Just One Night(12)

and Grace’s love story with the whole world watching. Their very public battle of

the sexes—”

“—Which I won,” Jake hollered, ignoring the elbow jab from Grace.

Camille smiled and continued. “Their very public battle turned from what should

have been a routine five-issue series into a spontaneous HeSaidSheSaid blog,

which, in turn, became our most successful digital program to date.”

Jake, Oxford magazine’s best-known male columnist, always up for playing to a

crowd, very purposefully pinched Grace’s butt, earning a sharp squeal, which he

stifled with a kiss.

The antics were clearly all for show, but the private look they exchanged was not.

Their romance may have started as a good-natured competition over which sex

had a better read on the other, but like Julie and Mitchell, Grace and Jake were

the real deal.

Riley felt the old familiar tightening in her chest as she read Jake’s lips where

they pressed against Grace’s ear. I love you.

“I never know whether to hug them or punch them,” Emma muttered quietly at

Riley’s side.

“Seriously,” Riley whispered back. “It’s like a nonstop romantic comedy up in

here.”

Still, she was a little surprised by Emma’s admission. When it came to men and

relationships, Emma had always given off that breezy, don’t-need-’em vibe. But

her tone held just the slightest trace of longing, and Riley wondered if she wasn’t

the only one who was starting to feel a bit lonely in her role as sexy bachelorette.

“And it’s this success of our very own Stiletto starlets that planted the seed for

the theme of our fiftieth-anniversary issue,” Camille was saying.

Riley’s attention snapped back to her boss, dread creeping up around the edges

of her boredom.

For the most part, Riley had a good relationship with the editor in chief. Sure, they

butted heads every other week over whether Riley’s articles were too risqué, but

at the end of the day, Camille Bishop’s sense for what Stiletto readers wanted

was spot-on. And more important, Camille treated her team like family. A family

that threw food at the dinner table, perhaps, but beneath her immobile orange

hair, affinity for Botox, and bark that would have cowed Robert E. Lee, Camille

was a bit of a mother hen. And it was kind of nice.

However, that didn’t mean Riley liked the direction of her long-winded speech.

She was hearing an awful lot of words that sent alarm bells off in her brain.

Personal, intimate, exposure …

“She’s not going where I think she’s going …,” Riley said to Emma out of the

corner of her mouth.

“Yup,” Emma said, taking a long pull on her wine. “We should probably all invest

in pink fuzzy diaries like we had when we were ten, because this shit’s about to

get personal.”

“When I was ten, my diary had a lock,” Riley growled.

Camille continued undaunted, and unaware that two of her best columnists were

less than enamored of the direction she was heading. “… by now you can al

guess what I’m suggesting …”

Please no, please no.

“The theme of Stiletto’s semicentennial issue in December will be ‘Stiletto Gets

Real: The Truth Behind the Headlines.’ ”

Oh shit.

“Catchy,” Grace said, earning a snort from Julie.

But Riley was too horror-stricken to join in even thinking about joking, especially

when she heard Camille’s elaboration on the theme.

“… each of our columnists will write this issue’s story in first person. A sort of real-

world account of how they live the Stiletto way in their own life.”

“ ‘The Stiletto way’?” Emma asked. “Is that a thing? I mean I know I’m new here,

but …”

Riley didn’t answer. Instead she pushed her cocktail glass at a surprised Julie

and headed for the bathroom, where she was quite possibly going to puke.

The truth behind the headlines.

The truth.

She’d always known there’d come a breaking point. A time when she’d either

have to come clean or get laid.

The trouble was, she didn’t know how to come clean without losing her pride. And

worse, she wasn’t at all sure she could get laid without losing her heart.

Because when Riley was completely honest with herself, she wasn’t celibate

because of lack of opportunity, or because guys like Steven Moore carried around

handcuffs in their back pockets.

When it came right down to it, there was only one man for Riley Anne McKenna,

and she’d pretty much made a career out of telling herself he wasn’t interested.