, or not, later.
Maybe he just hadn’t thought about it at that time?
He realized that what he was thinking was really crazy. It would mean that Carly
had been heading to Chris’ bungalow the same night Betty had been heading for his—
and for the same reason.
Because the woman who’d come into his bungalow had definitely come to get
laid.
He shook the thought off. Chris was gay and even if he’d decided to try straight
sex, he wouldn’t have chosen Carly. They were friends.
Who else would a gay man turn to, though, but his best friend, someone he could

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 56

trust not to tell?
He shook that thought off. As far as he could tell, Chris was completely
comfortable with his sexuality. He wasn’t a young, confused kid worried about what
other people would think about him.
It didn’t fit.
Exactly what the hell had been going on with those two then?
He could almost buy the harmless ‘out for a midnight swim’ story Carly had
cooked up—except she didn’t strike him as the type of woman who got her kicks
swimming naked on a public beach. Moreover, why would she go skinny dipping with a
gay guy if she was the type of woman who got a thrill out of that sort of thing?
She wouldn’t. That was the part that struck the false note.
Chris’ version was even worse.
She’d just come down to offer comfort because he’d broken up with his
boyfriend.
His employees might think he didn’t know anything at all about their private
lives, but he regularly got an ear full. Chris had broken up with his boyfriend a hell of a
while back. He might be dating again, might have somebody new in his life—but if he
did there wasn’t a problem between them. Chris was sensitive. If he’d had a fight, or
busted up with his significant other, it would’ve been clear as a bell to anybody that knew
him at all.
He’d been acting damned strange, even for Chris, but he hadn’t acted like
someone that was heartbroken.
So his story stank to high heaven, too.
He considered, for a moment, the first thought that had entered his mind, that
Carly had been out with Trinity and maybe fled to Chris for protection. Trinity had taken
one of the bungalows, so it wasn’t completely farfetched and he’d sure as hell been
sniffing at Carly—itching to get hold of her. Carly might not have read the signals, but
he’d sure as hell had no trouble reading them.
Because he’d been wanting to get hold of her almost since she’d started working
for him.
Maybe that was the problem? Maybe he’d had Carly on the brain the entire time
and that was why he kept getting these crazy, mixed images in his head? He hadn’t felt
more than a mild interest in fucking Betty to start with.
That had changed radically once he had, but then when he’d met up with Betty
the following day on the beach he’d realized the images in his head about his night with
her more closely resembled Carly than Betty. And it occurred to him now, although it
hadn’t at the time, that maybe he’d been fantasizing about Carly.

He’d been studiously ignoring his interest in Carly, which hadn’t been as hard as

it might have been if he’d worked directly with her. As it was, weeks might pass without
him even getting a glimpse of her and even then it was generally just in passing—usually
with Chris. He had gotten so used to ignoring it that it hadn’t occurred to him that taking
her on the Hawaiian trip was probably a bad idea. He hadn’t considered how close he
was going to be to her when it was such a small group.

Maybe that explained a good bit of his confusion over the affair?
It still didn’t explain why Betty had acted so strangely or said the things she had,

but he wasn’t any closer to figuring it out now that he had been to begin with.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 57

Maybe he’d give Betty a call and have a chat with her?
Or at least try, he thought wryly.
After a week of having his secretary play phone tag with Betty Chancelor, he

decided to take matters into his own hands. It was possible she actually was as busy as it
seemed she was, but he thought it just as likely she was avoiding him. He made the call
himself. The switchboard operator connected him to her extension immediately. It was
her personal assistant who picked up, however.

Fortunately for him, it was a woman.
“Hello. I was wondering … is Betty around?”
“Who’s calling, please?” There was a hint of suspicion in her voice, but the

clipped, professional coolness had vanished.

“An old friend,” he responded in a husky voice.
There was another hesitation on the other end of the line and he knew she was

considering the advisability of forwarding his call.

“I hadn’t talked to her in a while and I thought, since I’d be in town for a few

days, we might get together for dinner,” he added.

“Hold on a minute.”
Betty picked up. “Who’s calling, please?”
He sucked in a bracing breath. “I just wanted to apologize.”
A prolonged silence greeted that, but she didn’t hang up. “Nick? Nick Mueller?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s been bothering the hell out of me the way things

turned out in Hawaii and I wanted to apologize. I didn’t figure you’d give me the chance
if you knew it was me.”

She didn’t respond immediately and for several moments he thought she might’ve

hung up. “You know … if had just been the once, you son-of-a-bitch, I might be inclined
to accept. Since it was twice ….”

“Whoa! Wait! I know I was rough ….”
“Rough?” she echoed. “Oh, you are an asshole!”
Nick gritted his teeth. “You’re right and I’m sorry as hell. Just … exactly which

part of it really pissed you off?”

She sucked in an outraged gasp that he could hear through the phone line. He

braced himself for the explosion. “You bastard! What was it? A fucking practical joke?
Sending me to some other man’s bungalow? Or did you just get him to stand in for you?
Well guess what? It wasn’t half bad and at that I’m betting it was better than you could
do anyway! Do yourself a favor and get yourself some of that medication for your little
erectile dysfunction problem!”

He winced when she slammed the phone back into its cradle, jerking the phone

away from his ear a split second too late to avoid the painful assault on his eardrum.
After staring at the receiver blankly for a long moment, he hung up. Lifting a hand, he
brushed his thumb back and forth across his lower lip thoughtfully. A faint smile began
to tug at his lips.

He hadn’t just been fantasizing that it was Carly he was with, he realized. It was

Carly.

The smile vanished, a frown gathering between his brows.
The question was, did Carly know? Or had she been caught up in the mix-up

about the bungalow numbers the same as Betty? In seemed inescapable that that was

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 58

what had happened, though, and he wasn’t nearly as pleased about it under those
circumstances.

Actually, he thought, growing angrier, the question was what the fuck was she

doing heading to Chris’ cabin to get laid?

Getting up from his desk, he moved to the window to stare out at the rush hour

traffic, but his focus was inward, dark, brooding, and getting worse the longer he thought
about it.

Both of them acting as if they were as innocent as the day was long and they’d

fucking planned the whole thing!

Before they’d ever left for Hawaii!
He’d thought it was god damned strange that Chris had forked up the money to

upgrade to a bungalow! Particularly when he’d made it obvious he didn’t want anything
on the beach!

So, basically, it was Chris’ reluctance for a beach front cabin that had thrown a

wrench into the works. He had traded since he didn’t see paying that fucking much and
not having an unobstructed view of the beach itself. Then Chris, for whatever reason,
had neglected to tell Carly about the switch.

Maybe it had happened in a similar way to him giving Betty the wrong number?

It had just slipped his mind?

Chris had gotten drunk off his ass, though, and that not only took on a whole

meaning—cold feet—it could also explain why Chris hadn’t gotten around to telling
Carly he wasn’t in the cabin directly on the beach anymore.

He toyed with the idea for a few moments that Chris had knowingly withheld the

information to set him up but discarded it. Chris wouldn’t have deliberately set Carly up
for trouble even if he’d had some reason to want to set him up.

In any case, he wasn’t fucking interested in Chris’ motivations and, unfortunately,

he couldn’t think of any scenario that involved Carly knowingly and willingly climbing
into his bed.

Damn it to hell!
He could pinpoint exactly when she’d realized it, too! He’d thought it was the

craziest fucking thing he’d ever experienced when he’d gone into the bathroom to join
her in the shower and found she’d climbed out the window and fled. He’d been beating
himself up ever since for being so rough. Maybe that had been part of it, but he was
pretty damned sure the main reason she’d fled was because she’d realized she wasn’t
with Chris.

It didn’t take him more than a few moments to figure that one out. He’d gone

down on her. He couldn’t picture Chris wanting to do that and maybe she hadn’t been
able to believe it either?

Not that it mattered. The bottom line was he was the last to fucking know! And

both Chris and Carly were tiptoeing around him in the hope that he wouldn’t figure it out,
so he could safely eliminate the possibility that either one of them wanted to use it
against him, he supposed.

It didn’t make him feel a hell of a lot better to know that he’d broken his own

golden rule, even if was because he’d been duped. The best thing, he knew, was just to
put it out of his mind now that he’d figured it out. He didn’t think they’d set out to
deceive him, which made it a little easier to bear that he had been duped. He was almost

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 59

positive that neither one of them had malicious intent, that it had basically been a plan
gone awry.

It was over and done with. They should all move on.
The problem was, he didn’t want to put his little fling behind him! The harder he

tried, it seemed to him, the worse it got. He felt like an addict. He’d been hooked on
Carly the first time—maybe before that. If he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have made such
a fool out of himself chasing Betty around at the damned conference and trying to get her
in his bed again.

He’d suspected it would be bad. That was one of the main reasons he’d worked

so hard to steer clear of Carly before.

Now that he’d had a taste, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He made the rounds with his ‘on again off again’ women friends. He even tried

scouting out fresh territory. None of it worked. At the back of his mind, he compared
every one of them to Carly and found them lacking, and his abstraction wasn’t winning
him any points, if it came to that.

After being cussed out twice over the phone and having way too many doors

slammed in his face, he decided that route wasn’t working. He needed a hair of the dog.
Maybe his fantasies had outstripped reality? Maybe all he needed was one more shot at
her to get it out of his system?

How the hell was he going to arrange it, though, when she was so god damned

busy acting like it hadn’t happened? To say nothing of the ‘rule’!

To hell with the rule, he decided! If the boss couldn’t bend the rules once in a

while what the hell was the point in being the fucking boss? It wasn’t as if every damned
body else didn’t sneak around and bend them any time they thought they could get away
with it! He spent a good bit of his days pretending to be blind, deaf, and dumb to keep
from having to replace half his staff!

