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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Prego Ignoramus (latin for rude - ok I made that up, but read on... )


from:GG
to: cj@thiscrazytrain.com
date: Mon, Jul 30, 2012 at 10:09 AM
subject: This was a new one!
Hi CJ,
I am pretty easy going on the train and let most poor behaviour pass with just a dirty look - cuz let's be honest, we all have faults that annoy or irritate someone. BUT...imagine my surprise when this women pushes out her banker briefcase, puts her feet up and then proceeds to read a book (and eventually fall asleep) blocking the aisle and forcing (as seen in this photo) people to "ahem" and eventually push pass. Yes, she was pregnant (I think!) But I refuse to believe that this was warranted.
I've had two GO train pregnancies (both high risk) and have chosen to alter hours for less crowded trains, wait for the next one or sit on stairs. I gladly give up my seat to preggos, but this "taking over" is completely unwarranted...and she ignored all stares and commentary I might add. Takes Balls...I only wish I had your balls and instead of muttering my comments. I would had yelled 'em out loud!

Friday, July 27, 2012

Needs more blow torch

From the mail bag


from: Jennifer B
reply-to: xxxxxxx@rogers.com
to: cj@thiscrazytrain.com
date: Sat, Jul 21, 2012 at 8:42 PM
subject: Loving your "Crazy Train" blog!
Hi CJ!

Nice to meet you! Have been thoroughly enjoying your blog! "Crazy Train" is quite a fitting name! Commuting certainly is crazy.

I also wanted to share some pet peeves about fellow passengers with you, maybe get your feedback? I wanted to commiserate! I feel your pain and frustration! I've only been doing the commute from Shwa to Toronto Union since May 7 2012 (attending George Brown) and it's been quite an adjustment.

Yesterday, Friday July 20, I sat next to a man who was true-blue Shwa. Have you noticed that a good 95% of the men in Durham region all sport ball-caps, greasy long hair, piercings, tattoos, ratty t-shirts and never bathe? They're not 10 years old, they need to lose the ball-caps!

But I digress. This ballcap-sporting older man I had the misfortune of sitting next to noisily sighed randomly all the way from Union to Oshawa, with his smelly wool-covered feet propped on the seat in front of him. Chainsaw?! Yes, please!!!

The worst part was his neck - I'm not sure if they were simply deep fissures running along the back of it, blackheads, or old, ingrained dirt in the cracks, but I couldn't look without gagging. Please don't visualize, I'm still feeling ill at the thought and wouldn't want you to feel sick as well. :-(

Have you noticed that at Danforth, the  train's HVAC system always pulls in tar-smelling air? ACK! Sickening!

Another pet peeve: WHY do people stand in the way on staircases and in the ailes and cluster around the exits on the trains when there's seats free?  They refuse to move, stare at you like you're the stupid one and then wonder why they get stepped on or shoved. They don't understand that standing up is not going to get them home faster. They're creating a hazard - if the train stops suddenly they're going to bang into someone and hurt them, send them flying, make them break a tooth. Makes my head hurt and my blood boil.

Thank you kindly for reading, dear lady, and keep up the good work! Us sane, considerate, *clean* and sensible commuters who shower daily must stick together!

Jennifer B.

Chapter 3 of "Ride This Crazy Train" formerly known as 50 Shades of GO

I had surgery on Wednesday and recovery has been harder than expected.
I haven't really been up to writing but I suspect that my recovery will improve over the next few days and I can "pound" out Chapter 3 and 4 (pun intended).
Bear with me, kiddies.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Yeah, I rode this bad ass

