Mariana (moi): Hi everyone! I'm so excited about this collaboration with the lovely, LucyLiterate! We'll be posting once a week on each of our profiles. I'd like to thank our wonderful beta, HollettLA, and our prereader, Nuttyginger, for all their help.

Lucy: Hello, like Mariana, I am so excited to be writing this story. This will be my fist multi-chapter fic and my first venture in more than just kinky fun ;-) I hope you enjoyed reading our story, if you did leave us some love. If you didn't, tell us about that too.

Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, blah blah blah. We own the sexy beast known as Bikeward.

"Watch it!" an old man hissed when we bumped shoulders, passing alongside each other under the same awning.

I turned to look at the bitter-faced man and rolled my eyes, pressing my purse closer to my chest. On mornings like these, with light rain, grumpy people, and high heels, a small part of me regretted the day I decided to uproot my life. I'd like to say that only every once in a while I would find myself asking what in the heck I'd been thinking when I chose to move to the cloudiest city in the United States- Seattle, Washington.

In reality, I pondered my decision just about every day, especially when I had to walk a couple of blocks from the parking garage to my office building.

It wasn't that I'd been overly fond of the greater San Francisco or Sacramento areas, but the sunshine I'd taken for granted. I missed the warm sun on my skin, and the cool breeze that would blow off the harbor. I would even go as far as to say that I missed the hot, sticky breezes that would make me want to shower again. But this... I wasn't used to the constant gray skies or the drizzle. For the first month I lived in Seattle, it seemed that every time I decided to straighten my hair, I'd get caught in light rain without an umbrella. I went to work looking like Carrot Top's sister, well, without the orange-ish hair and weird bone structure.

Only after my boss, who I affectionately call a jerk, called me Medusa, and then asked me if my hair was trying to imitate ZZ Top's beard, did I wise up and start carrying around an umbrella in my purse permanently. It's not that it didn't rain a good deal back in California where I'd grown up and went to college, but I also hadn't had to walk very far each day other than from building to building.

The only upside I'd found to my new city, was that my apartment was larger than the one I'd shared back at Berkeley and also less expensive. Parking was also a little better as long as you stayed out of downtown. Unfortunately, it was impossible for me to avoid downtown, since it's where my office was located. Either way, I tried to be optimistic and most days I was. I'd only been in the city for about six months and every day it felt a little more like home. I was being literal when I said "a little."

The small office building for my company, well, not actually my company, but the one I worked for, loomed in the near distance. The building had been some type of factory about fifty years ago but had been renovated completely on the inside, now housing Masen Peter, one of the leading architectural firms in Seattle. The practice was small, but the magnitude of talent within the walls of the building was unreal. I'd been beyond lucky to land such a great job. Even though it was an entry level position, but the potential at my fingertips was enough to put some pep in my step.

I just needed to survive my time as an architectural associate, or as my boss's assistant fondly referred to my position: Everyone's Bitch.

After closing my umbrella, hiking up the first flight of steps to the building and punching in my key code to unlock the door, I didn't even bother to pause in the waiting area outside our offices. Brightly lit white walls surrounded the small area which contained two low, black couches and framed pieces of modern artwork. The ceilings were high and vaulted, giving an old feel to the newness that radiated from the walls. Looping around the wall that separated the waiting area from the employees on the other side, I beelined for my desk, which was more of an old drafting table with a laptop shoved underneath it.

Hardly anyone was in so early, it was barely ten to eight in the morning, and most people didn't start trickling in until closer to nine. My grandma, God rest her soul, had quoted Shakespeare to me my entire life, raising me with the idea, "Better three hours too soon, than one minute too late." Although there was no way in hell, I was getting to work at five in the morning, I made an effort to get to work before I needed to be. I may have also been hoping that someone took notice of my punctuality and took that into account when my yearly review came up. There was no way I was going to stay an AA longer than I needed to.

"PYT!" a sharp voice called out.

I shook my head, recognizing both the voice and the originator of my nickname immediately. She had started calling me Pretty Young Thing the first time I settled down at my desk and my ringtone had gone off with Michael Jackson's Thriller blaring from the speaker. Turning my head, I caught sight of a tall, feminine body making its way towards me. The woman was possibly the most beautiful female I'd ever seen in my life. When we went out for lunch, the mass stares she got from strange men seemed to express the idea that I wasn't the only one who thought the same. I smiled at the blonde, who smirked with each step she took on her path to my desk.

