Cold fingers curled around Larkin’s forearm.

Her skin jumped from her muscles and suspended around her for a beat before snapping back into place. A scream crawled up her throat and ricocheted around her office. The papers that’d been in her lap scattered around her feet. She gripped the pen in her hand as though it were a ten-inch kitchen knife and whipped toward her assailant.

“Christ Almighty, Larkin!” Marlis’s hands flew high in surrender. Her feet shuffled back several paces. “It’s me.”

“Marlis? Shit! You scared me to death.” Her chair continued to spin. Larkin braced her feet on the floor and breathed.

“I scared you?” Her friend clamped a hand over her heart. Inside it, she clutched a snow kissed beanie. “I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” Larkin set the pen on the table and straightened her capped-sleeve blouse.

“I knocked when I walked in, then I called your name twice. With your chair facing the window and no response or movement.” Marlis shrugged. “It always happens that way in the movies. The hero or heroine turns the chair around and …” Her sweet face crinkled, and her tongue lolled.

Larkin’s head shook, and a smile stretched her mouth.

“Then …” Marlis’s brows shot wide. “I learned the hard way that you weren’t.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Larkin winked.

Marlis chucked her beanie. Larkin caught the thing before it smacked her in the face. “Hey!”

“You earned that.” Marlis pulled the scarf from her neck and peeled off her jacket. “It’s about a hundred degrees in here, Grandma.”

She’d cranked the heat early this morning. When she’d set foot in the office, the place had felt unusually cold and unfeeling. At first, she had chalked it up to being absent the day before, but the longer she sat in her chair, behind the desk from which she ran her world, she realized the cold had been the absence of his warmth.

When she woke that morning, things had been just as she liked them. Her hope had been empty, save for her. The house had been locked up tight. Her day and duties stretched out before her, unfettered from the evening’s activities. The only signs of the fun night before had been the soreness between her legs. As her day progressed, she realized more and more that things were not as she liked them.

Thoughts of him, thoughts of them polluted her mind and disrupted her life. Which was why she hadn’t heard Marlis enter and why she’d yet to review the reports she knew by heart one last time before the board meeting in two hours.

“You’re here early.” Larkin crouched from her seat and scooped up the tech and financial printouts.

“Sweetie, are you okay?”

Larkin stood, laid the stack atop her desk, and looked at Marlis. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I’m five … now seven minutes late for the meeting.” Her friend grabbed her Givenchy from the couch and her pile of fashionable winter gear.

“What?” The hands on her watch confirmed Mar’s story. 5:07 p.m. “No.” She gathered up her papers, laptop, and pen. Why hadn’t she realized the time? “Why didn’t Reagan remind me?”

This was why she didn’t date or do relationships. Men turned perfectly competent women into bumbling idiots with a swing of their smile … and other things. Larkin growled at herself and turned toward the conference room door.

“She’s always standing at her desk, greeting people before the meetings, but she wasn’t out there when I walked past. The main door to the conference room was open, and I could hear Genevieve in there arguing with Cornish about punctuality and appliances, which is why I slipped in here to make myself presentable since I couldn’t help my tardiness at this point.” She said the last with a sneer.

“This is sure to be a lovely evening.” Larkin rolled her eyes and left all thought of Beckett in her private domain. After all, she was about to see the woman she dreaded seeing since Bronson’s welcome home party. What was she supposed to say to the woman who’d overdosed on some mystery drug—she really had to remember to look that up—the last time she’d seen her? Larkin wasn’t a mother and never planned to be, but if she were, she’d never ingest a substance that could potentially take her away from them. And Tarin was the least of her worries.

She shoved into the fighting pit. The room quieted.

“Sorry we’re late. Unforeseen business detained us.” Larkin sat at the head of the table, and Marlis continued past on her left. The silly woman strived for a nonchalant wave at Benjamin Daily as she passed, but the instant redness of her cheeks gave her away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tarin offered in a stage whisper. She didn’t have to whisper. The woman sat to Larkin’s immediate left and leaned so close that if Tarin fell, she’d land in Larkin’s lap. Tarin tapped the massive screen of her mobile phone. Two beautiful children with stunning blue eyes and almost white-blond hair sat on a flannel blanket surrounded by leaves in Central Park. Big sister wrapped her arm protectively around little brother. Their outfits looked more styled than Larkin felt at that moment.