Beyond that, he still wanted to fucking know why Carly had gone to Chris

intending to get laid, damn it! Who was doing who a favor?

* * * *

“I could just kiss that man!” I said, gesturing at Chris with my fork for emphasis.
Chris sent me a narrow eyed, speculative look and smirked. “I thought you

already had.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “We agreed not to talk about that,” I said pointedly.
Chris shrugged. “Actually, we didn’t. I’ve been dying to hear the details. You

just won’t give them up.”

Feeling my face heat, not altogether from embarrassment, I focused on my salad.

“I know it isn’t nice to enjoy other people’s discomfort,” I said, steering the conversation
back on track, “and I don’t—not really—but Mr. Mueller deciding to give everybody a
dressing down sure took a lot of the heat off of us. And, really, they deserved it. We
didn’t do anything anybody else didn’t do.”

“You think any of the others fucked the boss?”
I threw my fork at him. “Damn it, Chris! If you’re going to harp on that every

time I invite you over, I’m not going to invite you any more! We were going to put it out
of our minds and pretend nothing happened, remember?”

Chris removed my fork from his lap and dabbed at the dressing sprinkling his t-

shirt. “Damn it, Carly! There’s grease in that! I’ll never get the stain out!”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 60

I looked at him uncomfortably. “It’s just a t-shirt. I’ll get the stain out … or buy

you another one. Can I have my fork back?”

“Not if you’re going to throw it at me again!”
I glared at him. “Well quit talking about you know who and you know what!” I

snapped.

“I’ll make a deal with you. You quit thinking about it and I’ll quit bringing it

up.”

“Did it occur to you that I might be able to get it out of my mind if you’d stop

bringing it up?” I demanded angrily.

“It did, but then I dismissed it. Every time he walks by you change colors three

times and get this sappy, dreamy look on your face.”

Ah! The bane of my existence! I could lie, but it didn’t do any good when I had

no control over the ‘weather vane’ of the blood flow in my cheeks. I didn’t need a mirror
to see it. I could feel my face flash red, then white, then red again, damn it! “It’s got
nothing to do with him beyond the fear that he’ll figure it out!” I lied.

“If he was going to he already would have,” Chris said off handedly. “So, either

he has and that explains why he has this speculative gleam in his eyes whenever he looks
at you and he thinks nobody will notice or ….”

“Or what?” I asked cautiously, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at Chris’

comment, particularly since I knew damned well he’d only said it to see if he could get a
rise out of me.

“Or he hasn’t figured it out, but he still wants to fuck your brains out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nice try. More likely he’s still pissed off about the Hawaiian

thing.”

“It’s been weeks. I’m not saying I know him, but I’ve never known him to carry

a grudge. He chewed us out—everybody—and got it out of his system.” He paused,
looking me up and down. “By the way—any luck on the fishing expedition?”

A thrill went through me. I tamped it ruthlessly, unwilling to jinx myself. “I’m

late,” I said as off handedly as I could.

Chris sat up straighter. “Really?”
I shrugged. “It might be nothing.”
“But it might be something! You haven’t done the test yet?”
“I’m waiting. I don’t see any point in jumping the gun and maybe getting my

hopes up only to discover I didn’t wait long enough and the test results were off.”

“Oh come on!” Chris snapped irritably. “Those things are accurate within a few

days of a missed period. You’re just too chicken shit to check it!”

I looked at him unhappily. “What if it says no?”
“What if it says yes?” he countered.
I took a nervous breath. “You think I should do it?”
“I don’t know how you’ve stood the suspense this long! Promise you’ll do it in

the morning?”

I gnawed my lip indecisively, unwilling to give up a ‘maybe’ if it meant there was

a possibility of a definite ‘no’. “I suppose I could ….”

“I’m going to hold you down and make you pee on the stick if you don’t do it on

your own!” Chris threatened.

“You wouldn’t!”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 61

“Watch me!” he growled.
“Alright already! I’ll do it tomorrow!”
“Promise?”
I uttered an irritated huff. “Cross my heart.”
I was so damned tense the next morning that it took me nearly ten minutes to coax

my bladder into yielding up the ‘gold’. “Come on, damn it!” I muttered. “You can do
it!”

Relief flooded me when I finally managed to produce a stream. I spread my legs,

staring at the stream and the test stick, trying to make sure I’d ‘rung’ it and then pulled
the test strip out to study it critically. It didn’t seem to me that I’d hit it just right, but
then I’d run out of ammunition and realized I was just going to have to go with what I
had. Setting the test down, I marked the time on the clock I’d carried into the bathroom
and climbed into the shower, trying to put it out of my mind.

I resolutely ignored the test when I got out again, drying off and proceeding from

there to get ready for work.

I was tempted to continue to ignore it. If I hadn’t gotten what I was looking for I

was going to be depressed all day. Wouldn’t it be better, I thought, to wait? I could
check it this evening when I came home and then cry my eyes out in private.

I didn’t want to be sniffling and teary eyed all day. Everybody had already had

enough to talk about and the gossip was just beginning to die down from the damned
Hawaii fiasco.

It occurred to me as I started toward the door that the long hours while I was

away at work might mean the test result had disappeared by the time I got home, though.
Altering course, I headed back into the bathroom, sucked in a sustaining breath and
picked the test up.

I stared at the thing, I think, for a full five minutes in disbelief. Slowly, the shock

began to ease off. “Positive,” I said out loud, trying to drive it in and banish the disbelief.

A smile started somewhere around my middle and spread outward through me

like warm sunshine before it reached my lips and curled them back in a full grin.
“Positive! It’s positive. It’s really positive!”

A spurt of fear hit me. Setting the test down with shaking fingers, I grabbed the

box and read the disclaimer again, ticking off the possibilities for a false positive result.

It was sobering, but not sobering enough.
I floated out of my apartment and to work with no clear recollection once I’d

arrived of the trip between. I couldn’t remember if I’d locked the door when I left.

I ‘forgot’ I was at work and not eighteen years old. The moment I spotted Chris, I

squealed like a three year old and rushed him, flinging my arms around him and
bouncing up and down.

Chris was never at his best first thing in the morning. He hugged me back, but he

was wearing a bewildered expression when he pulled away.

I grinned at him. I think I’d been grinning all the way to work. My cheeks were

starting to ache. “Yes!”

He stared at me blankly, slowly digesting. Abruptly, he reeled in shock. “Yes?”
I nodded so hard it almost gave me whiplash. “Yes!”
He grabbed my hands, jogging in place like a runner waiting for the starting gun.

“Yes?”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 62

I bounced up and down with him. “Yes!”
He grabbed me tightly around the waist and we danced a jig around his office,

coming to an abrupt halt when we’d made the circuit and discovered our antics had
drawn an audience.

Mr. Mueller was glaring at us. I was vaguely aware that several of our co-

workers had also poked their heads around their cubicles, but Mr. Mueller’s face stopped
me in my tracks. I sobered instantly, trying to look contrite.

Chris was struggling to look serious, and doing a piss poor job of it, I saw when I

cut an uneasy glance in his direction.

“You have an announcement?” Mr. Mueller drawled coolly.
I blinked at him wide eyed, searching my mind frantically for an answer other

than the actual one. “Uh ….”

“She’s got ….”
I stomped Chris’ foot to shut him up. “I won a free apartment redecoration!” I

announced when nothing else came to mind. Somehow I didn’t think announcing that I
was getting a root canal would be very believable.

The boss studied me with a mixture of doubt and suspicion. “Well,” he drawled

sardonically, “we’re all thrilled to hear it.”

I beamed at him. “Thank you! Guess I should get to work! Later, Chris!”
I plowed past the people still milling around Chris’ door and headed for my own

cubicle.

After booting up my system, I simply stared at the screen, trying to push the

thoughts clamoring in my head aside and focus on work. I didn’t have much luck.
Instead, after pricking my ears to see if everyone had gone back to their own cubicles, I
eased out of my chair, tip toed to the opening, and peered around to see if the coast was
clear.

Mr. Mueller was still standing where I’d last seen him, his arms folded across his

chest. I felt my eyes widen in alarm. “I forgot to clock in,” I explained a little
breathlessly and headed down the corridor at a good clip. Hoping I could out run him
when I heard him fall into step behind me, I cudgeled my brain to think of something to
say if he stopped me to talk.

Relief flooded me when he strode past me and disappeared into his own office.
Feeling shaky, I punched my time card—which I had actually forgotten—and

headed back to my cubicle, glancing around and weighing the possibility that I could
continue my ‘talk’ with Chris. Noting that everyone I passed glanced at me, I decided
against it. I was just going to have to muddle through until break time.

Well, shit!
I wasn’t sure I could contain myself, but what choice did I have?

* * * *

“Hold my calls!” Nick snarled in the direction of his secretary, striding across the

reception area and into his office and slinging his door toward the frame as he entered. It
closed with a satisfying explosion of sound, but he only noted it peripherally as he
crossed to his desk chair and dropped into it. Swiveling away from the desk, he slumped
in the chair, crossed his legs, and glared at the wall, drumming his fingers on the desk
top.

He felt queasy. He wasn’t sure what else he felt, but the nausea was pervasive

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 63

enough to rival the dull throbbing in his jaw from grinding his teeth. “She’s got …
what?” he muttered.

As blank as his mind was with shock, though, he knew the answer. The question

was, had she just met someone? Or had she just gotten a proposal?

Dragging his arm from the desk, he propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and

brushed his thumb back and forth over his lower lip thoughtfully. Anyway he looked at
it, though, he couldn’t convince himself that Carly wasn’t a woman in love.

