Hired Husband

A click of the mouse put the big screen into motion. What followed was a thirty-minute video, detailing in layman’s terms the effect of the secret youth formula upon the skin. The intricate demo ended with the reassembling of the original matrix.

“Now,” Nick continued, “you will notice that the matrix is not wholly formed. The break you see here in this molecular chain—” he shone the laser pointer on the monitor “—is what I call Ingredient X, meaning that we’re certain we need one last element to finish the formula. We just don’t know yet what that element is, although we’ve managed within the past several months to narrow the range of possibilities considerably. My guess is that it won’t be long at all now until we do isolate and identify Ingredient X, at which point the formula will be ready for market. Are there any questions?”

“So what you’re saying,” said Jacob Fortune, known to everyone as Jake, “is that the secret youth formula utilizes properties similar to those found in Retin-A and salicylic acid, as well as alpha hydroxies like glycolic acid? But that Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will go beyond those products—that it will, in fact, revolutionize the entire cosmetic market in that it will be similar, basically, to a chemical peel for which consumers previously would have needed to visit a plastic surgeon or dermatologist? And the difference is that they will now be able to perform the task themselves—both safely and relatively inexpensively—in the privacy of their own homes? Further, that the effects of Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will be cumulative, that is, the longer the formula is used, the greater the benefits will prove?”

“Exactly.” Nick nodded, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “With proper, regular use, Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will, within just a matter of months, restore even the most deteriorated skin to the texture, elasticity, et cetera, that it exhibited in its late teenage to early twenties years—minus the acne, of course.” The observation brought a round of appreciative chuckles. “In addition, once that youthful stage has been reached by the consumer, consistent use of the product a few times a week will maintain the skin at that level—which means, of course, that the majority of consumers will be steady customers.

“Because the formula is, in essence, a chemical peel, it will require FDA approval. However, all our tests have led us to believe that won’t be a problem. As you know, we’ve worked closely with the FDA all along, both to ensure conformity with all their rules and regulations, and to keep them apprised of our test results. Sterling can fill you in on all those legalities. In addition, we’ll undoubtedly have several patents granted—which will tend to slow down our competition for quite a while. I expect our market share to increase substantially as a result.” Nick grinned wickedly, bringing a scowl to Caroline’s face as she watched him.

It just wasn’t right for any man to be so damned attractive, she thought—especially when that handsomeness was coupled with an imperious attitude and undeniable intelligence. The man was brilliant; she had to give him credit for that.

Opening his portfolio, Nick withdrew several identical bound reports, which he passed around the conference table, announcing, “I have, of course, prepared full written summaries of my presentation for you all.”

“Excellent.” Kate beamed her approval. “You’ve done an outstanding job, Nick! I have every confidence that you will shortly discover the missing Ingredient X. Further, I know I speak for all of us here at Fortune Cosmetics when I say how much I deeply appreciate your dedication to the job and all the contributions you’ve made to the company since coming aboard. Keep up the good work! And keep me informed of your progress, won’t you? Now, speaking of our market share…Caroline, is your advertising campaign ready for the launch of our secret youth formula?”

“Yes, Grandmother, it is.” Smoothing her skirt, Caroline rose to make her way to the computerized video-presentation equipment while Nick pressed the button on the drive to release his diskette, which he slipped into his portfolio.

Then he strolled over to the credenza. “Ah…sweet rolls!” he exclaimed, glancing rakishly beneath hooded lids at Caroline.

Much to her irritation and discomposure, she felt herself blush as furiously again as she had earlier outside in the corridor, and her fingers were suddenly so clumsy that she dropped upon the floor the diskette she was attempting to insert. When she bent to retrieve the diskette, she accidentally knocked her portfolio from the conference table, too, sending all her papers flying once more.

Swearing under her breath, she shot Nick the proverbial look that could have killed, causing him to grin hugely.

“Here, let me help you, Ms. Fortune.” He knelt beside her to gather up the fallen papers. Between his teeth, he now gripped one of the sweet rolls from the sterling-silver tray on the credenza.