This past weekend Mr. Crazy Train and I visited some family in the Tottenham area, northwest of Toronto,  and it was suggested to me that I check out what is a fully functional and authentic steam locomotive from the late 1800s. It's open to the public as a tourist attraction
Did I mention it was 35C but felt like 44C with the humidex?
I don't know about you, but hot ash and the smell of burning coal on a hot, steamy day coupled with sitting inside of a steel and iron coach with no air conditioning is totally fun. No really. It's a good time.
We expected the ticket office to be hammered. It wasn't.
Were there rude passengers? You bet.
In fact, the whole 55-minute train ride was just like riding the LSE into work! Only I rode that train like it was 1883.
That's the year the locomotive was put into service according to the tour guide who talked more than CSA Debbie and was as funny as now-retired CSA Tom. Her jokes were bad. They weren't even funny because they're bad funny. She was terrible but her knowledge of  locomotive technology and history in Canada was impressive but her delivery needs work.
She didn't try as hard as she could have to enforce any of the rules she outlined over the P.A. at the beginning of the trip. One of those being to sit the hell down while the train was in motion. Kids were running up and down the aisle. Their parents were running up and down the aisle. Kids were climbing over seats. Their parents were hanging out of the windows.
I'm no wallflower. I voiced my annoyance numerous times actually telling the children how rude I thought they were when we exited the train and also telling one parent that when someone asks you nicely to do something and others comply and you don't, that makes you selfish and entitled and sets a bad example to my kid. But for the sake of my father-in-law, I didn't stick around to hear what the parents had to say for themselves and exited stage left.
My daughter was perplexed by these other children who refused to listen to adults asking them to sit or outright ignoring the tour guide who asked them a few times to remain seated but nope, wait, there goes dad running down the aisle to talk to relatives seated at the end of the same coach. Ridiculous.
Trust me, it was hard for me to refrain from sticking out my foot into the aisle.

IF YOU GO
Try to pick a nice, fall day. Avoid 30-plus temperatures.
Bring a camera.
More information here.


Check out this hot bitch. That's coal up on top.


My daughter who was melting in the heat.


Note the interior lighting. Oh you fancy, huh?

Monday, July 23, 2012

If I went on a vacation, would anybody care?

Yes, yes they would.
I'm off until Aug 7. Not doing a hell of a lot - a little bit of surgery, visiting some friends, visiting a cottage, visiting the east coast, visiting some attractions, sleeping, reading, writing more GO smut, sleeping...
I will post sporadically over the coming days and have some submitted content that needs attention, including some parking donkeys shared by Skinman.
 It's come to my attention that I'm overdue for a lecture about proper train etiquette, specifically what one shouldn't discuss in an enclosed space surrounded by strangers -- the length of your 11 year old son's penis being one of them. Telling a seat mate he's hung like an elephant isn't amusing. Frankly, it's disturbing, so we must address what are safe topics and what are topics that could cause the CAS to come to your home.
For example, disclosing that you left your 3 year old daughter alone sleeping while you left to go fetch some Dairy Queen at 9 o'clock at night? Not cool. What if someone slammed into your car as you exited the Dairy Queen drive-thru? That "it was only 7 minutes" could easily stretch to seven hours. Also not cool.
 There are some things that some of us don't need to know, folks, so conduct yourselves accordingly. You don't know who's listening.

Friday, July 20, 2012

193 of you haven't eaten lunch yet. Why? Because you're busy reading Chapter 2

Click to enlarge. Lost? Start here.

Just in time for your lunch hour. I present Chapter 2 of 50 Shades of GO

Parking garages, sex on the train, yadda-yadda will have to wait until Chapter 3. I'm still establishing characters and setting scenes. I really should change the name of the book now that I'm actually continuing the story and suggestions for a better title are welcomed. Typically an author waits until the end to come up with a final title.

I will admit. I am enjoying this.

Click here for Chapter One


CHAPTER TWO

Cassie felt herself growing anxious.

The limo crawled up Bay Street and soon stopped in front of a massive steel and glass office building, one that Cassie had walked past many times.

"I thought we were going to your condo?" she said to Finnegan who was texting rapidly on his BlackBerry.

"Change of plans," he said. "Irwin will take you. I have to deal with a rather urgent matter at the office. I will join you at the condo in about an hour."

