Книга - If the Stiletto Fits…

If the Stiletto Fits...
Wendy Etherington


How does a girl sweep a guy off his feet?Thanks to an amazingly efficient business manager, Lily Reaves finds herself teetering–in stilettos, no less–on the brink of distinction now that her line of come-get-me pumps shows every sign of becoming a huge success. Which is why James's announcement that he's leaving brings her to earth with an unpleasant thump.Before his arrival, everything was a mess. Even finding a lover was impossible, which was why she'd discarded them like so many ill-fitting shoes. Hmm. Could James be the perfect "fit" for both her business and pleasure? If so, she'll have to curb that occasional urge to open her mouth–and insert high heel!It's going to be war!







Dear Reader,

Don’t you just love shoes? The colors. The styles. The patterns. The most adorable pair of pink, polka-dotted, four-inch—Sorry, I digress. But I do think there’s something magical with women and shoes. It’s long been a stereotype. But for me, still true. So, along came Lily….

Lily and I shared this common bond of shoe loving, as well as a tendency to be dramatic, so we created shoes for this story together. (The IRS should take special note of my “research” budget for this particular project.) We decided that only one thing was better than having a job as a successful shoe designer….

That was to have a hunky, patient assistant like James Chamberlin at your beck and call. Especially one who understands the delicate balance between income and expenses.

I hope you enjoy James and Lily’s story. Visit my Web site at www.wendyetherington.com (http://www.wendyetherington.com) or write to P. O. Box 3016, Irmo, SC 29063 anytime to get information on new releases.

Happy reading!

Wendy Etherington




“What have I done to you? You’re the one who was sitting there looking all cute and irresistible and sexy.”


Lily clamped her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t just admitted that.

James grinned. Then, as if he remembered who she was—and who he was—he shook his head. “I think we’ve moved into a strange area here.”

With her hand still over her mouth in case she said anything else embarrassing, she nodded.

He stood up, then walked across the room and toward the office door. “I refuse to let this mess up my agenda. I have plans for my life, a schedule to keep, and you’re not on it.” He walked through the door, slamming it behind him.

Lily flinched. A marriage proposal from one guy and skid marks on her lips from another. Dating in the twenty-first century was just too damn complicated.




If the Stiletto Fits…

Wendy Etherington





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Wendy Etherington was born and raised in the deep South—and she has the fried chicken recipes to prove it. Though a voracious reader since childhood, she spent much of her professional life in business and computer pursuits. Finally giving in to those creative impulses, she began writing, and in 1999 she sold her first romantic comedy. She’s an active member of Romance Writers of America and has been a finalist for the Georgia Romance Writers’ prestigious Maggie Award. She writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband and two daughters.




Books by Wendy Etherington


HARLEQUIN DUETS

76—MY PLACE OR YOURS?

93—CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE

HUNKA HUNKA BURNIN’ LOVE

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

944—PRIVATE LIES

958—ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT?


To my editor, Jennifer Green, who guided me through this book with patience, style and class.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER 1 (#ub928ae43-c1eb-515a-8e9c-746a5acf1ae3)

CHAPTER 2 (#uca02f3dc-5874-59e6-b2ee-960831da1e57)

CHAPTER 3 (#ue7ac7769-6648-5ef2-9613-47dd90df4ddb)

CHAPTER 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)




1


LILY REAVES STROLLED through the door of her Manhattan office, still admiring her new shoes. One-of-a-kind Lily’s. Would celebrities someday say her name with the same reverence they did Manolo or Prada?

Well, maybe she wasn’t in their league yet, but she was definitely on her way. Had she, a girl who’d grown up on a farm just outside Des Moines, really made a success of her life in the big city? Sometimes the very idea took her breath away.

She examined her reflection in the gilded, floor-to-ceiling mirror on the reception-area wall. The pale yellow ankle-strap stilettos with pink rhinestone butterfly accents she wore would be one of the standouts of her spring collection.

As she started down the hall that led to the rest of the offices and the workroom where she did her designing, she noted that the chair behind the black marble, semicircle receptionist’s desk was empty. A glance at her watch—a “five-dolla” one off a street vendor on Sixth Avenue—proved it was in fact the middle of the day.

She shook her head. Where was that girl? Again.

After dropping her purse onto the chair, Lily strode down the wooden-floored hallway toward her assistant/business manager’s office. James Chamberlin sat at his always-neat mahogany desk, making notes with his favorite pen as he held the phone between his ear and shoulder. Not a dark brown hair was out of place, and though he’d removed his suit jacket, his navy tie and white dress shirt were in place and pressed to perfection.

“I know, but you’ll have to shuffle those. The Spectacular gets top priority.”

He paused, listening, and waved her to the chair opposite his desk.