It was all Caroline could do to prevent herself from shoving the sweet roll down his throat. She was embarrassedly aware of her grandmother, father, cousin and Sterling watching her and Nick curiously, clearly wondering what, if anything, might be between the two of them.

While Fortune Cosmetics did not have a company policy against employee fraternization, Caroline could not help but remember what had happened with Paul Andersen and how disappointed her grandmother and father both had been in her judgment. Her mistake with Paul had caused them to look over her shoulder for months afterward, double-checking the decisions she had made on the job.

Were they even now sitting there knowing—as they had known about Paul and she had not—that Nick Valkov was a fortune hunter, too, or otherwise unsuitable in some fashion? Were they even now questioning her judgment again?

That thought incensed Caroline, reminding her why she had always gone out of her way to avoid Nick—and every other man at Fortune Cosmetics.

Beneath the edge of the conference table, she glowered darkly at Nick. In response, he broke off a piece of the sweet roll, offering it to her, while he ate his own portion with relish, deliberately savoring it. Despite herself, she felt her eyes drawn to his sulky, sensuous mouth, his tongue that licked the sticky icing from his long, elegant fingers. Unbidden, a sudden image of him doing wild, sexy things to her with those lips and tongue rose in her mind, mortifying her and setting the pulse at the hollow of her throat to fluttering wildly.

Shaking her head curtly at the proffered sweet roll, she bent over her scattered papers, feeling the heat of her blush deepen and spread, stricken by the terrible, unnerving suspicion that Nick had somehow seen the mental picture she had had of the two of them together.

From beneath her long, thick sooty lashes, she glanced at him surreptitiously. He was no longer grinning, which should have relieved her—and would have—except that now his dark eyes glittered with speculation as he stared at her, as though he had never really looked at her before and suddenly saw a great deal to interest him.

“Your papers, Ms. Fortune,” Nick said softly as he handed them to her. One powerful, slender hand reached out, took hold of her arm. Caroline was so startled and unsettled by their physical contact that she only barely restrained herself from jerking away from him as he assisted her to her feet.

“Thank you, Dr. Valkov,” she replied as cooly as she could manage, silently cursing the fact that her hand trembled as she jammed her diskette into the drive. She cleared her throat nervously. Then, determinedly ignoring Nick, she began her presentation. “As you’re all aware, we’ve had several names for the secret youth formula under consideration. Based on the marketing campaign that I and my department have developed, however, this is the name we suggest that you approve.”

A click of the mouse brought her own presentation to the monitor, and superimposed over the Fortune Cosmetics’ logo, the words Fabulous Face flashed on the screen.

After a moment, the video itself unfolded, explaining the concept for the marketing campaign, then focusing on the actual print and television advertising. The proposed TV commercial started with a closeup of Caroline’s sister Allison—who was Fortune Cosmetics’ top supermodel—and a low, seductively confiding voice-over that asked, “What’s her secret?”

Then the spiel describing the new product ensued as several different women of various nationalities and ages, all the models beautiful and youthful-looking, were shown in a number of settings, both at work and play. More than one of the women had a tall, handsome man at her side. Tucked discreetly into each scene was a shot of the product itself, packaged in an appealing, gilded, heavy glass container designed in Fortune Cosmetics’ signature style.

Sixty seconds later, the proposed commercial ended with the voice-over announcing, “And now that you know her secret, you, too, can be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces.”

Much to Caroline’s pleasure, at the video’s completion, the room erupted in applause.

“It’s wonderful!” Kate crowed, laughing like a gleeful child. “Precisely what we want to get across to the consumer…that any woman who uses our secret youth formula can have a fabulous face! That’s it! That’s exactly what we’ll call it—Fabulous Face! Sterling, make a note to register that name right away. Oh, it’s a clever television commercial, Caroline, beautiful, sensuous, a little mysterious, not clinical at all, even though you manage to get the primary points of the product across…. And the magazine layouts you’ve designed are gorgeous and glamorous yet down-to-earth at the same time, so they won’t make the average woman feel that a fabulous face is beyond her reach. I am just absolutely delighted—and so proud of you, Caroline! Excellent work! Keep it up!”

