Her Favorite Rival by Sarah Mayberry Page B

And she didn’t doubt for a second that Zach had been articulate and smart and sharp as he discussed their findings.
    That was what Whitman was going to take away from two weeks of her life—that Zach Black was an intelligent, hardworking young executive with energy and zeal to spare. The kind of guy a CEO should probably promote, if such things were on his mind. Definitely the kind of guy he couldn’t afford to lose.
    “You sneaky, underhanded, self-serving asshole.”
    Saying the words out loud helped, but they didn’t change how profoundly stupid she felt. These past two weeks she’d done a complete one-eighty where Zach was concerned. She’d gone from seeing him as a well-fed fat cat, a son of wealth and privilege, to seeing the real him—a driven, highly ambitious guy who had worked damned hard to be able to afford the nice things in life. She’d been impressed. Worse, she’d been lulled and charmed by his undeniable charisma and physical good looks into overlooking his razor-sharp ambition. She’d taken her eye off the ball and focused instead on his legs and ass and shoulders. God, she’d been so far gone that she’d almost cast him as the star of her personal fantasy.
    And he hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice her for his own means. In fact, she was willing to bet he hadn’t even considered how his actions would affect her. Why would he? He wasn’t stupid.
    Like her.
    He hadn’t been toying with breaking the cardinal rule of corporate life: don’t dip your pen in the office ink. Nope. He’d been busy keeping his eye on the end game. Looking out for himself and his future.
    She paced until the first flush of fury had passed, then spent five minutes repairing her makeup. All the while, she picked away at the problem, trying to find some way to recover at least some of the ground she’d lost. The best option she could come up with was to look for an opportunity for a private word with Whitman. She’d mention the report, let him know she was aware Zach had handed it over, then refer to some facts and figures to let him know she was totally familiar with the content. Force him to put a face to the other name on the front cover.
    It didn’t even come close to the hour she and Zach had had scheduled with him on Tuesday morning, but it would have to do, since she was as sure as she could be that the meeting would be canceled. In fact, she’d stake her career on it.
    Still steaming, she left her room. There was no time for her to eat before the first session, but that was okay, since her belly was a boiling cauldron of acid and anger and self-recrimination. Food would not be a great addition to that mix.
    One thing was for sure: she would not be letting Zach under her guard again. Not in a million years.
    * * *
    Z ACH STARED AT the lift door long after Audrey had disappeared behind it. A part of him was tempted to go after her, but then he remembered the cold fury in her eyes and decided to give her time to calm down before he attempted to fix things between them.
    Because the last thing he’d intended to do was disadvantage her. The very last. Contrary to her belief, he had not gone out running in the hope of “accidentally” meeting Whitman. He’d been blowing off two day’s worth of rich food, reveling in the clean offshore breeze as he ran along the hard-packed sand at the waterline. He hadn’t given a second thought to the lean, gray-haired figure running toward him until they were only a few meters away from crossing paths. Then he’d recognized Whitman and barely had time to raise a hand in acknowledgment before the other man had swept past.
    It was only later, when Zach was on his return journey, that he’d spotted Whitman stretching on the dry sand near the stairs to the street. He’d debated going over to strike up conversation, not wanting to intrude on Whitman’s down time. Then Whitman had called out to him by name, asking him how he was finding his first Makers conference. Zach said