Читать книгу The Husband Sweepstake - Leigh Michaels - Страница 9

AMOS could think of only one reason why she could possibly want to know what he thought of her harebrained scheme. The explanation was ridiculous, it was insane, it was nigh impossible. But it was the only one he could come up with which even began to cover all the facts.

He stared across the desk at Erika, still trying to convince himself that she hadn’t really said what he thought he’d heard. She was perfectly calm, her violet eyes wide and showing the same sort of mild interest as if she’d just asked his opinion of the latest hit movie.

She didn’t look like an alien. But this madcap idea of hers belonged to an entirely different planet than the one he lived on.

A husband…that’s another thing entirely…

She’d actually asked for his opinion, he reminded himself. “Amos—darling—what do you think?” she had said. So he had not only the right but the obligation to answer.

Of course, if he told her what he thought, she’d probably try to have him arrested for using indecent language in the presence of a lady. And she’d be right—at least about the indecent language. As for the part about the lady, that was open to debate.

“What kind of a lady…” He stopped to clear his throat and started over. His voice felt rough. “A lady doesn’t propose marriage to a perfect stranger.”

Her lovely face went blank for an instant, and then as understanding dawned, her eyes brimmed with horror. “You thought I was suggesting I wanted to marry you?”

Now his head was really spinning. Amos—darling… But if that wasn’t what she’d meant, where had he gone wrong? “It sure sounded that way to me.”

“Then you’re hearing-impaired as well as arrogant. All I said was—”

“All right, all right. I get it.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “And boy, is that a relief.” You bet it is.

“How could I be proposing to you? I don’t even know your last name.”

Amos didn’t enlighten her. It wasn’t like she was asking for a formal introduction, anyway. “So whom are you planning to marry? Take it from the top and tell me what all this is about. Unless, of course, you’re really just talking to yourself and so I’m not supposed to ask.”

He thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer. Then she raised the pointed little chin which was such a distinctive part of every Ladylove ad and said, “It’s a business matter.”

Either he was getting used to her, Amos thought, or he was growing numb, because he wasn’t even vaguely surprised.

She shrugged out of her trench coat, settled back in the chair and took a deep breath.

Amos had been noting the cut of her suit jacket, but he couldn’t help being distracted by what the deep breath did to her figure. The Ladylove ads always focused on her face, and the other day when she’d come through the lobby she’d been wearing a coat, ready to go out for the day. So he’d never had an opportunity to pay much attention to the rest of her. But in fact, the shape of her body was very nearly as perfect as the planes of her face. Too bad the quality of her insides didn’t match…

“There’s this firm I’m trying to buy, you see,” she began. “Up until a couple of years ago, Ladylove was totally focused on cosmetics, things like lipstick and eye shadow and foundation and mascara. Then we expanded into perfumes—”

“Courtesy of Denby Miles’s formulas,” Amos mused.

“I see you read the tabloids.” Her voice was chilly.

“Only while I’m standing in line at the market to buy cat food for Mrs. Haines’s Persian on the fourth floor. It was a very slow line this morning.”

“Be glad she didn’t send you fishing so Fluffy’s lunch would really be fresh.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time she needs to lay in a supply of kibble.”

She crossed her legs.

Nice, long slim legs, Amos noted, with shapely knees that barely peeked out under the hem of a blue wool suit. She must have noticed him looking, because she cleared her throat firmly. She did not, however, make a coy show of pulling her skirt down. Amos liked that.

He sat up a little straighter. “You were talking about the tabloids.”

“Only because I can’t avoid the subject. I’m sure I don’t have to explain that the Denby Miles episode didn’t happen quite the way the Sentinel would like to believe it did.”

I’d give a pretty penny to hear what really did happen.

“At any rate, now Ladylove is ready to expand further, and there’s a firm which would be a perfect match.” She looked at him warily for a long moment, and then seemed to make up her mind to trust him. “I want to pick up Kate La Croix’s line of hair care products.”

Amos frowned. “I thought Kate La Croix died.”

“She did—about six months ago. That’s why her husband wants to sell the business.”

“And since you want to buy, it’s a great deal all the way around.”

“Exactly. We can combine two fairly small firms and create a major player.”

“Makes sense. I just don’t see where the part about the husband comes in. Unless…Oh, now I get it. It’s just dawned on you that if you married him instead, you could get the company cheaper.”