Even more than her grandmother’s praise, Caroline was thrilled to hear her father’s compliments when he chimed in exuberantly. Jake was very much aware of his position in both the family and Fortune Cosmetics. He had, she knew, given up his own dreams to take charge of the company, resolutely dedicating himself over the years to making it a tremendous success. As a result, he had demanding, frequently impossible expectations, and Caroline understood that she had always taken second place in his heart, that it was her older brother, Adam, whom Jake would have preferred to have seen at Fortune Cosmetics, being groomed as its heir.

But Adam had always been at odds with their father and had never wanted anything to do with any of the family businesses. At eighteen, her brother had rebelled and struck out on his own, joining the military. That had been a bitter disappointment to Jake. And although ever since then, Caroline had striven almost desperately to make up for Adam’s desertion, to win her father’s approval, today was the first time she felt she had truly succeeded. More than anyone else at the company, she thought, Jake realized just how much was riding on the secret youth formula that would prove the culmination of all Kate had ever hoped to achieve in life.

After a few more minutes of discussion, the meeting adjourned, everybody agreeing that the new product was wonderfully on track and extremely close now to becoming a reality.

“Before you all leave, I want to remind you that positively everything connected with the secret youth formula is to remain strictly confidential,” Kate insisted as she gathered up her copies of Nick’s and Caroline’s presentation reports. “We all know the hazards of industrial espionage, and I don’t want any of our competitors getting wind of Fabulous Face until it hits the market. We’re going to blow them away with this one! I can feel it in my bones. Oh, how I’d love to see our competitors’ expressions when they find out about Fabulous Face! They’re just absolutely going to croak!” Kate giggled again like a mischievous child at the notion.

Then she swept from the conference room, Sterling trailing along in her wake, Jake following behind.

“Kyle, I need to see you in my office for a few minutes,” Caroline announced hastily, not wanting to be left alone with Nick Valkov. Even so, her heart sank as she thought of what she must say to her wayward cousin. Over the years, she had become very adept at reading between the lines of her grandmother’s words. So, sadly, Caroline had recognized that Kate’s seemingly innocent observations about Kyle earlier had, in reality, been her grandmother’s subtle way of instructing her to fire her cousin.

In her heart, Caroline knew that what Kate had said was true: Kyle just didn’t fit in at Fortune Cosmetics, wasn’t cut out for the cutthroat corporate world. Not only did he play around a great deal more than he worked, but he had also had a string of affairs and one-night stands with more than one of the supermodels signed to exclusive, multimillion-dollar contracts with the company.

Recently, Danielle Duvalier—who rivaled even Caroline’s sister Allison for face and name recognition in the marketplace—had been so devastated by her breakup with Kyle that she had nearly suffered a nervous breakdown, and Caroline had been forced to send her to the Bahamas to recuperate.

Kyle’s falling asleep at this morning’s meeting was simply the last straw.

So, no matter how callous and cruel it seemed to Caroline, she realized she had to get rid of her cousin. Now, as she and Kyle entered her office together, she mentally steeled herself for the unpleasant task. She loathed firing anybody.

“Close the door and sit down, Kyle,” she directed as she hung her coat in the closet of her luxurious corner office with its wide windows overlooking the Twin Cities and the Mississippi River, which separated Minneapolis and St. Paul at its confluence with the Minnesota River. As Kyle cast his suit jacket aside and sat down in one of the two plush chairs before her elegant, cherry-wood Queen Anne desk, Caroline took her own seat behind it, drawing a deep breath before she spoke again. “Kyle, you know you’re one of my favorite cousins,” she began, only to have him interrupt with a wry grin.

“But I’m not living up to your expectations, am I? I’ve let you down in more ways than one, especially by falling asleep at the conference table earlier, and now you’ve got to fire me. Oh, don’t look so surprised and chagrined, Caro. You’re not the only one who’s got a handle on Grandmother and what she meant this morning with her observations about my character. And to tell you the truth, I’ve sensed this day was coming. In a way, I’m actually even glad and relieved that it’s here. It’s saved me from quitting.” Kyle paused for a moment, running his hand through his sun-streaked hair, his smile rueful but his blue eyes sober.

