Every Last Secret

by A. R. Torre

  The phone buzzed against my butt cheek. Watching Matt sidle over to his chair, I fished out the phone and checked the text.

  I wouldn’t be able to eat it. I’ll be at the office until I pick up Cat from the airport around midnight. But thanks.

  I knew what he wanted, the hints practically painted across a billboard. I typed one-handed as I dumped the shredded cheese over the broccoli spears.

  I have to run into Palo Alto on an errand anyway. I’ll drop by a plate in a few hours, assuming it’s not a bother.

  This would be perfect. Late night. The empty office. The two of us, paper plates in hand, enjoying each other’s company. It was an opening, and I’d be an idiot not to take it.

  Not a bother at all. See you then.

  I smiled and turned up the oven’s heat.

  “So, their revenue was fabricated?” Two hours later, I perched on the edge of the private boardroom table and watched as William dived into my food, his enjoyment clear. I watched as his throat flexed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He hadn’t shaved in a week, his skin was tan from his time in Hawaii, and he was overdue for a haircut. The end result was addictive, his wild edges only enhancing his chiseled good looks. His intelligence, the power, and the looks . . . I leaned closer, unable to maintain a respectable distance.

  “At least part of it. I’m having to rework the deal with the data we can verify and see if there is still profit to be made.”

  “And if there’s not?” I pushed off the table and picked up his empty bottle.

  He watched as I moved to the minifridge to get him another water. “Then I walk. This was an opportunity to expand our footprint, but it wasn’t necessary. I won’t risk everything on an unknown.”

  I won’t risk everything on an unknown. I glanced at him. Was there a hidden meaning in the words, or had he just given me an unintended peek into the inner workings of his mind? Maybe he considered me a wild card, one with an unknown reaction if he made a move.

  It was interesting to see the evolution in him over the last two months. He used to flinch when I touched him, and avoid prolonged eye contact. Vomited Cat’s name whenever the conversation turned away from work. Now, I noticed his eyes lingering on me, his gaze warmer when he smiled, his tongue looser to confess. He didn’t bring her up very often, and when he did, he rarely used her name. All tells. Little tiny arrows pointing in the right direction.

  I bent at the waist over the low minifridge, keeping my legs straight, my butt out. “You don’t seem to want to walk away from the deal.”

  “I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be back here crunching the numbers. I’d be screwing my wife on a beach in Hawaii.”

  I straightened and came closer, pausing just before him, the crude reference spiking my competitive arousal. “But instead you’re here.”

  “Yes.” His eyes lifted to me. “With you.”

  With me.

  He reached for the bottle, and his fingers brushed against mine as I released it. William Winthorpe was an alpha male, one who enjoyed the chase, and I’d fostered that challenge in every way I could. A flirtatious look countered with a small insult. A casual touch followed by a mention of my husband.

  Sometimes I wondered if he was doing the same thing with me. A compliment on my dress, a long kiss with his wife. Quick responses to my morning texts but nothing late at night. If it was a game, it was one he played very well and seemed to enjoy. I smiled at him and could feel the lines of our relationship blurring.

  Neighbors. Boss. Employee. Friends.

  We were circling each other, each rotation growing closer, and was this the moment? Our eyes met, and he stood. “Why did you really come here, Neena?”

  “You’re hungry,” I said quietly, not stepping back, our proximity already too close to be professional. Around us, the empty building lay dormant and silent.

  He set his water on the conference table and reached out, his fingertips settling on my waist and tugging me forward until I was flush against him, my thighs to his, hip to hip, the warmth of him branded along my body. This was it. His hand slid up my back and twisted around the length of my hair, tugging it back until my chin was lifted, my face turned up to his. It was happening. His gaze dropped to my mouth. I held my breath.

