Corner Office Confessions

The corners of Kassidy’s mouth tugged downward, her eyes soft and shining. “He...wanted to ask you to prom.”

Arlie’s face stung as if she’d been slapped.

Time seemed to slow as she looked at her friend. “How do you know?” Arlie demanded.

“Because he tracked me down after advanced trig one day and asked me how likely you’d be to say yes.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Kassidy pressed her lips together and drew in a breath. “I told him that...it wasn’t my place to speak for you.”

“But it was your place to speak to me,” Arlie said, shaking her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’d either have ruined the surprise if he did ask or get you all amped up just to be let down if he didn’t. Frankly, I was as excited about either of those options as I was the idea of you being involved with a Kane.” Kassidy fixed her with a meaningful look.

Sure enough, Arlie was now feeling an odd mix of those things. Excitement that he’d at least wanted to ask her, disappointment that he never had, confusion as to why. “I know,” Arlie said. “But I’m a big girl now. We’re both adults. They need a food stylist, I need a job. It’s a simple business transaction. The end.”

Kassidy took a step toward her, the familiar scent of vanilla and violets blooming as she looked down at Arlie. Even when they were both wearing heels, Kassidy could rest her chin on the crown of Arlie’s head.

“All I’m saying is, be careful.”

“Careful is the only option I have,” Arlie said.

She meant it.

With her parents gone, and her reputation in smoldering tatters, her job at Kane Foods International was all that stood between her and ruin.

Which was why she’d lied to get it.

“Good.” Slipping past her to click on the steamer plugged in behind the counter, Kassidy unzipped a gray garment bag to reveal a stunning cream silk gown. “So when do you start?”

“Officially, Monday. Unofficially, tonight. Mason invited me to some kind of investor orgy on the Kane yacht.”

“Mason Kane.” A dreamy smile smoothed out Kassidy’s features as she paused, the wand billowing steam like smoke from a dragon’s nostrils. “Now there’s the twin I would have picked. His scores on standardized tests notwithstanding.”

“You?” Arlie asked incredulously. “And Mason Kane?”

“You’d be surprised what the love of a good woman can do.” Kassidy raised an eyebrow in her haughty sovereign addressing her subjects expression. “Along with very clear instructions.”

“Speaking of Mason,” Arlie said, “I’m supposed to meet him at the Corinthian Yacht Club at six o’clock. Which is why I’m here. I need to borrow a I definitely belong on a yacht dress.”

“And here I thought it was to apologize for your horrifyingly substandard performance in the best friend department.” Kassidy teased.

“Totally that too.” Arlie aimed her best disarming smile at her. “Can you help me?”

Kassidy let out an exasperated laugh. “‘Can you help me?’ she says.” Dropping the steaming wand into its holster, she took a step backward to assess Arlie with narrowed eyes. “Six petite,” she diagnosed. “Barely. Promise me you’re going to eat something on that damn boat.”

Indeed, Arlie’s appetite had evaporated along with her paycheck. Not that she would have spent money in her favorite gourmet food store even if she’d had it. “Scout’s honor,” she said.

“I’ve got just the thing.” Her friend disappeared behind the curtain and reappeared a few minutes later holding aloft a garment bag that she hung on the hook next to the gown she’d been steaming. With the fanfare usually reserved for ribbon cuttings, she drew down the zipper and shook out the dress with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Arlie had to stifle a gasp.

In a color somewhere between blush and dusty rose, the back-bearing, halter-neck bodice dipped low in the front and nipped in at the waist. The skirt, comprised of asymmetrical layers of fluttery chiffon, was both ethereal and earthy. One stiff breeze and there would be a whole lotta leg.

“Oh, Kassidy,” Arlie breathed.

“Halston,” Kassidy said, running an admiring hand down the length of the skirt. “A concept garment for their 1972 spring line. Basically, the unicorn of cocktail dresses. I found it at an estate sale for a rich as shit socialite who corked off after freak complications with a routine liposuction.”

Arlie grinned at her. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re goddamn right it is.” Brusquely zipping the garment bag, Kassidy laid it over the counter.

“Shouldn’t I try it on?” Arlie asked.

“No need.” Kassidy breezed over to a wall at the back of the shop where shoes were arranged in an impressive tiered display. “You still wear a size seven?”

“Yes, but—”

“These.” She held aloft a pair of sparkling high-heeled strappy sandals.

Arlie briefly considered protesting but thought better of it. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I don’t need thanks,” Kassidy said, her eyes serious as she handed over the garment bag and the silky shoebox. “I need you not to disappear on me ever again.”

“No more disappearing.” Arlie hooked the dress’s hanger over her wrist and tucked the shoebox under her arm. “I promise.”

“Good.” Leaning against the counter, Kassidy tapped on the screen of an iPad propped in a chrome stand. “I expect a full report of the evening’s events.”

“As you wish.” After a curtsy and a bow, Arlie turned toward the door.

“Banks!” Kassidy called after her.

Already in the doorway, Arlie looked back. “Your Honor?”

“Whatever you do,” her friend said, skewering her with the full force of her unnervingly perceptive gaze, “don’t kiss him.”