She wasn’t just happy. She was ecstatic. She was glowing.
The more he thought about it the sicker he felt. Ceasing to stroke his lip, he

dropped his hand to his stomach, rubbing it absently.

Why hadn’t she announced it, he wondered?
The surge of hope that thought sent through him vanished in the next instant.
She wanted to keep it to herself for now.
Why do that, though, if the date was already set?
Unless it wasn’t … yet.
So, did that mean she’d just met the son-of-a-bitch? If she was getting married,

wouldn’t she have announced that?

He sat up.
If she’d just met the bastard, that didn’t mean anything! Hell, he’d been on that

roller coaster himself once or twice—meeting somebody, feeling that first thrill of
discovery, of possibilities. Then the downside when you discovered the ‘fatal’ flaw.

That must be it, he decided. She’d met someone. They’d clicked—maybe they’d

had that chemical attraction thing going on and the sex had been pretty damned good ….

How the hell could she consider climbing in bed with somebody else? They had

clicked. He didn’t believe for one fucking minute that it had been completely one-sided,
damn it! He could hardly even sleep at night! Couldn’t keep his mind on business.
Couldn’t focus on much of anything any damned more except trying to figure out some
way around the damned wall she’d erected between them!

He’d thought, eventually, she’d unbend a little, maybe even hint at him that it was

her—at least flirt with him and give him a damned opening! How the hell was he
supposed to approach her when she gave him that damned wide eyed hunted look and
scurried out of his path? Chase her down?

“Shit!” he growled, surging up from his chair and pacing to the window.
After staring out for a moment, he turned, glanced at the paper work on his desk,

and resolutely headed for the door. “I’m going to the gym!” he barked at his secretary.
A random thought hit him as he was waiting for the elevator. Making an about face, he
headed for his office again and leaned in, fixing his secretary with a hard look. “Tell Ms.
Nelson to meet me at the Charlton for luncheon so we can discuss her progress on the
Trinity account.”

The secretary nodded, taking the note. “About time,” she muttered under her

breath when he’d left again. “That man seriously needs to get laid! Testosterone’s been
like molasses around here since he got back!”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 64

Chapter Seven

“Pssst!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the noise behind me. Whirling, I
discovered June Monk peering around the edge of the door of the copier room.
Resentment instantly swelled inside of me.
“Mr. Mueller’s secretary is looking for you.”
The remark sucked the air out of my lungs. I instantly dismissed my residual
animosity toward the woman. “What for?”
She shrugged. “She didn’t say, but if she is, it’s because the boss sent her.”
“Right,” I said uneasily. “Thanks for the heads up!”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eleven thirty. Chris and I usually met
up for lunch at a quarter till in hopes of beating the lunch rush. I wondered if I could
sneak down the back stairs and miss the secretary. I didn’t have my purse with me,
though, damn it!
The hell with it, I decided. Chris could loan me money for lunch!
Stacking the copies I’d made, I set them to one side and tiptoed to the door to peer
out. Seeing no sign of Jane, I broke from the room and darted toward the stairwell. My
heels echoed hollowly as I raced down the stairs, wondering how long it would take me
to descend fifteen flights. By the fourth I was already winded, though—not from being
out of shape but from the fear that had dogged me all the way down that I was going to
meet up with the woman at some point.
I didn’t know what Mr. Mueller wanted to talk to me about, but I figured the
longer I could avoid it the better off I’d be.
Actually, I had an inkling. I didn’t especially relish getting another tongue
lashing for disrupting the entire office that morning with my childish behavior, though,
and I sure as hell didn’t want to have to elaborate on my lie.
Nick Mueller was entirely too damned perceptive. He hadn’t believed either my
lie or Chris’ about the beach incident. I still couldn’t figure out why when it had seemed
perfectly plausible, but fact was fact!
Pausing to rest, I considered whether I wanted to risk a heart attack by
continuing or risk running in to either Mr. Mueller himself or his secretary by making a
try at an elevator. Actually, the stairs would be good for me, I decided cravenly. I was
pregnant! I needed plenty of exercise. I wanted everything perfect and, after all, I was
no spring chicken!
It took me nearly twenty minutes to make it to the ground floor and by the time I
had my legs felt like rubber bands. After pausing to catch my breath, I tugged the door
open at the bottom … just in time to see Mr. Mueller shove the lobby door open and stalk
toward the elevator, looking like he wanted to murder somebody.
Wincing, I eased the door closed, counted to twenty and cracked the door open to
peer out. Seeing no sign of him, I jerked the door open and trotted briskly toward the
exit. Chris was already waiting in line when I got to the deli where we usually ate.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 65

Grabbing his arm, I dragged him outside. “Let’s go someplace different!” I suggested
brightly.
He was clearly irritated. “Damn it, Carly! I’ve been standing in line ten minutes
already!”
“Yes, but everybody knows that’s where we usually go. I thought you’d like to
talk.”
“Oh.” He brightened visibly. “Where do you want to go, sweety?”
“I don’t care! I’m so excited I’m not sure I could eat anyway!”
“Well, I’m excited, but I’m also starving. What took you so long to get there,
anyway?”
“I took the stairs.”
He jolted to a halt and stared at me. “From the fifteenth floor?”
I shrugged. “I need to get in really good shape.”
“Dead isn’t good shape, Carly.”
“I was hardly even winded,” I lied. “Let’s try the diner. They don’t look too
full.”
“Because their food sucks,” Chris pointed out irritably, but he allowed her to drag
him inside.
“You’re not ordering?” he asked when they’d finally managed to grab a couple of
seats at the bar.
“I’m not really hungry. Maybe I’ll just have a bite of yours?” I said hopefully.
He eyed me with disfavor. “You forgot your purse.”
“I didn’t want to go back to my cubicle for it. Mr. Mueller’s secretary was
looking for me.”
“You know she’s like a bull terrier,” Chris pointed out dryly. “You’re only
putting off the inevitable.”
“Well—you know me. Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow,” I
said cheerfully.
“You going to stick with the ‘I won a redecoration’ thing?”
“Why not? Nobody will ever know the difference. It isn’t like anybody from
work ever comes to my apartment.”
“A good thing, too. Retro yard sale isn’t a style, by the way, sweety.”

* * * *

“Did you forget to mention to Car … Ms. Nelson that I wanted her to meet me for
lunch?” Nick growled.
“I couldn’t find her, Mr. Mueller.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t find her?”
“I guess she’d already left for lunch. Someone said she was in the copier room
but by the time I got there she was gone. I found the files she’d been copying. Looked
like she’d left in a hurry.”
Nick glared at his secretary, fuming.
“She’s skittish—especially where you’re concerned,” Jane murmured, studying
her keyboard. “If you want to corner her, you’re going to have to get the drop on her. I
don’t think warning her you’re coming is a good idea.”
“Did you say something?” Nick growled.
Jane looked up, studied his taut expression, and widened her eyes innocently.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 66

“No sir.”
“I didn’t think so!” he snapped, turning on his heel and heading toward the door
again. “I’m going to lunch.”
She wasn’t at the deli where he knew she and Chris generally met for lunch. He
debated going in and grabbing a sandwich anyway, but finally decided just to take a
walk, try to clear his head … see if he could discover what den she’d scurried in to.
He spotted her at the diner with Chris. Deciding his stomach was in no condition
to handle diner food at the moment, he returned to the parking garage and got his car,
heading to his apartment. Punching the speed dial on his console mounted cell, he told
his secretary to redirect his calls to his home office for the rest of the day.
“You forgot your brief case,” she pointed out.
Nick ground his teeth. “How about bringing it over?”
“Sure thing.”
He’d barely finished the sandwich he’d made for himself when his secretary
arrived with his briefcase and his laptop—which he’d also forgotten.

Feeling more than a little ashamed of his curt behavior earlier, he suggested she

take the rest of the day off instead of driving all the way back to the office herself.

“Thank you, but I have to go back to pick up my things anyway. Would you like

me to find Ms. Nelson and arrange a meeting in the morning?”
He felt his face heat. “It’ll wait. I’m sure she’ll let me know when she’s come up
with something.”
Jane nodded. “If there’s nothing else …?”
Nick cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose there’s any office gossip I need to be
concerned about?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” she responded lightly.
Nick nodded. “You’ll tell me if you hear anything … uh … you think I ought to
look in to, right?”
“Of course! I always do!”
Nick moved restlessly around his apartment for a while, regretting the impulse to
leave the office. Staring at the four walls of his apartment wasn’t helping, he thought
irritably. Finally, he settled down with his briefcase and laptop, however, and managed
to submerge himself in work.

* * * *

Having finally decided Chris was right and there was no way in hell I could avoid
the inevitable, I decided to meet it head on just before quitting time and headed to Mr.
Mueller’s office. Jane looked up when I came in. “I heard you were looking for me?”
She smiled faintly and looked away. “Mr. Mueller wanted you to meet him for
lunch to talk about the Trinity account.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling strangely deflated. “I suppose I should get what I have
together …?”
“He said it could wait.”
Nodding, I stared at her for a long moment, trying to think of something to say
and finally left. When, I wondered, was the last time Mr. Mueller had invited one of his
sales staff out to lunch? Never?
I shook off the uneasiness. Whatever it was about, he’d decided to let it go. I
should just count my blessings.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 67

I discovered it was a lot easier considering what my blessing was. After checking
my panties for the remainder of the week under a microscope in search of a sign that I’d
celebrated prematurely, I finally relaxed. I really was pregnant and it seemed to be
firmly attached.
I should call for an appointment, I decided. I’d heard enough horror stories to
know it could take months to see an obstetrician. I didn’t want to be half way through
my pregnancy before I even got checked.
Chris came over Friday night and dragged me out to celebrate despite my protests
that I didn’t want to jinx myself.
Saturday morning I puked.
Staggering back to bed I collapsed, waiting for the nausea to pass. When it
finally did, I felt wonderful all over again. I called Chris to tell him I’d puked. He was
very supportive.