“Wow,” was all she could muster. She was stunned. When Tarin talked about her children, Larkin instinctually pictured two snot-nosed petri dishes with chocolate milk stains around their mouths. She didn’t see all kids that way. Something in the way her colleague spoke about them showed the effort it took to raise humans.

“You gave me time to view the proofs from our fall session. This one is my favorite.” The woman beamed as brightly as she’d ever seen her.

“It’s lovely. Your children are precious.” Larkin smoothed her outfit and straightened in her seat.

“If you don’t mind, I have dinner plans at seven.” Cornish Gleeson leaned both his elbows on a thin leather portfolio. His demeanor read calm and collected. The glint in his eye said smug son of a bitch.

“Of course. I’ve been anxious to hear it since last Tuesday when it was due.” She offered him the floor.

To her right, too close for comfort, Brice Beauregard’s white teeth gleamed. Her only allies in the room sat at the other end of the table, too far to bolster her position.

“I would, but where’s our secretary?” Gleeson shrugged.

Sure enough, Reagan’s post near the door was empty. She pressed the call button for her assistant’s desk. The hollow tone rang through the room, unanswered. Larkin used her phone and called Reagan’s cell. Once again, the call went without a response. Not even the flirty and feminine request to leave a message punctuated the call.

“Benjamin, would you mind taking the minutes for this meeting? The board secretary is unavailable at the moment.” Larkin looked at her phone to ensure she’d tried the correct number.

“I, uh?” He wiggled from his rigid position and looked around the room. “I don’t really know how.” His search continued until it landed on Marlis. “Maybe you’d like to take the minutes?”

Genevieve leaned close to Benjamin but didn’t know how to whisper when offering a killer blow. “Breasts don’t come with a how to cook, clean, and take meeting minutes manual.”

Brice cleared his throat.

“Gen,” Marlis scolded her friend and turned ten shades of red.

“I don’t mind taking the minutes. Just give me one minute to get caught up.” Tarin opened her laptop with a smile and began typing.

“Thank you.” She bit her lips to keep from smiling at Gen’s keen observation and sent Reagan a message while they waited in the cold and conversation-less room.

It wasn’t like her assistant to vanish. Even on the rare sick leave or sick day, she reported in or begged on in the appropriate manner.

“Okay,” Tarin cooed.

“Cornish, the floor is yours.” Larkin bowed.

The old man wrestled his tie and then began a long, laborious talk about tradition and the history of marriage, how it’s changed, and how her company fit into that narrative today. “Your company is a part of a great tradition. It promotes the ideals of the great bond between a man and a woman, and its importance in the perpetuation of the species.”

Clearly, in all the research Cornish blathered about, he hadn’t thought it pertinent to click on even the home page of Duo or Ditto. Had he, he would have seen at the top of the page, in a sort of pick your adventure menu, the options for bride/bride, bride/groom, groom/groom. Had he dug a level deeper, he’d have found the same sort of options for Ditto, only more with gender neutral, gender bent, and so on.

At the far end of the table, Genevieve rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut. Marlis hadn’t even caught the snafu for her staring/not-staring at Benjamin.

When Gleeson said, “And I’ve come to a conclusion,” everyone tuned in to the man’s droning. He looked left and right, pausing for dramatic effect to ensure he held the attention of the room. “If Larkin marries, she’d firm up the company’s position in the global free market.”

“What?” Genevieve shrieked.

“How did everyone else present on facts; economics, tech, finance, the market, and social change, yet you base your decision on Larkin’s marital status?” Marlis pointed a sharp finger at Larkin.

The room ignited. Everyone spoke atop of one another. Brice tried to start in with his “I have a great candidate” speech, but no one listened. Tarin rambled about family and blah, blah, blah. Benjamin wanted to know what was so wrong with Larkin marrying. And her girls, whew, they lit into Gleeson as though he was a crisp, clean kindling.

“People want to trust what they’re buying. They’ll buy burgers from a fat guy. They’ll buy liquor from a drunk,” the man bellowed above the din.

“He has a point.”

The room quieted. Every set of widened eyes centered on her. Larkin stood. They all waited to see if she was really that agreeable to tossing her life to the side in the name of business, or if she’d lost her mind completely. After last night, maybe.

“However, if I were married, I would also open the company to liability. How many companies fold under the weight of scandal or a hard-fought divorce?”

“Not with the right prenup.” Genevieve shook her head and a manicured finger. “Not that I’m agreeing with this shitshow in any way. We don’t live in the forties.”

Benjamin sat forward. “But we live in a time of major weight to public opinion and the reign of social media.”

