The Husband Sweepstake. Leigh Michaels

blouse, you must have a new one immediately. So he sent me trekking all the way down to midtown to pick it up this afternoon.”

      “So I have two brand-new white silk blouses? That’s hilarious.”

      “Very amusing,” Amos said politely. “I suppose you’d like me to take the extra back tomorrow.”

      “It would seem to be the logical move. Actually, I’d prefer it if you’d trade it for a different shade, something like teal or periwinkle…”

      “How about wine-red? That would be dead easy—I could just finish the job you did on the original.”

      “On second thought, just take the blouse back. Don’t bother to get another. It would be very foolish of me to assume that you know your colors, so I might end up with something in flame-orange or fluorescent green.” She picked up a bag in each hand, weighed them and hung the lighter one back on the hat stand. “It was very thoughtful of you to anticipate my needs, Stephen.” She started toward the elevator, bag in hand.

      A low voice stopped her in midstride just a few paces from the office door. “You’re quite wrong, Stephen,” she heard Amos say. “That woman doesn’t need a manager looking after her. What she needs is a keeper.”

      The members’ lounge at the Civic Club was never noisy or crowded, but on Wednesday as the lunch hour neared, the room was as full as Erika had ever seen it. She toyed with a glass of sherry and tried to force down the butterflies in her stomach while she waited for her guest to arrive.

      You don’t have any idea what you’re doing, whispered a voice in the back of her mind.

      The voice sounded a little like her father. Erika took a deep breath and another sip and tried not to listen.

      You have no experience with buyouts and takeovers. You’ve been lucky so far, that’s all—and it isn’t going to last forever. Don’t push it.

      She reached for a business magazine which lay on a small table beside her. She’d grab for anything which might serve to deflect that belittling voice in her head.

      Kelly had been right, she thought—at least, up to a point. The Sentinel’s editors weren’t the only ones who’d been surprised when Erika had stepped into her father’s shoes at Ladylove Cosmetics after his death. In fact, Erika herself had been pretty much amazed when she’d actually stood up and said she wanted the job.

      Ladylove’s board of directors had been dumbstruck, but they hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Stanford Forrester III had made sure to maintain a controlling interest in his company, and as long as Erika was voting her father’s stock, she was every bit as much in control as he had been.

      Not that she was as certain of what she was doing. But then Stanford Forrester hadn’t always been able to predict the future, either. He hadn’t intended to give up control, even when he died. And if he’d had any idea how close that day was, Erika was convinced, he’d have revised his will—because the one thing Stanford Forrester would never have wanted was for Erika to run his precious company.

      Don’t worry your pretty head about business, dear. Your job is to smile for the camera…

      Well, she’d proved him wrong. In the eight quarters since she’d become the CEO, Ladylove had shown steady growth in market share and profits. Now that her position was solidified, Erika was ready to spread her wings. It was time for Ladylove to grow in scope as well as sales and production, and buying Felix La Croix’s business and rolling it into Ladylove’s was a natural move.

      All she had to do was convince Felix La Croix, make the deal, and pull the two companies into one solid unit.

      Her sherry glass was empty. She looked around. There was still no sign of Felix, and all the waiters appeared to be busy as well. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to do some creative visualization. Picture yourself as a success and you’ll be one.

      She sensed someone standing very still directly in front of her chair, and she sat up quickly, embarrassed. Would her guest think she’d been taking a nap? “Felix, I’m so glad—”

      But the man standing over her with feet braced and arms folded wasn’t Felix La Croix. It was Denby Miles, her exfiancé.

      She’d run into him from time to time, of course, in the two years since their engagement had been broken off. Manhattan society wasn’t large enough to avoid someone absolutely, even if one wanted to—and she’d never gone out of her way in order to stay out of his path. But on the rare occasions when they’d come face-to-face, they’d been coolly polite, exchanging greetings and then quickly moving on. He had never sought her out before, as he so obviously had this time. And she’d never had the opportunity, or felt the need, to look him over closely—not since that day two years ago when she’d taken off his ring and handed it back to him.

      He was wider now, but not solider. He looked as if he’d put on weight, but not muscle. A smile might have masked the added fullness in his face, Erika thought, but he wasn’t smiling.

      “Denby,” she said. “What a nice surprise to see you here at lunchtime.”

      His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Exactly what I said. If a simple greeting offends you, I—”

      “It’s what you’re implying that offends me—that the worker bee should be in the lab from nine-to-five, no excuses, no breaks. Well, things have changed a bit now.”

      “Yes, I saw the announcement that you’re marrying your boss’s daughter,” Erika said calmly. “Congratulations are in order, I believe.”

      “Of course you saw the announcement. You just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

      “Ruin? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

      “Why do you have to push yourself into everything? You couldn’t even stay out of my engagement announcement!”

      Erika’s jaw dropped. “You actually think I wanted to be part of that story?”

      “Jeanette’s heartbroken. This is the most important thing in her life, and you had to trample all over it.”

      Erika stood up. “Well, she’d better get over it. I’m a part of your past, Denby. No matter how much we’d all like to, we can’t just wipe that out. Of course, if your engagement is as important to you as it is to her, then she doesn’t have a thing to worry about where I’m concerned.”

      “You just have to have all the attention, don’t you? Being the face in the ads wasn’t enough, you had to be the CEO, too. Then—”

      “Look, Denby, it was not my idea to have the Sentinel dish it all out again for the enjoyment of the masses. If you’ll excuse me—” She tried to slip past him, but he was blocking the way.

      “Maybe I’m wrong,” he conceded.

      “Well, that’s big of you.”

      “Maybe you don’t want it brought up again, especially right now—when you’re doing it again.”

      “Doing what? What are you talking about?”

      “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I always believed it was your father’s idea for you to lead me on. To draw me in with promises until he got what he wanted. But now I wonder who was really behind that scheme. Maybe it was your plan after all.”

      His voice was growing louder, unnaturally so in the quiet lounge, and people were starting to stare.

      Denby didn’t pause. “And because it worked so well with me, you’re trying it again. Maybe I should warn Felix La Croix what he’s getting into. Make sure he understands that you’re only making up to him in order to get his business.”

      “I am not making up to—”

      “That’s who you’re meeting today, isn’t it? Maybe