Every Last Secret(27)

“Chummy?” I frowned, watching as the water lifted the clustered vegetables. “I wouldn’t call us chummy. If anything, most of our sessions are fairly dictatorial—which is another thing I’m working on with him.”

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look convinced. I stole a longer glance at her, picking up on the contrast of her glossy dark hair with her sleeveless white sweater. She looked like a model, except for the steel in her gaze and the suspicion in her tone.

I flipped the tables on her before she gained the upper hand. “You’re not jealous, are you? Because you don’t have—”

“No.” She straightened and set the wine down on the counter hard enough for the delicate glass to crack. “I’m concerned. He has a lot going on right now, and all we need to do is get the team to the FDA goal line in one piece.”

This was interesting. Cat Winthorpe, the most confident woman in the world, was insecure. It was a power rush. Even if I hadn’t made much progress in breaking through William Winthorpe’s morals, I had nicked Cat’s world. And that was almost as sweet of a victory.

I moved the spigot away from the pot, wondering if I should bring up the pending wine-charity application. I glanced toward Matt and William, confirming that they were still by the grill, beers in hand. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. William’s excellent at multitasking, and I am going to help his ability to handle things, not weaken it. Plus, I need a project. I’m not sure if you heard, but I didn’t make the cut for the wine-charity board.” I let my voice drop, soaking each syllable in disappointment.

Cat straightened, and I could almost feel her awareness spike. “The board nominees haven’t been announced yet.”

I frowned. “I thought the letters for nominee interviews went out this week?” My faux confusion played well, the question rolling out perfectly innocent in nature.

“No.” She shook her head. “We meet Thursday to discuss the applications.”

“Oh.” I brightened. “Well, then, I spoke too soon. I’m dying for a spot on that board, though it will drag my time and focus away from William. Not that I can’t still help the team,” I hastened to add. “I’ve just heard that the board is practically a part-time job.”

She didn’t respond, but I was sure she understood the proposed negotiation. Deliver the wine board and I would step back from her husband.

It was a fair trade, though I didn’t plan on keeping it. The more time I spent with William, the more my interest in him grew. While most of the others were entertaining conquests, he was something more. Fascinatingly brilliant and with a sexual pull that was impossible to ignore.

Still, if she got me on the wine board, my social standing in Atherton would take a gigantic leap forward. I would, for one of the first times in my life, be regarded with respect. Looked at as an equal. I would rightfully belong in this diamond-studded world. That would be worth taking a step back from William. Let that affair mature at a slower pace. Draw out the cat-and-mouse game until he was begging for my touch.

I picked up the paring knife and met her eyes, giving her my own sparkly smile.

The wives of this town were all identical. Cat Winthorpe, whether she liked it or not, would eventually lose this game.





CHAPTER 16

CAT

The phone buzzed next to William’s plate, the display bright in the dim restaurant. I sighed, and he chuckled, sliding it off the table and into his pocket.

“You promised me. One meal without work,” I reminded him.

“I know, I know.”

The waiter produced the bottle of wine, and he waved off the presentation of it.

I held my hand over my glass as the tuxedoed man began to tilt it forward. “None for me, thanks.” After he left, I nodded to the bottle. “That’s one of our vendors for the wine-charity festival. Let me know how you like it.”

He took a long sip, paused, then shrugged. “Eh. Tastes like every other red wine.”

I smiled at his inability to tell merlot from pinot. “Well, this vendor is making a six-figure donation, so pretend it’s amazing.”

He took another sip. “You know what? Best I’ve ever had.” He set down the glass. “How is the charity? Neena mentioned she applied for a board position.”

I bet she did. “Yes, I saw that she put in an application.” I thought of our dinner with them last week, her not-so-subtle push for me to move her application through. It had been insulting, not to mention aggressive. I didn’t need her schedule to be busier if I wanted my husband to spend less time with her. I could effect that on my own. He was my husband. If I didn’t want him to spend time with her, he wouldn’t.

“And?” He dipped a chunk of bread into the French cream sauce.

I cocked a brow at his interest. He’d never cared enough to ask about the wine charity before. Typically, his eyes would glaze over at the mere mention of their annual festival, which was their largest fundraiser. “And . . . ,” I said carefully, “I don’t think she’ll be selected.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

I let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “Does it matter?”

“Humor me.”

“She isn’t qualified, for one.”

“Qualified?” He grimaced, and I glared at him.