Wicked Games. Alison Kent

of soda, then transferred another slice of pizza from the raised serving pan in the center of the table to her now empty plate.

      She dived right back in. “But I can guarantee you the man will be in the office all weekend long. One day his work habits will be part of a case study on burnout, I swear.”

      Watching Lauren attack her food, gIRL-gEAR CEO Sydney Ford frowned. “Uh, Lauren? You’re not eating for two, are you?”

      Lauren rolled her eyes, but barely looked up from her plate to do so. “Ha. No. I’m not pregnant. I’m starving. Anton and I argued over bedroom furniture until the store closed at ten. I wasn’t in any mood to eat when we got home, so I went straight to bed.”

      “And this morning?” Sydney blotted her lips with her white linen napkin. “Don’t tell me you were still arguing at breakfast.”

      “Actually, no. We were making up.” Lauren didn’t even stop eating to blush. “I hardly had time to get to work, much less eat.”

      “I think I’m going to be sick,” Kinsey said. Her stomach rolled; her face felt clammy, as did the palms of her hands. This true love stuff was disgusting.

      And now Doug was leaving Houston for parts unknown. Okay. For Denver.

      Arching one dark brow, Poe studied Kinsey’s plate. “You don’t like your salad?”

      “I don’t think it’s her salad.” Sydney ran a finger around the rim of her iced tea glass, a far too intuitive smile lighting up her face. “I think it’s Lauren’s news.”

      “What?” Lauren finally stopped eating long enough to glower at her tablemates. “My fighting and making up with Anton is sickening?”

      It was, but that was the least of Kinsey’s trouble.

      She glanced from Lauren to Sydney to Poe, all the while feeling as if she’d left her body and was looking down at herself and the other three gIRL-gEAR partners. The four of them sat around one end of the conference room table.

      The three remaining original partners—Poe having joined the firm only last year—had taken the afternoon off to spend a long Columbus Day weekend with their respective significant others.

      Macy Webb and Leo Redding were busy moving the rest of her furniture out of the loft she’d once shared with Lauren in preparation for Poe to move in, while Chloe Zuniga and Eric Haydon were off for a weekend trip with Melanie Craine and Jacob Faulkner.

      Kinsey almost needed a scorecard, so much had happened this last year: Sydney, Macy, Chloe and Mel finding their soul mates. Lauren finally marrying hers. Poe coming into the company as a full partner, taking over Chloe’s product lines, while she and Rennie Faulkner, Jacob’s sister and soon to be Melanie’s sister-in-law, launched the gUIDANCE gIRL mentoring program.

      And what had Kinsey done? Waste the sixteen months since last year’s trip to an island paradise—a vacation during which she’d gotten to know Doug Storey intimately—twiddling her thumbs.

      She and Doug had dated off and on. Nothing serious. Dinners and movies and ball games and concerts. Neville and Storey functions; gIRL-gEAR soirees. She’d thought he would always be around. She’d never imagined he’d move out of town.

      Or leave her.

      Now what was she supposed to do?

      Poe offered her clearly expert opinion on Kinsey’s sudden illness. “No, Lauren. Not the fighting-and-making-up news. The news of Doug’s abandonment. Kinsey just realized she’s about to lose a friend with convenient and sizable options.”

      “Pfft. Doug and I are friends, yes,” Kinsey said. “But I don’t know a thing about the size of his, uh, options.”

      Poe returned her teacup to her saucer and laced her fingers together along the table’s edge. “Wait a minute. You’re saying you haven’t slept with him?”

      “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I have not slept with him.” Emphasizing the word slept saved her from telling a lie.

      “Even last year on Coconut Caye?” Sydney asked. “Like maybe late one night on the first-floor veranda?”

      Kinsey shook her head. She wouldn’t call what she and Doug had done on the veranda that night sleeping. No bed had been involved. No postcoital cuddling. Besides, they’d been drunk and that meant it didn’t count.

      Or so she’d been telling herself for sixteen months.

      Neither of them had spoken of the incident again. And as much as she enjoyed her girlfriends’ kiss-and-tell bonding, she couldn’t bring herself to reveal the things that had happened that night.

      Or how she felt about Doug.

      Especially since she wasn’t quite sure what that was. “Doug and I are friends. That’s all. I haven’t even kissed him but once or twice since last summer.”

      Three women turned their full attention on Kinsey. Two sets of blue eyes and one of brown prodded and probed and drilled. Brows up, brows down, brows level.

      “What? What? What do you expect me to do? I’m not a first-move kinda girl. Besides, he’s always got work on the brain.” Kinsey was not going to put in any serious pursuit time only to end up an after-thought—after work, after business, after meetings, after deals.

      No sirree bub. Once she settled down, it was home and hearth all the way. Dinner on the table at six. Kids’ homework done by seven. Bedtime no later than eight. Cuddled up to the hubby by ten. Hmm. Okay. She was getting a bit ahead of herself here.

      “So, give him something else to think about.” Lauren waved her fork, then stabbed again at her pizza.

      “Yes,” Poe added. “Change his mind.”

      “About moving? How am I supposed to do that?” And did she even want to do that?

      “Tell him how you feel.” This advice from Sydney.

      Good advice if Kinsey had a clue as to how she did feel—besides panicked and sick.

      “No.” With a vigorous shake of her head, Lauren shared a kernel of her wisdom. “Show him how you feel.”

      Kinsey moved her gaze from one woman to the other to the next. “You’re talking about sex.”

      Poe folded her used napkin into a precise square and placed it in the center of her plate. “Aren’t we always talking about sex?”

      Feeling suddenly bullied, Kinsey crossed her arms. “You’re only talking about it because you’re not getting any.”

      “Is that so?” Poe replied, her dark eyes giving nothing away.

      Calm. Calm and collected. Deep breath. In and out. Ohhmmm. Kinsey slumped back in her chair. Her usual ability to relax and blow off stress wasn’t working. She had a feeling nothing was going to work this time.

      She hadn’t been looking where she was going and had stepped off into a big pile of emotional poo. Ask her a month ago, and she’d never have believed it possible that what she’d thought was friendship was actually more.

      But with the specter of Doug’s departure hanging over her head…

      She blew out a frustrated breath. “So, what do I do?”

      Sydney looked to Lauren, Lauren to Poe, Poe back to Sydney, then all three turned their attention on Kinsey. Sydney was the one who finally spoke. “I think we need to put a few of the Web site’s gIRL gUIDE tips into play.”

      Kinsey closed her eyes, shook her head. This was exactly the reason she kept her private life private. Glancing around at her girlfriends, she said, “I’d really rather not become a gIRL-gEAR project.”

      Puffing up her cheeks so she looked like Dizzy Gillespie, Lauren pushed away her plate and scooted her chair back from the table. “Get over it, Kinsey. The rest of us have had to put