The Trouble with Love (Sex, Love & Stiletto, #4)(3)
“Okay, you guys are making this situation way more interesting than it actually is,” Emma said, holding up her hand with a plea to stop.
“Well, of course,” Grace said, tilting her head. “That’s what we do. We sex things up.”
Emma had to grant her that. It was what they did.
Stiletto was the top-selling women’s magazine in the country, and Julie, Grace, Riley, and now Emma were its darlings as the Love & Romance gurus.
Between the four of them, they covered everything from “Ten Things He Secretly Hates” to “Outside-the-Box Anniversary Plans” to “A Beginner’s Guide to Kinky Foreplay.”
The range in stories varied from month to month based on whatever inspiration each woman had, or whatever whim Camille threw at them, but for the most part, they all had their niche.
Julie was all about fun, flirting, and dating: “First Kisses,” “How to Make Him Pant at First Glance,” and so forth.
Grace’s stories were mainly geared toward women already in relationships: “Making It Last,” “Couples Therapy for Newbies,” “Keeping the Romance Alive.”
Riley was sex. All sex, all the time.
And as for Emma? Emma was the resident heartbreak expert—the one who helped women figure out how to cut him loose, or how to survive the aftermath when you were the one set loose.
Her most recent article was “Surviving the Single Life When Your Friends Are Coupled Up.”
Emma was able to write that one from personal experience. Hell, Emma would even call herself an expert on the topic, because her best friends were very much coupled up. In the best way possible, of course.
When she’d joined the Stiletto team a year ago, Julie had already landed the dead-sexy Mitchell Forbes, while Grace and Riley had been single.
Since then, she’d watched Grace fall head over heels in love with hotshot journalist Jake Malone, whom she’d married in a small, gorgeous destination wedding a few months ago.
And Riley? Riley had successfully completed her ten-year quest for the heart of Sam Compton. They were getting married in a few months.
But then there was Emma.
Emma was still most definitely single. Intentionally.
She dated whenever it suited her, and had had plenty of relationships over the years. But Emma had no intention of shackling herself to a man, no matter how happy her friends were.
Because that happiness could be ripped away faster than a burst pipe could ruin your morning. And then you were left with nothing but a gaping hole where your heart should have been.
“Okay, so if there wasn’t a hurricane or prom date gone wrong, what’s with the weird combination of wet hair, au naturel makeup, and glam cocktail dress?” Grace prodded.
Emma filled them in on her apocalyptic flood situation. As she talked, Julie rummaged around in her purse until she came up with a mascara wand, lip gloss, bronzer, and a hairbrush.
She offered them up to Emma, who reached for them eagerly.
Grace checked her watch. “Sorry, Em. You’ll have to rock that natural look a bit longer. Staff meeting’s about to start.”
“Emma, you didn’t tell them the best part of your morning,” Julie said, as the four of them headed toward the conference room.
“What?” Emma asked. “The part where you gave me your caramel macchiato?”
“Nope,” Julie said, “I’m talking about who we saw in the elevator.”
Emma rolled her eyes. Oh. That.
“Who?” Riley asked. “Was it the Duchess of Cambridge? I heard she and Prince Willy were coming to the States, and I must know what hair conditioner she uses.”
“We saw Cassidy,” Julie said in a singsong voice.
“Yikes,” Grace muttered as she pushed open the conference room door. “I hope everyone was bundled up. It’s always like an ice storm when Emma and Alex are in the same vicinity.”
Emma’s eyes flicked to Grace in surprise. It was weird to hear someone refer to him as Alex. When they’d gone to college together, the guy had been known only by the last name scrawled across his back on game day. To Emma, Alex Cassidy had only ever been Cassidy. Had that changed? Had he grown up? Decided to ditch the soccer superstar identity and go by his first name?
Not that she cared. Whether he went by his first name or last name, it all translated to the same thing: jerk.
“Speaking of that ice storm,” Riley whispered, as they filed into the conference room. “Brrrr.”
It took Emma all of five seconds to know what Riley meant. She didn’t see Cassidy so much as felt him.
But no matter.
She didn’t know what the hell he was doing at their Stiletto staff meeting, and she didn’t really care.
She’d quit caring about anything having to do with Alex Cassidy long ago.
Say…right about the time he left her at the altar.
Chapter 2
It was hard not to stop and stare when the reigning queens of Stiletto entered the conference room. Or any room.
Instead of sucking all of the air out of the space, as the cliché went, it was almost like the four stunning women brought air into the room.
And Alex Cassidy didn’t think he was biased just because these women—most of them, anyway—were his friends.
But they were his friends. Good ones. Just when he’d started to think Manhattan was the loneliest, most foul place on earth, he’d stumbled on the unexpected: