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"Okay, now let's get to what you two were talking about," Sabrina continued hoar
sely, but without missing a beat. "I heard the recap Dylan gave you. I also heard him bring up Stan. Evidently, you've decided to clue me in on whatever's going on with him. That would be helpful, since I can't get a handle on it without having all the facts. It obviously ties into Whitman and Barton's visit to Pruet's. I'm all ears. And, for the record, I don't need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself. Lastly, if I ever again hear you blame yourself for getting me on board at Ruisseau, I'll put a dead skunk in your desk drawer. That'll mess your nose up for weeks."
A chuckle rumbled in Carson's chest. "I thought it was just your olfactory sense that was heightened. Obviously, your hearing's right up there, too. You managed to catch every detail of two separate, simultaneous conversations. Not bad."
"That doesn't take acute hearing. It takes the training of a management consultant combined with the brains and multitasking abilities of a woman."
"Right." With a look of pure sympathy, Carson gazed at Dylan. "Want some advice? Expect to stay on your toes for life. And when the two of you fight? Don't bother trying to win. Just concede up front, and skip to the making up part."
"Gotcha." Dylan seemed more pleased than intimidated. "That sounds like a damned fine strategy."
"Yoo-hoo," Sabrina interrupted. "We were talking about Stan."
"Right. Stan." All humor vanished, and a worried pucker formed between Carson's brows. "The demands of his job have been a major source of stress for him from the beginning. He wanted to be the best COO imaginable. We've already gone over the reasons why."
"His need to keep up with you, and to please you. Yes, that much I get."
"What you don't get is how far he'd go to make that happen." Carson glanced back at Dylan. "I know it's his own damned fault, but I can't help thinking I pushed him into it."
"How? By being brilliant?" Dylan returned dryly. "Carson, in life we make choices. We also accept our own strengths and our own limitations, along with the fact that others might be smarter or better than we are. Stan can't accept any of that. As for his choices, they suck."
"He's never crossed the line."
"That depends on where you draw it."
"I'm lost again," Sabrina interjected.
Dylan propped his elbow on the arm of the wheelchair and turned to face her. "In a nutshell, Stan stays on top of his game by keeping tabs on the competition's marketing, sales, and research strategies. And I don't mean by reading their press releases. I mean before those strategies are released or implemented."
Sabrina's jaw dropped. "You're saying he's getting inside information? From whom? Which of our competitors are selling out?"
"Just one. Pruet. And it's not as cut-and-dry as selling out. But, yeah, Stan's got an inside contact. He has for twenty years."
"I don't believe this." Sabrina sank down into a chair. "Carson, how can you say that's not crossing a line? That's industrial espionage, for God's sake."
"It would be, if money were being exchanged, and if Stan had actually done anything with the information he got hold of," Carson defended immediately. "But it isn't and he hasn't. All he's done is assuage his insecurities by feeling like he's one step ahead in the fragrance industry."
Dylan grunted. "Let's not make his actions sound so noble. First of all, we limited his opportunities to use anything he learned. And second, even if he'd managed to use his inside information, you're always two steps ahead of the competition. So there was no worthwhile material that would benefit Ruisseau. I shudder to think what would have happened if Etienne Pruet had been half the genius you are."
A muscle worked in Carson's jaw. "I like to think Stan would stop short of using what he knew. He's been a jerk, Dylan, but he cares about me, and he cares about this company. I don't think he'd put it at risk. Besides, the situation's more complicated than that. There are emotions involved."
"Yeah." Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. "Stan's contact is Karen Shepard," he explained to Sabrina. "She's executive assistant to Louis Malleville. And Louis Malleville is..."
"... the head of Pruet's New York division," Sabrina finished for him. "And since there's no money involved, I'm guessing the payoff is sex. Boy, this just keeps getting better and better."
"Stan's crazy about Karen," Carson stated flatly. "On the mornings after he's spent the night at her place, he still acts like a teenager who just had his first lay. Both his marriages broke up because of Karen, whether or not his ex-wives figured it out."
"He told you all this?"
"No." Carson shook his head. "A couple of years after the affair began, I started getting some bad vibes about Stan's frenzy to stay on top of things, his erratic behavior, and his periodic disappearances. I kept an eye on him, and put together a few pieces. Then, I hired a PI. He got me the information I needed about Stan's ties to Karen."
"Yeah," Dylan added dryly. "For obvious reasons, Stan's kept the relationship a secret."
"For twenty years?" Sabrina asked in amazement.
"Yup."
"Great secret. Who else knows about it?"