From her always-placid photographs in the Ladylove ads, Amos thought, one would never suspect that Erika Forrester possessed a temper. Only now did he realize how misleading that impression was. She didn’t blow up; he’d give her that. But her gaze was so cold that he found himself feeling a little frosty around the edges.

“That,” she said, “is exactly what the kind of idiot who gets his news from the tabloids would think.”

“Well, excuse me for being an idiot,” Amos said coolly, “but I still don’t quite see the problem.”

She had the grace to color. “Sorry. I didn’t intend that personally. I meant you’re not the only one who’ll jump to that conclusion.”

The phone rang on the desk.

Erika looked at it and then at him. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“No, I’m going to let voice-mail take it.” Amos sliced his sandwich into chunks. “The quicker the tenants learn to share and take turns, the easier it’ll be on all of us.” The phone rang four times and stopped, and he held out a piece of the sandwich to her.

Erika took it almost absently and nibbled at a corner.

“You were talking about what the tabloids will say,” he prompted. “Because of the Denby Miles thing, of course.”

“Yes. Half the world thinks I only dated him for those formulas, and that I dropped him the instant my father got his hands on them. Now they’re going to think I’m doing the same with Felix La Croix.”

“Ignore them. They’re tabloids. What difference does it make what they think?”

“It doesn’t matter to me—other than being generally annoying. But it matters a great deal to Felix.” She pulled a folded paper out of her coat pocket and held it out.

Amos took it reluctantly. The words had obviously been written in haste; the penmanship was uneven, and the signature was nothing more than scrawled initials.

I’m sure you understand why I didn’t wish to be part of the show. I’ll be in touch when I’ve had a chance to think things through.

He lifted an eyebrow at her.

She said, sounding reluctant, “That’s from Felix. Denby made quite a scene at the Civic Club today.”

“And Felix saw it and ducked for cover?”

She nodded. “I can’t blame him, exactly. The tabloids haven’t heard about the negotiations yet—but they will, and probably soon. There will be a feeding frenzy, and poor Felix will be caught in the middle of speculation about why he’s seeing me and what the terms of the sale will be and how long it will take after the agreement’s made before I dump him. For a man who’s still grieving his wife—”

“That would be a little hard to take,” Amos said thoughtfully. “But maybe it’ll be an incentive for him to make a quick sale.”

“More likely he’ll refuse to talk at all, especially if he thinks I’m manipulating the publicity to get him to agree to a fast deal. Which I’m not. But if I was married…settled…obviously not interested in him personally…”

“And you think getting married in order to deflect the tabloids doesn’t count as manipulating the publicity? Never mind. If Felix’s sensitive feelings are a problem, why not just look for another shampoo company?”

“There isn’t another one. Do you think I haven’t looked? Most of them are divisions of huge companies, but we couldn’t swallow a giant like that even if it was for sale. And Kate’s product meshes well with Ladylove’s—she insisted on entirely organic ingredients instead of chemical substitutes. Do you know how many shampoos are really just laundry detergent with a nicer smell?”

“Hadn’t given it a lot of thought,” Amos said. “But it sounds to me like Felix needs you more than you need him. Since it was his wife’s company, it must be losing value with every day that goes by. Sit back and wait, and he’ll come around.”

She shook her head. “No. In fact, sales have gone up since Kate’s death—it’s actually become sort of a cult thing to use Kate La Croix shampoo. Felix only wants to sell because it’s too painful for him to face the reminders every day. I’ve assured him that we’ll keep Kate’s name and the brand label. It’s a perfect match—if the tabloids will just leave the personal stuff out of it. Which of course they won’t, because they’ve created this image of me.”

“So you’re thinking of changing the image. Okay,” he conceded. “I see where you’re coming from. I still think it’s a really loopy idea, but let that go for a minute. Who on earth are you thinking about marrying? If you can’t even get a date for a Saturday night banquet—”

Her eyes flared. “I have no shortage of dates.”

“Then why were you asking Stephen to find you an escort? If you have so many guys standing in line, why not choose one of them rather than add another to the list?”

“Because if I’m seen twice with any one man, the whole gossip mill goes into overdrive.”

“And the man in question screams and runs?”

“Or starts bragging that he owns me.”

“Well, either variety doesn’t offer much promise in the husband sweepstakes,” Amos pointed out. He handed her another section of his sandwich.

“What I really need is someone like…” She looked thoughtful, and then said with a note of triumph, “Someone like Stephen.”

Amos bit his lip hard, but it didn’t help much. “Ms. Forrester, I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but Stephen is…Well, let’s just say he’s not interested in women except as friends.”