Irwin? Who's Irwin? Cassie gave Finnegan a puzzled stare. He laughed.

"Sorry, Irwin is the driver. He manages my condo. He'll let you in and help you establish a wardrobe."

"What do you mean, help me establish a wardrobe?" Cassie asked. "Do you have a Burberry boutique in your home?"

Cassie was bewildered by the situation and questioned if she should bolt the second she got the chance.

"You're about a size 6, right?" Finnegan asked. "Maybe an 8?"

Maybe an 8?! The hell?

"I'm a 6. Thank you very much. That's the second time you've insulted me today." Cassie huffed.

"I am of the opinion that you're actually too thin for your height. You could stand to add a few more pounds to your frame," Finnegan said.

Cassie pursed her lips. She was not too thin. She was perfectly fine. Kevin never seemed to mind her weight.

She told herself to dismiss Finnegan's comments. Surely he was trying to get under her skin. She chose not to respond.

"Anyhow, Miss Winter, I really must head upstairs. Please text me if you have concerns once you arrive at the condo. My numbers are on that card I gave you earlier." Finnegan slid over to the door and tapped on the window. Irwin opened the door.

Finnegan flashed a smile.

"See that Irwin stops by your former employer so you can collect any personal items you have there. You don't need to go in, Irwin will contact the Human Resources department and make arrangements. Just give Irwin a phone number to call." Finnegan exited the limo and the car door was softly closed behind him.

The limo moved back into traffic.

Suddenly a voice spoke.

"Miss Winter?

Cassie looked around.

"The intercom, Miss Winter. Do you hear me?" said the voice.

"Y-yes," said Cassie.

"It's Irwin, ma'am. Mr. O'Leary doesn't really have clothes for you at his home," said Irwin.

Cassie frowned at the air.

"I'm to take you to your former employer. What is the number?" Irwin asked.

Cassie gave him the info and Irwin pulled the limo over. Cassie suspected he was making the call to HR.

"It's arranged, Miss Winter," Irwin said over the speaker. "After we collect your things, we will travel to Hyatt-Terra, an upscale boutique, where Mr. O'Leary's personal shopper will meet us."

Cassie nodded. Then realizing he couldn't see her, she told him okay.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Winter. I will open the car door for you when we arrive."

Cassie looked at her BlackBerry. She decided to text Kevin.

Having the strangest morning ... got a new job. Will tell you all about it later.

She slipped the phone into her pocket and watched the traffic outside.

When they pulled up in front of her former office, Irwin let her out and told her to wait while he parked the limo on a side street.

Irwin accompanied her to the 11th floor where the receptionist, Renee, glanced up at her as she came through the glass doors.

"You're late," she whispered. "And you didn't phone." Renee hissed.

Cassie shrugged. "I've got another job. I've come to collect my things."

Renee looked surprised.

"Can you call Abby? My associate, Irwin, already phoned her to tell her I was leaving." Abby was the head of H.R. Cassie got along well with her.

"Do you think it's ok if I go to my desk?" she asked Renee.

"i don't see why not. I'll tell Abby to meet you there.

Cassie motioned to Irwin who followed her down the hall to a common area filled with cubicles. Cassie stopped at hers and realized she would need a box.

"Wait here", she said to Irwin and left for the mail room.

In her head, she made a mental list of the people she would email later to bid good-bye. Luckily the mail room was empty and Cassie grabbed a banker's box and headed back to her desk.

Abby, who was chatting with Irwin, gave Cassie a frown.

"Typically, and ethically," Abby said, "We do like two weeks' notice."

Cassie grimaced.

"Mr. O'Leary will compensate you for the short notice," said Irwin. "In fact, I can arrange for a temp to be here by this afternoon."

Abby waved her hand at him. "That's not necessary but thank you."

"If you don't mind, I will stay here while Cassie collects her things - just a formality," said Abby.

Irwin nodded.

Cassie felt her cheeks grow hot. What a way to burn a bridge, she thought.

