Besides the fact that he’s adopted some far-fetched notion from the movie When Harry Met Sally that says men and women can't be friends and work together, it’s safe to say we're not friends. He's annoyingly loud, obnoxiously handsome, and has made an art out of poking all my hot buttons . . . multiple times a day.
So you can imagine how disgruntled I am when I not only have to fly to San Francisco with him for work, but stay in the same penthouse. Yup, we're sharing the same air, twenty-four-seven. We're talking full-fledged working roommates.
The man doesn't know what it means to wear a shirt, thrives off protein bars, and you guessed it, moans loud enough for people to believe he's Meg Ryan in a restaurant.
Spoiler Alert: I WON'T be having what he's having.
Tack on his continuous flirting and his polished good looks, and I'm caught staring down the barrel of a seductive temptation that makes it hard for me to sleep at night.
But guess who can control herself? This girl.
Because if there is one thing I know for certain, it's that JP Cane and I are so not meant to be.
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