Free One Night Standards by Cathy Yardley

in, her tone equally fierce.
    Mark shot Carol an annoyed look. Yes, they were competitors, but did she have to be so stupidly blunt about things? She was simply throwing gas on the fire.
    â€œI’m well aware of Trimera’s business practices,” Sophie replied smoothly, and her tone made sure that everyone knew the comment was derogatory.
    Mrs. Marion sat up straighter at that remark, still smiling.
    â€œOur head chemist and product designer used to work for Trimera,” Sophie added, taking a sip of water to punctuate her sentence.
    â€œReally?” Simone’s tone was surprised. Mark was surprised, himself. However, they were in marketing—and marketing never met the chemists. They dealt with the products afterward. “What made him decide to leave?”
    â€œ She decided to leave,” Sophie said, “because she was asked to.”
    â€œYou mean she was fired?” Carol interjected.
    Now Simone and Mark both glared at Carol, who was oblivious, too intent on trying to insult Sophie to realize she’d screwed up. Smooth, Mark thought. He hoped Simone would report Carol’s obtuse behavior back to Roger.
    â€œShe was downsized,” Sophie said without emotion, as the waiter took their plates away. “Apparently, she didn’t really fit in with Trimera’s vision anymore for product development. While it wasn’t stated overtly, they thought perhaps her products were geared toward too mature an audience.”
    Mark blinked a moment, floored that Sophie had so neatly turned the tables on them. She’d gone from being a young, inexperienced kid representing the teen market to a champion of the underdog, who obviously was fired because Trimera thought she was too old to develop cutting-edge cosmetics. If Marion & Co. wanted somebody trendsetting, they had Diva Nation…. And if they wanted someone who was mature, they still had Diva Nation. It also cast some doubt on Trimera’s business practices—especially if they were willing to fire people who were too old. Hints at age discrimination, which he knew would not sit well with Mrs. Marion.
    Beautiful, Mark thought absently, as Sophie smiled serenely. Just beautiful. Sophie was playing them like a concert pianist.
    He supposed he ought to be more upset about the whole thing. After all, Sophie was the competition here. But at the same time, he wasn’t a fan of crushing people who never stood a chance in the first place. And she’d made damned sure that Trimera would not write her off.
    Carol, he noticed, was seething. Simone was only frowning, the slightest pucker in her otherwise inscrutable facade. Which he knew, from experience, meant that she was pretty angry as well, but knew enough not to show it.
    Yup. It was going to be an interesting competition.
    Mrs. Marion obviously felt the same way he did, because she looked practically gleeful. “I think we all understand each other, here,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Nothing like some healthy competition to bring out the best products, I always say. I can’t wait to see what you come up with. Shall we order dessert?”
    â€œI’ll just have coffee,” Carol said sourly.
    â€œA latte,” Simone countered. “Decaf.”
    Mrs. Marion looked at Sophie. “Tell me I don’t have to indulge on my own,” she said.
    Sophie smiled, the edge of anger that had frosted her expression finally melted. “I never say no to dessert,” she replied. “And the Double Chocolate Suicide did look tempting. But I couldn’t possibly eat the whole thing on my own. It was huge.”
    â€œI’ll split it with you,” Mark said. “I love chocolate.”
    Sophie grinned. “I know.”
    They smiled for a split second, then Mark quickly realized their gaffe. All the women stared at him—then at Sophie. Sophie, he noticed, looked aghast.
    He shook his head. “My love of chocolate