Cramming everything into a box and handing Irwin four pairs of shoes to carry, Cassie led the way to the reception desk. She handed in her security card and bid both Abby and Renee farewell.

In the elevator, Irwin juggled Cassie's shoes and his cellphone. Cassie put the box down and took her shoes from him.

'Sorry," she said.

Irwin gave a curt nod.

'Sir," he said, after someone answered. "The first task is done. I will be heading up to Yorkville now. Shall I return Miss Winter to you by 1'o'clock?"

Excuse me? Cassie stared at Irwin open-mouthed.

Return me?

The hell?

Irwin ended the conversation and put his phone back inside his jacket pocket.

"Irwin," Cassie said, her heart racing and her nerves on edge, "I don't get returned to anyone. Is that clear? If I want to come back at 4, I come back at 4. In fact," Cassie said, as she angrily stacked her shoes on the banker's box and lifted it up against her chest. "I'm done here. I will be taking the subway back to Union and will be going home. Tell Mr. O'Leary I am tired of being insulted at his expense."

The doors of the elevator popped open at the ground floor and Cassie raced out. She speed-walked to the escalator and ran down it.

Irwin was close behind.

He managed to get in front of her before she descended the steps into the subway.

"Miss Winter," said Irwin, "I don't think that's a very wise decision. Mr. O'Leary is expecting you and may I remind you that you no longer have employment. I would reconsider. Come with me to the limo. Don't jump to conclusions. Mr. O'Leary has his issues but he is a fair man and fair employer."

Cassie chewed her lip.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm not happy with any of this."

Cassie followed Irwin back to the lobby and out onto Yonge Street. They walked in silence to the limo which Irwin had parked on Victoria Street.

He opened the door for her and took her belongings to store in the trunk.

Cassie sank into the leather. Off to Hyatt-Terra, I guess, she muttered to herself. She pulled out her BlackBerry. She had two texts from Kevin and one missed phone call - also from Kevin.

She decided to call him.

Kevin answered on the first ring.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"I have a new job. I met this guy on the train. We started talking and he hired me to be his assistant. I took the job." Cassie said.

"You met a guy on the train and got a new job. What guy?" Kevin asked.

"Finnegan O'Leary." Cassie replied.

"Do I know him?" Kevin asked.

"Google him. Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," Cassie said.

"How much?" Kevin asked.

Cassie hesitated.

"How much is he paying you?" Kevin asked.

"More than Black and Moore," Cassie finally said.

"So how much?" Kevin asked.

"An executive's salary since I'm the executive assistant to the CEO. It's a lot, Kevin, but if I tell you how much, you'll freak out and I already feel like a prostitute. In fact, I'm off to have a Pretty Woman moment at some high-end Yorkville boutique.

Kevin was silent.

"Hello?"

"Cassie, we should discuss these things. You can't just accept a job from a stranger on a GO train. Where are you now?' Kevin asked.

"I'm in Mr. O'Leary's limo. He's arranged for me to meet with a personal shopper. There are issues with my wardrobe. I have to look a little more upscale."

"Upscale," Kevin said with an incredulous tone in his voice. "There is nothing, I repeat, nothing wrong with the way you dress."

'"And I agree with you," Cassie replied, but unfortunately, I don't have a designer wardrobe that is expected with the caliber of company I will be keeping.

"This is such horseshit," Kevin said. "Who's paying for it?"

"He is," answered Cassie.

"Designer clothing isn't cheap, Cass. What kind of boss just drops thousands of dollars on a new employee, one he met on a train ride, without knowing if you're even going to work out? Then what? Doesn't any of this sound really bizarre to you?"

Cassie closed her eyes. You have no idea, she thought.

"Kevin, let's discuss it later. I want to see how this plays out. I admit it's sudden and odd, but it's also extremely intriguing," she said, trying to sound as positive as possible.

