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eBook Category: Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: What happens when Mr. Right comes in the wrong package? Christa wants it all: great job, cool place to live in the big city and a disposable sex partner she can easily leave when a better career opportunity arrives. Too bad her mind--and other parts of her body--have been on one of her co-workers. He has managed to woo her with only his voice since he works in another state and she's never seen him. So when she goes to a company party, the last person she expects to see is her mystery man who is not what she has imagine. When a dream man does arrive and makes it obvious that he wants her, Christa has to decide if she should go with Mr. Right Now or if she should take a chance.

eBook Publisher: Echelon Press, Published: 2005, 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2005

91 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [65 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [79 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [38 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [257 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [41 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [72 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [107 KB] , hiebook (KML) [119 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [91 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [34 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [43 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [74 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [65 KB]
Words: 12773
Reading time: 36-51 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1590804562

He wouldn't have given Brad Pitt a run for his money in the looks department, Christa thought as she stared at him from across the crowded ballroom. The lone party guest, dressed in slacks, a crisp white button-up shirt and a dark jacket, chatted with two other guys who sported red T-shirts and jeans to a company party. What were they thinking?

But then again, what was she thinking when she decided to come to this party knowing Jim, her Jim, wouldn't be here either? She breathed a sigh of relief with the realization that in that motley crew of three none of them was Jim.

She mingled in a sea of co-workers, both from within her department and from other offices, some even from other states. In a world where computers ran everything and a simple click of the mouse made and broke deals, seeing the number of people Christa dealt with on a daily basis but, had never seen their faces, astonished her.

Working with faceless voices seemed par for the course these days. A person Christa talked to on the phone every day, or corresponded with via e-mail, could be someone she might never see and would never meet in the course of her career. However, one person, one man, had Christa's body humming whenever she thought about him, which happened every hour on the hour.

Jim. A solid name for a man who'd made her laugh on more than one occasion over the phone. He also made her cross her legs to extinguish the molten lava swirling in her pussy. On a couple of occasions, she actually had to remove her soaked panties and toss them in the ladies bathroom garbage can. She'd convinced herself that the janitorial staff probably reported a freak loose on the property whenever they picked up the trash.

The wetness that gushed whenever she talked to Jim had nothing to do with what he would say. He was always a perfect gentleman on the phone, although very quick with a joke or two, both naughty and tame.

Working in shipping, a direct relationship with her department, her job really, Christa had to speak to him every day. His deep voice rumbled through the phone but managed to feel like a hand gently caressing her, stroking her hair, touching her back, parting her thighs. If he stood anywhere near her and spoke, no way could she miss him.

Thinking about him now, imagining what he would look like, how he would be, Christa smoothed her hands down her red dress. Perfect for the warm summer months, the lightweight dress dipped down low in the front to give her a good business party-amount of cleavage, not too much to be considered obscene and just enough to be flattering. Too bad she couldn't show the dress off to him personally.

Lights bounced off the two twirling mirrored globes hanging over the makeshift dance floor. Cheesy, but for a party in July, and considering the Baby Boomers in her office had set up the affair, the dated decorations fit right in with what Christa had expected to see.

Disco lights meant nothing without their accompanying soundtrack. Thumping music from the seventies and eighties filled the open room. The party would have been laughable if Christa hadn't been there attending it and looking to have a good time.

Multiple chattering conversations pervaded the room until the only distinctive sounds were laughter and ice cubes tinkling against glasses. Closing her eyes, she imagined lying in bed, basking in an afterglow that would light her up like a firecracker, sharing laughter from little in-jokes between her and her mysterious Jim, and holding drinks in their hands.

Christa licked her tongue over her lips. She decided a drink would be appropriate to take the edge off while she waited for something to happen. Anything would have been better than nothing. Since she couldn't have her fantasy man, then expecting the unexpected would have to do.

Standing at the bar, she requested an Amaretto Sour. Since the company footed the bill for this shindig she wanted to enjoy herself. As though he cued it, a fantasy man stepped into the room just as an up-tempo song played.