  And then . . . he lowered his mouth, and his lips met mine. A soft brush, the hair around his mouth tickling mine. A second kiss, this one deeper, our lips parting, his tongue meeting mine. His mouth was warm, his kiss tender, almost hesitant. The great William Winthorpe in a moment of moral indecision. I pulled at the back of his head, strengthening our kiss, and he responded, pushing me back until I hit the wall of the conference room, his hands exploring and gripping—

  He pulled away, his hands raised as if protesting his innocence. I sagged against the wall, my footing uncertain, and waited, my lips tingling from the contact.

  “That shouldn’t have happened.” He turned and rested his palms on the table, his strong shoulders hunched over. One hand shot out, a quick movement that startled me, and the water bottle flew across the room and bounced off the wall. He cursed. “You need to go.”

  “I—ah.” I struggled to find the right thing to say. “It’s okay, William. No one will ever know.”

  “Go,” he bit out.

  I crouched, picking up my bag, and hurried out of the chilly room, my flats tapping softly along the floor until I reached the elevator, my ears pricked for the sound of his call.

  It never came, but it didn’t matter. I had felt the electricity between us, the passion, the surge of his need. This wasn’t the end—it was the beginning, the blurring of lines between professional and friendly, appropriate and not.

  Blurred lines. Smear enough of them together, and you could change the color of everything.

  His marriage.

  My life.

  Everything.

  CHAPTER 25

  CAT

  It had been a week since I’d returned from Hawaii, and I still hadn’t adjusted to the cool shift in temperatures. I was submerged in the heated pool, sitting at the bottom of the shallow end, when I heard the muffled sound of a yell. I immediately pushed off the rock floor and broke the surface. Blinking the water out of my eyes, I saw Maria, our head of landscaping, kneeling at the side of the pool and waving frantically at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s next door,” she whispered. “The new neighbors. There is a man screaming for help. I didn’t want to go in case police are needed.”

  I pushed out of the pool and shivered in the chill of the morning air. Wringing the water from my hair, I took the robe she offered. In the distance, I heard a pained yell and spun my head to the sound. “Who is home? ¿Quien está aquí?”

  “No one. Just us.”

  “Okay.” I yanked the robe on and pushed my feet into my flip-flops.

  “Here is your phone.” She looked at me worriedly. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. Thank you for letting me know.” I ran along the cobblestone path toward the Ryders’ home, my teeth already chattering in the cold. I should have swum indoors today but had relished the idea of a hot-tub session after my swim, and possibly a snack of prosciutto and melon as I enjoyed the smell of fresh-cut grass and roses. I eyed the low wall between our properties and then skirted it, finding an opening in the bushes big enough to slip through. “Matt!” I called out. “Matt! Are you okay?”

  “I’m over here!” His voice came from the pool deck, and I sprinted up the deck’s side steps and skidded to a stop when I spied him.

  I inhaled sharply. “Matt. Don’t move.”

  He lay awkwardly on his stomach in the grass, his arm bent back at an impossible angle, his face gray with pain. Beside him were pieces of an iron railing. I glanced up and spotted the hole in the upper balcony. Pulling my phone from the robe pocket, I quickly dialed 9-1-1.

  “I’m getting an ambulance, Matt. Try not to move.”

  I wrapped my arms around my chest, hugging the material to me as I told the operator th
eir address and what had happened. I ended the call. “They’re on their way. Said less than five minutes.”

  “Call Neena,” he rasped.

  I was already dialing her number and growled in frustration when it went straight to voice mail. I ended the call and tried again. Same result. Glancing at my watch, I called the main receptionist at Winthorpe Tech, relieved when William’s assistant answered the phone.

  “Ashley, it’s Cat. I need to speak to Neena. Do you know where she is?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Winthorpe. She’s in a meeting with your husband. I was told not to disturb them.”

  I frowned. “Are they in his office?”

  “No, the boardroom.”

  The boardroom. The only location in the building, except for the closed labs, where visual privacy was afforded. Was it a coincidence? “I need you to interrupt them. There’s been an accident, and I need to speak to Neena immediately.”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Winthorpe. May I put you on hold? I’ll get her right now.”

