"Thanks to a deadline, a date with my computer, working up some new ideas," he said.

She waggled a glossy-nailed finger at him. "You know what they say about all work and no play, Matt."

"Yup. That's me. A dull boy. Burning the midnight oil." Which was the gospel truth. Since today was Thursday, and he'd be leaving for Chateau Fontaine after work tomorrow, that didn't leave him much time to gather his thoughts and pull together a knockout presentation. He'd probably be pulling an all-nighter. Not that he had anything better to do. Ever since his breakup with Tricia last Christmas, his social life had flatlined. But that was okay by him. Work was a lot safer and a helluva lot less trouble than women.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye and he turned, then barely suppressed a groan. Speaking of trouble and women, Jillian Taylor, the worst combination of those two things was heading down the hallway in his direction. As usual, her dark hair was pulled back into a severe, neat, reserved chignon. In fact, everything about her screamed severe, neat and reserved. Her hairstyle, her discreet makeup, her tailored suit.

Today she wore brown pin-striped, double-breasted, with slim pants and shoes that looked like high-heeled tassel loafers. A "don't mess with me" aura surrounded her like a force field. Thanks to his experience with Tricia, he recognized July's type only too well-her reserved exterior hid a cold, competitive, ambitious interior. From his first day at Maxximum, he'd realized she could mess him up the same way Tricia had. From that moment on, he'd pegged Jilly Taylor as the one to beat. Public enemy number one.

Though he firmly kept himself out of the office gossip loop, he wasn't deaf, and on several occasions in the break room he'd heard male co-workers refer to Jilly as the Freeze Queen-a full rank up from the title of Ice Princess with which he'd mentally dubbed her.