She fixed him with a glare. “You think I didn’t know that? What difference does it make, anyway? I’m talking about a legal convenience here, not a—” She broke off.

He couldn’t help himself. “Stud service?”

“If that was all I wanted,” she said bitterly, “I could take my choice.”

He didn’t doubt it—and he didn’t wonder at her tone, because the reason for her disillusionment was obvious. With her face, her figure and her fame, there must be men aplenty who would happily oblige her in bed—and then brag in the locker room that they’d been with Erika Forrester. She was a trophy. A conquest to boast about.

Hey, he told himself, don’t waste your sympathy. She’s the one who’s asking for the attention by putting herself in the magazine ads month after month.

“Well, what you want may not be the most important consideration here,” he said. “It’s the public’s perception that counts. So if you want to make everyone believe it’s a real marriage, then Stephen’s the worst possible choice you could make. Nobody would believe that he’s changed, so you might as well not waste your time.”

“Someone like Stephen, then.” She sounded stubborn. “Someone who’s gentle, who’s helpful—”

“Someone who owes you,” Amos put in.

She looked genuinely puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you can’t take a chance on him ruining everything by talking. So unless you can think of someone who’d do it for love—”

She turned a shade paler. “I don’t believe in love.”

“Well, at least you’ve got that much sense. I’d hate to think you’d believe it if someone was to conveniently stroll up right now and announce that he was head over heels about you.”

“I’d have to be a fool to bite on that one. I’d much rather have a clear-cut business arrangement.”

“Then we’re back to finding someone who owes you.”

She was silent.

“Since you’re not rattling off names, that must mean there’s nobody already in that category,” Amos guessed. “All right, then you’ll have to buy him.”

“Do you have to be crude?”

“That’s not crude, honey, that’s just straightforward. You said you wanted it clear-cut. But if you’d rather, we’ll call it finding the proper incentives. The bottom line is, what’s in it for the guy?”

“There would be benefits,” she said stiffly.

“Name two.” In the silence that followed, Amos finished the last bite of his sandwich. He picked up a stray crumb, tossed the wrapper in the wastebasket and said, “That’s what I thought. You can’t.”

“Of course I can’t be specific,” she said stubbornly. “It would depend on the man. Not everyone will be intrigued by the same sort of—”

“Bribe.”

“Benefit. Anyway, it’s not like I’m talking about forever here. This is a short-term bargain. Once the buyout is over, that’s it. A couple of months, maybe.”

“What happens the next time you want to acquire a company?”

“Look, I don’t want to own the world. If I can get this deal through, I’ll be satisfied.”

“That’s what you think now.”

“All right,” she admitted. “Maybe I will want to buy something else someday. But the circumstances will be different—the seller might even enjoy the gossip. In any case, I’ll deal with that later.”

“Well, I suppose you could write the marriage contract with a renewal clause,” Amos mused. “Sort of like the way that Hollywood options an actor for the sequel when they make the first movie. Which makes a twisted kind of sense, considering this is about as big a special-effects production as we’re likely to see around here this year.”

“You really think this is ridiculous.”

“Since you’re asking…Yes.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Amos darling.” She stood up. “You’ve been so helpful in clarifying my thinking. I’ll be sure to let you know what I decide.”

“Please do,” he said cordially. The phone rang again, and he put a hand on it. “Because I can’t wait to hear what happens next.”

He was without a doubt right, Erika concluded, when she’d had a chance to think about it. She’d been shaken up by Denby’s attack and by Felix’s reaction, and she’d gone overboard. It was a loopy idea, and not worth further consideration.

Of course, she had no intention of admitting to Amos darling that his opinion had influenced her decision. And there hadn’t been any opportunity, anyway. In the couple of days since their discussion, she’d seen him only a few times. Even then, she’d spotted him only from a distance, or he’d been tied up with other tenants, or Stephen had been present.

She would just forget the whole thing. She’d continue to ignore the tabloids, Felix La Croix would think it over and get in touch as he’d promised, and they’d make a deal. End of problem.

What she couldn’t quite understand was why, since she’d given it up as a loopy idea, she found herself assessing every man who crossed her path, looking at his potential as a husband.

The ad executive who was already working on next spring’s campaign was too slick, too flirtatious, too familiar. Ladylove’s marketing manager was too serious, too reverential, too much in awe of the boss. The lawyer who was drawing up a tentative contract to offer Felix La Croix was too brash, too arrogant, too presumptuous.

