It Happened in Manhattan. Emily McKay

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СКАЧАТЬ old jewelry. The ones I had to sell. Most of the drawings in there came from pieces of my grandmother’s. A swirl here, a flower there. Just bits I combined together from one piece or another.”

      He looked up from the drawings. Her free hand still rested on her stomach, but her fingers had started tugging at the knit. Normally Kitty’s innate confidence bordered on arrogance. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was fidgeting.

      He flipped to the next page, staring at the image for a moment before turning the page ninety degrees to get a better angle. “Is this a case for an iPhone?”

      She pulled in her legs, straightening. “You know not everyone likes their gadgets to look like gadgets.”

      It was the same scrolling design as one of the earlier pictures, but this time the perfect size and shape to enclose a cell phone. The page held three drawings, one of the back; the second depicted elegant, tiny, clawed feet, which wrapped around the front of the phone; the third showed the delicate hinges along the side. He could imagine it in gleaming sterling. The overall effect was a brilliant merging of gothic Victorian and geeky tech. Between the clawed feet and the ghoulish tiny gargoyle face on the back, the piece almost had … a sense of humor.

      Like the drawing of FMJ gobbling up Kitty.

      “Did you think of this?” he asked.

      “It’s similar to my great-grandfather’s cigarette case.”

      “Wait a second.” He flipped back a few pages to the drawing of the earrings and pendant. He squinted at the scrawled writing he’d dismissed initially. In tiny letters he saw the words Bluetooth? and ear buds? “This isn’t jewelry, is it? These are gadgets. This isn’t a necklace, it’s a case for an MP3 player.”

      She reached to pull the sketchbook from his hands. “You don’t need to poke fun at me.”

      “I’m not.” He held the book just out of her reach. “I think it’s brilliant.”

      Her gaze narrowed in suspicion as she stepped closer to him, still reaching for the notebook. “It’s completely unrealistic.”

      “Says who?” he asked.

      “Everyone I’ve ever showed it to.”

      “Which is?”

      “My father. The board of directors. No one’s gonna buy geeky jewelry.”

      He scoffed, dismissing her concern. “Let me guess. Your father was one of those guys who thought iPhones would never sell, either.”

      She set her jaw at a stubborn angle. “Besides which, Biedermann’s sells jewelry, we don’t make it.” Once again she reached for the notebook. “We don’t have the means or the experience to even do a mock-up of that kind of thing, let alone manufacture it.”

      “Biedermann’s doesn’t.” He thumbed through the pages until he returned to the first image that had caught his attention. He flipped the book around to display the picture of FMJ. “But FMJ does.” He grinned. “Sometimes it’s good being the evil monster.”

      She blinked in surprise, then chuckled for a second. But then she studied his face, finally pulling the sketchbook from his grasp. “It’s too risky.”

      “No, it isn’t. Matt has a whole electrical engineering department that would love to take a whack at this. Let me just fax him a couple of the pages.”

      “No.”

      “But—”

      She turned on him suddenly. “Biedermann’s is practically hemorrhaging money right now. The absolute last thing we need to do is venture into something like this. If we took a risk like this and it failed, we’d never recover.”

      “Then the trick is not to fail.”

      “That’s so easy for you to say. Everything you touch turns to gold, right? Buy a company, sell a company. It’s all the same. You make millions in your sleep. Besides, if you’re wrong, and Biedermann’s dies off completely, you can still sell off chunks of us to recoup some of your losses. FMJ could probably use the tax write-off anyway. It may not matter to you whether or not Biedermann’s flounders or flourishes, but it matters to me.”

      As gently as he could, he said, “You know, Kitty, for someone who claims to be desperate to save Biedermann’s, you’re sure not willing to take many risks to do it.”

      “I am willing to take risks. I’m just not willing to risk everything.”

      A second later, she’d snatched her purse out of the desk and was gone. And, damn it, she’d taken her sketchbook with her. He was going to have to find a way to get it back, because he was going to send those drawings to Matt. This could be the key to everything. The niche market Biedermann’s was looking for. Not just upscale jewelry, but high fashion accessories for the gadgets nearly every American owned.

      Biedermann Jewelry. It’s not just for engagements anymore. He nearly chuckled at his own little joke. This could really work. Between Matt’s electronic genius and Kitty’s artistic brilliance, they could hit a market that no one else had tapped. Biedermann’s would be back on top. And best of all, Kitty would be responsible for that.

      He could do this for her. He could fix her professional life.

      God knew there wasn’t much he could do for her personal life.

      Eight

      From the blog of New York gossip columnist Suzy Snark:

      Fiddling while Rome burned. Polishing the brass on the Titanic. Both phrases imply great negligence in the face of disaster. New Yorkers may want to add a new idiom to that list: Getting a massage while your company is being bought out.

      I know, we usually eschew the nitty gritty business details for outright gossip, but this tidbit was too salacious to keep to myself. Besides, the business geniuses at FMJ have scheduled a press conference for this afternoon to announce their acquisition of Biedermann Jewelry. I thought you might want something to consider while they’re trying to convince their stockholders it’s a good thing they’re squandering their own resources to bail out Ford Langley’s girlfriend.

      Readers will be shocked to learn that while Biedermann Jewelry stock prices continue to plummet, heiress Kitty Biedermann continues to receive daily spa treatments. Sources say she spends upward of two thousand dollars a week on mani-pedis and facials. In a time when her personal finances must be taking a hit, that’s got to hurt.

      Is the heiress addicted to pampering? Is she simply careless? Or is there something else going on here? Perhaps she sold all her Biedermann stock back when it was still worth something. Too bad she didn’t see fit to tip the rest of us off, as well.

      “Is any of this new blog true at all?” Ford asked.

      She glanced at the image on his iPhone. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the scarlet swirl at the top of the screen. Another Suzy Snark blog. Just what she needed.

      “Ah,” she quipped, trying to sound completely blasé. “Suzy Snark. What fun.” “Have you read it?” “I don’t read trash.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