“Morning sickness! Fabulous! We should go shopping.”
“You really think it’s morning sickness?” I asked, thrilled.
“Of course it is! It couldn’t possibly be the chili we had last night.”
“It looked like the chili we had last night,” I pointed out.
“Gross! What do you say? We can go out to the West Mall and make a day of it!

They have a ba-by store,” he said in a singsong voice.

I couldn’t resist that temptation even though I still didn’t feel very well. His

enthusiasm for spending my money was contagious, I discovered. After stopping to eat
at the food court, we strolled down the mall, glancing in the stores we passed until we
reached Mecca. I stopped, staring in wonder at the delightful things displayed in the
store window.

Chris grabbed my hand and dragged me inside.
The store clerk looked us over as if calculating the size of our wallets and pasted a

practiced smile on her lips. “A new baby on the way?”

I grinned at her. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t had the opportunity to announce it to

anyone except Chris yet. “Yes.”

She lifted her brows, flicking a quick glance at my flat belly. “When’s it due?”
My smile froze. I stared at her blankly, struggling to calculate when I hadn’t

dared even consider it before. “I’m not sure yet,” I said finally, discovering I was
completely incapable of mentally calculating my due date.

She looked more than a little skeptical. “Well, feel free to look around. Let me

know if you need any help,” she said dismissively.

“She doesn’t believe I’m pregnant,” I said, disappointed, feeling almost as if her

doubt translated to a mistake on my part. Maybe I was imagining the whole thing
because I wanted it so badly? Maybe I was only late because I’d been so stressed out
ever since I’d discovered I’d been fucking my boss?

Maybe, horror of horrors, he’d gotten fixed and there was no way in hell I could

actually be pregnant?

“Bitch! Let’s look at the cribs.”
I’d lost interest in looking at the cribs, but I let him tug me along, wondering if

I’d finally gone round the bend and had ‘willed’ myself into pregnancy like the nut jobs
that believed so strongly that they were pregnant that they managed to manifest all of the
symptoms.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 68

The cribs were beautiful. I smiled and nodded at all the right places while Chris

checked all the features, lowering the sides and putting them up again, examining the
finish.

I examined the price tags and gulped.
I certainly couldn’t afford to buy one on speculation!
We separated, Chris searching for the perfect crib while I hunted for the perfect

price tag. Discovering he’d lost me just about the time he found one ‘worthy’, he joined
me, curling his lip at the crib I was looking at.

“Cheap.”
“Not really, but it is a little cheaper than the others.”
“No, I mean cheap—not the price tag, poor materials.” He shook it. “Poor

workmanship—no style. Honest to god, Carly! You don’t want something like that, do
you?”

I looked up at him, felt my chin wobble threateningly. “I really ought not to

consider getting anything at all until I’m sure, you know. Anything could happen.”

Chris studied me suspiciously. Dropping an arm around my shoulders, he

marched me out of the baby store and down the mall until he found a hallway. It
happened to be one of the hallways leading to the restrooms, so it wasn’t a lot quieter
than the main concourse, but it offered a little privacy. He caught my chin and made me
look up at him. “Ok, spill it!”

I’d managed to master the urge to cry. “It’s nothing. I just don’t feel that well, I

guess.”

“It was that snotty little bitch in there, wasn’t it?”
“No! No, really. I just … well, when she asked when I was due and I realized I

didn’t have any idea, I just got to thinking it was way too early to be considering buying
anything. Things happen. I mean … even if I am pregnant, it doesn’t necessarily follow
that I’ll have it. I could miscarry.”
“Wait here. I’m going to have a little talk with her.”
“Don’t!”
“I won’t say anything you don’t want me to,” he said soothingly, patting me on
the cheek and stalking back toward the nursery before I could object further by pointing
out that she hadn’t actually said anything at all that I could take exception to. So she’d
had a little attitude! So she’d made me feel like I had no business being in the store at
all!
So her skepticism had convinced me I was dreaming!
I didn’t really want Chris to be nasty, but I also didn’t feel up to getting involved
in the uncomfortable scene I knew was brewing. Heaving a miserable sigh, I leaned back
against the wall, wishing I was anywhere but where I was. My stomach still didn’t feel
just right and I began to wonder if, instead of morning sickness, I had some kind of bug.
That would be par for the course, I thought dismally, realizing everything that I’d
put down as symptoms of pregnancy could be explained away as something else.
My throat closed. I should’ve waited a little longer, I thought, to do the
pregnancy test—or at least done a follow up before I let myself get so wrapped up in the
idea to make sure I hadn’t gotten a false positive.
I’d almost worked myself up for a good cry when I discovered someone had
stopped in front of me. Thinking it was Chris, I sniffed and lifted my head. My eyes

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 69

widened when I discovered it was a complete stranger.
Actually, not! It just took me a few seconds to recognize my boss in jeans and a
t-shirt, his hair ruffled, a faint five o’clock shadow on his jaw. I’d never seen in him in
anything but a tailored business suit—not a hair out of place, and nothing but a faint
shadow of his beard beneath smooth as silk clean shaven skin.
I felt my jaw go slack.
My god! How could the man look better rough?
He shifted closer, his dark brows drawn together in a frown. “Are you alright?”
I couldn’t find my voice, but I managed a slight nod.
“You look pale enough to faint,” he murmured, lifting an unsteady hand and
touching my cheek so lightly I wasn’t sure he actually had.
Warmth blossomed inside me.
My stomach lurched.
I clamped a hand over my mouth as I felt the volcano threatening eruption,
whirled, and fled toward the bathroom as hard as I could fly, nearly skidding into the
door. I didn’t have time to worry about the impression I’d left behind me. I barely made
it into the stall in time to ring the toilet with the lunch I’d eaten less than an hour before.
I’d never managed to master the art of dainty, feminine vomiting. By the time I’d
choked and gagged and coughed up the lining of my stomach and esophagus, the
bathroom had cleared. Weak, gasping for breath, I staggered to the lavatory and gargled,
splashing water on my face, struggling against the suddenly very real possibility that I
might actually faint.
There was no where to sit except the toilets. Bending over, I braced my back
against the wall and my hands on my knees and focused on not passing out until Chris
poked his head in the door, looked around a little uneasily and came to collect me.

* * * *

Shocked by her flight, it took Nick several moments to realize what the dash to
the bathroom meant. He stood where she’d left him, trying to decide whether to go after
her, or wait, or leave. She wasn’t going to feel like talking, he decided, when she’d
finished barfing. Somehow, he doubted she would be happy about him seeing her after
her ordeal.
On the other hand, she’d looked really sick when he’d spotted her and come to
see about her. He couldn’t just leave her. She didn’t look like she was in any condition
to get home by herself.
Chris rounded the corner while he was debating the matter, looking around as if
he’d lost something.
“She’s in the ladies’ room.”
Chris looked at him a moment without recognition. “Oh.” He glanced toward the
ladies room, examining the women who came boiling out. “Uh oh.”
“She looked sick.”
Chris glanced at him again. “Must be something she ate,” he muttered. “Or
maybe it’s a bug. I thought it would help her feelings to get out. Guess that wasn’t such
a good idea.” He frowned. “I think I’ll go check on her.”
Nick nodded. “Tell her ….” He paused, seemed to reconsider what he’d started
to say and began again. “Tell her I hope she gets to feeling better.”
“Sure. I’ll tell her.”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 70

* * * *

I’d never been more grateful to see anybody in my life! “Oh Chris!” I wailed. “I
almost barfed on Mr. Mueller! Did you see him?”
“Nope!” he said cheerfully. “But I saw the stampede out of the ladies’ room and
you weren’t anywhere around so I figured this would be where I’d find you.”
“Thank you, Chris, for making me feel so much better!” I snapped irritably.
“What? You didn’t notice?”
“How could I notice while I was hanging over the toilet?”
“Good point! My god, girl! You look like hell. You aren’t going to faint are
you?”
I straightened. “I don’t think so—not now. Maybe a little more cold water,” I
added, heading for the lavatory again. “I am never, ever, eating another chili dog! Or
chili!”
I splashed water on my face for a few more minutes and rinsed my mouth two or
three more times. My blouse was soaked by that time but I didn’t care. I stood in front
of the air dyer, alternately holding my blouse and my face and hands under it. Chris
dropped an arm across my shoulders when I’d given up on actually getting dry. “Close
enough. Let’s get you home, sweety. I’m not sure I could carry you. I might have to
drag you across the parking lot if you pass out on me.”
“You are such an ass, Chris!”
“I know, but you love me anyway.”
I chuckled. “You were supposed to say you love me anyway. What happened in
the baby store?”
“Nothing.”
I sent him a disbelieving look.
“Alright, so I told her she was a total bitch and if she wanted to make it as a sales
clerk she might want to reconsider looking down her nose at potential customers and that
you and I would be taking our business to their competitors. Words to that effect,
anyway.”
“Is there another baby store?”
“I’m sure there must be. Anyway, I got to thinking, and it seems to me my mom
still has a lot of baby stuff packed up in storage. She never throws anything away and the
quality of workmanship, take my word for it, used to be a lot better than it is now!”
I felt a mixture of discomfort and budding excitement. “I couldn’t take the things
your mother packed up!”
“Why not?”
“Well … because. Memories, you know? Don’t you think that’s why she kept
them?”
“I don’t know. She’s a pack rat. She doesn’t like to throw away stuff that’s
broken. She sure doesn’t throw away anything that still has some use left in it.”
I let the subject drop. I didn’t feel nauseated anymore, but I still felt weak and not
in any condition to argue with Chris. He tucked me up on my couch when we got back to
my apartment and settled on the other end with the phone.
“Hi mom! It’s Chris … Christian! You know, your youngest, most beloved son?
…Come on, mom! It hasn’t been that long!”
I snickered, earning a glare from Chris. He listened until his mother had wound