  CHAPTER 26

  NEENA

  I stood behind William’s boardroom chair, the heavy leather piece pulled away from the conference table, and kneaded the taut muscles in his neck. “That’s it. Inhale slowly and hold.” I counted to three in my head. “Now, exhale as slowly as possible.”

  I found a knot of tension and kneaded it with my thumb, the tight bundle of nerves uncoiling. He finished his exhale and groaned. “God, that feels good.”

  Of course it did. If I had him naked, I’d work over his entire body. He’d be moaning my name and swearing allegiance to me for life. Soon, I promised myself. Soon. I glanced toward the locked boardroom door and wondered how much sound carried outside it.

  “Tilt your head back against the chair.” He obeyed, settling his long frame against the leather, and I placed my hands on top of his head, softly running my fingers through the thick chunks of his hair, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Let the tension leave through your head. Release any stress or fear and send it up to the universe.” I kept the rhythm slow and methodical, giving him just enough and letting him want some more. Lifting my hands from his head, I circled the chair and stopped before him. “Close your eyes.”

  “Always ordering me around . . .” He sounded drugged, and I applauded myself for taking the next step and introducing him to meditation. I’d been working with the team on positive affirmations and the law of attraction—and William, while slow to accept the idea, was gradually coming on board.

  I tugged on his hair gently, and his eyes dragged open. In those dark depths, I could see the need, a fissure of chemistry flaring between us. I reached forward, trailing my fingers down on his lids, a little surprised sparks didn’t fly where my touch landed. His mouth fell slightly open, and I imagined it skimming across my skin, over the new lingerie I was wearing. I picked up his wrist and turned his large hand over in mine, his watch sliding down his wrist. He tensed a little, the cords in his wrist flexing, all senses tuned in to my touch.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” I ordered. “Breathe shallowly. Repeat your mantra.”

  I set his hand down on the high arm of the chair and ran my fingers along the folds and seams of his sleeve, bringing more of his tension out the tips of his arms. “Release your stress through my fingers. Any worries, any fears. Just let them go. Everything is as it should be, and everything will be okay.”

  I repeated the action with his other arm, and there was no tension now, his limbs loose and fluid. His breath slowed, his chest barely moving below the mother-of-pearl buttons on his stiff blue dress shirt. I bumped his knees with mine, opening them. When I gently sat on his right thigh, I watched his face, but there was no response, no objection—another boundary easily crossed when patience was used.

  This morning, I’d dressed for him. A knee-length pencil skirt with a slit on one side. Hosiery that stopped at my upper thigh. A knit sweater that hugged my large breasts.

  I ran my fingertips in soft patterns across his face, tracing the lines of his strong nose, his fierce features, his masculine jaw, the stubble of a missed section of his shave. I moved in small circles across his forehead, wide and gentle strokes over his cheeks, and whisper-soft brushes across his lips.

  His eyes opened, and I could see the flecks of darkness in his brown eyes. Darkness and need. Want fighting with hesitation. I forced my fingers to keep moving, to trace the line of his mouth, to zigzag over the rough texture of his lips.

  “I can’t . . . ,” I whispered, knowing that it would spur him on, give him the challenge, let my unsurety distract him from his own.

  His gaze sharpened, and I felt his hand as it crept off the arm of the chair and curled around my back, bringing me closer to him. “You can.”

  There was a moment of stillness, a pause, our faces close, and then he tugged me forward and I dropped my hands from his mouth and clutched at his shirt, yanking him toward me. Our lips met, crashed, and molded, his tongue giving under mine, his hands tightening on my waist as he deepened the kiss.

  It was everything I wanted and left our first kiss in the dust. Hot and needy, my body grinding into his as I panted against his mouth, my hands fisting along his shirt as I fought his kiss with my own, our chemistry ratcheting up as the heat level in the room increased.

  We jumped apart at the sound, a rapid rap of knuckles against the door. I breathed hard, my lungs expanding as his assistant’s voice rang out, her tone insistent as she called my name.

