Every Last Secret(28)

“Don’t you dare.”

“Fine.” He raised his hands. “But there’s a reason you’re in charge of the board. The rest of those women—”

“And men,” I reminded him.

“They’re in it for the free wine and society-page mentions. It isn’t exactly a crack bunch you have there.”

“Oh, they’re all drunk social climbers?” I accused. “You’re right. That does sound just like Neena.”

“Come on,” he argued. “She’s an intelligent woman.”

“From what I’ve heard, she’s a year out from being a secretary,” I pointed out. “And I don’t know how much impact she could be having at WT, considering she’s spending all her time with you.” The nag slipped into the conversation, and I hurried to cover up the remark. “Neena wants the social standing of being on the board, nothing else.”

“She told me about a fundraiser she worked on at Plymouth Industries. She has the experience for it.”

“I’m sorry.” I cut into my lamb with vicious strokes. “Did I miss something? Are you guys talking about the team or yourselves in your meetings?”

“It was in passing.” He paused. “Maybe you’re right and she isn’t a good fit for it.”

“She isn’t.” I stabbed my fork into the tender meat. One meal. I wanted one meal where her name didn’t come up. One meal where I didn’t have to listen to some accomplishment or praise of her. She’d obviously pressed him into vouching for her. She had worked on something like this at Plymouth? Whatever.

I shoved the piece of meat into my mouth. She wouldn’t be on the board. I’d already removed her application from the stack and fed it into the shredder myself. If I had to see her smug, pointy face every time I walked into a board meeting, I’d stab her to death with a vendor’s corkscrew.

I met William’s concerned look and bared my teeth in a smile.





CHAPTER 17

NEENA

William’s car growled down my driveway, and I was pleased to see that he’d chosen one of the exotic sports cars that lined his garage. It was a good sign. The tight quarters, the roar of the engine between our legs, the feeling of power and recklessness that he’d have behind the wheel . . . it’d all set the right tone.

I locked the side entrance behind me, letting my gaze sweep appreciatively over the car as I approached and opened the door. “Wow.” I grabbed the handle and slid one stiletto into the footwell, making a careful entrance that exposed as much leg as possible.

He noticed. I could feel him stare, saw the tightening of his hand on the gearshift as he watched me settle into the bucket seat and pull the door closed. It felt immediately intimate, the engine’s noise muting, the air conditioner stirring up the mixture of male and female scents, his cologne intoxicatingly close.

“Do you need more room for your legs? That seat moves back farther.”

“Oh yes. That’d be great.” I fumbled on the side, peering at the door and then feeling along the bottom of the seat, looking for the controls.

He chuckled. “It’s not—may I?” He unbuckled his seat belt.

“Sure.” I blushed, then stiffened as he reached in between my legs, the arm of his suit brushing against my knees as he reached under the seat and lifted a lever.

“Push back with your feet.” His words came out against my left thigh, and I obeyed, the chair clicking back and giving me another six inches of room. He released the lever and straightened. Was it just my imagination, or was his face red? “It’s old school. It’s funny, you pay this much for a car, you’d think it would have power seats.”

I smiled. “I like it. Now . . .” I looked at the seat-belt harness in faux confusion.

“Here, let me help you.” He reached over, pulling the belt over my head. “You have to put your arms through—yeah. Like that.” His eyes met mine, and it was the closest we’d ever been. His hands brushing against my blouse as he tightened the straps. His mouth, just inches from mine, his breath soft and warm against my lips.

“You smell good,” he said quietly. “Really good.”

With another man, this would be my moment. I’d grip his shirt. Let my eyes go soft, my lips part. Run my hand down to cup the bulge in his pants.

But this wasn’t another man, and with William, he had to be the one to initiate things, or else I would never land him. I glanced down as if shy. “Thank you. And thank you for giving me a ride. I don’t know what’s wrong with my car.”

He straightened up and reclipped his own belt. “We’re going to the same place. It’s no trouble. And if we didn’t have this team meeting, I’d take a look at it.” He frowned. “But Matt’s good with cars, right? Didn’t he restore that Corvette himself?”

Ugh. That Corvette. I hated that stupid muscle car. It was one thing to drive it around our old middle-class neighborhood, but he insisted we take it out on Atherton dates as well. “He did,” I said lightly. “But I called the dealership. They’re going to tow mine in and fix it under warranty. Do you mind bringing me to work for the next few days? I can get Matt to give me a ride home.”

There was the sort of pause that a man makes when he doesn’t want to say no but shouldn’t say yes. Ned Plymouth once made that pause. It didn’t turn out well for him.