“I know you gave me a chance, Caro, and for your sake, I’m sorry your promoting me to your assistant hasn’t worked out. But unfortunately, Grandmother was right. I just don’t belong here at Fortune Cosmetics. Hell. I’m starting to believe I don’t belong anywhere! Frankly, the fascination of my jet-setting nightlife began to pall some time ago. But I just can’t seem to find anything more worthwhile to replace it. If you want to know the truth, I’m restless and bored to tears. Honestly, half the time, I feel like just chucking it all and going off to hole up in the wild somewhere, becoming a mountain man or something.”

“Well, why don’t you, then?” Caroline asked, her brow knitted with caring and concern. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to be a playboy all your life, Kyle.”

“I know that. But you know how we Fortunes are, Caro. From Grandmother on down, we’re all a spoiled, stubborn lot, each of us in our own fashion determined to have our own way, no matter how foolish. Look at Adam, running off to join the army. Look at you, hiding behind those glasses you don’t need and cutting yourself off from men all because of that worthless Paul Andersen. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing you, Caro. I’m commiserating. God knows, I haven’t done any better myself in the love department,” Kyle stated glumly. “I need to get out less, and you need to get out more—and that’s a fact. I noticed Nick Valkov seemed quite taken with you this morning.”

At his words, Caroline felt a blush once more creeping up to stain her cheeks. She frowned at her cousin censoriously. “That’s ridiculous! Why, the man’s as big a playboy as you, Kyle. He could have any woman he wanted. Why should he be interested in me?”

“Well, if you’d ever take off those stupid glasses, let down your hair and look in the mirror once in a while, Caro, you’d know. You’re as beautiful as Allie, damn it! You could be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces yourself.”

“Oh, Kyle, that’s so sweet of you to say so. But you know it’s not true.”

“The hell it isn’t. Why, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d be tempted myself.” He flashed her the devastating grin that had charmed and then broken so many hearts. “There’s always something about an ice queen that makes a man want to melt her. Trust me. Nick Valkov isn’t any exception. I know the signs. He’s interested in taking up the challenge, all right.” Kyle stood, tossing his jacket carelessly over his shoulder and jamming one hand into his trouser pocket. Then he leaned across her desk to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “So why don’t you loosen up, Caro? Give the man a chance. And don’t feel bad about firing me. You’ve done me a favor. Take care of yourself—and I’ll see you around.” Whistling cheerfully, he sauntered from her office, leaving her staring after him, dwelling on his words.

After a long moment, Caroline shook her head, resolutely forcing herself from her reverie. Kyle was crazy. Nick Valkov had deliberately taunted her this morning only to amuse himself at her expense. He had no real interest whatsoever in her.

Absolutely none.

Two

I t was after dark when Nick Valkov pulled into the driveway of his large, elegant house situated on one of the beautiful lakes beyond Minneapolis’s city limits. Pressing the button of the remote control to open one of the three doors, he parked his Mercedes-Benz in the garage. Then he went inside, taking his attaché with him. It contained paperwork from the office, along with his mail, which he had retrieved a few moments ago from his mailbox.

In the great room, whose floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the lake beyond, Nick stripped off his heavy wool topcoat, leather gloves, suit jacket and tie, carelessly tossing them over a chair. Then he loosened his collar and poured himself a shot of Stolichnaya vodka from the Waterford crystal decanter on the bar. Sipping the drink, he settled into one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs and flipped open his briefcase. Withdrawing his mail, he began to sort through it, pitching to one side what was obviously junk and placing the rest into a pile.

It was when he came to an envelope bearing the return address of the Immigration and Naturalization Service that he paused, tearing it open to read the tersely worded letter inside. He was so stunned by its contents that at first he couldn’t believe his eyes. He swore softly, stricken.

“No, this just can’t be right! There must be some mistake somewhere!” he insisted to himself. Both anger and fear roiled inside him as he mentally watched all his hopes, dreams and plans for the future going up in smoke, vanishing as though they had never been.

