Excerpt of Liplock by Susanna Carr

If she didn't get something to eat, her coworkers would have to take cover!

Molly Connors oh so casually strolled toward the executive kitchen. She darted her gaze side to side, making sure the coast was clear. Seeing no one around, she walked into the kitchen as if she owned the place.

She glanced around the rich cherry cabinetry and the dark granite counters. The place was empty. Whew!

She wasn't up to creating a credible excuse. The food staff could probably care less, but it was the executives on the floor that took offense. They acted as if one had to be a club member to enter.

She opened the door to the stainless steel refrigerator, scanned the labels on the fancy jars, and slammed it closed. Weren't there any leftovers? She hadn't eaten all day – unless you counted the day-old Halloween candy, which she didn't – and was in desperate need of something other than a Tootsie Roll. Her stomach was growling so loud it could be heard over phone conversations.

She peered inside a small ceramic serving dish and found a fortune cookie still in its wrapper. Good enough. Molly grabbed the treat, the cellophane crackling loudly in the silence. She cracked open the cookie and stuffed a jagged piece in her mouth.

Molly closed her eyes and sighed as she tasted the almond flavor. It was good, but it wasn't going to blur the sharp edge of hunger. She needed something more. Something substantial.

She broke off another section of cookie and vaguely wondered about her fortune. Molly frowned when she saw there was no slip of paper.

"That's not even funny." She glared at the cookie and stuffed it in her mouth.

She might be down on her luck right now, Molly silently admitted as she munched, but that didn't mean she was stuck there. She knew it was only temporary, although getting a second opinion would have been nice.

It didn't even have to be about her upcoming work review. She knew that was in the bag. When she started working at Ashton ImageWorks, they promised to increase her pay raise after three months' probation. She followed the rules. She was here every day and on time.

Now if she could make it to Friday without starving to death…

Molly opened the pantry door and scanned the contents. There was nothing. Not unless she could cook it undetected and get back to the reception desk in five minutes.

She started opening and closing the cabinet doors. She opened the one under the sink. Sheesh! Her kitchen was smaller than this.

The cupboards were almost as bare as the ones in her apartment. What was that about? Hers were bare because she'd been waiting for payday. These shelves were empty because the kitchen was too big.

She opened the cabinet over the sink and nearly jumped for joy when she saw a jar of marinated olives. It wasn't sweet, it wasn't from a vending machine, and it was a fruit. Or was it a vegetable? Who cared? Right now it was her lunch.

She struggled to open the jar. The oil sloshed out and she jumped back before it dripped on her outfit. Molly hunted for a towel. She pulled open the drawers and doors under the huge preparation island. Bingo! She found a few rolls of paper towels way back just as she heard someone outside the kitchen.

"Sure thing, Kyle."

Shoot! Molly wanted to stomp her foot. It was Glenn, the chief financial officer. He was an okay guy if you could ignore his need to establish a caste system at work. Which she couldn't, since he made it clear she was at the bottom of the system.

"I'm going to grab something to eat."

Molly looked around frantically. She had to hide. If he found her in here again today, he was going to rant at her, and she was going to come up empty-handed. Again.

"I'll see you at the meeting."

Molly dove in after the paper towels. Ow! Maybe her kitchen was bigger. She winced as her knee hit the wood. There went her new pair of pantyhose.

She slammed closed the cabinet door with her free hand and caught her knuckle. Molly muffled her cry and stuffed her pinched finger in her mouth just as she heard Glenn’s foot hit the kitchen’s tile floor.

Okay, Glenn, she thought as her fingertip throbbed at the same beat as her skinned knee. Just get in, get out and don't go looking for paper towels.

She heard him walking around. He wasn't opening anything as far as she could tell. Just … pacing.

Go. Pain bloomed from her lower back and shot up her spine. Just go away. Shoo.

The door swung open.

Finally. Molly wanted to sigh with relief but she couldn't move her shoulders. She didn't think she could stay this squooshed up much longer.

"Where have you been?" Glenn whispered fiercely.

Huh? Molly's head shot up and caught the hard wooden edge. She winced and pressed her lips shut.

"I couldn't get away."

What was this? Another person? Come on, people. Don't you have important work to do?

But who was the woman? It wasn't Annette, the only female exec, and therefore acceptable in Glenn's eyes to walk into the executive kitchen. It must be someone high in administration.

She suddenly heard the squeak of shoes on linoleum.

"Kiss me," Glenn ordered.

Excuse me?

She heard the smack of lips on lips.

Whoa! Not good. Whoever the woman was, she was really stupid. Molly had made some hideous career moves in the past, but even she knew this was professional suicide.

"I want you," the woman said.

Duh.

"I want you right here and now."

No, you don't. You really, really don't.

"Someone might walk in," Glenn said.

"I know. That's the idea."

"Julia—"

Julia! Molly's eyes widened. No way. And here she thought the engineering coordinator was a class act who had it all together. A little bit snooty, but Molly assumed that meant the woman had standards.

"You want me?" Julia asked in a purr. "Take me now."

No. No. No. Molly frowned as she heard the rustle of clothing and the muffled breathing. She nearly jumped out from her hiding place when she heard the thud above her. Felt it. The island shook.

Molly flattened her hands against the walls. Were they doing it on top of her? On the island? Where people prepared the food?

Okay, new rule. She was not eating anything from this kitchen unless it came with a tamper-proof seal.

"You naughty girl. You're not wearing any panties."

I really didn't need to know that. She wanted to cover her ears, but couldn't reach them.

"You're dripping wet."

Didn't need to know that, either.

And then she heard the sounds. The slap of skin, a few slurps, and something like gnawing. The cabinetry creaked and groaned under their weight. At least she was already in the standard earthquake position.

Why does this feel just like home? Every night she could hear the bed springs go wild in the apartment upstairs. She probably would have never noticed it if her neighbor wasn't a prostitute who did most of her business at night.

"Oh, God," Julia whimpered. "That feels good."

I don't care.

"I'm going to come."

Thanks for the warning, Jules. Like I couldn't predict that.

She heard the muffled sobs and felt the frenetic pounding above her. Her neck hurt and the back of her head was probably going to be permanently dented.

And then… silence. Blessed, peaceful silence, if you didn't count the hum of the refrigerator. Or the hard, labored breathing, but she was trying to block that out.

"God, that was great."

Says who?

"Oh, Glenn…"

Enough pillow talk. Leave before I get a charley horse.