But when on Friday at lunchtime she found herself actually taking stock of the delivery boy who’d brought her Chinese takeout—too young, too sincere, too ingenuous— Erika put her face down in her hands and told herself to stop being ridiculous.

Kelly put her head in from the office next door. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Erika caught herself. “Yes, I’m fine. Have some Chinese. I’m not hungry anymore.”

Kelly pulled up a chair and reached for a set of chop-sticks. “You need to eat. You have a photo shoot next week for the fall ads, and you can’t look like a skeleton.”

“I can’t? I thought the ad people preferred me that way.”

“No, you can’t,” Kelly said firmly, “because makeup for dead people doesn’t form enough of the market share to keep the company afloat.”

Erika wasn’t listening. She looked at the draft of the purchase contract she’d been reading when her lunch arrived. “Has Felix La Croix called yet?”

“Not since you asked ten minutes ago.”

“He said he’d think it over and get in touch. I’ve got a meeting with the attorneys in an hour, and I don’t have any idea whether we’re going to have a deal or not.”

Kelly shrugged. “Maybe he’s still thinking it over. Or maybe he’s hoping if he holds out, you’ll sweeten the offer. Maybe you should invite him to take you to the banquet tomorrow…Or have you already decided who to take?”

Erika wanted to groan. “No, and I doubt Felix would be interested. It’s only been six months since Kate died.”

“Which means it’s past time for him to come out of his shell—at least far enough to be sociable. You’d be asking him to take you to dinner, Erika, not meet you at the altar. Right?”

Erika wanted to bang her head on the desk. Not you, too, Kelly.

“Anyway, if you’re so sure he’ll say no, then it’s a perfect opportunity to call him. You can get a feel for where he’s standing without actually asking whether he’s made a decision on selling the business. And that way you won’t be stuck with him for a whole evening, either.”

“Maybe I’ll just take you instead,” Erika threatened. “Why should going to an event like this have to look like a date, anyway?”

“Sorry, but I’m already committed. I volunteered to work at one of the publisher’s booths—it’s a great way to meet people.” She reached for the telephone.

Startled, Erika saw that though it hadn’t rung, a light was blinking. Line three—her private line. The number she’d given Felix La Croix. Her heartbeat speeded up.

“Ms. Forrester’s office,” Kelly said. “No, Mr. La Croix, this is her personal assistant. I’ll put you straight through.” She pushed the hold button and handed the phone to Erika. “Want me to go away?”

Erika shook her head and cleared her throat. “Hello, Felix. I’m sorry we couldn’t manage lunch the other day. Perhaps sometime this week?”

He didn’t bother to answer. “I was just chased down by a reporter from the Sentinel.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Not surprised, but definitely sorry.

“She seemed to think that you and I have some sort of understanding.”

Erika allowed a smile to creep into her voice. “I was hoping to hear that myself. About the sale, I mean.”

“That’s not the sort of understanding she meant. She hinted that the Sentinel is ready to run a story that we’re planning a wedding.”

That’s even worse than I expected. “So if they do, they’ll embarrass themselves,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been wrong, and it won’t be the last.”

Felix’s voice was firm. “I will not stand for speculation in the public press about my personal life, or gossip that reflects badly on my wife. I’m calling to tell you that I’m starting negotiations with one of your competitors.”

Erika’s throat tightened till she could hardly breathe. “Felix, you told me you didn’t want to sell Kate’s company to one of the giants. That was why you were willing to talk to me in the first place.”

“Well, conditions change, don’t they? I don’t see that I have much choice. Unless you can do something to stop this gossip, I will put an end to it by selling the business—to anyone besides you.”

Erika swallowed hard. “Give me a few days, Felix. Let me see what I can do.”

He didn’t answer for a while, and when he did there was a grudging note in his voice. “It’s almost the weekend,” he said. “All right. I’ll hold off till Monday.” The telephone banged in her ear.

Big of him to give me a whole weekend. Erika sat frozen.

“That didn’t seem to go at all well,” Kelly mused.

Erika put the phone down and pushed her chair back. “I think I’ll go home early, Kelly.”

“What about your appointment with the attorneys?”

“Tell them what happened, and cancel the meeting.”

She was almost at the door when Kelly said plaintively, “If you want me to explain it, then don’t you think you’d better tell me what happened?”

Maybe it was time to just let it go, Erika thought. The few days that Felix had agreed to wait wouldn’t make much difference. Perhaps it would be best for her to accept that the deal was not going to go through and turn her attention to something else.

