Free Kill the Competition by Stephanie Bond Page B

the Stratford Plaza that housed service businesses, a food court, and the entrance to a high-rise hotel.
    Belinda shrugged. "Maybe Mr. Archer overlooks her personality because she's good at her job. And you have to admit he's rarely at the office."
    "I know. I wish you could've met him before his wife became ill—he was so full of vigor and ambition. Her struggle completely drained him, and he hasn't recovered."
    As they threaded through the lunch crowd, Belinda thought ahead to the food court. Rosemary would hit the salad bar, while she was thinking more along the lines of a candy bar. "The son isn't interested in taking over the family business?"
    "Tal?" Rosemary sighed. "Tal Archer isn't interested in anything he can't snort up his nose. He couldn't care less about the business, but he couldn't get a job making his salary anywhere else in this town."
    Belinda swallowed the urge to ask for more details before the discussion spun into full-fledged gossip. Margo was right about one thing—if she was going to be CFO, she needed to maintain a professional distance from the watercooler talk.
    "I'm going to the salad bar," Rosemary said.
    "I think I'll browse. I'll see you upstairs."
    She waited until Rosemary was out of sight, then contemplated blowing her diet on a burrito. She bit into her tongue, wavering. A sudden jostle to her right shoulder forced her teeth down so hard that she tasted blood. An eye-needling pain ricocheted through her mouth and jaws, stealing her breath.
    "I'm so sorry," a man said.
    Her eyes were closed, but his voice sounded familiar—and she associated it with pain. As her mouth sang, she opened one eye, then the other. Tall, blond, bomber jacket. The guy from the elevator.
    "You again," he said, green eyes laughing. "I don't believe it."
    She swallowed blood. "Believe it."
    "Are you all right?"
    "Haven't we had this conversation before?"
    He looked sheepish, then reached into the back pocket of his chinos and pulled out a folded white handkerchief. "You're bleeding."
    Vince didn't own a handkerchief. Southern men apparently bought them by the gross—perhaps so they could instigate accidents. She accepted the cloth and dabbed at her lip until the red disappeared.
    He leaned forward for a better look. "Are you going to need stitches?"
    "No. But a smoothie is sounding good for lunch."
    "My treat."
    "That's not necessary."
    He extended his hand. "Julian Hardeman."
    She hesitated, but he wasn't giving off serial killer vibes. "Belinda Hennessey." It was a nice hand.
    "What kind of smoothies do you like, Belinda Hennessey?"
    And he had great eyes. "Strawberry kiwi lime."
    "One strawberry kiwi lime smoothie coming up." He veered away, heading toward a crowded counter. His clean-cut good looks turned a few heads. He had an open, honest-looking face, with a light sunburn on his cheeks and nose. A generous, ready smile and a pleasing profile. And no wedding ring.
    Not that any of it mattered in the wake of her resolution that men were unnecessary.
    She looked away, back, and away again, realizing with a jolt that Julian Hardeman was the first man she'd studied since Vince. ("Since Vince" had somehow become a time marker.) She had grown so accustomed to behaving like an engaged woman that she was going to have to ease back into the idea of openly looking at men again.
    "One strawberry kiwi lime smoothie."
    Belinda looked openly, and her pulse tripped. "Thank you."
    He lifted another tall cup. "Thought I'd try one, too. Care to join me?"
    "I should get back to work."
    "Come on, give me five minutes to prove that I'm a nice guy." He smiled. "If I fail, then you can avoid me from now on."
    He was appealing, she had to give him that. And she needed to make an effort to meet new people—it wasn't his fault that he had a penis. "Okay. Five minutes."
    Through the swarming mass of hurrying bodies, he led the way to a tall cafe table. When she set down her gym bag, he said, "I see you work out."
    "In the loosest