"Hey," I responded to her, dropping my purse onto the floor, and then kicking it under the table. "I didn't think you were coming in."

Rosalie Hale, my coworker and closest friend since moving to Seattle, stopped just a few feet in front of me, balanced smoothly on her four-inch heels. She'd left the day before with a stomach virus, claiming she was vomiting, but I was the only one who knew the truth. She'd gotten the runs from eating a burrito she found in the fridge. A burrito that didn't belong to her. I told her it was karma. "I'm fine now, either way, there's a proposal I need to finish for Emmett before the end of the day. He would've been riding my ass about it if I would've stayed at home."

I couldn't help but snort. "I'm sure he would've been riding your ass about it," I laughed. "All night, I bet."

She didn't even have the decency to blush, instead settling for a smile and winking. Emmett McCarty was our boss. The youngest partner in the firm, he reigned over just about every employee on our floor. Rose was his personal assistant and secret girlfriend. While there wasn't any stipulation in our employment contract stating that fraternization was frowned upon, they decided to keep quiet about it since he was her direct supervisor. I knew that most larger companies were adamant about the issue, but I could only assume that the issue wasn't brought up because we were smaller. Also, I had a feeling that their late night work sessions would be sorely disrupted if anyone found out that they really didn't get anything done after hours.

"I'm going to get started on that crap; come get me for lunch," she ordered.

I nodded at her. "Okay."

Focusing on the drawings I needed to finish preparing by lunch time, time flew by as I made the necessary adjustments before showing them to Emmett for final approval. I enjoyed the hands-on feeling of doing the drawings, even though for the last six months they had me solely running around helping prepare the 3-D models or getting them approved. After finishing the last detail that had caught my eye, I rolled up the prints and hiked them all of twenty steps to Emmett's office. Rosalie was sitting at her desk with her long legs crossed off to the side, while she scribbled away on a Post-It.

"Can I go in there?" I asked her quietly, in case he was busy.

Rosalie cocked a blonde eyebrow at me and shrugged. "Are you kidding me? He's probably playing Minesweeper. Go right on ahead."

I grinned and took a few steps to pause at his door, knocking lightly on the heavy ebony door. Emmett McCarty was sitting at his desk, biting his cheek, and staring too intently at the screen. Yep, he was definitely playing Minesweeper. Not that he was lazy by any means, but half the time I swear he just sat around waiting for something to approve. It was a testament to his natural leadership abilities and talent that at only thirty he was already in a senior position. Hazel eyes turned in my direction for a split second before returning to the big monitor in front of him, "One sec," he gasped while clicking on his mousepad rapidly. A minute later, he exhaled loudly and fully turned his attention back on me. "Sorry about that, Bella, I just wanted to finish that level. What's going on?"

Passing the drawings to him, I plopped into the seat on the other side of his desk. "I'm done; I just want you to approve them so I can send them off."

"Let's take a look, little missy," he said, unrolling the paper and setting it out on top of his desk. "Okay... all right... this is good..." he mumbled.

My face flushed, and I swear, twenty pounds were lifted off my chest. This was the first time I'd been given the task of the drawings, and I'd been, at least subconsciously, really nervous about doing them correctly. "Hooray," I said weakly, more to myself than to him, when he kept nodding in approval.

"Good work," Emmett praised, rolling the paper back up. "They're ready to send off. Put them in a tube and call the courier for delivery."

I nodded, but then froze. "What's the number for the courier?"

He shrugged; at six foot four and weighing easily over two hundred pounds, Emmett looked ridiculous when his huge shoulders lifted up and his lips went thin and straight in a look of unknowing. "Ask Rose, I have no clue."

"All right," I told him before leaving his office and stopping at the side of Rosalie's desk. She had her back turned to me, while she typed something furiously into her computer. "Hey, can you give me the number to the courier?"

"Sure," she said before stopping her keyboard stomping. Flicking through her Rolodex- I kid you not, she used a Rolodex at Emmett's insistence- she handed me a small card. "Just call the company, tell them to come pick it up here, give them the address, your name, and to bill us for the service."

"I will," I said a little too eagerly. To say that I was excited about getting approval on the architectural drawings I'd prepared on the first try was an understatement. Now I just needed to send them off.