Putting in some serious overtime

The excerpt for OVERTIME IN THE BOSS'S BED (May 2010) won't be up on my website until next week, so thought I'd give you a little preview here.

The bronze god was naked.
Gloriously, eye-poppingly naked, every muscle flexing and bunching and glistening as he carried a tray laden with cocktails and champagne flutes through the crowd.
“You can close your jaw now, before it hits the floor.”
Starr Merriday blinked once, twice, the spell broken as she tore her reluctant gaze away from the waiter and frowned at her best friend Kit.
“It’s your fault. You brought me to this den of inequity.”
Kit wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her chuckles positively wicked. “Yeah, and you’re loving every minute of it.”
“It does have its benefits.”
Starr’s gaze strayed to the ripped waiter again, lingered on his pecs, the light smattering of dark hair across his broad chest, dipped to his navel, at the arrowing of hair beneath it…
“Jeez, what does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place?”
Kit smirked. “Bit hot under the collar?”
“More like hot all over,” she muttered, thankful the waiters were clothed from the waist down, beyond thankful Kit had chosen one of her entrepreneurial mother’s infamous cocktail parties for her farewell.
Nothing like a roomful of semi-naked guys to get a girl’s mind off the fact she was jobless, homeless and penniless.
“Don’t look now but I think he’s checking me out.”
Kit’s subtle head jerk towards Mr. Pecs had her darting a quick glance in his direction, in time to see him stumble, the tray skating on his palms like a penguin on ice, sloshing cocktails everywhere, the bulk of it landing on the guy next to him.
Sympathy warred with mirth as she watched the waiter try to mop up his mess, the guy in the suit waving him away with a frown.
The cocktail-wearing-recipient looked out of place, suited and buttoned up in a roomful of semi-naked guys and she grinned as he fiddled with the knot on his tie, straightening it, aiming for cool despite having several Mojitos and a magnum of champagne dumped on his Armani duds.
“Yeah, he was definitely checking me out. Just one look and the guy does that. Back soon, hun. Off to mingle, find me a less clumsy one.”
Kit headed for the bar—and a tempting conglomeration of buffed waiters—while she found her gaze drawn back to the suit.
She’d been too busy ogling the waiters to notice the other guys in the room but now she had…slick guys in suits weren’t her thing but there was something about this guy…the way he stood, tall, proud, indomitable despite a cocktail dousing, his class obvious, his imperious gaze scanning the crowd…clashing with hers.
Startled, she dropped her gaze, surprised by the lick of heat lapping her skin after their momentary eye lock.
The smart thing to do would be to quickstep out of here. Considering the shambles her life was at the moment, she hadn’t done the smart thing in ages.

I love the dance theme woven throughout this book. I had an absolute ball writing it!