Free Can't Touch This by Marley Gibson

you mean by that?”  Kyle can’t possibly know that Rory sent the night in my room.  Not unless he’d been parked outside my room, which I doubt he did.  I decide to cover the awkward moment with a laugh.
    Jack looks at me like I’m nuts.  “You’re both sick, lusting after a cartoon character.  Course, Jessica Rabbit was hot .”
    Kyle nods in agreement.
    “Now who’s sick?” I retort to the two of them.  Next thing I know, it’ll be Veronica from the Archie cartoon or the pretty one from Scooby Doo.
     “Back to the plan, please,” Aislin says, very mother-like.
    I don’t miss a beat.  “I’ll coordinate the meetings.  Kyle will charm the socks off our customers, Jiles and the Board will be happy, and we’ll all get big bonuses at the end of the year, right, Ais?”
    “It works on paper.  It’s all in the execution and I know that Jiles will be happy to see you and Kyle working so closely to get this done for our clients,” she says with a smile.
    I’m going to dread reporting to Little Baby Jesus.  (Damn Jack for having me call Jiles that.)  Then there’s the marketing budgeting stuff.  I’m so not a numbers person—my SAT math score was testament to that—and I don’t relish the thought of sitting in Jiles’ office while he plays with his beard as we go over facts and figures.
    “You’ll do fine, Vanessa,” Kyle says and pats my back.  “If you ever need me to run interference, just let me know.”
    There’s a warm fuzzy feeling on my skin where Kyle touches me.  It’s as if I’m back in high school and the cutest guy on campus is paying attention to me.  I’ve got to get a grip.  I sigh and will my heart to stop racing like a stock car while I entertain visions of Kyle on the back of a white horse.
    Jesus!  I’ve obviously had too much sugar this morning.
    *****
     
    “I’ m in the middle of preparing this killer spreadsheet to report the daily sales leads to Jiles, when my Microsoft Outlook notification pops up.
    From Jack:  “Who said ‘I am the way, the truth and what’s always right?’”
    I reply:  “What does LBJ want from you?”
    Jack:  “Everything.  And He wanted it ten minutes ago.  He’s in a foul mood.  Must not be getting it at home.”
    My response:  “I don’t want to imagine Him in the throes of ecstasy, thank you.”
    Jack:  “No, you’d rather picture Kyle Nettles in the throes...with you.”
    Where did that come from?  God, is my attraction that obvious?
    Me:  “I don’t think so, Jack.”
    Jack and I only sit two cubes away from each other, but it doesn’t stop the never-ending flow of e-mails.  And, crap, he’s picked up on my unconscious lusting of Kyle.  Not good.  Can’t let that happen anymore.  Don’t need Nancy Mendelssohn from HR marching over with the employee manual and a “warning.”  I need to concentrate.  I have to come up with creative ways of doing tradeshows to get leads for little or no money.  I have to prove my worth to everyone at DigitalDirection.  From Jiles on down.  This job is my life-source.  My oasis of independence.
    Outlook dings again and I silently curse Jack.
    It’s not Jack, though.  It’s from: [email protected].
    My eyebrow lifts in anticipation.  My heart strums hard in my chest and I reach my hand out toward my mouse.  I highlight the e-mail entitled “ Hey you ,” double-click and read:
    “Vanessa:  I can’t stop thinking about you.  When can I see you again?  Are you doing the InfoTech show in San Francisco in two months?  Or maybe you’ll be in Miami in two weeks?  Let me know.  R.”
    I read it a second time, and a third.  His words on the screen reach out to me as if spoken from his mouth.  He can’t stop thinking about me?   But that’s not what was supposed to happen.  Wasn’t I merely flirting with him to get information on SalesTracker?  There was nothing information-gathering about rolling around with him on the bed in my