A Night of Misbehaving by Carmen Falcone

Chapter One
    “Look who I’ll be banging tonight,” Carl said with a bona fide man-whore smile on his face.
    Brent sighed. He’d barely walked inside his business partner’s office, and it’d already started. Carl moved the computer monitor in his direction, but Brent refused to look and retrieved the iPad from his briefcase. “Don’t care. Did you take a look at the corporate wellness proposal I emailed you?”
    Carl grabbed a small basketball and passed it from hand to hand, his eyes following the movement of the ball. “Not yet. Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll work it out.”
    Or I’ll work it out. Showing blue- and white-collar workers a healthier lifestyle and easier solutions for their day-to-day, work-related aches was a passion of Brent’s that his sleazy partner didn’t share. Why would he? Carl had landed his position courtesy of his wealthy father, who had been the first major investor. The old man used his financial support for leverage to keep his son employed. Carl’s narrow mind was set on continuing their successful chain of upscale gyms in Austin, Texas.
    Brent rubbed the back of his neck and plopped into a chair. He glanced at the image displayed on the monitor across from him. His legs were suddenly restless. It was Super Mom. Looking more super than mom. Her hair, usually in a ponytail or a prudish bun, framed her face with shampoo-commercial black waves. A shade of dark red stained her damn fine lips.
    “My date du jour is a knockout, huh?” Carl snickered.
    Blinking, Brent swallowed and stared at Carl, whose lips broke into the winning smile of a man who was close to achieving his goal.
    “You can’t go out with her.”
    Carl’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”
    “Her daughter goes to the same preschool as mine. I know her.” What was her name, again? Gia, Gina, Jenna… The woman volunteered to chaperone every school field trip and had one of those small hand sanitizer thingies hanging from her handbag.
    He ran his fingers through his hair. Damn it. Joanne, Jackie, Gabby… What was it? A weight bench sat on his chest. Shit. The badge. A few days ago, he’d seen an ID badge hanging from her neck. She was a Human Resources Director at A.W., the giant manufacturer of networking equipment headquartered in Austin. The company he coveted for his corporate wellness program.
    He would have approached her, but the woman never gave him the time of day. For no particular reason, Super Mom narrowed her eyes and creased her mouth whenever she saw him. He’d once tried to shoot her a smile across the parking lot, but she’d responded with a tight nod as she slid into her squeaky clean Honda Odyssey.
    “I don’t care if she has a daughter. She’s at dateaustin.com. She wants to get lucky, and so do I.” Carl pointed to his athletic body restrained by a muscle shirt he could have bought at Abercrombie Kids.
    “Just because she’s on that site doesn’t mean she’s game for anything.” Brent weighed his options. If Carl acted like an ass around Super Mom, their chances of getting a contract with A.W . were shot. No way would his partner keep who he was and what he did quiet. It’d be useless to ask Carl to keep the hook up detail-free. Truth was, Carl didn’t care for the corporate wellness program anyway, and often did the opposite of what he was told.
    Staring out the glass window behind his partner, Brent willed the panoramic view of downtown Austin to offer some inspiration. In the middle of the day, cars crowded the busy streets, and lines of men with grim faces and collared shirts formed in front of the convention center. New businesses kept developing in the city, and more work meant higher stress levels. A couple of burly, suit-clad men walked side by side, deep in conversation, both carrying Starbucks cups.
    They probably worked day in and day out, without time for relaxation or stretching. They would have back pains, carpal tunnel syndrome, and caffeine addiction. Not if he