Not because they weren’t a group of competent, driven, and insightful women. In many ways, the types of discussion weren’t unlike his weekly meeting with the Oxford team. But the topics of discussion? Painful. Utterly painful. “Mr. Cassidy?” one of the shy girls asked from the other end of the table. Kristen? Kirsten? “Any thoughts on which direction you want to go?” Shit. He’d zoned out. And not even in a distracted sort of way, but in the deliberate way in which someone lets the brain wander because it simply does not have an opinion on tampons, types of yogurt, or navy nail polish. “I trust your judgment,” he said, giving the petite blonde a confident smile. He was pretty sure he heard a snort from the Relationships section of the table. Most of the rest of the Stiletto team seemed either in awe of his presence or embarrassed by it, but Grace, Riley, and Julie seemed amused. At his expense. As for Emma . . . hard to tell. She was doing her usual stone-faced thing. Had been ever since that night he’d caught her kissing her ex-boyfriend.
