She banged her head against the steering wheel, but gently so it wouldn't leave a mark. What was she doing here?

She'd been sitting in her car in the parking lot for almost 10 minutes now and with the engine off it was starting to get cold, even with her big parka on, but she still couldn't bring herself to actually go inside.

Secretly accepting an offer for a nice vacation away from prying eyes was one thing, but to go in there now where everyone would see her and wonder what she was doing here was something else entirely.

And then there were the cameras. She wondered when the camera crew usually left for the night. Maybe she could just wait it out until then.

But she had driven all this way and she really had to see him. Each mile closer to Scranton had wound her up just a little bit more until she was practically ready to scream his name and beg him to take her right here and now.

It was actually quite terrifying how attracted she was to him. He was so wrong for her. The opposite of every man she had ever been with before.

Slowly, she let out a breath that she didn't even know she had been holding. This was it. She had to go in there. She had to do it quickly. Get it over with so she could get on with the rest of her evening plans.

But she was used to getting things done, and she figured that the sooner she got Michael out of her system, the sooner she could get on with her life.

She opened the car door and the rush of wintry air that blew in onto her cheeks only invigorated her more. She was Jan Levinson and she was powerful. She would handle this calmly and professionally, with her held high and her pride intact.

It's just sex, she reminded herself as she hit the lock button on her key. Everyone does it. No need to be immature about the issue. This is what it is and nothing more.
Suddenly she felt strangely calm and she knew she would stay in control. After all, it really wasn't her fault she was wildly attracted to Michael Scott.

It wasn't like he didn't want to be sitting here. He always wanted to be where she was. But right now he could think of a few other places where he might not feel so uncomfortable.

He was screwed. He knew it. He had tried everything. Dwight had failed him. Darryl had been a jerk. No, not Darryl. Darryl was his friend. But the other warehouse guys were pervs and he knew Darryl had to keep up his street cred. It wasn't Darryl's fault.

Who could he blame for this... this... massacre that was about to happen. Who had been involved? Packer, Darryl, Dwight, Toby--of course! He knew exactly who to blame. Everything that was about to happen was all Toby's fault.

He was about to open his mouth to tell Jan about Toby's skeevy little obsession with a certain photograph when she interrupted him again.

She was going on and on about her therapist or something. He wasn't really sure what it all meant, but he was sure it was all leading up to the big outburst. Jan had never been one to let him off easy and he was pretty sure Sandals, Jamaica hadn't changed that about her.

Maybe that was because they hadn't left their hotel room long enough to really absorb the local culture. He tried to keep the smile off his face at the thought of their hotel room. So many memories...

Suddenly Jan was standing up to leave and he realized he couldn't remember anything that had just happened. If Jan had lectured him, or yelled at him, he would remember that, right?

And then, just as quickly he was up against her and she was kissing him, and he didn't really know what was happening, but he knew that this meeting had just gone from very, very bad to possibly the best thing that had ever happened in his office.

She whispered in his ear, and he began to put the pieces together in his head. Maybe she doesn't know about the picture. Maybe she came here just to see me. Maybe she's completely in love with me. Maybe I'm about to have sex with her again.

She was leaving then and all he had time to do was tell her how much she meant to him.

"You complete me."

One thing was for sure. Whatever had just happened was not at all Toby's fault. It was his fault. He, Michael Scott, had just single-handedly bagged the ice queen.