The Husband Sweepstake

“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.”

CHAPTER THREE

AMOS said, “I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”

Erika thought he sounded as if he was talking to himself. Or, rather, as if he were lecturing himself. “Why shouldn’t you listen?” she challenged. “Because you’re afraid if you hear me out you’ll be tempted?”

He raised both eyebrows at her. “Wishful thinking, sweetheart.”

Erika took a deep breath and regrouped. “Amos, you seem to be a sensible, pragmatic kind of guy. So—”

“Oh, that’s great. You know me so well after—What’s it been now? Four days and three conversations?”

“You remember exactly?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His voice was heavy with irony. “Of course, with such extensive experience to draw on, you’re the expert on what kind of pigeonhole I fit into.”

“Don’t try to make this about me, Amos. It’s not like I don’t have reason to think that you keep your own self-interests right at the top of the list. That’s why you took this job in the first place, isn’t it? It’s not exactly your style to be at people’s beck and call.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me what my style is, oh great psychologist.”

“Being independent,” she said. “Being your own boss. But you thought this would be a pushover of a job, didn’t you?”

He winced.

“I don’t mean that in a bad sense,” Erika said hastily. “It must have looked very practical at the time. You thought you’d have a nice place to live right in the middle of the action, enough cash to pay the expenses and a lot of free time to do what you wanted.”

He sighed. “You got that much right.”

“Of course, it didn’t turn out that way. If you had more experience with the kind of people who live in upscale Manhattan apartment complexes, you’d have known that.”

His gaze flickered, and suddenly he was looking beyond her, into the park.

Oops. Major mistake. “Sorry,” she said. “ That sounded really snobbish, didn’t it? But I was just stating a fact, really.”

“You do have a way of stating facts so they sting like darts, you know.”

“Hey, as long as we’re talking about throwing darts, you’re the one who said I need a keeper. But that’s all beside the point. Taking the job was a pragmatic and sensible decision to make at the time, even if it hasn’t worked out very well. So now that you know the truth about the job, what’s so terrible about looking around for a better deal?”

“What you’re offering is not a better deal.”

“How do you know? We haven’t even talked about it.” She took a bite of her hot dog. Don’t be in any hurry, she told herself. Dangle the idea in front of him and give him a chance to wonder what he might be missing if he walks away.

He looked at her again. “You’ve got a point,” he said finally. “I may as well listen.”

She’d never had any particular desire to go sports fishing, but now she knew how it felt—she’d managed to set the hook, but landing this shark was still going to be a challenge. She took another bite to give herself a moment to think.

“So what are you offering?” Amos asked.

He’s impatient. That’s good. “Freedom,” she said. “The kind you were looking for when you took this job. A roof over your head, food on the table and no more tenants calling you to move computers or stack boxes. All of which comes down to lots of time to write. Interested?”

“And of course a few teeny-weeny little strings attached.”

Erika shrugged. “There will be a certain public presence required. But it’s not like you have to dangle from my sleeve all day.”

He didn’t comment. “So what happened to change your mind?”

She told him about Felix’s phone call, and he was silent and thoughtful for a long time.

Finally he mused, “He must be an awfully sensitive kind of guy not to thrust out his chest and brag about his name being linked with yours.”

“There’s Kate—”

“I know, he’s a grieving widower and all. Still, to get so bent out of shape about a little gossip that he’ll turn down a good offer for a business…You’re sure he’s not just trying to raise the price you’ll pay?”

“He was pretty clear. End the gossip about him by Monday, or he’ll be selling to the competition.”

“And you don’t want to see that happen.”

“Of course I don’t. Kate’s products are the best—I use the stuff myself. If those formulas get into the hands of one of the giants, there will be no point in us even trying to develop a competitive line.”

“Maybe this is just his way of getting out of one deal because he has a better one on the horizon,” Amos speculated.

“And he wants me to look like the guilty party, so he doesn’t appear to be going back on his word?”

“Something like that. They might be offering him more money than you did.”

Erika shook her head. “I don’t think so. The giants don’t need Kate’s formulas. I expect at least one of the companies would pick them up if they were handy and cheap, but they’re not going to pay an enormous price to secure a niche in the market. Besides, Felix wants to sell to me, because he knows I’ll keep Kate’s name and her label, and the giants won’t. I just have to make it possible for him to do it.”

“By stopping the gossip.”

She nodded. “Will you help me, Amos?”

His eyes narrowed. “I wondered how long it would take you to get around to actually asking. Until now you’ve been making it sound as if you were doing me the favor of the century and asking practically nothing in return.”

“Well, I am doing you a big favor,” Erika pointed out. “And I’m doing myself one, too, of course. That’s the beauty of it—there’s no downside, because neither one of us is giving up anything.” She darted a sideways look at him. “Unless you consider quitting your job to be a sacrifice, of course.”

“So what—exactly—are you proposing?”

She leaned forward and tossed her hot dog wrapper in a nearby trash container. “A short-term marriage of convenience.”

“Exactly how short-term?”

“By the time all the paperwork is done and we get through the necessary government approvals, probably two to three months. Luckily there’s enough competition in the field that we won’t have to go through a full-scale antitrust investigation, but—”

“And then?”

“Then we get a quiet annulment, and it’s all done with.”

“You make it sound very simple.”

“That’s because it is simple. Think about it, Amos. Two or three months of writing all day, every day…How much of your book could you finish in that time?”

“Depends. How many public functions do you anticipate?”

Erika shrugged. “I don’t know. Once a week, maybe. All we need to do is be seen together now and then. If there isn’t some sort of special event going on, we can go out for lunch. I’m not talking about any huge commitment of time, that’s sure. It’s not like we’ll be living in each other’s pockets.”

“Speaking of living arrangements—”

“That’s right, you’ll lose your apartment when you resign.”

“Yes. And then there’s the fact that it would look a little odd if you were living on the penthouse floor and I was in the basement.”

Erika was startled. “The basement? The staff apartments are in the basement?”

“In the employment contract it’s technically referred to as the lower level, but—”

“No wonder you’re getting no work done. No daylight, no sunshine, no fresh air…My apartment has three bedrooms, and one of them is already set up as a den. Feel free to rearrange the furniture however you like. There’s also a screened-in porch and a balcony with a view of Central Park.”

“Heaven on earth,” Amos murmured.

She decided not to think too hard about the sarcasm obvious in his tone. “Pretty close, actually. I like it much better than the last place I lived. But you’ve already been in a lot of the apartments, so you know what they’re like.”

“Much nicer than the staff’s quarters.”

“I’ll bet. I’m sure we can work out the day-to-day details. I have a business to run, so I’m hardly home anyway.”

“And that’s the whole deal?”

“Well—mostly. Of course there would have to be an agreement that you will never, ever talk to the press about me.”

“And vice versa,” he said idly.

“Don’t worry about that. I never willingly discuss anything with the Sentinel, even the weather.” She hesitated. “I mean it, Amos—not ever. So…Well, I’d be willing to give you some sort of a stipend…”

“As a reminder not to chatter? That sounds like blackmail on the installment plan.”

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