“I cannot believe you just said that.” Marlis gasped.

“It’s true. Where do people get their news?” Benjamin didn’t wait for an answer. His gaze swung from Mar to her. “Facebook. All it would take is one viral post to bring attention to the fact that you’re not married. They’d sentence you; judge, jury and executioner.”

Gleeson pointed at Tarin. “You’re the only woman among us who has children and a husband.” He shook a finger at Genevieve. “And before you get started, I’m not saying this to be sexist. It’s a fact that Duo and Ditto customers are ninety-eight percent female with the desire to marry or have a child.” He sought Tarin again and waited.

Her mousy blonde hair bobbed.

“Do you care if the person you buy diapers from has a kid?” Gleeson shook his head before he even finished the question. “No, you don’t. It’s an item, a good. Duo and Ditto don’t just sell goods, they sell the ideas.” His gaze searched the room, looking for allies. He gained a nod from all the men in the room. “Now, Tarin, would you listen to advice about your child’s diaper rash from a person who has no children of their own?”

Larkin couldn’t swallow her irritation. “You said it yourself, Duo and Ditto sell the ideas. I don’t give them the ideas. A team of experts in different areas, from licensed and practicing therapists to professional decorators, give their advice. I simply own the companies.”

He didn’t even look in her direction. His beady little eyes bore into Tarin, willing an answer.

“I’ve never thought about it the way you posed the question, Mr. Gleeson.” Tarin toyed with what looked to be a raw cuticle bed. “I suppose, if they were brought to my attention that two companies proposing the ideals of married with children, and one was married with children and the other wasn’t, I’d go with the one who has experience on their side.” The cuticle seeped fresh red.

Larkin’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know if the sick woman’s words had done it or the sight of her blood.

“With the right partner, you could avoid all this hassle.” Brice didn’t move. He didn’t have to fidget or slam fists on tables to gain the ear of the room. They’d all heard loud and clear what he was proposing. Her friends did, at least. Their eyes rolled and mouths pursed.

“Not to get into the same firestorm as our last meeting,” Gleeson strived for a genial tone and fell short, “but it’s worth thinking about. If you go public, everything about you will be scrutinized more closely. Your investors’ money, their livelihoods, and their families will depend on your decision and the consumer’s faith in those decisions.”

She should be spitting mad, but these men were doing what men had been doing for centuries. A sense of peace and calm poured over her. Her mind drifted for the briefest of seconds to Beckett’s hands and the way they played her the night before. One stroke could whip her into a frenzy while another eased every ounce of tension in her body.

Larkin drew a cleansing breath. “Gleeson, thank you for your findings. I will take all your reports into consideration before making my decision.”

Benjamin and Gleeson gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Brice stood, but instead of following his friends out, he headed her way. She rose to meet his gaze, unwilling to have him towering over her.

“When can we expect that decision?”

“Expectations lead to disappointment, Brice. You should live in the moment.” She offered him a smile to take the edge off her words. Who was she kidding? She curled her lips to piss him off.

Brice’s salt and pepper brow dropped the pretense of civility. “That’s all Bronson is trying to do. Live his moments with the woman he loves.”

“Love?” Larkin chuckled. “It sounds a lot like business to me. Good night, Brice. Give Bitsy my regards.” She turned away before he had a chance to respond.

Tarin’s wild eyes and flushed face greeted her immediately. The woman was so close Larkin brushed her shoulder and almost knocked her back a step.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She steadied Tarin.

“No.” The accountant’s small hands waved away the apology. “My husband always says I’m a ghost because I sneak up on him without a sound. It’s my fault. I should make some noise when I approach. Maybe I’ll put a bell around my neck.”

Larkin couldn’t stop the surprise from warping her features.

“Oh, you’re a tried and true New Yorker. You probably don’t know that in the old days, farmers put bells on their animals to help keep track of them.” Tarin’s laugh was high and pitchy. “I’m not really going to put a bell around my neck.”

“Of course not.” She agreed and hoped it showed. Her gaze kept jumping to the girls huddled at the far end of the room in discussion. She wanted in on that conversation, one she knew how to navigate. One that even if she made a pitfall, she wouldn’t feel like an ass about it. “Thank you for taking the minutes. I appreciate that.”

“Words were nice for a change. There are so many numbers in my life.”

“I bet. You take care of some of the biggest accounts in the world. I couldn’t begin to undertake that sort of task.”

Tarin smiled and stared as she worried her cuticle.