A tall, dark-skinned black man sauntered into the room as though he owned the place. When he smiled, she saw something gleaming. Perfect white smile? She hoped.

"I guess every woman is eyeing that brother," a voice said from behind her.

Turning, Christa saw her friend and co-worker, Jocelyn, standing with a drink in her hand. The bartender cut Christa a furtive gaze, then glanced at Jocelyn, as though trying to tell her with his eyes and facial expression that her dear friend had just boosted her Amaretto Sour.

"I guess I should have been watching something else when I was looking at him," Christa said.

This time the bartender put the glass in Christa's hand. For that, she put a couple of bills in his tip jar. At least someone looked out for her.

"Who is he?" Christa asked.

"Haven't you seen him around the building before?" Jocelyn positioned herself next to Christa.

Standing a few inches shorter, Jocelyn must have noticed the height difference. She straightened her posture, threw her shoulders back, and held up her chin. She looked like she was standing at attention or about to be shot by a firing squad. The sight made Christa chuckle.

"He kind of looks familiar." Christa took a sip of her drink.

The sweetness of the liquor played on her tongue. She held the amber liquid in her mouth before swallowing. Smooth. Sweet. Just like the brother who'd brought the party to a screeching halt just by walking in the door.

"That's Monty Bilson." Jocelyn polished off her drink and set it on the bar. "In the short time he's been with the company, he's been hitting it with a woman on almost every floor of our building. Twenty-five floors. Dude has been busy."

Christa crossed her arm over her chest as she stared at him. Though most women would run from a cat like Monty, Christa felt intrigued. The last thing she needed to do was start a serious relationship right now.

Jim's absence could work in her favor. She had already become enamored with his charm, wit, and sexy voice. For her, it would have been a hop, skip, and a jump into a relationship.

She wanted to move up in the company and a promotion meant moving out of middle-of-the road Norfolk, Virginia and going to Alexandria.

As though she'd read Christa's mind, Jocelyn brought herself up on her tiptoes and said, "After that breakup with Cyril, you could probably use some disposable dick."

Christa's cheeks flashed with embarrassment. She glanced at the bartender to make sure the man hadn't heard her loud-mouthed friend's candid statement.

Playing off the truth in Jocelyn's suggestion by waving off her friend, Christa said, "The breakup was bad enough. I don't need an immediate substitute to take that asshole's place."

"Are you kidding me?" Jocelyn's voice reached a pitch that should have cracked some of the tiny mirrors on the disco balls over the dance floor. "You're the same woman who told me that your boy never went downtown, and I don't mean in Norfolk, either, and that he always came as soon as he entered you? Honey, you're delusional."

Christa finished off her drink in one gulp and demanded another. She deserved this type of embarrassment for sharing her personal life with a woman who had been affectionately nicknamed 'The Mouth of the South'.

When Christa had finally broken up with Cyril after two very long years together, she needed to confide in someone about some intimate details of their relationship. She couldn't exactly tell her mother how Cyril gave her the sloppiest kisses known to womankind. Christa used to own a Saint Bernard that loved to lick her face. The dog had been conservative with its saliva in comparison to Cyril's slushy mouth.

Christa could still remember the shocked expression on Jocelyn's face when she'd admitted that although Christa and Cyril had sex three to four times a week, a lot compared to most couples, it was the worst sex she'd ever had. To say he was in and out of Christa in a flash would be putting it lightly. For as bad as he was, she was surprised he wanted to have sex so often.

No, what surprised her more was that she let him, not wanting to hurt his feelings. He defined the word average. Although not unattractive, Cyril couldn't compare to Monty.

Christa shivered when she remembered the lovemaking sessions where Cyril hadn't kissed her or had barely looked at her. Foreplay for him consisted of him rubbing his hand on her thigh while they were in bed, him giving her 'the eye', which looked exactly like his expression when he woke up in the mornings, and telling her that she looked nice. He never said she was sexy, hot, or even pretty. Nice.