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Twelve
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, and frankly, Arlie was grateful for the distraction. Her arrival in the vast convention hall was like a metaphor for what her insides currently felt like. Cavernous, scooped out, full of empty echoes.
Samuel had successfully avoided her entirely since he’d fled from her suite like he was being pursued by a pack of wild dogs.
Not that she could blame him. What had happened between them was disastrous in every way, particularly in light of his revelation about company romances.
But then, Samuel had made it abundantly clear that their having a romance was nowhere in the cards. One life-changing night of the best sex she’d ever had, yes.
Any kind of lasting connection, forget about it.
She hadn’t given herself much time to think about it. Thinking seemed like an extremely dangerous thing to do right now. Her meeting with Taegan was scheduled for this evening, and Arlie intended to disappoint.
And then there was the matter of Mason.
With Samuel conspicuously absent at all the Kane Foods’ meetings and mixers, she’d found herself chatting with Samuel’s carefree twin instead. At each and every event, he’d been nothing but warm, attentive, and ridiculously charming.
Fun. Light and playful.
Everything his brother was not.
At last night’s dinner, he’d offered to come early to keep her company at the booth this morning, where she was tasked with personally curating the displays of Kane Foods’ staggeringly diverse offerings.
She’d been intensely focused, pawing through an entire box of high-fiber cereal to find a handful of perfect flakes, when Mason arrived, paper coffee cups in hand.
“Sustenance,” he said, offering her an easy smile.
Arlie set down her pair of tweezers and gratefully took a cup. Lifting it to her lips, she was surprised when the familiar aroma of her favorite vanilla-cinnamon latte drifted upward. She looked up at Mason. “How did you know?”
He grinned at her, taking a sip from his own cup. “As much as I would love to take credit, I texted Charlotte.”
“Ah,” Arlie said, everything making much more sense. “Charlotte is kind of amazing.”
“She definitely is.” Popping the white lid from his cup, Mason blew the column of steam away from the liquid.
“And kind of a knockout,” Arlie added, stealing a covert glance at him.
“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “If you like that whole naughty librarian kind of thing.”
“Do you?” She hadn’t meant to ask this question. But some irritatingly hopeful part of her had to know if there was a chance that Charlotte’s ridiculously obvious crush on Mason Kane had any hope of being reciprocated.
“Miss Banks,” Mason said, mimicking Samuel’s stiff formality with alarming precision, “I’m not sure that’s an entirely work-appropriate question.”
“Since when has that mattered to you?” Arlie aimed her best “we’re all friends here” conspiratorial smile at him.
“A good point well made, Miss Banks.” He took another sip, glancing around them as if he feared the CIA might be watching. And maybe they were. Arlie wouldn’t put it past Parker Kane. “Charlotte is incredibly capable, obviously lovely, and totally off limits.”
“You forgot completely enamored with you.”
Shit.
She hadn’t meant to say that either.
But the abrupt shift in Mason’s features made it entirely worthwhile. He didn’t seem like a man easily surprised, but this right here was a complete and total revelation.
“Charlotte?” he asked, handsome features an unconvincing mask of feigned surprise. “What makes you think that?”
The fact that he wanted to know spoke volumes. In Arlie’s experience, people only asked this question when they hoped the answer was true.
“Please,” Arlie said. “She can barely look at you.”
“Since when was that an indicator of interest?” Mason swirled the contents of his cup.
“Since shy girls landed on the planet,” Arlie said.
Another dazzling grin. “I never would have guessed.”
“Would you have guessed that she writes romance novels?”
Shit.
Arlie had been sworn to secrecy, and she was flagrantly dishonoring the pact. She wasn’t sure exactly which part of her was hoping for a happy ending for Charlotte when her own was completely out of reach.
“Romance novels?” Mason asked, his eyes keen with interest.
“Yup,” Arlie nodded. “Exceptionally well-written. And very...passionate.”
Mason’s knuckles went white as a fish belly as he lifted the coffee to his mouth. “Speaking of passionate, how was he?”
Arlie coughed, grateful she’d swallowed before latte foam could spray from her lips. “How was who?”