"I don't like it," Kevin said. "But I have to go. I got a call from Jim who booked me in as a session musician in Mississauga. Sounds like a good gig. I'll probably stay at his place tonight, so don't wait up for me but we do need to talk. Tomorrow." Kevin said.

"Okay," Cassie said. "Agreed. Have a good time."

"Bye." Kevin said and hung up.

Cassie pressed the end of call button and tried to ignore that he didn't tell her he loved her. It had been a while since he'd expressed any words of endearment. Cassie pushed these bad thoughts out of her mind.

At Hyatt-Terra, she and Irwin were greeted by Barbara Palmer, a tall and lithe blonde with tiny ankles and a wide smile. She shook Cassie's hand.

"Mr. O'Leary texted me that you'll also need shoes and accessories so we'll make sure we add those to your wardrobe," Barbara said. She motioned for Cassie to follow her.

Irwin spoke. "Miss Winter. I have some errands to run but you are in good hands. Just do as Miss Palmer instructs and I will pick you up when you're done."

Irwin turned and left.

Barbara began to walk towards the back of the boutique and Cassie followed.

"I'll need to get your measurements and then I will bring you clothes to try on," Barbara said over her shoulder. "But first, let's sit and discuss what you like and what you don't like when it comes to clothes for the office." Barbara led the way to a round room with white club chairs.

Three hours later, Cassie had a wardrobe worth more than what some people made in a year complete with shoes, lingerie, accessories and make-up. She was dressed in a Chanel pant suit with Louboutin heels and a Marc Jacobs handbag that cost $1500. Fifteen hundred dollars! For a purse! And she owned it. At least she thought she owned it. She needed to ask Finnegan about what happens if she doesn't work out. Kevin was right. This was a lot of spending for a probationary employee.

Irwin loaded everything into the limo.

"Tell Finn I really enjoyed this exercise," Barbara said to Cassie. "Much better than the last time. I can see why he likes you." Barbara winked.

Last time? Cassie wanted Barbara to elaborate but Irwin already had his hand against the small of Cassie's back and was pushing her towards the car.

"Miss Winter," Irwin said. "Mr. O'Leary doesn't like to be kept waiting. He's meeting you for lunch at Canoe".

Canoe!? Cassie grew excited. She was a foodie at heart and Canoe was a restaurant she always wanted to try.

Oh wow, she thought.

Cassie climbed into the limo.

She really needed to fill in her best friend, Emma, about her morning. She suspected Emma would be as skeptical as Kevin, but dammit, she was going to Canoe!

This was more exciting than the shopping. The first hour was fine. But Cassie easily became overwhelmed by the process and by how over the top the experience was. It wasn't her. She was completely out of her comfort zone. But Canoe she could do.

She texted Emma.

Guess where I'm going for lunch!!!???

Emma immediately replied.

Hey girl, tried calling you at work but I kept getting bumped to general voicemail. You may want to get that checked. I also sent you an email but it bounced back.

Cassie typed.

I quit my job.

Cassie's BlackBerry rang. The display showed Emma's number. Cassie answered.

"You did what?" Emma shouted.

"Calm down. I have another job. In fact, I just finished buying a whole new wardrobe for my job at Hyatt-Terra."

"What? Hyatt-Terra? Isn't that in Yorkville? Cass, you can't afford that! What's going on?" Emma asked.

"And now I'm off to lunch, with my boss, at Canoe," Cassie giggled. It was all so bizarre but incredibly cool. She really should try to enjoy the experience.

"I'm sorry. Did you blow this guy on the train ride in?" Emma asked.

Cassie laughed. "Um, no. I fell asleep. My BlackBerry fell on the floor and this man, now my boss, who was sitting across from me, picked it up, woke me up and handed it to me. We started talking... Em, you should see him. He's so hot." Cassie snapped her fingers.

"I bet you know him."

"What's his name?"  Emma asked.


"Finnegan O'Leary," Cassie said.


