"Harry, do you trust me," Carol asked as they shifted the living room around, making the center of the room a large open space, rolling out the carpet... then flinging throw rugs and pillows with abandon."Implicitly." All right then. Harry, you've seen me read people. It's something I'm pretty good at. If you see me start to put moves on Dr. Wohler tonight, please don't interfere. Unless you don't want me to and if that's the case, you tell me now. I'll stake 10 hours of sobbing sexual. Then, after, a promotion, another step up the corporate ladder, one you've worked so long and hard for. You've put your work before relationships, and having a family of your own. You never seemed to have the time. You know they call you ruthless, driven, and words much worse. But who's laughing now? You've made your plan, and unlike most, have had the brains and guts to see it through.In the mirror, you try to see what your client will see. The navy power-suit is the perfect choice, bought for. "Tell me you want me," she begged. "Tell me you'll always want me!"Those were words I could say. "Yes, I want you," I started to answer."No, say my name," she interrupted.Luckily, it didn't take me long to remember."Angie, I want you," I started again."No!" she interrupted sharply. "My proper name."I swallowed. Her lips were so close, so warm, and one mistake here would take them from me forever. I was fairly certain this was just some intensely surreal fantasy, but I didn't want it to. I forgot it's still pretty sensitive if its touched, though." Cracked a rib? When? How?" he exclaimed."I kicked her in the game we played yesterday," Ken replied. "You may have even seen it on television."Edgar Bradley nodded quickly and asked, "Was that the play in the second half where she threw a block on your ankles, putting you on your face and springing her friend for the long touchdown run?" Ken said it was. "Do you mean to tell me that she played the rest of the game with a cracked rib?.