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it on, noticing that Janet crossed her arms as soon as her hands were free.

“So, uh, that’s how you change a tire,” Wendy said. She went to get the flat tire, although her eyes kept darting back to Janet as if she’d stop crossing her arms in disapproval. She did not. “Now you know, in case you drive over any more pikes…maces…morning stars…” Stop naming medieval weaponry.

“I could just call you,” Janet said. Brutal, brutal sarcasm.

Wendy tossed the flat tire into the trunk along with the jack and lug wrench. She gave a friendly nod to Janet, who nodded back to her with great tolerance, and nearly ran to her motorcycle. It was parked in the same damn row, so Janet got to watch as she straddled it like a Level 9000 Gay. Wendy put on her helmet and instantly went blind. Backwards. She took it off, turned it around, put it on again. When she started the Triumph, the engine roared like it was the fucking Batmobile. Cool at any other time, not so much while Janet was still staring at her with her arms crossed.

Probably worried I’ll try to mug her, driving around like I’m in a biker gang. Wendy ripped the throttle, and even if the tires squealed as she took off, it was worth it to get out of there as soon as possible. It didn’t take her long to realize she could’ve offered Janet a ride. Janet Lace, pressed into her back, arms around her waist, the wind in their hair…might’ve been slightly more romantic than watching Mrs. Arnold Schwarzenegger butch up.

Wendy Cedar: Master of Seduction. Classes at 7 and 10. Learn how to utterly repulse women without saying more than six syllables! And she was pretty sure she had forgotten to wear deodorant, too.

Janet waited until the motorcycle had screamed off into the night, the echoing throb of its engine lost in the distance, before she uncrossed her arms. Even that simple motion made her nipples feel as if they were shredding through her bra. Christ, they could’ve been about to fucking explode.

CHAPTER 6

Elizabeth took off her bra, then her high heels. It was quite a show, even in the dark. Even with her clothes still on.

“Please don’t tell me I’m still paying you,” Janet said as Elizabeth came into her office, heels in one hand, bra in the other.

“Clocked out five minutes ago.”

“Good. Brandy’s in the usual place.”

Elizabeth went to the liquor cabinet—a retired airline drink trolley from back when flying commercial was a luxury, not a curse. She brought out two sniffers and a bottle. “So do you need a reason to work late or is this just force of habit?”

“Someone, somewhere, who makes more than me thinks we have a security leak. Obviously, they don’t want to involve the authorities, so we’re going through e-mails.”

“You can do that?”

“It’s in their contracts.”

“Eh. Mind if I pay homage to our dark master?”

“Go right ahead.”

Elizabeth opened a file folder on one of Janet’s cabinets, revealing a pair of speakers and an iPod dock. She dropped her iPod in and the empty office was filled with Dio.

“You know men listen to this, right?” Janet asked.

“What?”

“Obviously, we’re not reviewing our own employees—that’s just asking for trouble—so I’m looking at Donnie’s department. Someone must’ve made a mistake. Since Wendy used to be on his team, I’ve gotten her e-mails. Blame HR for taking epochs to update anyone’s file.”

“The deuce you say!” Elizabeth rushed around Janet’s desk. “What’s she say about me?”

“I’m not looking for something like that.”

Elizabeth gasped. “C’mon. Does she think I’m pretty? You could be keeping me from my future wife.”

“Please go enjoy your drink,” Janet insisted stridently. “If you’re not working, at least try not to interfere with my duties.”

Elizabeth left Janet’s filled sniffer on the desk and retreated to a sofa along the wall, making herself comfortable, picking up her bra and putting it in her pocket. “No need to be a grump about it—wait a minute.”

Janet resoundingly minimized the window. “What am I thinking, obviously it can’t be Wendy, she was an intern, what does she know?”

“You’re a little too defensive,” Elizabeth opined, sipping away. “You like her!”

Janet looked away from her screen sharply. “Get serious. I don’t like anyone.”

“You have a crush! You’re all flustered, it’s adorable!”

“You’re right,” Janet agreed, after a moment. Then she resoundingly resumed typing. “I’ll just have to transfer her.”

“Whoa, what? That’s kind of gross. Kicking someone to the curb because you think they’re hot and totally want to snuggle with them?”

Janet scowled at her. “It’s not as if I’m firing her. I’ll transfer her somewhere nice. It’ll be something of a promotion.”

“Oh, yes, promoting someone because you want to bang them, that’s much better.”

“And your suggestion?”

“Bang her. Not like you’d be the first executive to do it. Although you may be her first…” Elizabeth finger-gunned Janet, to which Janet enthusiastically did not consent.

“I’m sure a young woman as engaging and alluring as Wendy Cedar has far better prospects than—it doesn’t matter. I’ll find some way to deal with the situation. A realistic way.”

“Maybe you’ll be lucky and she’ll end up being the spy.”

“Ha!” Janet stopped laughing quickly. Then she reopened Wendy’s window. “Then again, that would resolve everything…”

“And now you’re dealing with your feelings by accusing others of espionage. Have you learned nothing from me?”

“‘Beer before liquor, never been sicker,’” Janet quoted, somewhat frantically paging through Wendy’s messages. The woman was infuriatingly business-like when it came to her correspondence on company time. She actually used her work e-mail for work, the freak.

“Let’s think about this rationally, though,” Elizabeth said, hopping up on one of Janet’s shorter filing cabinets and crossing her legs under her. “You’re you, Janet Lace, who has needed to get laid since before you legally could get laid.”

“That’s a very creepy thing to say,” Janet replied.

“And you were married for a bit, which at least presented the possibility of sex—mostly since single women are irresistibly attracted to

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