He had been declared an undesirable alien and was going to be deported from the United States! Sent back to Russia! He was to surrender himself to the nearest INS office, bringing his passport and green card with him. These instructions were followed by stern warnings of the legal measures that would be taken against him if he disobeyed.

Nick was devastated. Although the letter did not precisely come right out and say so, it hinted that he had been identified as a former KGB agent—which wasn’t true in the least. The very idea was ridiculous! He was a chemist—and a damned good one—not a spy! Still, if he were to remain in the United States, he had no doubt that he was, at the very least, facing a protracted, expensive legal battle to prove himself innocent of whatever accusations had been made against him.

The notion of returning to his own country held no appeal whatsoever. Ever since the breakup of the Soviet Union, Russia had been in a state of political turmoil. Nick did miss his homeland—which was why Minnesota, with all its wintry frozen lakes and snowy countryside—had drawn him to settle in the Twin Cities area. But he did not in the least long for the constant upheaval born of the ideological struggles of Russia’s government officials.

Reaching for the telephone, Nick picked up the receiver and punched in the number of Kate Fortune’s private line at the office. He let the telephone ring endlessly, but there was no response, so he finally tried her at home. When she answered, he spoke, relieved to have caught her.

“Kate? It’s Nick Valkov. I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but something important has come up, which I thought you would want to know about right away. Is this a good time to talk—or do you have plans for the evening?”

“Actually, Sterling and I were just about to have a quiet dinner here at home, but if necessary, I can have the housekeeper set it back for a while.

“Hold on a minute, Nick,” she continued briskly, “while I let Sterling know, so he can give instructions to Mrs. Brant.” She placed her hand over the receiver to muffle the sound of her calling out to Sterling. Then she spoke to Nick again. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

He explained about the letter from the INS, finishing with, “Needless to say, I’m very upset about all this, Kate—not to mention just utterly baffled. I simply can’t imagine where the INS might have got the idea that I was a former KGB agent, for heaven’s sake! Of course, I did do chemical research and development for the government—but it was never anything of a sensitive nature. I was then and still am staunchly against chemical warfare, and I have never assisted nor would I ever assist any government in developing anything of that sort. Even so, I suppose it’s possible somebody’s got the mistaken notion that I aided and abetted my homeland in that capacity and somehow confused my work with some secretive KGB operation.

“At any rate, because of my involvement with Fabulous Face and its importance to you, I thought I’d better let you know about all this immediately, Kate.” Nick sighed heavily as, reaching for his discarded suit jacket, he withdrew a pack of Player’s cigarettes from the inside pocket. Shaking one out, he lit up, inhaling deeply, then blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” Kate scolded like a mother hen as she heard the sound of his exhaled breath.

“Well, I was. I mean…I am. But damn it, Kate! This news from the INS has put me under a real strain. I don’t want to go back to Russia—and I certainly don’t want to lose my position at Fortune Cosmetics because I’m so involved in a legal battle that I can’t do my job!”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Nick. We’re so close now to completing my secret youth formula that you can be assured I don’t intend to let you escape from Fortune Cosmetics. We’ll just have to find some way of circumventing the INS, that’s all.

“Sterling!” Kate called, one hand muffling the receiver again. “Pick up the extension, so you can get in on this discussion. The INS thinks Nick’s a former KGB agent, and they’re attempting to deport him—and I’m not going to lose my foremost chemist. Not only is he too valuable to the company, but I just can’t let him get away with all that knowledge he’s got in his head about Fabulous Face,” Kate declared, chuckling, removing her hand from the receiver. “Some foreign government might grab him and steal my secret youth formula, turn it into an aging cream instead. Then women everywhere would find their skin wrinkling up rather than smoothing out—and that would start World War Three!”

Despite himself, Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s right, Kate,” he agreed. “It’s all a fiendish master plot. That’s why I don’t have a wife or even a steady girlfriend. I plan to be one of the lucky men who survives, who isn’t done in by a thoroughly enraged woman.”