Heated Moments. Phyllis Bourne

she remembered, when it came to Espresso, their late mother and company founder, Selina Sinclair Gray, could be downright brutal.

      Cole wasn’t finished. “Then, following that hotel incident where you were kicked out after throwing a wild party and trashing their suite, I specifically cautioned you to stay out of trouble, but instead of heeding my warning you made news again. What was it this time?” He turned to his secretary, who was all too eager to supply him with an answer. “That’s right, last week an airplane en route to Nashville from Los Angeles had to make a pit stop in Denver, so you could be hauled off it for allegedly assaulting a fellow passenger.”

      “B-but—” Lola began.

      Again, her brother barely let her utter a word in her own defense. “Do you know how embarrassing it was for Espresso to have its top representative escorted off an airplane by security? Cell-phone videos of it went viral. You’re still all over the internet, dragging our company down with you.”

      His secretary held up her tablet computer. “Lola’s airline fiasco is currently trending higher on social media than those reality-show sisters with the big behinds,” she said.

      Lola rolled her eyes. So much for hoping the hubbub would die down. The wisecracks about her on celebrity gossip websites and YouTube snippets replayed in her head. Even worse, tabloid television shows had run different cell-phone videos of the same incident every night since it happened, adding horrid titles such as Espresso Diva’s Mile High Tantrum and Pretty Ugly: Lola Attacks Man over Smelly Feet.

      Of course, there had been no video footage of the uncouth passenger in the row behind her resting his bare feet atop the seat—and the head—of the elderly gentleman sitting beside her.

      Lola exhaled. Contrary to what Cole believed, she had taken his warning seriously, and she had really, really tried not to intervene, knowing the last thing she needed was more trouble.

      She’d white-knuckled the armrests as the jerk behind them blatantly disregarded the flight attendant’s repeated requests to put his feet on the floor where they belonged. “It’s none of your business.” Lola remembered muttering the words under her breath almost like a mantra.

      However, when her senior-citizen seatmate’s polite pleas were met with the oaf behind them laughing and wiggling his toes, impulse took over. She’d jumped from her seat and shoved the offending feet off the elderly man’s chair, earning the grandfather’s heartfelt gratitude and the applause of everyone in the first-class cabin.

      Unfortunately, the moment the lout had caught sight of her famous face he’d immediately yelped in pain and crumpled into the fetal position.

      The upshot: they were both escorted off the plane. Lola was flanked by security, while the rude passenger, who claimed she’d beaten him senseless, was hauled away in a wheelchair, his contrived moans and groans echoing in the air.

      “Your behavior was unacceptable,” Cole said.

      “But they got the story all wrong,” Lola said. By the time airport security got to the truth and released her with an apology, the strangers taking videos on their cell phones were long gone. “I was simply helping a fellow passenger.”

      Tia shook her head. Lola saw her father stifle a yawn with his fist, and her brother-in-law took a surreptitious glance at his watch.

      “You also helped yourself right out of representing Espresso,” Cole said.

      “Under the circumstances, any of you would have reacted the exact same way,” Lola countered. “Only no one else would be painted as a volatile diva or have to stand here pleading for their job.” Nor would they have to dodge tabloid television reporters trying to goad them into saying or doing something stupid.

      Cole rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair. He met her gaze, and for a moment, Lola thought she’d actually gotten through to him.

      “My decision stands,” he said finally.

      “B-but—”

      “The subject is closed.”

      “So where does this leave me?” Years of practice kept her posture ramrod straight, but Lola couldn’t control the telltale quiver in her voice as she looked around the table. “Or did you all go behind my back and vote me out of this family, too?”

      “Of course not, baby girl.” Her father’s face, which like Cole’s had been uncharacteristically hard, softened with his tone.

      “You know better,” Tia said.

      Lola raised a brow. “Do I?”

      Cole cleared his throat, loudly. “We discussed this earlier,” he said, his words aimed at Tia and their father. “Lola’s not a child anymore. She’s a twenty-five-year-old woman.” He continued as if she wasn’t standing right in front of them. “And these situations, incidents, or whatever you want to call the messes her impulsiveness constantly gets her into, are bad for business.”

      Realization dawned as Lola studied her siblings, who had both married over the past year and a half, and their spouses.

      “Oh, now I see where this is going.” Maybe she hadn’t been booted from the family yet, Lola thought, but they were definitely ganging up on her. She pointed at her sister and brother-in-law. “First, there’s you two, who are so in sync you finish each other’s sentences.” Then she turned to her brother and Sage. “Next we have the two of you, who are so much alike, it’s downright scary.”

      Cole huffed out an impatient sigh. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

      “It appears I’m the odd man out, in this family as well as this company.”

      Her brother frowned. “Look, we have a lot of Espresso business to cover, including our plans for the building, dealing with competition from Force Cosmetics and future ad campaigns for Freddy,” he said. “So either have a seat and put that marketing degree you earned online to work, or stop holding us up with this ridiculousness.”

      “R-ridiculousness?” she stammered.

      Ignoring her protests, Cole signaled his secretary who announced the next item on the meeting agenda.

      A discussion about the future of Espresso’s aging building ensued. Meanwhile, Lola stood frozen, dazed from the callousness of her so-called loved ones. They’d actually pulled the plug on her career, she thought. A career that had already been on life support.

      The New York City–based talent agency Lola had hired to field offers outside of Espresso hadn’t taken her calls since the amateur videos of the airplane incident became social-media fodder. Not that they had presented her with a job she’d actually consider.

      Lola wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when the sound of Cole calling her name yanked her out of her own head.

      “Well, are you going to just pose like a mannequin, or help us strategize next year’s ad campaigns for your replacement?” he asked.

      She blinked. After leading their family’s underhanded coup, her brother had the unmitigated gall to expect her help. There was no way in hell she’d take him up on his offer. She opened her mouth to tell him so.

       Don’t be hasty.

      A warning from her inner voice, the same one that tried so hard to keep her impulsiveness and tendency to say exactly what was on her mind from getting her into trouble, made Lola hesitate.

       You may not like it, but it’s the best offer you’ve had in months.

      Lola recalled the proposed gigs the talent agency had called with, and cringed. But how could she even consider her family’s offer after the way they’d all treated her this morning, not to mention the humiliation of being replaced by a drag queen?

       Swallow your pride and take the job!

      “We’re all eager to hear your thoughts,” her sister said