Corner Office Confessions

“Isn’t that the whole point of these corporate mixers?” Arlie asked. “To make the company more tolerable with booze?” She took a demonstrative sip of her drink.

“It dulls the senses and loosens the tongue. An exceedingly unfortunate choice in circumstances such as these.”

“Something tells me you could use an unfortunate choice or two.” Arlie bit her tongue almost as quickly as the words left it. What in God’s name was she thinking?

“Arlie Banks!”

Panic sent her intestines skittering about twelve inches to the south.

It was her.

Taegan Lynch. Gossip. Busybody. Director of marketing at Gastronomie. The one and only person besides her former boss and the editorial director who knew exactly why Arlie had been let go from her previous position.

Steeling her spine, Arlie watched Taegan sauntering toward her. Toward them.

Her face was difficult to read, but then, copious Botox and other assorted fillers could to that to a person. Glossy dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing the deep swell of her cleavage. The bleached white teeth of her beauty queen smile beamed between collagen-enhanced lips.

Her slim, lithe pantsuit-clad form slithered over to them, Louboutin heels beating an alarming staccato rhythm on the expensive wood deck.

Arlie watched Samuel, hoping to God that she wouldn’t see in him the kind of unabashed lust Taegan seemed to evoke in every single male member of the population.

What she saw was curiosity and careful assessment. Exceedingly dangerous. Especially considering the first thing he did after looking at Taegan was to aim the engine of his analysis back at Arlie.

Very bad.

Very, very bad.

“What on earth are you doing on this boat?” Taegan smacked a kiss sticky with gloss on each of Arlie’s cheeks.

She resisted the urge to wipe them off with the backs of her hands. “I could ask you the same.”

Taegan looked over at Samuel. “I’m a guest of Parker Kane this evening. He reached out about doing a feature on the Willow Creek Winery in the fall issue of Gastronomie.” Taegan glanced back and forth between her and Samuel, clearly inviting her to make an introduction.

“Taegan Lynch, this is Samuel Kane, CEO of—”

“Oh, I know exactly who he is,” Taegan purred. “Parker insisted that I come over and introduce myself. But if I’m interrupting...” she trailed off, daring Arlie to try and stop her.

“Not at all,” Samuel said. “Miss Banks and I were just catching up. She just joined our team as senior food stylist.”

“Is that so?” Taegan’s smile took on a carnivorous edge. “Well, you’re certainly getting a very talented resource. I know we were all just heartbroken when she left so suddenly.”

Arlie’s cheeks prickled as the blood drained from her face. Night air chilled the sudden sweat that had bloomed on the back of her neck.

“In fact, would you mind if I borrowed her for just a moment?” Taegan asked in a voice that suggested sugar wouldn’t melt on her tongue.

Samuel flicked a glance in her direction, a subtle but unmistakable question in his eyes.

Did she want him to go?

As tempted as she was to send a pleading please don’t let her take me look in reply, Arlie was afraid of the conclusions he might draw if she did. She nodded in assent.

“I suppose I’ve monopolized Miss Banks’s time long enough. Pleasure to meet you,” Samuel said with a polite nod in Taegan’s direction before disappearing into the crowd.

“Shall we?” Looping her arm through Arlie’s like an old friend, Taegan steered them toward an unoccupied sofa overlooking the yacht’s back deck.

Arlie accompanied her on wooden legs, the sound of conversations around them muffled by the roaring of blood in her ears.

Taegan seated herself, motioning for Arlie to do the same.

Though she would have far preferred to hurl herself over the deck railing at that precise moment, Arlie perched stiffly on the edge of the sofa cushion.

“Because I know how much you’d like to rejoin your coworkers, I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do,” Arlie said, trying to keep her expression neutral despite the polar vortex of fear spiraling in her chest.

“I take it the Kanes are unaware of the circumstances of your departure from Gastronomie?” Crossing one long leg over the other, Taegan rotated the pointed toe of her tan patent leather heel.

Arlie’s heart sank. She had known this was coming. Had felt it in some deep, primordial place the second she’d heard Taegan’s laugh like the tinkling of broken glass on the evening air. “You are correct.”

“And I suppose you’d like to keep it that way?” Taegan arched an artfully shaped eyebrow at her.

The tangle of conversations and music had taken on a shrill edge, as if Arlie were in a disaster movie in that split second before the world began to tip off its axis. “What is it that you want?”

A feline smile leisurely unfurled itself on Taegan’s face. “Information.”

Acid crawled up from a stomach that felt hot and sick. “What kind of information?”