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 71

down. “Yeah. Ok. Look! My girlfriend’s got a bun in the oven and she’s sick as dog.
Well, hell, mom! You know it ain’t mine! Alright, sorry! Isn’t mine. I’m queer as a
three dollar bill. OK! Ok! Gay! I’m the one that’s gay. I don’t know why you’re so
damned touchy about it! Anyway, she’s barfing morning and noon. Any suggestions?”
He sat nodding for several minutes and finally turned to me, making a scribbling
motion in the air. I got up and headed for the desk where I kept a note pad and pen and
returned to the couch, handing them to him.
He scooted off the couch and used the coffee table as a desk top, writing
furiously. “Soda crackers? You mean like saltines?”
He flipped a page and started what looked like a grocery list.
“Alright, mom. Smooches. I love you, too.”
He heaved a sigh of relief when he’d hung up. “I hope you appreciate the fact
that I braved my mother to get this for you,” he said testily.
I grinned at him. “She sounded like a sweetheart.”
“Don’t you believe it for one minute! She’s an old battle axe! Anyway, she had
six young’uns. I figured she’d be good for advice. You got any saltines in the house?”
I considered it doubtfully. “Maybe.”
Handing me the instructions and the list, he got up and headed into my kitchen. I
heard him opening and closing cabinet doors. He returned a few minutes later with a half
a pack and placed them within reach on the coffee table. “Nibble,” he said succinctly
when I lifted my brows at him questioningly. “Didn’t you read the notes?”
“I can’t read your writing.”
He glared at me, flopped down beside me and dragged my legs across his lap.
“Keep some beside the bed and eat a couple every morning before you get up. Don’t get
up until you’re sure you’re not nauseated anymore. Stay away from anything that’s
greasy or hard to digest. And, if you feel faint, sit down and put your head between your
knees.
“She says it’s probably a boy because we all made her sick as a dog and not to try
to eat anything before mid-afternoon except the soda crackers until you get past the
barfing stage.”
“When is that?”
He shrugged. “Around the second or third month … if you’re lucky. Sometimes
it’s all the way through.” He looked at the dismay on my face. “But usually it’s just the
first couple of months.”
Sighing, I pulled a cracker out and bit down on it. Chris stayed, flipping the TV
from one channel to the next until I dozed off. Then he woke me up to tell me he was
leaving.
I slept for a while, exhausted from my endeavors over the toilet no doubt. The
room was dim when a knock on the door awakened me. Pushing myself off of the couch,
I went to let Chris in.
It wasn’t Chris standing on the other side of the door, though.
I stood blinking vacuously at Mr. Mueller.
“Can I come in?” he asked after a few minutes.
“Oh!” I stepped back automatically, watching him a little bewilderedly as he
strode into my living room and looked around.
“Were you asleep?”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 72

“No,” I lied, glancing toward the TV, which was still on and providing the only
the light in the room. “I was watching TV.”
“I brought you something.”
“You did?” I asked, noticing for the first time that he was holding a bag in his
hand.
“Soup.”
“Soup?” I echoed, wondering what in the world he’d brought me soup for.
“Why don’t you sit back down while I heat it up for you? It’s homemade chicken
and dumplings, actually.”
I perked up immediately. My stomach growled. “Chicken and dumplings?”
He chuckled, patted me on the cheek, flipped the overhead light on and surveyed
my apartment. I surveyed it, as well, realizing that it had looked a lot better before he
turned the light on. Apparently having ascertained the direction of the kitchen from that
survey, he left me standing beside the open door.
I closed the door and returned to the couch, still feeling as if I might be dreaming.
I could hear the clatter of kitchen ware coming from the kitchen, though. The
delectable smell of chicken and dumplings wafted past my nostrils after a few minutes.
My stomach growled again. I grabbed a saltine, hoping to appease the ravening beast so
it wouldn’t embarrass me.
He came out of the kitchen a few minutes later. “Where do you usually eat?”
I felt my mouth for crumbs. “In front of the TV.”
Nodding, he left again.
I studied the fit of his well worn jeans over his tight ass, feeling unaccountably
warm suddenly.
Then I remembered I’d almost barfed on him earlier at the mall.
Getting up abruptly, I headed for the bathroom to check my appearance. Sure
enough, I looked the wrath of god. My hair was matted and standing on end from the
pillow. I looked at the shower longingly, debating whether I wanted him to realize I was
self-conscious enough to jump in. The hell with it! Throwing my clothes off, I climbed
into the shower and quickly washed my hair, bathed, checked hair growth and decided to
do a quick shave. Grabbing two towels when I got out, I wrapped one around my wet
hair like a turban and the other around me and quickly brushed my teeth.
I doubted I looked a hell of a lot better with wet hair, but at least I felt clean. After
quickly towel drying my hair the best I could, I raked a comb through it to detangle and
headed into my bedroom for the clothing debate.
“The soups ready!” he called from the other room, ending all hope that I’d have a
few minutes to primp.
Giving up, I dropped the towel and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of shorts,
shimmying into them. I saw he’d set two bowls of soup on the coffee table.
“Thanks!” I said a little shyly. “This was so sweet of you!”
“Chris said you weren’t feeling well. I thought this might perk you up.”
“Chris? My Chris?”
He sent me a curious look.
I frowned as I settled on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.
Mr. Mueller, who’d sat down on the edge of the couch, shifted, settling beside
me. “I ran in to you at the mall,” he prompted.

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“I remember, but I asked Chris if … Never mind.”
I focused on the food. Under any other circumstances, I doubted I would’ve been
able to swallow anything with Mr. Mueller sitting on my floor beside me. I was starving,
though, after relinquishing my supper from the night before and then my lunch and the
soup smelled like heaven. It tasted like heaven, too. “Mmm!” I moaned ecstatically.
“This is wonderful!”
I discovered he was watching me when I opened my eyes. He looked away.
“Thanks.”
“You cooked it?” I asked disbelievingly.
His lips tightened, but he seemed to shrug off his irritation after a moment. “Yes.
I cooked it. I can cook.”
“Mine never tastes like this,” I offered by way of apology.
He rewarded me with an easy smile.
My belly clenched. My heart skipped a beat. I closed my eyes, waiting for
disaster and discovered it wasn’t my stomach rebelling. Relief flooded me. “How did
you find me?” I asked as it suddenly dawned on me that he’d never been to my place
before.
He made a sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle. “I’m the boss. I can access this
kind of information.”
My mind instantly filled with questions as to why he would, but I left them
unvoiced, focusing on the soup. I wasn’t sure it was safe to eat the dumplings or the
chicken, but the soup was wonderful right by itself. My poor abused stomach was so
happy!
I leaned back against the couch when I’d finished, closing my eyes to savor the
fact that I had a full stomach and didn’t feel like I was going to puke my guts out. “My
god! That was almost better than se … uh … anything I ever had!”
“More?”
“I couldn’t! I wouldn’t dare, not after …. I think I’ll just wait a bit and see.”
Nodding, he stacked my dish on top of his and pushed the two across the table.
Turning slightly, he settled one arm along the seat of the couch, studying me. I tried
studying the TV screen for a few minutes, but I couldn’t help it. I cut my eyes at him to
see if he really was looking at me.
When he caught my gaze, he lifted a hand and lightly grazed my cheek with the
tips of his fingers as he had at the mall when he’d startled the piss out of me—well, upset
the delicate balance of my equilibrium, which had in turn set me to puking again. “You
look like you feel better. You had me worried.”
“I did?” I asked a little breathlessly.
He settled his palm against my cheek and then lifted it and touched my forehead.
“No fever,” he murmured.
I wasn’t so sure about that. I was starting to feel really, really warm. My
heartbeat had gotten really erratic, too.
He pushed my wet hair over my shoulder and leaned closer. I found myself
staring at him almost nose to nose, afraid to breathe. He held my gaze for a long moment
and finally tilted his head, brushing his lips as lightly across mine as he’d grazed my
cheek with his fingertips. A wave of dizziness went through me. “I might be
contagious,” I murmured.

