Baby's First Christmas. Marie Ferrarella

If she had succeeded once, she probably would have tried even harder, hoping lightning would strike twice.

      In the privacy of her own room, in the shadows of her own mind, there was no denying the hunger she had always had to win his approval. To win his love. She had believed—hoped really—that there was more to him than he outwardly showed. That was why she had tried so hard to relate to him on his own territory.

      Marlene glanced one last time at her image in the full-length mirror. The flared black velvet evening jacket gracefully camouflaged the fact that she was bordering on something that Greenpeace was taking under its protective wing. Beneath the jacket she wore a wide, floor-length black velvet skirt and a crimson camisole that flowed over it. It was flattering and made her feel a little less like a Sherman tank.

      But not by much.

      Sally looked up as Marlene descended the stairs. “You look like a knockout,” she told her matter-of-factly, and Marlene knew she meant the compliment.

      Sally never wasted time with words she didn’t mean. She was more like a drill sergeant than a housekeeper, but she had her soft edges. Marlene loved her because she felt that Sally always told her the truth, whether it was good or bad.

      “You’re wasting it on those bozos tonight.”

      Leave it to Sally to take everyone down to a common denominator. “I don’t think the head of Acme Oil sees himself as a bozo.”

      Sally grinned as she handed Marlene her purse. “That makes the title all the more fitting. I sure hope you’re not going to be doing this once the baby’s here.”

      Once the baby was here, everything would change. “No, I promise you, the pace will lessen.” She smiled. “You sound like Nicole.”

      “The girl makes sense. Well, if you’re determined to go, go.” Sally shooed Marlene to the door. “Have a good time.”

      Marlene leaned over to brush her lips over the old woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Just for you, Sally.”

      She grinned as she heard the woman muttering under her breath as she closed the door behind her.

       Chapter Four

       S he had barely crossed the threshold to Breckinridge’s ballroom when she saw him.

      Sullivan Travis, looking suave in the black tie he had told her about. Even from across the crowded room, she could appreciate the figure he cut in his suit, black, like his hair. There was a strawberry blonde wearing a dress one size too small who appeared to be hanging on to his every word.

      Probably mesmerized by his blue eyes.

      God, listen to her. She was writing an ode to a man who was out to cold-bloodedly separate her from her child. What was the matter with her?

      A combination of being overworked and pregnant, she decided, watching Sullivan. By his bearing, he reminded her of someone who, as the old expression went, was “to the manor born.”

      Well, she wasn’t planning on being some peasant he could just plow under.

      For a moment Marlene wavered, undecided whether or not to just leave. It certainly would be the easier way out, just beg off because of her condition. But that would mean hiding behind it, something she swore never to do, and besides, it was tantamount to running. Also something she refused to do.

      Instead, she crossed the floor, coming at Sullivan like an arrow intent on a target. Bull’s-eye.

      Sullivan looked in her direction a moment before she reached him. He was as surprised to see her as she was him, but he hid it better. He’d learned to allow very little to register on his face. It made for better negotiations when the time came.

      With a swift, gentle movement, he extracted his arm from the woman beside him.

      “If you’ll excuse me, I have someone I need to talk to,” he murmured.

      Sullivan welcomed the reprieve. Janice DuBarry seemed to have her sights set on acquiring a piece of the Travis Corporation, namely him. It was something he was accustomed to and never cared for. Every woman he had ever met saw him only as part of the Travis dynasty, never as Sullivan.

      “What are you doing here?” Marlene demanded in a hushed, angry whisper.

      She looked loaded for bear, he thought. All in all, the lady was some piece of goods. He felt sorry for any man who would become involved with her. Fortunately, that man wouldn’t be him.

      He took her arm, turning her away from Janice, who was very obviously trying to eavesdrop. “I was invited. How about you?”

      Marlene was tempted to say “Like hell you were,” but given his position, he probably had been. Just her luck that she hadn’t thought to obtain a guest list from Cynthia beforehand.

      He didn’t look as if he was smirking at her, but she knew that beneath that smooth exterior, that was exactly what he was doing.

      “I suppose who Cynthia and Alan want to socialize with is their own business.” Now that she knew he wasn’t merely stalking her, she wanted to get away from him. It was a large room, a large party. If she was careful, she didn’t have to cross his path again. “Have a nice time,” she told him icily.

      With that, she began to turn away, but Sullivan took her arm. She stopped, unwilling to cause a scene.

      Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if her anger ever rechanneled itself into passion. If it did, she would be more than a handful for that same unfortunate man he’d pitied earlier.

      “Since opportunity seems to have knocked on my door, I’d be remiss in not opening it.” He waited for her to contradict him.

      “Open any door you please, as long as it’s not near me.” If she was forced to pull her arm away from him in order to get away, she would. She didn’t want to spoil the evening by getting into a discussion with him.

      From out of nowhere, Cynthia Breckinridge swooped down on them with the unerring instinct of a woman who had been bred to be a hostess from early on.

      “Hello, darling.” She kissed the air near Marlene’s cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it, given your situation and all.”

      Her eyes swept over Marlene in a quick appraisal, before turning her attention to Sullivan.

      “I didn’t know that you two knew each other.” She hooked an arm through Marlene’s, simultaneously slipping the other through Sullivan’s.

      “Not really,” Marlene politely corrected. “We’ve only just met.” She saw that the information somehow pleased Cynthia rather than deterred her.

      Very carefully, Marlene extricated her arm and turned her back on Sullivan, cutting him out of her range. “Cynthia, I was wondering—”

      “—If I could have a word with Ms. Bailey,” Sullivan concluded the sentence. Very smoothly, he moved to Marlene’s side. Marlene gave him a murderous look.

      With a look that bordered on elation, Cynthia spread her hands benevolently.

      “That’s what parties are for. Talk away.” Her eyes almost danced with gleeful anticipation. “Go forth, mingle. I’d say ‘be fruitful,’ but our Marlene already seems to have covered that area.”

      If she didn’t like Cynthia so much, Marlene would have been tempted to strangle her. She redirected her anger to the man beside her. She turned on him as soon as Cynthia was out of earshot, fluttering away to tend to her other guests.

      Marlene struggled to keep her voice low as she allowed Sullivan to usher her off to the side. “Is that how you and your father built up your company? By strong-arming people?”

      “Only if they refuse to return my calls and won’t meet with me.” She was wearing some sort of heady perfume that managed, even in this crowd, to be distinctive. He felt it subtly surrounding him and struggled to