  The bitch. I pulled away from William and held his gaze, reassuring him with my eye contact as I smoothed my outfit into place. Glancing at the mirror above his credenza, I checked my makeup and hair. Still perfect. Everything in place. I flipped the lock on the door and opened it with a scowl. “Ashley, we still have fifteen—”

  “It’s your husband,” she interrupted me, her features pinched in worry. “He’s hurt.”

  CHAPTER 27

  CAT

  Neena and William arrived at Matt’s house together, her lipstick fresh despite the traumatic news. I watched as they climbed from his car, Neena running past the ambulance to her husband on the stretcher.

  “What happened?” William asked as he approached. He frowned at my wet hair, tsking as he pulled my robe tighter, then wrapped me in his arms.

  “Looks like he was leaning on the railing and it gave way. Deputy Dan is here looking at it. He said Matt’s lucky he landed in the grass. A foot over and he would have hit the pavers.”

  William winced. “Are you okay?”

  “Just chilly.” I rested my head against his chest. “And I had to listen to an earful from Dan over speeding in the neighborhood.”

  “Poor girl,” he chided, planting a kiss on the side of my head. “Troublemaker.”

  “Well, this heroic act should give me some leniency. I told him that.” I looked over my shoulder at our neighborhood security officer, a retired detective who took his job way too seriously. “He’s convinced this is more than an old railing. You know Dan.”

  “Oh yes. Let me guess—insurance-policy scam? Or is he thinking murder attempt?” He laughed. Last year, Dan had been adamant that Mrs. Vanderbilt’s torn window screen had been a foiled home-invasion plot. He’d peppered our mailboxes with best practices to avoid intruders, held a special homeowners’ watch meeting, and doubled our nightly neighborhood patrols. Behind closed doors, we all mused that should a serial killer ever decide to target Atherton’s residents, Dan would spontaneously orgasm at the thought.

  “Murder attempt, I think.” I smiled. “You know . . . young wife, frumpy husband . . . I bet Neena’s got an insurance policy that would leave her comfortable. Add in an affair, and he’ll have all the motive he needs.”

  Was it my imagination, or did he stiffen against me? I looked up in time to catch the uncomfortable look on his face, right before it smoothed into a smile.

  “Cat.” Neena’s steely voice came from behind me, and I turned to see her arms crossed over her balloon ches
t, the toe of one peep-toed stiletto tapping the floor. “Thank you for coming to Matt’s aid. I think we’re good here. I’m sure you’d like to go home and”—her gaze slid distastefully over my thin robe—“get some dry clothes on.”

  “I just want to make sure he’s okay. Thank God he didn’t fall on the pavers.”

  “Yes, we’re all very grateful,” she said tartly.

  “Do you need a ride to the hospital?” My husband stepped forward, and I looked at him in surprise.

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “That would be . . .” She blew out a breath of air, and I watched her closely, curious if there was an actual person under all that plastic. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, William.”

  Thank you, William. As if he would be driving her to the hospital alone.

  “I’ll run back home and change.” I looked at him. “Swing by and pick me up on your way?”

  “Oh, do you mind staying here?” Neena glanced back at the ambulance. “I hate to leave the house open with all these people here. It would be a big help if you could keep an eye on things.”

  My gaze darted between her and him, and my stomach cramped at the idea of them going to the hospital together. It would be hours of one-on-one waiting time, my husband in easy reach of her manicured little claws. “Sure.” I forced a smile. “Anything I can do to help.” I wrapped my arms around William, burrowing into his chest, and rose on my toes, giving him a kiss on the neck. “If you need to get to the office, just let me know. I’ll come up and relieve you.”

  “I love you,” he said gruffly. “Don’t stay out here with that wet hair. Go inside.” He nodded to their house. “You can watch things from there.”

  Neena delivered a stiff smile. “Thank you, Cat. Will, I’ll be in the car when you’re ready.”

  Will? I kept my features mild at the nickname. After all, what was three letters? Pushing my thumb along my ring finger, I touched the diamond, reassuring myself of its presence. She headed for the car, and I met William’s eyes.