The Husband Sweepstake. Leigh Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ “Next time you want to talk to Stephen in private, shut the door. Half the building could have heard you, so why object because I happened to walk by?”

      Stephen cleared his throat. “All right, let’s get back to the point. What kind of a banquet is it and who will be there? If there are connections to be made, then maybe—”

      “It’s for adult literacy. So your friend can hang out with authors and publishers and readers and agents and—”

      Stephen was smiling.

      “You’ve thought of someone? Stephen, you’re an angel.”

      Amos slid off the desk. “Now that you have the problem solved, I’ll be—”

      “It sounds right down Amos’s alley,” Stephen said.

      Erika stared at him. “This is no time for a joke.”

      “I was serious. Amos is writing a book. That’s why he’s here.”

      Erika tipped her head to one side and inspected Amos. She thought she saw irritation flicker in his eyes.

      Well, that makes two of us who are annoyed at being fixed up with each other. “Why he’s here?” she repeated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

      It was Amos who answered. “There are certain advantages to the position. Living quarters supplied, no commuting to work, flexible hours. As long as I take care of the residents’ needs, I can do what I like with the rest of my time. Namely, write.”

      “And if you can persuade the residents not to ask you for anything, you’ll do even better. No, Stephen, I couldn’t live with myself if I dragged a genius away from the Great American Novel to attend a boring dinner.” Erika pushed herself up from the chair. “And I’m sure the genius agrees.”

      “Now that would depend on the benefits you were talking about,” Amos murmured. “Exactly what do they include?”

      In your dreams, Amos darling. Erika looked at the twin dress bags hanging on the hat rack. “Which one of these is mine, Stephen? I lost track when you hung them up.”

      “Let me guess,” Amos said. “You brought home a white silk blouse, I presume?”

      Erika was puzzled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, though that’s not all I bought. How do you know—?”

      “Because Stephen insisted that since the dry cleaner’s deliveryman refused responsibility for your white silk blouse, you must have a new one immediately. So he sent me trekking all the way down to midtown to pick it up this afternoon.”

      “So I have two brand-new white silk blouses? That’s hilarious.”

      “Very amusing,” Amos said politely. “I suppose you’d like me to take the extra back tomorrow.”

      “It would seem to be the logical move. Actually, I’d prefer it if you’d trade it for a different shade, something like teal or periwinkle…”

      “How about wine-red? That would be dead easy—I could just finish the job you did on the original.”

      “On second thought, just take the blouse back. Don’t bother to get another. It would be very foolish of me to assume that you know your colors, so I might end up with something in flame-orange or fluorescent green.” She picked up a bag in each hand, weighed them and hung the lighter one back on the hat stand. “It was very thoughtful of you to anticipate my needs, Stephen.” She started toward the elevator, bag in hand.

      A low voice stopped her in midstride just a few paces from the office door. “You’re quite wrong, Stephen,” she heard Amos say. “That woman doesn’t need a manager looking after her. What she needs is a keeper.”

      The members’ lounge at the Civic Club was never noisy or crowded, but on Wednesday as the lunch hour neared, the room was as full as Erika had ever seen it. She toyed with a glass of sherry and tried to force down the butterflies in her stomach while she waited for her guest to arrive.

      You don’t have any idea what you’re doing, whispered a voice in the back of her mind.

      The voice sounded a little like her father. Erika took a deep breath and another sip and tried not to listen.

      You have no experience with buyouts and takeovers. You’ve been lucky so far, that’s all—and it isn’t going to last forever. Don’t push it.

      She reached for a business magazine which lay on a small table beside her. She’d grab for anything which might serve to deflect that belittling voice in her head.

      Kelly had been right, she thought—at least, up to a point. The Sentinel’s editors weren’t the only ones who’d been surprised when Erika had stepped into her father’s shoes at Ladylove Cosmetics after his death. In fact, Erika herself had been pretty much amazed when she’d actually stood up and said she wanted the job.

      Ladylove’s board of directors had been dumbstruck, but they hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Stanford Forrester III had made sure to maintain a controlling interest in his company, and as long as Erika was voting her father’s stock, she was every bit as much in control as he had been.

      Not that she was as certain of what she was doing. But then Stanford Forrester hadn’t always been able to predict the future, either. He hadn’t intended to give up control, even when he died. And if he’d had any idea how close that day was, Erika was convinced, he’d have revised his will—because the one thing Stanford Forrester would never have wanted was for Erika to run his precious company.

      Don’t worry your pretty head about business, dear. Your job is to smile for the camera…

      Well, she’d proved him wrong. In the eight quarters since she’d become the CEO, Ladylove had shown steady growth in market share and profits. Now that her position was solidified, Erika was ready to spread her wings. It was time for Ladylove to grow in scope as well as sales and production, and buying Felix La Croix’s business and rolling it into Ladylove’s was a natural move.

      All she had to do was convince Felix La Croix, make the deal, and pull the two companies into one solid unit.

      Her sherry glass was empty. She looked around. There was still no sign of Felix, and all the waiters appeared to be busy as well. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to do some creative visualization. Picture yourself as a success and you’ll be one.

      She sensed someone standing very still directly in front of her chair, and she sat up quickly, embarrassed. Would her guest think she’d been taking a nap? “Felix, I’m so glad—”

      But the man standing over her with feet braced and arms folded wasn’t Felix La Croix. It was Denby Miles, her exfiancé.

      She’d run into him from time to time, of course, in the two years since their engagement had been broken off. Manhattan society wasn’t large enough to avoid someone absolutely, even if one wanted to—and she’d never gone out of her way in order to stay out of his path. But on the rare occasions when they’d come face-to-face, they’d been coolly polite, exchanging greetings and then quickly moving on. He had never sought her out before, as he so obviously had this time. And she’d never had the opportunity, or felt the need, to look him over closely—not since that day two years СКАЧАТЬ