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“You certainly are,” he said, his lips parting to enfold mine.
I’m going to faint, I thought, unable to move or breathe, feeling as if I was falling
down a long, dark tunnel as his heat engulfed me and I felt the sweep of his tongue along
the seam of my lips, and then inside my mouth.
Alright, nothing was better than this! My knuckles grazed his chest as I lifted my
hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt—to keep from falling, because I felt like I was
going to even though I was wedged by now between him and the couch.
Disappointment filled me when he lifted his lips from mine. I was just really
getting in to it. I pried my eyes open with an effort to see if there was any chance he
might consider doing it again—or more—licking my lips and tasting him.
His gaze had flicked to my lips as I licked them. After studying them a moment,
he met my gaze again, then looked down at me. He lifted a hand, skimmed it down my
arm and then lifted it and settled it lightly over my breast, carefully molding the fabric
over it and studying the effect as if fascinated.
I was fascinated by the faint tremor in his hand and the size of it next to me.
He swallowed audibly when he met my gaze again. “I should go and let you
rest,” he said, his voice sounding husky.
I licked my lips, struggling with the urge to tell him a good fuck would probably
tuck me in nicely for the night. My pussy had missed his cock desperately. I’d just
refused to listen to the whining bitch.
I didn’t, of course. He was my boss for fuck’s sake!
I didn’t even beg him to kiss me again, although I desperately wanted him to.
I had to look at my fingers and consciously command them to relax their grip on
his t-shirt. The bulge in the front of his jeans made my throat go dry when he stood up
and I got a really good look at it. He adjusted it as he leaned over to pick up our plates.
I bit my tongue to keep from suggesting he let me do that—not the plates, the
adjustment. I just wanted a little feel before he took it away.
I released a shaky breath when he headed into the kitchen. Still feeling weak and
lightheaded and thoroughly confused and disappointed, I struggled to get up off the floor
and sprawled on the couch again, dragging the crocheted throw I’d been using for a
blanket up to my chin and curling my legs up beneath it. I stared at the flickering images
on the TV while I listened to him in the kitchen. He washed the plates and stacked them
and then put the leftovers in the fridge.
“You need anything before I go?”
A piece of meat about eight inches long and big enough to choke me! “No.
Thanks again for the soup!”
He smiled. “No problem. I’ll lock the door on the way out, but you should get up
and put the chain on and lock the deadbolt.”
I nodded instead of telling that if I did that Chris wouldn’t be able to get in.
I listened for his retreating footsteps. Instead, I heard a tap on the door. Getting
up, I went to see what he’d forgotten. He gave me a stern look. “Lock the door! And
next time, don’t open it without asking who’s on the other side.”
Oh, he was a tyrant! “Ok. Good night!”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 75

Chapter Eight

Chris arrived about an hour later and beat on the door when he discovered his key
wouldn’t open it. I got up and trudged to the door again, sliding the chain free and
turning the deadbolt. “Who is it?” I asked belatedly.
“Who do you think it is?” Chris demanded testily.
I opened the door. Chris shouldered past me with the grocery bags he was
carrying. “I got all sorts of invalid food!” he called from the kitchen. “Who cooked the
chicken and dumplings?”
“Mr. Mueller.”
Chris dropped something. He appeared in the door between the kitchen and
living room after a moment. “Mr. Mueller? He was here? How did he know where you
live?”
“He’s the boss. He has access to that kind of information.”
“Oh! And he brought you chicken and dumplings? That he cooked?”
I nodded.
He studied me for a long moment and finally went back into the kitchen. I could
hear the bag rustling and the sound of cans hitting the shelves and containers sliding
across the refrigerator racks. He strode briskly from the kitchen after a few minutes,
carrying an individual container of red gelatin with a huge dollop of fluffy whipped
topping. He presented it to me with a spoon. “I was going to make soup, but since you
already ate …. Mind if I have some of the chicken and dumplings?”
“Help yourself if there’s any left.”
He returned a short time later with a steaming plate and settled at the coffee table.
“So … he just showed up at your door with the food?” he asked as he dug in.
“Yep.”
He shook his head. “Weird! This is really good, though.”
“He cooked it himself.”
“He said that?”
“Yep.”
He studied me for a moment and finally shrugged, focusing on his food. “I guess
he was more worried about you than I thought.”
“You said you didn’t talk to him.”
“I didn’t really. He said you were sick and to tell you he hoped you got to feeling
better. It was just … you know, the kind of thing people always say. I guess he decided
to drop by and check on you himself.”
“I guess so,” I said, licking the last of the gelatin from my spoon and toying with
it while I tried to decide whether to tell Chris he’d kissed me or not. Part of me wanted
to, not only because I usually told Chris pretty much everything, but also because he was
a man, even if he was gay, and I thought he might have some understanding of why he’d
decided to kiss me. Part of me didn’t because I was afraid he’d tell me something I’d
rather not know and also because I wasn’t sure of how I felt about it and I didn’t want

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him teasing me. “I hope I didn’t give him whatever it is I’ve got.”
He snorted. “Pregnant? I hope it isn’t catching.”
I sighed. “You know it might just be the flu.”
“Does it feel like the flu?”
I thought it over and realized it didn’t. “No. But it could be another strain I
haven’t had before.”
“It is. It’s called pregnant. You’re in denial.”
“Puh-lease! You know how badly I want it to be true. Why would I deny it?”
“Because you’re scared you’re wrong.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“The man’s a stallion! No! I don’t think so.”
I felt my face heating. “How would you know?”
“Puh-lease! He gets a hard on every time he gets around you. I’ve got eyes,
don’t I?”
I wasn’t about to fall into that little trap! “Men! As if it only takes a big dick to
get a girl knocked up!”
He shrugged. “Well, you at least have to admit it’s a lot more fun when it’s big.”
I thought it over and nodded agreement.
He chuckled. “So he is hung?”
“You asshole!” I cried, laughing, even though I realized I’d fallen into the trap I’d
thought I had neatly sidestepped. Snatching a pillow off the couch, I swatted him with it.
He got up, took his plate and headed into the kitchen with it, dropping it in the
sink. “Wash it!” I called.
“Slave driver! I’m company.”
He had a sleeve of saltines and a glass of water when he reappeared. Striding into
my room, he placed them on the table by the bed.
“You really think that’ll work?”
He shrugged. “What have you got to lose by trying it? Besides your last meal, I
mean.”
He leaned down and gave me a smacking kiss on the forehead. “’Night, sweety.”
I discovered it actually did work—after a fashion—and not always reliably. I still
felt vaguely queasy off and on throughout the entire morning, which put a severe crimp
in my weekend activities. It also worried me that it was going to put a severe crimp into
my pocketbook. I couldn’t wait until noon to head in to work! Mr. Mueller had been
amazingly nice and thoughtful, but there was a limit to kindness!
I set my alarm earlier on Sunday to experiment—not because I wanted to get up
early on one of the few days I could sleep late. My reasoning, though, was that if it took
me at least an hour after I’d woke up before I could safely get out of bed without having
to rush to worship at the porcelain altar, then I had to wake up earlier. It actually seemed
to work better. Although I fell like pure hell waking up so early, I wasn’t as nauseated.
Then again, maybe it was the flu and I was getting over it?
Just the same, I set the alarm for an hour earlier on Monday morning, lay in bed
nibbling crackers until the nausea passed and then got ready for work. By lunch time, I
realized I was going to be really, really sick of saltines by the time I had the baby—or got
over the sickness—whichever came first. I discovered I couldn’t stand the smell of the
deli where me and Chris usually ate. I had no idea why, but the smell was enough to

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make my stomach lurch and send me outside again for a nice clean breath of car exhaust
fumes. I actually couldn’t really stand to watch Chris eat either.
I’d brought the last of the chicken and dumplings with me to work, though, and
by afternoon break time I felt like I was going to starve to death. I not only managed the
soup, I managed the chicken and dumplings and had to fight the urge to lick the bowl.
I didn’t see the boss and couldn’t help but wonder if the poor man was lying in
bed at home, puking his guts out because he’d been brainless enough to kiss me.
The entire episode had a sort of surreal feel to it, as if I’d met Mr. Mueller’s alter
ego from another dimension. To my relief, I caught a glimpse of him as I was leaving
work and realized he’d undoubtedly been at the office all day, just tied up.
At least I hadn’t passed on whatever it was I had … yet.
I bought another home pregnancy kit on the way home and a calendar. As afraid
as I was that I’d get a negative reading the second time around, I couldn’t stand the
suspense any longer.
Still bleary eyed from lack of sleep, wondering if the thing would actually work
when I’d had to trot to the bathroom to pee three times during the night, I used the second
test. “Woohoo!” I said weakly when it came up positive again. “Guess that’s a definite
maybe!”
Chris and I sat together studying the calendar during first break and squabbling
over the ‘correct’ way to count it up. Since we both arrived at roughly the same date, we
decided we were both right.
By the end of the week, I’d gone through two more tests, gotten two more
positives, begun to get the ‘swing’ of handling the nausea thing, made an appointment for
my first exam, and begun to wonder if it would just be easier to sleep on the toilet or
maybe get a catheter. It wasn’t just when I was trying to sleep either.
I was totally exhausted by the end of the week, but happier than I could ever
remember being in my life, almost completely convinced that I really was pregnant.
I pestered Chris until he called his mother again and, as uncomfortable as I was
discussing it with a complete stranger, told her every ‘weird’ thing I’d noticed. She
bolstered my uncertainty by assuring me that the symptoms were pretty typical for
pregnant women.
Chris dragged me off to the mall to shop again. Instead of taking me to the baby
store, though, he headed for the maternity store. The prices were ungodly, outrageous—
but they had the cutest outfits! I tried on just about everything in the store in my size and
finally broke down and bought my two favorites because I just couldn’t bring myself to
leave without them. From there we went to the department stores to check out their
offerings. They were a little more affordable—still steep, but not quite as pricey. I
bought two more outfits, deciding I actually needed them since I couldn’t very well
continue to wear ‘regular’ clothes once I started ‘blooming’. I was certainly going to
need more as time went on, but I figured it was a good start. I could buy something here
and there as I ‘grew’ and needed to. What I had would work for mix and match and I
was sure I probably had some blouses that would be lose enough to wear at least for a
while.
I was so delighted with my new wardrobe I couldn’t stop looking at them. I kept
taking them out of the closet and beaming at them.
I guess I got a lit-tle carried away. I decided to wear one of my new outfits to

