The Husband Sweepstake

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.”