“Did you use the organizational model I gave you last week?” He paused again, raising his eyebrows. “Well, maybe that’s the problem.”

That controlled, measured, I’m-in-charge-here voice of his sent ripples of tension through the bodies of most people. But then that was a good thing. He was on her side, after all.

And she was lucky to have him. He was the premier assistant on either coast. He’d managed the business interests of Grammy winners, top executives, A-list directors. And now her.

He also loved and respected his mother. How cute was that?

In fact, his mother was the reason Lily had had the invaluable James to run her business for the last nine months. She was a big lover of the theater, and James’s parents were award-winning stage actors. She’d attended one of their plays and waited outside the stage door afterward like a starstruck fan to get their autographs.

She and the vibrant, free-spirited Fedora Chamberlin had become instant friends. One day over lunch, she’d shared her desperation to find someone to manage her growing business, and, lo and behold, Fedora’s only child, James, was the answer. At the time he’d been working in L.A., and his mother had been looking for a way to lure him back to New York.

James had ditched the temperamental director he’d been working for and shown up at her door with his professionalism, sharp mind and patience for her occasional—okay, maybe frequent—mood swings and lack of organizational skills. Because of him, Lily Reaves Shoes had become a sensation. Because of him, she’d landed the Spring Spectacular. In just a few weeks, three of the hottest clothing designers in the city were being featured in a star-studded fashion show. And each and every model would be wearing shoes she’d designed.

“Fine. Just get back to me later today.” He hung up the phone and glanced at her. “So, how did it go?”

She stood, propping her foot on the chair so he could see the stilettos. “Great, huh?”

“Look damn uncomfortable to me.”

“I’m not asking you to wear them.”

She cast a sideways glance at him, mildly annoyed he hadn’t even complimented her trim bolero jacket and slim skirt with matching butterfly appliqués. One of the Spectacular designers had sent the outfit to her after she’d sent several large-size shoes to his sister. In a city overflowing with overpriced clothes, a girl had to find bargains where she could.

Of course, James zeroed in on the bottom line. Not her hair, which she fought with on a daily basis. Or her clothes, or her legs, which the production manager had seemed most impressed by.

He studied them a moment, his gray eyes narrowed in concentration. “The craftsmanship is excellent. I like the sheen of the leather. The design is decent.”

Gushy was not the word to describe James. But then, she paid him for organization and managerial direction, not compliments. Lily plopped back in the chair, smoothing her skirt and crossing her legs. “Where’s Garnet?”

“Lunch.”

“For how long?”

He glanced at the antique brass clock on the wall. “Too long. As usual.”

“Did you check her feet?”

“Yes.”

“If I catch her wearing just one more pair…”

James sighed, looking completely unconvinced by her warning tone. “I know, you’re going to fire her.”

“Why did I hire her again?”

“Because one of your most important clients asked you to.”

“He begged, remember?” Recalling yesterday, when her sneaky receptionist had sneaked to a club with a pair of pumps Lily had designed for a special display window in Bloomingdale’s, she sighed. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

“You won’t fire her, Lily.”

“Sure I will.”

“Prove it.”

Smiling, she leaned forward. “I do believe you’re trying to goad me, James Chamberlin.”

He lifted his hands, palms out. “Would I do that?”

“Sometimes I think you’d do just about anything to see Garnet sail out that door for the last time.”

“With your shoes on her feet, don’t forget.”

Leaning on his desk, she propped her hands underneath her chin. Garnet had potential; she just needed direction. And focus. And ambition. Lily had had all those things when she’d first come to the city and she still struggled with her confidence sometimes. “Her father helped me out at a time when I really needed orders.”

“I know. I was only kidding.” He paused. “Sorta.”

“Garnet just needs some direction. Weren’t you ever young and aimless?”

“No.”

Studying his perfectly serious face, she could imagine that was true. James not only always knew where he was going, he knew three different ways to get there and had the entire trip clocked in hours, days, weeks, miles to go and expected weather forecast.

Lily had glanced at his daily agenda once and had immediately been nightmarishly transported back to eighth-grade social studies when she was expected to write essays with mind-boggling Roman numbers, bibliographies, indexes, even footnotes. And everything indented and lined up to perfection. The thought still gave her the chills.

“Can you at least talk to her again about my phone messages?” he asked. “She has no system. Some she writes down—on pink pads that she’s also doodled little hearts all over. Some she e-mails me—though she usually transposes or leaves off numbers. Some she actually manages to send to voice mail—though usually to your mailbox instead of mine.”

“I’ll talk to her,” she promised. Though most of the inner workings of computers mystified her—and, frankly, sometimes intimidated her—e-mailing was like socializing. That was a concept she understood. “Did you get the contracts for the Spectacular yet?”