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work Monday morning, reasoning that it hardly even looked like a maternity suit—
really! And I hadn’t actually had anything new to wear in a while and, anyway, everyone
was going to figure it out eventually, weren’t they?
My first clue that maybe I should’ve waited a while longer—a few months—
came when Chris saw me. His jaw dropped almost to his chest and he went into a state I
could only describe as catatonia. “My god!” he exclaimed when I pirouetted in front of
him for him to admire it.
My heart hit my toes. I looked at him unhappily. “It doesn’t really look like a …
you know, does it?”
He picked his jaw up, studied my face, and grimaced at me. “No. You’re right!
You’re absolutely right! It really doesn’t. No one will ever notice.”
Everyone stared at me as I made my way to my cubicle.
I was wondering a little wildly if I could dash home and change before anyone
noticed I was missing when Jane announced a sales meeting in the conference room.
Well fuck!
Rush in and sit down before anyone had the chance to study my outfit?
Wait until everyone was occupied and wouldn’t notice?
I decided to try to move in with the herd. There was always safety in numbers
and they couldn’t get a very good look at my clothes if I was standing right next to them,
right?
It worked right until the ‘herd’ parted to take their seats around the table. Mr.
Mueller, who was standing at the head of the table, zeroed in on me, scanned me from my
neckline to the bottom of my smock, and looked like he was going to faint. Still staring
at me with a frozen expression, he sat down, nearly missing his chair.
Drawn no doubt by the look on his face to see what was going on, everyone else
turned to stare at me, too.
I smiled weakly, pulled my chair out and sat down.
Mr. Mueller, by now almost as red as he had been white before, shot up from his
chair. “Excuse me just for a moment, people,” he said a little hoarsely, striding toward
the door.
At least I thought he was heading out. He paused by my chair, grabbed my arm,
and hauled me out of my seat. “If we could just talk in my office for a minute, Ms.
Nelson?”
I had to jog to keep up with his brisk stride. He escorted me with a hand on my
arm all the way into his office and finally released me when he’d slammed the door
closed behind us. I sent him a wary look as he strode around his desk. He gestured to the
chair. I looked down at the chair. “Sit!”
I hated that chair. Uttering an irritated huff, I eased down on the edge of the seat.
I stared at Mr. Mueller.
He stared back at me.
I shifted, cautiously easing back a little further on the whoopee chair.
He cleared his throat. “What …?” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat again.
“What is that you’re wearing?”
I felt my face redden. I glanced down at my beautiful new maternity smock
uneasily and finally decided there was no point in beating around the bush. After all, it
would come out eventually, wouldn’t it? “A maternity smock.”

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“Maternity?” he repeated, as if he’d never heard the word.
I smiled at him a little frozenly. “Yes. You know—pregnant women wear them,
and I am, so I thought I would.”
“And you are?”
“Pregnant.”
He slumped back in his chair. “Pregnant?”
I nodded. I could see he was struggling for something to say.
“And when, exactly, is the happy day?”
I blinked at him. “What happy day?”
“The … uh … when are you due?”
“Oh! I thought … never mind. February—mid to late.”
He frowned, apparently calculating.
Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot I could do about that, now was there?
“So you’re … how far along?”
I managed a tight smile. “A month … uh … or so.”
“You aren’t certain?”
“Yes, I am. I’ve tested positive.”
He reddened. “I mean, you’re not certain of when, exactly … uh … the date.”
“Oh! Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
He paled, obviously searching for something else to say. “Who’s the happy
father?” he asked in a strangled voice.
I was ready for that. I waved a hand airily. “There isn’t one. I mean—well—
there is of course. I just don’t know who.” I patted my belly. “I just picked one—of the
donors.”
“You were artificially … but you don’t know exactly when you got pregnant?”
Hell! I really fell into that one! “Of course I know about when it was, but you
know it always depends on how fast they swim! And, of course, they only come when
they’re ready so … give or take a week or so, sometime in February.”
He sat rocking back and forth in his chair for several minutes, apparently trying to
think of something else to ask and finally gave up. “Alright. You may go.”
Relieved, I stood up and turned to leave. I’d gotten all the way to the door before
I remembered we’d been about to have a meeting. I turned back. “Are we still going to
have a meeting?” I asked.
He stared at me blankly. “Meeting?”
“Yes. We were having one and then you wanted to talk …?”
He got up. “Yes. The meeting. Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes. I just
have to take a call.”
I looked at him in confusion, then looked at his phone.
“Make a call.”
Nodding, I left, feeling tremendously relieved that I’d gotten that out of the way.
I was actually very pleased with myself, although it certainly hadn’t been my intention to
precipitate ‘the confrontation’. Deep down, even though I hadn’t acknowledged it, I’d
realized there would certainly be one. After all, he wasn’t an idiot—no one in the office
was—and they were bound to be speculating over the fact that my due date was almost
exactly thirty eight weeks after the Hawaiian conference. No doubt they would be
guessing I’d gotten knocked up at the conference, but they could guess all they wanted

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to. They still wouldn’t know! And they wouldn’t know who the father was, and that was
the most important thing. I couldn’t be fired for getting pregnant.
Now I could just relax and enjoy my pregnancy to the fullest without worrying
about everyone finding out. It would be all over the office before I left for the day.
Returning to the meeting room, I took my seat and smiled at Chris, who was
sitting across from me. “Mr. Mueller said that he would be with us shortly. He had to
make a call.”

* * * *

I was rearranging my room to empty a corner so that I could start filling it with
baby things when someone tapped on my door. I paused, lifting my head to listen and
make certain it was actually someone tapping on my door and not someone else’s—
hoping I was mistaken. I didn’t want to be interrupted while I was deciding where to put
my bed.
The knock came again, louder that time and definitely at my door.
Frowning irritably, I headed for the door, wondering if it was Chris. He rarely
came over during the week, but then he’d been pestering me ever since the meeting that
morning to find out what I’d discussed with Mr. Mueller.
I noticed as soon as I reached the living room that I hadn’t put the chain on or the
deadbolt and my irritation grew. He’d forgotten his damned key!
“Coming!” I called when he hammered on the door again.
My god he was impatient today!
There was an irritated frown on my face when I snatched it open but shock wiped
my face clean of expression. I felt my eyes go round and my mouth slide into an ‘O’ of
dismay.
There was a hybrid Mr. Mueller looming in my doorway. This one was wearing
the expression I was used to seeing in the office—hard as nails, humorless, don’t fuck
with me—but his hair was in disorder. He had a five o’clock shadow—actually six, I
realized. He was wearing snug fitting faded blue jeans and a t-shirt that had a skull and
cross bones on the front and some logo I wasn’t currently in any state to read.
He didn’t wait to be invited in. Dropping two ham sized hands on my shoulders,
he waltzed me backwards into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.
“That was a really dirty trick,” he growled.
My mind scrambled to decipher that but, despite my shock, I discovered it didn’t
actually take that much effort. My mind almost instantly connected the accusation with
my mission to collect sperm. “What?” I asked, unwilling to admit I had any idea at all of
what he was talking about.
I hadn’t noticed we were still waltzing until my lower legs connected with the
couch. My eyes grew wider as I felt myself tipping backward. I sprawled out on it, but
not by accident, I realized belatedly. Mr. Mueller came down with me, pinning me
beneath him. “The damned smock,” he clarified. “You couldn’t think of a more subtle
way of making the announcement?”
I immediately felt defensive. “I didn’t see any reason why I should,” I said
breathlessly—because he was squishing me.
“Or any reason to tell me, instead of announcing it to everybody!”
Uh oh! I scrambled to think what I would say if I had no idea what he was
implying. “I don’t know what you mean,” I gasped, trying to ‘swim’ backwards and

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crawl out from under him.
He allowed it. I had a moment of feeling hopeful that I was actually escaping
before I realized he was just waiting for me to hit the barricade of the other arm of the
couch so that he could stretch out more comfortably. The moment I hit impasse, he
lunged, caging me with his arms and grinding his belly into my pelvis. “Oh—I think you
do. I think you figured it out a hell of a lot sooner than I did because you already had a
plan and knew more about what was going down than I did.”
I gaped at him in dismay, trying to remember if I’d had a plan formulated for
handling this situation if it arose and, if so, what that plan was. I couldn’t recall if I’d
ever considered the possibility that he might actually confront me about it, though.
Maybe because I’d convinced myself that he would be happy to continue to pretend he
had no idea even if he did figure it out? “I’m confused,” I managed to say.
He shook his head. “You’re adorable, but you sure as hell aren’t confused. Don’t
piss me off, Carly. I’m a man on the edge. I just had my woman slap me in the face with
‘I’m pregnant’ right in the middle of an important business meeting.”
I blinked while I tried to tabulate that speech. “Your woman?” I gasped weakly.
It wasn’t necessary to feign confusion this time. The moment he said ‘my woman’ my
brain functions had gone haywire.
“My baby. My woman,” he growled, his face hardening perceptibly. “When did
you plan on telling me it was mine? Never?”
I felt the color leave my face. I hadn’t expected him to go for the jugular! “I …
uh … Did you donate?” I asked weakly, struggling hard to maintain the lie I’d already
told.
“I sure as hell did. Three times!” He leaned away from me, pulling something
from the back pocket of his jeans. When he straightened his arm, I saw he was holding
up my beach wrap. “Should we try this and make sure it still fits?”
I gaped at the wrap. “It does look like my size.”
“I was actually hoping you’d say that,” he growled. “Now I’m going to have to
check the fit.”
Relief settled inside me when he climbed up.
“But not here. That fucking couch is too short.”
Grasping my hand, he hauled me to my feet. He didn’t release me as I’d expected
him to, however. Instead, he headed toward my bedroom, pulling me behind him.
“I said it looked like my size,” I said worriedly. “Lots of women are about my
size.”
He halted when he saw I’d taken my room apart, staring at the mattress leaning
against the wall. Not to be deterred, he grabbed the end, flipped it onto the floor and then
dragged me on top of it.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“Checking the fit,” he responded grimly, pushing me to my back and rolling over
me.
I stared up at him in stunned surprise. “What fit?”
Instead on answering, he swooped closer, nuzzling his face against my throat.
My skin prickled at his touch, warmth spreading through me. “Mr. Mueller?”
“I think you should call me Nick,” he murmured against my throat. “Don’t you
think it’s a little formal for this day and time to keep calling me Mr. Mueller when I’ve

