The Sexiest Man Alive. Sandra Marton

      CHIC

      The Magazine for Tomorrow’s Woman

      Edgar B. Elerbee, Publisher

      I am delighted to announce that Susannah Madison is our new editor-in-chief. Susannah has been with us as senior editor for the past two years. She’ll be assuming her new post at the start of next week. I know you’ve weathered some difficult moments the last few months but I can assure you, that’s all behind us.

      The payroll dept. has asked me to inform those who may have, again, experienced some difficulty cashing last week’s checks to please be patient. The problem is computer related. Thank you again for your forbearance and, may I add, it’s been a pleasure working with all of you these past years.

      E. Elerbee

      

      

      from: Susannah Madison, editor-in-chief

      to: Staff

      I have just been informed that CHIC has been purchased by Update Publications of NYC. Don’t panic, people. I’m trying to get info re Update. As soon as I do, I’ll cc: whatever I have to all of you. Since we’ve never heard of it, it’s probably a small outfit, one that will give us time to regroup, retrench & make CHIC the winner we all know it can be

      Susannah

      

      

      While You Were Out

      

      Mr. E:

      S.M phoned. Asked for info re rumors sale of magazine. What shall I tell her?

      Pam

      

      

      from: [email protected]

      to: SusannahMadison@chic com

      subj: Congrats & Query

      Wow! Congratulatians, Suze. You’ll be great! What’s Elerbee mean, “It’s been a pleasure,” etc Is he retiring? Selling? The mag can’t be going under, not if he’s just appointed you ed-in-chief, right? RIGHT’?

      

      

      MEMO

      from: Matthew Romano

      to: Joseph Romano

      re: CHIC takeover

      Sept 10

      Joe:

      Update Division just acquired CHIC as part of the Elerbee package. From what I’ve seen, the kindest thing would be to put it out of its misery. What in hell’s going on there? I want to see some data. Copies of correspondence re revolving-door ed-in-chief position, also any pertinent correspondence, files, email, etc on my desk, ASAP. Matt

      

      

      from: [email protected]

      to: [email protected]

      subj: Some guys are, some guys aren’t Thanks a lot, big brother. You just about kept me chained to my desk this weekend Info on its way. Files sent via Internet, pertinent correspondence faxed. Emails mostly office chitchat-but you should take a look at some of them Forwarding same to your acct. Got to say, buddy, I never did notice you were (ahem) studly.

      Joe (trying very hard not to guffaw)

      P.S. I guess I’d better tell you now, I’m not the only one who eyeballed this stuff. Material went thru a few hands before hitting my desk. Sorry, but you have to admit, it’s funny.

      

      

      MEMO

      from: Matthew Romano

      to: Jane

      re: Elerbee package

      Jane

      Will be leaving for NY on Sun. Contact Hank. Tell him I’ll need the plane. Arrange for hotel accommodations Also phone CHIC offices, inform ed-in-chief I’ll expect to see her in her office 9 AM Monday.

      MR

      Jane—Flowers to Miss Darvis, please A dozen roses Make it two dozen. Apologies, etc. for breaking next Sun night engagement Tell her I’ll phone from NY. As for ed-in-chief.. please be sure to impress upon the lady that she’d damn well better be prompt.

      

      

      from: MattRomano@romano com

      to: [email protected]

      subj: CHIC

      I’ve changed my mind Do not contact ed - in-chief at CHIC. I prefer to make my visit unannounced.

      CHAPTER ONE

      SUSANNAH stepped from the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and raced down the chilly hallway to the kitchen.

      This day—this very important day—was not off to a good start.

      The shower had been so cold it had made her teeth chatter. The radiators were rattling enough to wake the dead, but the heat trickling out of them wouldn’t have heated a dollhouse. And, as she set the kettle on to boil, a cockroach the size of Godzilla scurried across the linoleum.

      But it was what she read on the clock over the stove that set her heart pounding

      Seven-fifteen?

      It couldn’t be. No way. It was six-fifteen, it had to be. She’d set her alarm an hour earlier than usual, given herself more than enough time to get dressed, put on her makeup and blow-dry her hair, have a slice of toast with her coffee, make Peter his breakfast and still arrive at the office before anyone else.

      It was important to seem cool, calm and collected when she started today’s meeting, and never mind that her heart would be in her throat. Even the fortune cookie that had come with last night’s order of take-out General Tso’s chicken had said that much.

      Tomorrow, the little slip of paper in the cookie had promised, is the first day of the rest of your life.

      Well, of course it is, the practical little voice in Susannah’s head had whispered, but the other voice, the one that lived in her heart or her soul or wherever it was hopes and prayers lived, that voice had said, You see, Susannah? The whole world knows that you’re standing on the edge of your dream.

      Editor-in-chief. Not in five years, or ten, but right now. A giant step up the ladder. A Career, capital C, and all that went with it—independence, respect and security. That was the dream. Now, long before she’d ever imagined it would happen, she had her shot at achieving it. And she wasn’t going to be shoved off course by a malfunctioning kitchen clock.

      The clock was definitely’broken, that was all there was to it. She’d set her alarm, it had gone off...and if she needed any further proof that it was after six, not after seven, all she had to do was take a look at Peter, who was still lying asleep in her bed.

      Susannah gave a sigh of relief. That was something, anyway The last thing she needed right now was to have to deal with Peter’s early-morning grumpiness. He was gorgeous, and she adored him, but there were times you had to tiptoe around his ego. He was, typically, disgustingly, arrogantly male.

      Well, no Mr. Matthew Romano, he of the smug smiles and the decorative blondes, he was typically male. Peter, on the other hand, could be a sweetheart when he wanted to. And he understood that her life could not revolve around him. He didn’t complain if she worked late or expect her to put her career on hold so she could be there to take care of his needs.

      “It’s because he doesn’t really love you, Suze,” Claire had said more than once.

      But he did, in his own way. He put what he could into the relationship,