Private Confessions. Lori Borrill

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Private Confessions - Lori Borrill Mills & Boon Blaze

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and folded them across her chest. “How many strikes is that against me?”

      Adrienne scoffed. “Oh, you think you know everything. The guy dated a few bimbos after his divorce and you think you’ve nailed his love life. Trust me. Logan prefers women with brains.”

      “Sure. That Carmella Beal had quite the pair of brains. What was that she said at the awards banquet?” Trisha fluttered her eyelashes and took on a breathy tone. “‘I just love the beach. It’s so close to the ocean.’” Through Adrienne’s giggles, she added, “Someone should embroider that one on a pillow.”

      “Okay, so Carmella was pretty dim, but if you’ve noticed, we haven’t seen her since.”

      Trisha snorted. “She’s no doubt teaching a class in physics at MIT.”

      “Oh, now you’re just being mean.”

      “I am not. Believe me. Any woman who can stand erect with three-inch stilettos and double-D breasts deserves a degree in engineering.”

      “Logan was mortified.”

      “He should have been. She made him look like a complete ass.” She huffed and shook her head. “He’s so much better than that.”

      “Of course he is. We all know that was just a phase he went through after the divorce.”

      “Have you ever seen him with anyone normal?”

      “No one has seen him with anyone at all in the last six months. I think he’s given up on women.”

      “Well, there you have it. He gathered his jacks and went home.” She thought for a moment and sighed. “No, I’m not going to risk my reputation by chasing after the boss. Sure, maybe if I thought he was interested, but Ade, the man’s never so much as winked. I can’t jeopardize our relationship by making a pass that’s not wanted. It’s not worth it.”

      She picked up her pen and resumed jotting down notes for the meeting. Despite Adrienne’s silly notions about her and Logan, the woman had managed to calm her nerves for the moment.

      “Bill thinks you two are perfect for each other.”

      A stab of fear stopped Trisha’s heart. “You promised me you wouldn’t breathe a word of this to Bill.”

      Adrienne had been dating Bill Jeffries, Logan’s Vice President of Products and best friend, for nearly four months. Though Trisha had early reservations about the office romance, she had to admit, the two were cute as kittens together. They both had sandy-blond hair, dark eyes and matching sets of dimples that made them look as if they were born to be together. And the fact that they were still giddy lovers after four months left Trisha feeling as though they might be the real deal.

      But no matter how well Adrienne’s office romance was going, Trisha didn’t share that same freedom when it came to Logan. Adrienne didn’t report to Bill, which made them simply coworkers. Trisha, on the other hand, had her eyes set on her boss and though there wasn’t a policy against office romance, dating a direct superior definitely treaded on shaky ground.

      Adrienne breathed a sigh of frustration and sank back in her seat. “I’ve told you a dozen times, Logan and Cyber Man are between you and me.”

      “I mean it, Ade. A word of this gets to Logan and I’m sending an e-mail to everyone in the office telling them your real name.”

      Though Adrienne hadn’t shed her Birkenstocks and ankle-length skirts, there were two things about her hippie, Free Age upbringing she didn’t want spread around the office. One was her parents’ radical political views, which included their notion that the Moore Agency was in the business of brainwashing the public to further corporate greed.

      The second was her real name, Hummingbird Eucalyptus, after her mother’s second-favorite bird and tree. Her older sister, Robin Willow, had been given the first choice, leaving Adrienne with a name she’d quickly found ridiculous once she’d graduated from her co-op schools and entered the real world.

      Trisha rarely threatened Adrienne with their secrets, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

      “I swear, Bill came up with the idea on his own.”

      Trisha’s pulse resumed ever so slightly. “What did you tell him?”

      “I told him I agree, but that it’s up to you and Logan. I’ve done the matchmaker thing before and I swore I’d never do it again.” She crossed a hand over her chest. “Honest to God.”

      Trisha studied her friend, looking for a twitch, a blink or a flinch that would tell her Adrienne was lying.

      Nothing.

      Her breathing resumed. “Thank you.”

      “Listen, if you aren’t going to go for Logan, you need to move on with your love life. You can have practically any man you want. Why you’re talking dirty on the Internet with this stranger is beyond me. You have to know he’s a pimply teenaged kid.”

      Trisha smirked. “Or a toothless rodeo clown.”

      “Don’t you know you’re better than that?” Adrienne sighed. “Come on, sweetie, you deserve a real man. I don’t know why you dumped Hal. That guy was hot.”

      “Ha! Harley Hal? Leather chaps aren’t my style.”

      “Trish, the guy was hot and he adored you.”

      “He wanted me to get a tattoo.” Trisha shook her head. “I’ll never be anyone’s motorcycle mamma.”

      “What about Phil? What was wrong with him?”

      Trisha’s expression went blank as she stared at Adrienne for an extended beat. “He’s never had a job.”

      “He’s in med school.”

      “He’s a thirty-four-year-old professional student. He already has a law degree but does he try for the bar? No. He decides to go into medicine. I swear. He’ll never amount to anything. He just stays in school so his parents will keep supporting him.”

      “His parents are filthy rich, which means he’s filthy rich. What does it matter? You certainly wouldn’t end up in poverty.”

      “I have no respect for a man who doesn’t attempt to make his own way through life.”

      Adrienne sat back in her seat and let out a long huff. “Well, you’ve got to do something. Using a pimply kid to fantasize about Logan isn’t getting you anywhere. You’re just going to give yourself a nervous break-down.” She gave Trisha the once-over. “Look at you, you’re a mess,” she added, pulling the pad of notes from the desk and pointing to the last few entries. “You’ve written the same sentence three times. Are you planning to stutter?”

      “I’m just a little distracted.”

      “Because of Cyber Man.”

      “No,” Trisha declared, but the tone didn’t sound at all convincing.

      Adrienne tossed the notes back to Trisha. “Cyber Man is a pimply teenager.

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