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had my tongue down your throat and my cock up your … tush? Especially since that’s
my baby in your belly.”
Was there really any point in trying to maintain the lie? Particularly since I really
liked what he was doing. I wanted to know if he was alright with it, but I didn’t want to
ask. He seemed to be ok with it—maybe a little possessive, actually. “I missed having
your tongue down my throat and your cock up my tush,” I said tentatively, more than half
afraid he’d abruptly turn into Hyde the moment I confessed.
He lifted his head to look at me and I braced myself for the worst.
“Did you?”
I couldn’t tell anything about his expression. His voice sounded a little strange. I
wasn’t sure what answer would be safe, but I realized I’d wanted this moment rather
desperately for a very long time. Would it be better to be safe and maybe sorry? “Yes,” I
finally croaked.
He studied me a moment longer and shoved backwards along the mattress,
grasping my shirt and pushing it upward. He splayed his hand along my middle and then
slid it up to cup my breast through my bra. “You might get tired of it in the next forty or
fifty years, you know,” he murmured.
My heart slammed into my ribs painfully. I stared at him, watching breathlessly
as he lowered his head, scooping my breast from the bra cup at the same time and
guiding my nipple to meet his mouth. My belly shimmied as he plucked at the taut bud
almost playfully with his lips. I squirmed, wanting him to take it completely into his
mouth.
He continued to tease me until I began to think I couldn’t stand the anticipation
any more.
I moistened my dry lips. “Did you …? Was that …?”
He lifted his head, his eyes narrowed, gleaming, watchful. “What?” he asked,
teasing my nipple with his thumb and finger instead.
I must have misunderstood, I realized, too embarrassed to voice it aloud. Instead,
I focused on my immediate needs. “Are you going to … you know?”
“What?”
I could see a faint quiver at the corner of his wonderful mouth. I felt my face
heat. “Put your tongue in my mouth and your cock inside of me?”
“That depends.”
“On what?” I asked, beginning to suspect that he’d come solely for the purpose of
paying me back by tormenting me.
Instead of answering, he lowered his head again and closed his mouth over the
nipple he’d been toying with until it was achingly, almost painfully sensitive. I sucked in
a harsh breath as the pressure of his mouth sent a stinging current of heat through me,
pebbling and sensitizing my flesh all over. The heated, rhythmic pull of his mouth sent
cascades of fire behind the first wave that seemed to form a dam within my sex until a
hot lava dome began to form in my lower belly. I panted for breath, squeezing my eyes
tightly to savor the sensations.
He was breathing raggedly when he lifted his head to study my face again. “Say
yes, Nick,” he murmured hoarsely. “Or no dick in that tight little tush of yours.”
“Yes, Nick!” I gasped, without any idea what I was agreeing to, no thought in my
mind beyond urging him to continue.

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 83

He scooped my other breast from my bra and lowered his head to tug at that
tender peak, shooting electric jolts through me. “Yes, Nick, I’ll marry you.”
My head popped up off the mattress. He smiled at me wickedly with my nipple
still in his mouth. Flicking his tongue over the tip a couple of times, he lifted his head
and arched one black brow at me. “Yes, Nick, I’ll marry you,” he prompted.
I swallowed with an effort. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
I lifted my hands, threading my fingers through his dark hair and tugging at him
until he moved upward, touching the tip of his nose to mine. “Well?”
I studied him a moment. “Will you give me the dick?”
He grinned, started to chuckle. “Baby I am so ready to give you the dick I’m not
sure I can get it in fast enough. How do you want it? Quick? Or really fast?”
I smiled back at him, stroking his hard cheek. “Any way I can get it. I’ve been
wild about you, you know.”
He sobered, tilting his head, at long last, and fitting his mouth to mine for a deep
kiss that shot my concentration to hell and sent me spiraling into a drunken stupor. “How
long?” he murmured when he broke the kiss to stroke his cheek along mine.
“Always,” I murmured dizzily.
He jerked upward to look at my face. “Seriously?”
I sighed. “Since the first time you bellowed at me.”
“I never bellow. You’re sure it’s me you’re thinking about?”
“Alright, so that might be a slight exaggeration. It felt like a bellow. Or maybe a
growl?”
I could see he was searching his mind for the memory. “The day you started?”
I nodded. “I was so … smitten with you I couldn’t think straight and I shredded
that report instead of making a copy?”
“I didn’t do anything but glare at you. Actually, I’m not even sure I glared at
you.”
“You did, and you ground your teeth to keep from bellowing at me, and then you
went into your office and slammed the door … and I’ve been trying to keep a low profile
ever since.”
“I guess that explains the hunted look you always get in your eyes when I glance
your way.”
I stroked my hand down his chest. “No. That’s because every time you look at
me I’m scared you’ll see how crazy I am about you and you’ll fire me. No inner office
romance!”
“Right. You’re fired, by the way.”
He sat up and pulled his t-shirt off.
I sat up and stared at him. “Fired? Why?”
“For fucking the boss. Can’t have that. Besides, the boss can’t think straight
when you’re any where around because he’s madly in love with you and even more
madly in lust with you.” He unfastened his jeans and shucked his jeans and shorts,
uttering an irritated growl when he realized he’d forgotten to remove his shoes.
I moved down the mattress and pulled his shoes off, disentangling his legs from
his pants.
“If we get married, though ….”

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 84

“I’ll want to fuck you every time I see you.”
I smiled at him. “We could do it in your office.”
“On one of the whoopee chairs?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know about those damned chairs?”
“The look on your face was priceless,” he said, chuckling.
I hurled one of his tennis shoes at his head. Fortunately, I’d always had really
poor aim. It hit him in the chest. Laughing, he caught the shoe, tossed it over his
shoulder and dove for me, flattening me on the mattress. “We’ll negotiate the job.
Maybe it would be better if you were working in the office … then I wouldn’t have to
take a long lunch. Why are you still dressed?”
I folded my arms beneath my head. “I was waiting for you to unwrap me,” I said,
wiggling my brows at him.
He grasped my shorts and dragged them down my legs, burrowing his face
against my belly. The heat, banked by our playful interchange, roared to life again the
moment he began taking nibbling bites along my lower stomach. I sucked in a sharp
breath as my belly tightened almost painfully. Lifting up again, he grabbed my panties
and dragged them off, as well, grasping my thighs and shoving them wide. I sucked in a
sharp breath and he settled between them and nibbled a path along first one inner thigh
and then the other, then burrowed his face against my nether lips, dragging in a deep
breath.
“Ah! I’d know that pussy anywhere,” he murmured.
I pushed up on my elbows and looked down at him. “What?”
He looked up at me and grinned wolfishly. Holding my gaze, he parted my nether
lips with his fingers, licking a path along my cleft that set my clit to vibrating with
pleasure. I watched him in fascination as he teased and stroked the bud until heat and
tension were radiating through me, struggling to catch my breath as my heart rate
accelerated with each teasing stroke. He closed his mouth over the quivering nub of flesh
in a moment, sucking. My heart pounded harder. Vertigo swept through me. I closed
my eyes against the dizziness and instantly felt his touch intensified.
A low groan escaped me as I felt my inner muscles quake threateningly. “Nick!”
He began caressing me more feverishly, pushing me over the edge within
moments. I fell back weakly, gasping sharply as each new wave hit me until I was nearly
screaming, squirming to break free of the wonderful torture. The flesh all over my body
was nearly painfully sensitive in the aftermath and he didn’t miss a square inch of it as he
made his way upward, dropping a trail of nipping kisses. I writhed and twisted feverishly
beneath the exquisite torment, sucking in a sharp breath that bordered on a scream as he
finally reached my breasts and caught a nipple lightly between his teeth. He soothed it
with the heat of his mouth and the faintly rough texture of his tongue before he switched
his attentions to its twin.
The moment he lifted upward enough to allow it, I searched a little frantically for
his cock, finally grasped it, and guided it to the mouth of my sex, struggling to stuff it
deeply enough inside of me to quench the ache renewed by his caresses. He surged with
me, countering my desperate efforts until I’d managed to engulf his wonderfully thick
flesh. I panted weakly with success, trying to gather the strength to reach my goal again.
He gasped hoarsely for breath, pushed himself to his elbows and set a jarring pace
that had me clawing at him mindlessly as I felt myself nearing another peak. I clasped

FULFILLMENT Kimberly Zant 85

myself tightly to him as I hit it and the explosion of bliss tried to rip me apart, uttering a
hoarse cry as my climax shuddered through me in keen, wonderful waves.
He tensed. A tremor ran through him and then he released a choked groan as he
reached his own crisis, rode it until his body ceased to convulse, and finally relaxed
limply against me.
For several moments the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing.
Finally, he pushed himself upward enough to look at my face. “Una más?” he asked
breathlessly.
I started laughing. “Just one more? I thought you were game for forty or fifty
years?”
He settled beside me. Gathering me into his arms, he smiled at me. “I am.”

The End