uncomfortably under the intense gaze. Finally, a smile spread across Clarice’s artificially unwrinkled face. “There’s a man, isn’t there?”
“I— Pardon me? Where?” Emma blinked, completely adrift with the change in topic. The CEO leaned her hip against Emma’s desk. Emma stared, trying to remember if Clarice had ever come this far into her office before. The last time might well have been on her first day at Picture Perfect.
“There’s been something”—Clarice waved a hand vaguely around Emma’s head—“different about you lately. You’re on edge. It’s been driving me batty trying to figure out why. But just now, you had a sparkle in your eye, which I remember well. There’s a man in your life. No wonder you’re on edge. Love will do that to you.”
Emma shook her head so emphatically that several strands of hair slid from her chignon. “No. No! There’s no man. I’ve just been . . . .” She snapped her mouth shut, alarmed at the words about to spill out of her mouth. ‘Planning a heist’ was not a good explanation. She cleared her throat and began again, slowly. “I’ve just been fighting with my brother. That’s all. You know how siblings are.”
The corners of Clarice’s mouth twitched downward microscopically in what Emma assumed was a frown.
“No, I don’t. I’m an only child.”
Emma laughed nervously. “Oh, well, lucky you. They’re a pain!”
“You’re sure?” Clarice asked.
“Very. There’s no man.” Josh is a man , the snide little voice piped up. Emma snuffed it. Yes, technically, in the anatomical sense, Joshua Owens was a man, (not that she’d ever contemplated his anatomy). And yes, technically, he was in her life. But he wasn’t a man in her life. Not like that.
Clarice straightened and moved swiftly to the office door. “That’s a shame. You’re young, Emma, for all you like to act older. And it’s been a while since your last date. Unless you’re having some secret affair?” Clarice’s eyes twinkled. Emma felt heat sting her cheeks.
“No secret affairs either. Sorry to disappoint.”
Her boss made a soft tsk-ing noise. “It’s not me you’re disappointing, sweetie. I just hate to see your youth going to waste. Think about it, hmm?” Clarice’s lips tugged upward a bit, and then she glided out of the office.
Emma stared at the door long after her boss had exited, wondering where that had come from. Clarice was hardly the maternal type, and their relationship had always been strictly professional: cordial, but nothing beyond that. Certainly not anywhere near the level of personal information they’d just shared. They only ever talked about work, and hardly even that, with Clarice being out of the office so often recently.
She shook off the strange encounter, chalking it up to an odd moment of attempted camaraderie on the part of her boss. She pulled the browser window back up and gazed at an elaborate lace mask. It was shaped like a black lace butterfly and covered the model from mid-forehead almost down to her chin. Beneath the black lace was ruby red satin. Only the wearer’s eyes and mouth would be visible. It was simple, but very alluring.
Josh had suggested they provide some extra masks, should guests need them. Apparently, that was customary at a masquerade. She could order this one to show to him, to verify the quality before they ordered more. It looked very lovely, but it could be poorly crafted. It was hard to tell online, and they’d never dealt with this retailer before.
Satisfied she had a totally legitimate reason to purchase the mask, Emma added it to her virtual cart and placed the order. She locked the door on the voice in her head, which was asking why she’d purchased the mask with her personal credit card and not a company account and pointing out that Picture Perfect had verified suppliers who provided the same type of costumes.
She wasn’t
“I— Pardon me? Where?” Emma blinked, completely adrift with the change in topic. The CEO leaned her hip against Emma’s desk. Emma stared, trying to remember if Clarice had ever come this far into her office before. The last time might well have been on her first day at Picture Perfect.
“There’s been something”—Clarice waved a hand vaguely around Emma’s head—“different about you lately. You’re on edge. It’s been driving me batty trying to figure out why. But just now, you had a sparkle in your eye, which I remember well. There’s a man in your life. No wonder you’re on edge. Love will do that to you.”
Emma shook her head so emphatically that several strands of hair slid from her chignon. “No. No! There’s no man. I’ve just been . . . .” She snapped her mouth shut, alarmed at the words about to spill out of her mouth. ‘Planning a heist’ was not a good explanation. She cleared her throat and began again, slowly. “I’ve just been fighting with my brother. That’s all. You know how siblings are.”
The corners of Clarice’s mouth twitched downward microscopically in what Emma assumed was a frown.
“No, I don’t. I’m an only child.”
Emma laughed nervously. “Oh, well, lucky you. They’re a pain!”
“You’re sure?” Clarice asked.
“Very. There’s no man.” Josh is a man , the snide little voice piped up. Emma snuffed it. Yes, technically, in the anatomical sense, Joshua Owens was a man, (not that she’d ever contemplated his anatomy). And yes, technically, he was in her life. But he wasn’t a man in her life. Not like that.
Clarice straightened and moved swiftly to the office door. “That’s a shame. You’re young, Emma, for all you like to act older. And it’s been a while since your last date. Unless you’re having some secret affair?” Clarice’s eyes twinkled. Emma felt heat sting her cheeks.
“No secret affairs either. Sorry to disappoint.”
Her boss made a soft tsk-ing noise. “It’s not me you’re disappointing, sweetie. I just hate to see your youth going to waste. Think about it, hmm?” Clarice’s lips tugged upward a bit, and then she glided out of the office.
Emma stared at the door long after her boss had exited, wondering where that had come from. Clarice was hardly the maternal type, and their relationship had always been strictly professional: cordial, but nothing beyond that. Certainly not anywhere near the level of personal information they’d just shared. They only ever talked about work, and hardly even that, with Clarice being out of the office so often recently.
She shook off the strange encounter, chalking it up to an odd moment of attempted camaraderie on the part of her boss. She pulled the browser window back up and gazed at an elaborate lace mask. It was shaped like a black lace butterfly and covered the model from mid-forehead almost down to her chin. Beneath the black lace was ruby red satin. Only the wearer’s eyes and mouth would be visible. It was simple, but very alluring.
Josh had suggested they provide some extra masks, should guests need them. Apparently, that was customary at a masquerade. She could order this one to show to him, to verify the quality before they ordered more. It looked very lovely, but it could be poorly crafted. It was hard to tell online, and they’d never dealt with this retailer before.
Satisfied she had a totally legitimate reason to purchase the mask, Emma added it to her virtual cart and placed the order. She locked the door on the voice in her head, which was asking why she’d purchased the mask with her personal credit card and not a company account and pointing out that Picture Perfect had verified suppliers who provided the same type of costumes.
She wasn’t
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