"Finnegan O'Leary?!" Emma parroted. "As in hotshot CEO of Matrix Ventures and a former CEO of Gavin Moore?"

Emma worked as the head of a prime brokerage firm, specializing in world markets. She was well acquainted with the world of finance and investments.

"What the hell was Finnegan O'Leary doing on a GO train?" She asked.

"He lost his assistant. She quit. Got married or something... Said he has a place in Solina and I guess he took a bus or cab to the Oshawa GO Station. He doesn't drive apparently." Cassie replied.

"I'm not surprised to learn he doesn't drive considering what happened years ago," Emma said. "You meet him on the train and he just ups and offers a job?"

"I know. Crazy, right? And I took it. But wait, what happened years ago? He told me he didn't want to discuss with me why he doesn't drive," Cassie said.

"I was told when he was about 12 or so, his family was on their way back from a weekend in Niagara Falls when a drunk driver driving the wrong way on the QEW slammed into their car. His mother, father, sister and baby brother were all killed. Finnegan was allegedly thrown from the car. He was found in the ditch. He barely survived. He's probably forever scarred. Really sad, actually. Taken in by his grandmother's sister. She was a Douglass. Old money. The family owned several department stores that were eventually bought out. He inherited his parents' money when he turned 21. His dad owned several import operations and they were very well to do. But I hear he's a control-freak. Demanding. Mean. Controlling. You really should have called me. I could have filled you in before you took the job." Emma said.

Cassie took in what Emma had told her. Poor Finnegan. What a horrible hand to have been dealt with! She pictured him as a young boy. Not even in his teens with no family and being raised by a great-aunt. She imagined he was shipped off to boarding schools. How awful. Cassie reflected on her own childhood. Her parents owned a bakery. They lived in an apartment above the business and though they weren't rich, not by Douglass standards, her parents still sent her and her sister to camps, took European vacations, Disneyworld and later in their teens, indulged in cruises. She hadn't been hard-done by.

"Hey? You there?" Emma asked. Cassie broke out of her reverie.

"Sorry. I was just digesting what you told me. Wow. Now I have to act like I don't know. I'm terrible at keeping secrets. You know that!" Cassie said.

"You and I really need to talk further. Look, enjoy your lunch. Text me later and maybe we can hook up if the Overlord allows it." Emma said.

"Overlord? Who? Kevin? He doesn't care ..." Cassie was interrupted by Emma.

"Not Kevin. O'Leary. By the way, did you tell Kevin?" asked Emma.

"Yeah, he wasn't too happy to hear about this sudden turn of events," Cassie replied. "But we'll talk more later. I'm at the restaurant now."

"Try the salmon. I hear it's delicious. Text me, ok," Emma said.

"I will. Have a good rest of the day," Cassie said.

Cassie put her phone away and bolted from the limo. She was so excited. Irwin didn't seem pleased. Stuff it, Irwin, Cassie thought. I can open my own damn door.

She followed him up to the restaurant where they were directed to Finnegan's table where he was chatting into his phone. He smiled when he saw her and quickly ended the call.


"Well, Miss Winter, don't you clean up real nice?" he said as he stood and pulled out her chair.


Oh my, thought Cassie. He looked as hot as ever and his charm was intoxicating. He had changed into a different suit, one that was navy in colour and more tightly tailored. Cassie sneaked a glance at his crotch. Oh lord, she thought. Don't ...

She couldn't help herself. Finnegan didn't try to hide what God had given him. If anything, the pants he had on only accentuated his toned ass and his fruit basket in front. A fruit basket containing a rather large banana. Cassie giggled. It had to be the champagne Barbara kept topping up during the latter half of her shopping trip. She was feeling extremely giggly and turned on. He was so freaking hot!

"What's so funny?" asked Finnegan as he sat back down. Cassie giggled.

"Your fruit basket," Cassie said, holding her hand over her mouth. Finnegan couldn't help but smile. Despite the smile, he looked puzzled.

