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She gave him a ghost of a smile.
Tague’s gut coiled. He understood her dilemma. Had her story down pat.
She’d suffered a bad breakup. So she’d played it safe with her good friend Meg. But that hadn’t been the right answer. Then she’d met Tague. And was obviously caught off-guard by the blazing chemistry that she hadn’t even been searching for, if for no other reason than she’d expressed her focus was solely on her career.
He could relate.
Not just because of the sting of betrayal from Renee—okay, a knife to the heart that had cut deep when he was much younger. But also because of his plans for relocating to Japan.
He’d already set the stage for the multinational co-branding and partnership structuring needed to further collaborate with local attorneys and operate on more than an ad-hoc basis in the country. It wouldn’t be a snap of the fingers to set up the new office, which he’d run, but the foundation was now in place.
In addition to the fascinating work that filled Tague’s overactive mind, putting an entire ocean between him and his family—their nonstop drama and meddling, to be specific—held great appeal. The Tokyo branch of the firm would be his legacy. A significant contribution to the Mason dynasty, sure. But under his governance, his vision.
Which made getting involved with Loralai/L.L. Branson a complicated endeavor.
So, yes. He could understand why Loralai was so thrown off-kilter she needed a little perspective in the form of her tried and true best friend.
He asked Meg, “How and when did the two of you meet?”
“UCLA, Loralai’s freshman year,” she said. “I’m two years older.”
“Meg is Bel-Air royalty. And a brilliant businesswoman.”
“I can see that.” He gave a slight nod. “I’m impressed with what you’ve established here.”
“Thank you,” Meg said. She sipped, then added, “I suspect Loralai told you we were once more than just friends?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“And,” Meg deduced, “she wants you to see that we’re not intimate with each other anymore.”
“Perhaps not physically,” Tague mused. “But there’s no mistaking a bond still exists between you. I’m sure it always will.”
Loralai told him, “I don’t want it to be a problem. You knowing my somewhat skewed sexuality. The way you wanted to delineate it earlier.”
“Point taken. And I’m glad your friendship remained intact.”
“We’re like sisters now,” Meg offered. “And colleagues. Loralai assists with the clientele here. She knows a lot of celebrities and international VIPs. She helped to decorate the place and build my list of distinguished members.” Meg raised the crystal flute to her and added, “For which I am forever indebted.”
“You’ve helped me, too,” Loralai reminded her.
Apparently, Meg had gotten her through her darkest days.
Tague finished his champagne, stood and returned the glass to the wet bar.
To Meg, he said, “Thanks for the drink. And for setting the record straight.” He glanced over at Loralai. “Walk me out.”
She told Meg, “I’ll be back.”
Meg smiled. “Don’t rush on my account.”
12
They passed through the doorway and into the empty, softly lit corridor. Jazz music drifted up to greet them. They headed to the staircase, but Tague placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her into a shadowy corner. He pressed his body to Loralai’s.
His extremely hard and powerful body.
“I got the hint,” he said. “You have a past. I have a past. We should both precede with caution.”
