“So, Michael is putting together gift baskets of fancy snack foods for our ex-clients?”

            Jim nodded as he sat down next to Pam at table in the office kitchen, cradling his coffee mug in his large hand.

            “Yes,” he drawled. “Apparently, he thinks he can win them back by plying them with Scranton’s finest junk food.”

            She giggled and scooted her chair closer to his, close enough that their thighs touched. She felt his muscles tighten automatically in response, slightly amazed at how the simplest of contact could elicit so powerful a response from Jim.  Feeling powerfully feminine, she rested her hand lightly on the top of his thigh under the table.  Jim squirmed at the feel of the heat from her hand seeping through his cloths into his skin. Pam smirked knowingly at the movement.

            “And he actually thinks that’ll work?” She asked, carrying on as if she didn’t notice the slight shifting of the black fabric under her fingers.

            Jim cleared his throat, trying to keep their banter up and certain parts down.

           
            “Of course Pam,” he rasped. “Don’t you know that nothing says “I want you” like chocolate covered pretzels?” He tried to play it cool by casually raising his coffee mug to his lips.

            Pam leaned over so that her lips were barely brushing against his ear and he could smell the faint traces of the vanilla perfume she’d quickly put on that morning, after their early morning bedroom activities had made them late getting ready for the workday.  Memories of those activities assaulted his senses and he could hear her shuttering breath in his ears, feel her skin against his, taste her in his mouth so vividly that his grip on his mug loosened and he had to strain to pay attention to what she was saying.

            “Personally,” she purred. “If I wanted to woo someone back, it wouldn’t be snack foods I’d cover in chocolate.”

            Looking back, Jim could was almost grateful that he dropped his coffee in his lap at that moment.  After all, he still had the khaki Dockers he’d picked up from the dry cleaners the night before in his car.  At least the dark color wouldn’t show the coffee stain too badly until he could change and Jim really didn’t think he could have stood the embarrassment of his reaction to Pam’s words if he hadn’t been distracted by the pain of hot liquid in his lap. It was the lesser of two evils he supposed.