"You're very cute when you do that. Please stop. Let's try to be professional, shall we?" Finnegan asked as he slid his napkin into his lap. Cassie grinned stupidly.

She would totally peel that banana. She snickered to herself. How much of that banana could she fit in her mouth. A lot. I bet he'd like it to.

She continued to grin stupidly. Finnegan frowned.

Boy, does he ever need to loosen up. Cassie wondered what he was like in bed.

"Cassie, look at the menu... please. Focus. We only have an hour. I'm having the lamb, you?"

Cassie picked up her menu. "I was told to try the salmon."

"Good choice," said Finnegan. My great aunt loves the salmon here".

Cassie raised an eyebrow. Finnegan discreetly signaled the waiter.

"Speaking of aunts," she said.  "I believe I promised to regal you with tales about my Aunt Cassandra."

The waiter arrived and they gave their orders.  Cassie took a sip of her water.

"Miss Winter, as much as I would love to hear about mean, nasty Aunt Cassandra, and I promise you will get to tell me all about her, I'm afraid there are more pressing matters to contend with during lunch."

Cassie sat up straighter. Her vision blurred. How much champagne did she drink? She tried to focus on Finnegan. She stared at his lips. He was saying something about non-disclosure agreements, contracts and security.

He had beautiful lips. They were full and probably awesome to bite. Cassie crossed her legs.

"Cassie, what's wrong? You're blushing," Finnegan said. "Are you all right?"

Cassie nodded. She was drunk. She needed food or else she was going to do something or say something she'd regret.

"I'm fine," she whispered. Finnegan touched her hand.

"Are you sure? Wait ... did Miss Palmer give you champagne?" Finnegan asked.

Cassie nodded.

Finnegan's face darkened. "How much champagne did you drink?"

Cassie held out her hands wide. "A lot. It was really yummy. But not as yummy as you!" Cassie giggled. "I can lick you like a lollipop," she said as she stroked  Finnegan's fingers.

"Cassie, enough. Our food should be here soon. You need to eat. I have a very strict no alcohol during business hours rule. I expect you to follow it." Finnegan said. He withdrew his hand from Cassie's and reached for his BlackBerry. He began typing.

"What are you doing?" asked Cassie. "Please don't say anything to Miss Skinny Ankles. She had nothing to do with it. Besides, she liked me. She said I was a great exercise. Better than the last ... " Cassie trailed off as her food arrived. The salmon looked and smelled delicious. She took a bite.

"I'm not engaging Miss Palmer, however, I will be speaking with her about her opinions," Finnegan said.

"Oh my god," Cassie said as she chewed. 'This is delicious. It's better than sex. It's an orgasm in a dish."

Finnegan laughed out loud. "Okay. Sure. Perhaps we should tell the chef you feel that way?"

Cassie laughed. "Um, no. I think not, but the compliments of it being really yummy should be expressed."

"Yummy?" Finnegan asked.

"Really, reallty yummy." Cassie pointed her fork in the air. "I wanted to be a chef. My parents own a bakery and my mom is a trained pastry chef and although I love croissants and cannoli as much as the next person, I love food more. I love pairing spices to meat and exploring different textures. In fact, it's very much like sex. Creating a dish is like making love."

Finnegan smiled. "And you believe you're a good chef?"

"I'm a great chef," Cassie exclaimed. "In and out of the kitchen."

Finnegan cocked an eyebrow.

"Prove it," Finnegan said. Cassie noticed he hadn't eaten a bite of his lamb. He was focused intently on her. Her face flushed.

"Prove what?" She murmured staring him straight in the eye.

"That you make love like how you cook. Of course, you could be a terrible cook and an equally terrible lay but I'm open to a taste test."

Cassie choked on her food. Oh dear. She wasn't good at flirting. She cursed the champagne. She grabbed her water and took a large gulp. Coughing, she excused herself to the washroom.

He didn't just say what he did. Did he? A taste test?

Cassie continued to cough.

Holy hell...

(To be continued... )