You should have known you couldn’t make it work, her father’s voice taunted in the back of her mind.

Erika smothered the voice of doubt. She was right about Kate La Croix’s products, and she knew it. This was the perfect combination—for Felix La Croix as well as for Ladylove. Why he couldn’t see that was beyond her, but obviously he couldn’t—so if the deal was to be saved, it would be up to her.

Unless you can do something to stop this gossip…

Well, there was something she could do, Erika told herself. She could undercut the Sentinel by making her own announcement first. If she announced her engagement before the Sentinel could run its story about her and Felix…

The plan was simple enough in principle. It was the details which weren’t so easily settled. What was it Amos had said? “Who on earth are you thinking about marrying? If you can’t even get a date for a Saturday night banquet—”

There were plenty of possibilities, she told herself. Not the delivery boy from the Chinese restaurant, of course. But the ad manager…the marketing director…the lawyer…

Her brain seemed to grind to a halt. The truth was, she couldn’t even imagine herself telling any of them about this scheme, much less asking for their cooperation.

She did have to give Amos darling some credit, she admitted. Even though he’d thought the idea was insane, he’d at least listened to her. He’d been helpful at sorting out her thinking once, and maybe he could do that again.

With hope once more rising in her heart, she headed for home.

Amos was in the office when she came in. He was holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear, but he was obviously on hold, because he was sorting notes and reminders on the ever-present clipboard.

“I need to talk to you,” Erika announced.

“Take a number. You’re about twenty-fifth on the list at the moment.”

“I’ll wait.” She took off her coat, and was startled when Stephen stepped up to take it from her. “I didn’t realize you were here, Stephen.”

“I just came in,” Stephen said. “But before I get started on the list, I’ll be happy to take care of your needs, Ms. Forrester.”

Erika regarded him thoughtfully. “No, that’s all right. Amos has been teaching me to share and take turns, so I’ll wait for him to be free.”

“Not you, too,” Amos muttered.

“What’s the matter?” Erika settled into the wing chair. “Is the job more demanding than you expected it to be? You know, I’ve been thinking that you looked a little more frazzled every time I’ve seen you lately.”

Amos shot her a look that should have made her skin sizzle. “You sound pleased with yourself. You know, I wouldn’t put it past you to be getting all the women in the complex to call me every twenty minutes.”

“Why would I do that?” Erika asked reasonably. “It just puts me further down your list. Have you had a lunch break yet?”

“Why?” Amos sounded suspicious.

“Because I’ll buy. I owe you from the other day when you shared your lunch and I forgot to even say thanks.”

“And also because that way you can jump to the head of the line.”

“Guilty,” she admitted.

“I’ll take over,” Stephen said, and reached for the telephone. “Go.”

Amos stood up, looking reluctant.

Erika reached for her coat. “How’s the book going?”

“You really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?”

“He says,” Stephen put in helpfully, “that at this rate he’ll finish in about forty-five years.”

“Well, at least that way you don’t have to deal with the fear of rejection,” Erika mused. “Where would you like to go for lunch?”

Amos guided her out onto the street. “No place where anyone knows you, that’s sure. Which leaves the open-air hot dog stands and the bars.”

“I’ll take a hot dog stand. So it’s the women who are calling for help? I can’t say I’m surprised. What have you been doing for them?”

He sighed. “Shifting furniture. Plugging a new computer together. Getting boxes down off high shelves.”

“That’s a good one,” Erika said. “It shows off your muscles. I did warn you, if you remember, that the residents would keep you busy.”

“Once the news wears off, it’ll settle down.”

She thought he sounded more hopeful than convinced.

The nearest hot dog stand was across the street from a tiny park. Erika put mustard on her sandwich and led the way to a bench in the sun. The wooden slats felt warm even through her trench coat.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Amos asked.

“You remember that plan we were talking about the other day? I’ve decided to go through with it.”

He looked wary. “Why are you telling me?”

“Good manners. You said you wanted to know what I decided. Also…” She let the silence drag out. “Also because I think you’re the perfect candidate.”

Amos went so still that for a moment she thought she was sitting next to a statue. “Oh, no. You’re not dragging me into this stunt.”

“I have no intention of dragging you. You said yourself that it’s a matter of proper incentives. Or, to make it perfectly clear-cut, bribes. So let’s talk about it, Amos darling. What will it take to buy you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Forty-five years to write a book,” Erika mused. “I think maybe there’s a way to cut that down. If, of course, you’re interested in talking about it.”