The Husband Sweepstake

Amos frowned. “I thought Kate La Croix died.”

“She did—about six months ago. That’s why her husband wants to sell the business.”

“And since you want to buy, it’s a great deal all the way around.”

“Exactly. We can combine two fairly small firms and create a major player.”

“Makes sense. I just don’t see where the part about the husband comes in. Unless…Oh, now I get it. It’s just dawned on you that if you married him instead, you could get the company cheaper.”

From her always-placid photographs in the Ladylove ads, Amos thought, one would never suspect that Erika Forrester possessed a temper. Only now did he realize how misleading that impression was. She didn’t blow up; he’d give her that. But her gaze was so cold that he found himself feeling a little frosty around the edges.

“That,” she said, “is exactly what the kind of idiot who gets his news from the tabloids would think.”

“Well, excuse me for being an idiot,” Amos said coolly, “but I still don’t quite see the problem.”

She had the grace to color. “Sorry. I didn’t intend that personally. I meant you’re not the only one who’ll jump to that conclusion.”

The phone rang on the desk.

Erika looked at it and then at him. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“No, I’m going to let voice-mail take it.” Amos sliced his sandwich into chunks. “The quicker the tenants learn to share and take turns, the easier it’ll be on all of us.” The phone rang four times and stopped, and he held out a piece of the sandwich to her.

Erika took it almost absently and nibbled at a corner.

“You were talking about what the tabloids will say,” he prompted. “Because of the Denby Miles thing, of course.”

“Yes. Half the world thinks I only dated him for those formulas, and that I dropped him the instant my father got his hands on them. Now they’re going to think I’m doing the same with Felix La Croix.”

“Ignore them. They’re tabloids. What difference does it make what they think?”

“It doesn’t matter to me—other than being generally annoying. But it matters a great deal to Felix.” She pulled a folded paper out of her coat pocket and held it out.

Amos took it reluctantly. The words had obviously been written in haste; the penmanship was uneven, and the signature was nothing more than scrawled initials.

I’m sure you understand why I didn’t wish to be part of the show. I’ll be in touch when I’ve had a chance to think things through.

He lifted an eyebrow at her.

She said, sounding reluctant, “That’s from Felix. Denby made quite a scene at the Civic Club today.”

“And Felix saw it and ducked for cover?”

She nodded. “I can’t blame him, exactly. The tabloids haven’t heard about the negotiations yet—but they will, and probably soon. There will be a feeding frenzy, and poor Felix will be caught in the middle of speculation about why he’s seeing me and what the terms of the sale will be and how long it will take after the agreement’s made before I dump him. For a man who’s still grieving his wife—”

“That would be a little hard to take,” Amos said thoughtfully. “But maybe it’ll be an incentive for him to make a quick sale.”

“More likely he’ll refuse to talk at all, especially if he thinks I’m manipulating the publicity to get him to agree to a fast deal. Which I’m not. But if I was married…settled…obviously not interested in him personally…”

“And you think getting married in order to deflect the tabloids doesn’t count as manipulating the publicity? Never mind. If Felix’s sensitive feelings are a problem, why not just look for another shampoo company?”

“There isn’t another one. Do you think I haven’t looked? Most of them are divisions of huge companies, but we couldn’t swallow a giant like that even if it was for sale. And Kate’s product meshes well with Ladylove’s—she insisted on entirely organic ingredients instead of chemical substitutes. Do you know how many shampoos are really just laundry detergent with a nicer smell?”

“Hadn’t given it a lot of thought,” Amos said. “But it sounds to me like Felix needs you more than you need him. Since it was his wife’s company, it must be losing value with every day that goes by. Sit back and wait, and he’ll come around.”

She shook her head. “No. In fact, sales have gone up since Kate’s death—it’s actually become sort of a cult thing to use Kate La Croix shampoo. Felix only wants to sell because it’s too painful for him to face the reminders every day. I’ve assured him that we’ll keep Kate’s name and the brand label. It’s a perfect match—if the tabloids will just leave the personal stuff out of it. Which of course they won’t, because they’ve created this image of me.”

“So you’re thinking of changing the image. Okay,” he conceded. “I see where you’re coming from. I still think it’s a really loopy idea, but let that go for a minute. Who on earth are you thinking about marrying? If you can’t even get a date for a Saturday night banquet—”

Her eyes flared. “I have no shortage of dates.”

“Then why were you asking Stephen to find you an escort? If you have so many guys standing in line, why not choose one of them rather than add another to the list?”

“Because if I’m seen twice with any one man, the whole gossip mill goes into overdrive.”

“And the man in question screams and runs?”

“Or starts bragging that he owns me.”

“Well, either variety doesn’t offer much promise in the husband sweepstakes,” Amos pointed out. He handed her another section of his sandwich.

“What I really need is someone like…” She looked thoughtful, and then said with a note of triumph, “Someone like Stephen.”

Amos bit his lip hard, but it didn’t help much. “Ms. Forrester, I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but Stephen is…Well, let’s just say he’s not interested in women except as friends.”

She fixed him with a glare. “You think I didn’t know that? What difference does it make, anyway? I’m talking about a legal convenience here, not a—” She broke off.

He couldn’t help himself. “Stud service?”

“If that was all I wanted,” she said bitterly, “I could take my choice.”

He didn’t doubt it—and he didn’t wonder at her tone, because the reason for her disillusionment was obvious. With her face, her figure and her fame, there must be men aplenty who would happily oblige her in bed—and then brag in the locker room that they’d been with Erika Forrester. She was a trophy. A conquest to boast about.

Hey, he told himself, don’t waste your sympathy. She’s the one who’s asking for the attention by putting herself in the magazine ads month after month.

“Well, what you want may not be the most important consideration here,” he said. “It’s the public’s perception that counts. So if you want to make everyone believe it’s a real marriage, then Stephen’s the worst possible choice you could make. Nobody would believe that he’s changed, so you might as well not waste your time.”

“Someone like Stephen, then.” She sounded stubborn. “Someone who’s gentle, who’s helpful—”

“Someone who owes you,” Amos put in.

She looked genuinely puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you can’t take a chance on him ruining everything by talking. So unless you can think of someone who’d do it for love—”

She turned a shade paler. “I don’t believe in love.”

“Well, at least you’ve got that much sense. I’d hate to think you’d believe it if someone was to conveniently stroll up right now and announce that he was head over heels about you.”