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“Nope,” Julie said happily, taking a sip of her red wine. “You instructed us never to speak of that. We all nodded and crossed our fingers behind our backs.”
Emma was the newest member of the Love and Relationships group and had done a damn fine job of hiding the fact that she’d once been engaged to the very luscious, very sexy editor in chief of Stiletto’s brother magazine.
Oxford was to men as Stiletto was to women, and with Alex Cassidy recently taking over the reins, the magazine’s readership had exploded.
Had it not been for the fact that Mitchell Forbes did a lot more listening than talking (a bonus, considering he was planning to marry Julie), they’d never have learned that the oh-so-perfect Emma had a not-so-perfect past. But thanks to Mitchell’s unintentional espionage, they’d recently learned that Emma’s closet wasn’t without skeletons.
However, despite a failed engagement being the ultimate in girl-talk fodder, they’d had a heck of a time getting Emma to discuss it.
But they would. Because it’s water under the bridge did not count as an answer.
Not when it came to friends.
Or the deliciousness that was Alex Cassidy.
There was an awkward tapping of the microphone, and after exchanging a look of resignation, the three women slowly turned to face the front of the room, where their boss had climbed onto some sort of box and was teetering dangerously.
“Here we go,” Grace said, appearing at their side and completing their foursome. “What do you think we’re dealing with here? Do you think she’s going to have the entire issue printed on gold-leaf paper? Or maybe every headline will contain the word fifty. ‘The Fifty Best Beauty Products of All Time.’ ‘Fifty Things to Do Before You’re Fifty.’ ‘Fifty Shoes That Will Never Go Out of Style’ …”
“ ‘Fifty Sexy Positions You’ve Never Heard Of,’ ” Riley supplied.
Grace paused. “Fifty? Really?”
Riley gave her a knowing glance. The one that said, I know things about sex that mortals can’t even fathom. It was a look she’d perfected early on in her career at Stiletto when she was trying to brand herself in a way that would make her indispensable to the magazine.
She’d succeeded.
Riley hadn’t always been the “sex girl.” Once she’d simply been just another “go-to” girl, filling in wherever needed. “Understanding SPF,” “Dealing with Catty Coworkers,” “Mastering Hot Yoga” …
And then Robyn Kessler’s husband had gotten a job in Houston, and there was a very crucial spot open in the Relationships department. By then Julie and Riley had become fast friends, and since Julie worked the sex/love beat, Riley had gotten first dibs on the vacant article slot: “Ten Things He’s Really Thinking in Bed.”
It had been easier than she imagined.
Having two brothers close in age had given Riley easy access to a data pool, and she’d supplemented her own network of men with flirty interviews with strangers in bars.
She’d been a hit in more ways than one.
Whereas Robyn’s sex-related articles had been matter-of-fact and borderline clinical, Riley had infused a candid woman-to-woman element that resonated with readers. So she’d gotten another sex assignment. Then another.
And when everyone assumed her candor was the result of an unabashed sex life, she sure as heck hadn’t corrected them.
In this case, the lie was a hell of a lot easier than the truth.
Within three months, Riley went from floater to a regular Love and Relationships columnist along with Julie. Grace joined the department soon after, and within a year, they’d not only become the golden girls of the magazine, they’d become the It girls of the city.
Since then, Riley’s reputation as the “sexy” one of the group had expanded. Alas, her actual experience had not.
Up until now, being a fraud hadn’t bothered her. Much. But something had been shifting in recent months. Part of it was due to Julie and Grace having recently laid themselves bare for the sake of a story—and for the sake of love.
But the other part was a bit more … physical. Riley’s sex drive seemed to be shaking off the cobwebs of disuse. And it was demanding some attention now.
As if it wasn’t enough that her loins were betraying her, she was also starting to feel guilty about the whole thing. Guilty about misleading her readers, certainly, although she didn’t owe them anything other than good sex advice, and that’s what they got.
But far worse, she was guilty of lying to her friends, and Riley was fresh out of ways to justify that.
She jolted a little as everyone around her clapped, and she gave a polite little clap of her own to hide the fact that she’d been daydreaming and had missed most of Camille’s speech thus far.
Riley forced herself to tune in to her boss’s rambli