“If you would, please email the group a copy of the minutes. Reagan will be back next time to take over the job. I don’t know what’s taken her away, but knowing her, it’s something she couldn’t help.”

“No. I expect not.” Tarin giggled. “She always does such a good job with the minutes and keeping your schedule tight. So tight that drop-ins are frowned upon.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure your schedule is equally busy.” Larkin ignored the bait about Tarin’s pop-in the other day. “I don’t want to keep you any longer. I know your beautiful children will want your attention.”

“Actually, they’re out of town with my husband, visiting his family in Boulder.”

“Oh, no. I hope this meeting didn’t keep you from joining your family.”

“Not at all. His mother did that all on her own.” The snap in Tarin’s voice turned her friends’ heads.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We’ve come to an understanding and an eighteen-hundred-mile boundary between us.” Her smile spoke of malice.

“We have to go.” Genevieve cut through the eerie tension Tarin emitted like odious perfume.

“Can we walk you out?” Marlis grinned at Tarin. Genevieve averted her face, curled her upper lip, and rolled her eyes.

“Actually, I was going to see if you ladies wanted to grab dinner. I made reservations at Blue Ribbon.”

Larkin’s mouth watered for sushi, but her stomach curdled at the thought of her dinner companion. Something was off-setting about Tarin. The face down in a toilet bowl and scaring years off her life was the first demerit, but it was far from the last.

“Can’t,” Genevieve spouted. “I have a date.”

Marlis turned on their friend. “You didn’t think that tidbit deserved top billing?” She gasped. “I mean, you don’t do repeats, and this is a double repeat.”

Gen rubbed a thumb over her lower lip. “When it’s really good …” A moan ended the thought and began many others.

“How about you?” Tarin’s inquiry to Marlis was bubbly almost.

“I have a flight so early tomorrow that it might as well be today.” Marlis shot Larkin an apologetic pouty lip.

The fact that her friend was going to London for a social media convention as the main stage speaker wouldn’t get her out of dinner with Tarin. She’d have to do that herself. “Thank you for the invitation, but I have a lot weighing on my mind right now. I wouldn’t make good company.”

Tarin nodded, sympathetically.

“I’m glad you understand.” Larkin grabbed her things from the table and thanked the stars the woman did the same with her laptop and briefcase. She stepped around Tarin and embraced each of her friends in turn. “Safe travels. Both of you.”

“Always.” Gen winked.

“Uh-huh.” Mar shoved Gen toward the door. “Love you.”

“Love you both.” Larkin waved them off.

Tarin stopped so close to her waving arm she almost smacked the poor woman. “We could order in, and I could try to explain why experience matters.”

Anger burned Larkin’s cheeks. She had plenty of experience in more important areas that pertained to running a business than this woman. The day she needed spit-up-stained blouses and 2.5 liabilities to do what she’d been doing since she was fourteen was the day she’d accept advice from an unstable human. She didn’t need this chick OD-ing on pills in her apartment.

“Good night, Tarin.” Larkin turned and headed for her office. Tarin could see herself out of the conference room or order her meal and take it in there for all she cared.

Her phone vibrated from on top of the pile in her arms. She scooped it up and answered without looking at the screen.

“Babe, I’m sorry about the other night. Forgive me?” Bronson’s boisterous, most likely drunk, voice nearly exploded her eardrum. She’d expected Reagan to be on the other end of the line, not her childhood friend turned unfortunate Romeo.

“Don’t be. I’m not sorry. I had a great time”—minus the Tarin incident— “and it ended just how it was meant to.” Larkin shoved into her office and locked the door behind her to eliminate any further Tarin incidents.

“Nonsense. Let me make it up to you.”

“No need.” She dropped her worldly wares on the top of her desk and didn’t look twice at them before heading for her private staircase.

“I want to take you on a proper date. You know, without the thousands of people. Just you and me.”

Larkin was the only one in the staircase, and usually, she liked it that way, but tonight, the closer she got to her apartment, the deeper her appetite became. She didn’t hunger for food. She didn’t care for a friendship turned business fling or finance.

“I don’t date friends.” She shoved through the apartment-level door and past her own to the mouth of the ladder she’d fallen down more than a week ago.

“Then I’m not your friend,” Bronson rebuffed.

A chuckle shook her throat. “You pulled that crap when we were ten. You wanted my Gameboy, and I wouldn’t hand it over. It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.” She ended the call and slipped her phone in her pants pocket. “Good night, Bronson.”