She was beautiful when she laughed, thought Chad with slow amazement.

"Here," she said, tossing him a towel. "That was quite the downpour."

Her hair was dark and limp from the rain, but the glow on her skin and the shine in her eyes distracted him from anything else.

Except perhaps from the thin shirt, now semi-transparent and clearly showing the pink bra beneath. Lacy. Nice. As were the curves they should have been hiding.

"So I guess we've each had a taste of the other's family," he said.

"A little goes a long way, doesn't it?" she said, running her fingers through her hair. Other women would have been running for a blow-dryer but Cynthia didn't seem to care.

"Kind of like Leda, right?" he said.

"You said it, not me." She took a sweater off the back of her chair and slipped it over her see-through shirt.

"Definitely a case of opposites attracting, I guess. There are probably a few women out there stabbing pins into Leda-shaped voodoo dolls."

"Not you, though, I hope," he said, scrambling to get his thoughts under control.

"Me?" She gave a surprised laugh. "There may be a dozen cats and hallways full of paper products in my future, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy for anyone who finds true love. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart."

She sighed dramatically, with one hand on her forehead. A good sport, but an odd answer.

"You're not still hung up on Eric the Champion yourself, are you?"

Her smile faded. Her jaw shifted, she took a breath and shook her head. "No, Chad, I'm certain that Eric puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like you do. And I have no problem with Leda. In fact, she's probably far too good for him in ways that I can't imagine and don't want to try. I had a crush on him. When I was seventeen. It went away. Are you still in love with your teen heartthrob? Give me a buh-break."

She sat down and opened her laptop.

"In love, no,” he said slowly. “But a man can dream. I assume women do, too."

He stood up and went to where she sat behind her desk.

"Come here, Cynthia."

"What? Why? Ch-Chad, what are you doing?"

He took her by the hand and lifted her to her feet. He wasn't sure why, but it felt right. He didn't want to talk about Eric. He didn't want to talk about teenage heartthrobs. He didn't want to think about lovely Cynthia in a room made of toilet paper, surrounded by cats.

And she was lovely. Even stringy-haired and damp. He tugged her closer. Nothing wrong with mixing a little pleasure with their business, was there?

“Come on, Cynthia. I’ve been thinking about this ever since last night.”

"What are you doing?" She pulled away but he had her more or less trapped between him, the desk and the wall.

He stepped back, stung. "You don't have to sound quite so horrified."

She pressed her hands against his chest, holding him back or maintaining the connection, he wasn’t sure which.

"I’m nuh-not.” She laughed uncomfortably, then smoothed his shirt with her hands and sidestepped him. “But it was just a little flirting. I forgot who you were for a second, that’s all.”

“Who I am? What does that mean?”

“You know.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “A guy who dates a lot of women.”

“And what are you, a kumquat? There’s chemistry between us, Cynthia. Don’t pretend you can’t feel it.”

He took a step closer. She didn’t back away but kept her arms crossed over her chest, the sweater tucked tightly against her body. He wanted to tug that fabric aside, to look at the skin beneath, to touch it, to find out if she was as soft as he imagined she would be.

“Opposites attract, Cynthia,” he murmured. “Like you said.”

“Don’t forget about oil and water, though.” She moved closer to the door and stood there, hugging her elbows. “In what planetary realm does it make sense that someone like you and someone like me would have enough in common to consider getting intimate? Because that's what kissing is, you know. It's not just something you do with random women because you're bored or-"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted one on her then, firm, hard, with just enough tongue to know that oh yeah, she was kissing him back.

Then he released her and stepped back, his hands in the air. "There."

Cynthia's lips were parted and she stared at him blankly. Not exactly the usual response.

“Wuh-wuh-what was that for?”

Definitely not what he was expecting.

She blinked, her eyes darting about as if she wanted to bolt.

"Hey, hey,” he said, an unfamiliar uncertainty rolling over him. “Relax, it’s no big deal. I’m not about to grab you by the hair and drag you back to my cave. You were curious, I was curious. Now we can get back to business."

He could see the soft swell of her breasts with every quick breath.

“Buh-business.” She nodded, seeming to calm down. “Yes. Right.”

He frowned. "I haven’t offended you, have I?"

She looked up at that and straightened her shoulders.

“With the kiss? You have a pretty high opinion of your charms, Chad. I’m not saying it was bad, don’t get me wrong. It was a very nice kiss. I’m sure cave women everywhere follow you willingly. It just didn’t ring my bell, one way or the other. Don’t take it personally.”

She smiled innocently then, walked past him and took her seat at her desk. “Shall we get back to work?”

Nice, thought Chad. Don’t take it personally.

The stuttering, mild-mannered graphic designer was lying through her teeth.

That kiss had been incredible. And she knew it.