James held up the stack of papers in front of him. “Right here.”

Lily pressed her lips together, hesitating to ask the question that had plagued her since she’d been offered the job. “And my name’s really on them?”

He pushed the contracts toward her. “Of course it is.”

Though she clearly saw her name at the top, her eyes crossed at all the wherefortos, therefores and such. “Does everything look okay?”

“There are some phrases I’m asking them to alter, but other than that, everything is in order.”

Looking up, she met his gaze. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?”

“Lily, you earned this. They came to us, remember?”

She shook her head. She’d been floundering in mediocre-ville before he’d arrived. Her only break had been two years ago, when an Oscar-nominated actress had broken the heel of her shoe just before walking down the red carpet and had grabbed the ones her assistant wore—a pair Lily had designed. An industry buzz had ensued, but one she hadn’t capitalized on until James arrived.

This year, he’d contacted the right people in L.A. and arranged for her to work with several Hollywood stylists to design dozens of shoes for entertainers attending the awards shows. Lily could hardly wait for the broadcasts to see which ones made the cut.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” she said.

His lips tipped up on one side. “Well, I am the best…”

At the sight of his half smile, she blinked. James was so serious most of the time that it wasn’t until he actually brightened up that she realized how handsome he was. Not that he wasn’t attractive when he wasn’t smiling. He was. In a buttoned-up, conservative way.

Not her type, but then that was a good thing, since he’d made it very clear from the moment he’d come to work for her that their relationship was strictly business. Fine by her. She needed an assistant to keep her on schedule, to manage her contracts and business affairs, to work with her accountant on managing her money. Lovers she could find on her own.

Though mediocre-ville could probably also describe that area of her life at the moment. She either managed to find guys who wanted a passive, stay-at-home wife and a dozen kids, or one-night-stand louses.

“But only because of my long experience,” James finished. “You don’t need me as much as you think.”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

He gave her an odd look.

Before she could question him, though, a familiar voice echoed down the hall. “Hellooo…”

“She’s back.”

James’s eyes actually pleaded. “The messages?”

Lily rose and headed toward the door, enjoying the feel of the four-inch heels on her feet. Maybe she’d wear them on her date tonight. She did enjoy seeing a man goggle. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“I need to talk to you before you go out tonight.”

She stopped in the doorway. “What makes you think I’m going out? I could be staying in with a book and a soothing cup of tea.”

“Right. Even I’m going out tonight.”

“Out? Like a date?”

Raising his eyebrows, he leaned back in his chair. “I do have them occasionally.”

Lily recalled a brunette he’d brought to a cocktail party not long ago. The woman had been quiet and sweet—just the kind of date she’d expect James to choose. What was her name? Kate? Karly? Kelly. “Where are you and Kelly going?”

“I’m not going out with Kelly anymore. This is someone new.”

“Oh.” She waved. “Well, have fun.”

She headed down the hall and reached Garnet just as she was rounding the receptionist station.

“Look at the adorable bag I bought today.”

Despite her frustration, Lily had to smile. Garnet did have a great sense of fashion.

The bag looked just like a Chinese take-out carton, even down to the silver wire as a handle, except that the carton was covered in red-and-black satin. She took the bag, rubbing her fingers across the fabric. “It’s really great, Garnet, where—” She broke off as she recognized the small tag sewn on the bottom. “This is a Fabian LaRoche.”

Garnet took the bag back and danced around in a circle. “I know. Isn’t it the cutest!”

“This is a five-hundred-dollar bag. You don’t make that in a week.”

Garnet waved her hand and set the purse on her desk, admiring it like some people would a priceless artifact. “I put it on my AmEx. Daddy gets that bill.”

Lily opened her mouth automatically to advise her employee that she should take some responsibility for her own finances, but then remembered Garnet didn’t work for money. This was just her way of placating her father until she turned twenty-five and could get full control of her trust fund.

Raised in a strictly middle-class household, Lily wanted to pooh-pooh the excess. But this was the world she now lived in. She smiled. Ah, the sacrifices of living in the Big Apple.

Deciding a change of subject was in order, Lily leaned against Garnet’s desk. “We need to talk about phone messages.”

Garnet rolled her eyes. “Again?”

“James is having trouble getting accurate ones.”

“It’s not my fault! It’s that computer.” Garnet pointed to the screen beside her on the desk. Lowering her voice, she added, “It makes weird noises sometimes, and then I get this yellow exclamation-point thing and an error message.” She shuddered.

Lily shared her shudder. She’d seen that message. She glanced at the screen, which currently had a cartoon graphic of a pair of red stiletto pumps dancing across it—a creation by her friend and computer consultant, Gwen. And though she and Gwen could bond most any night over a favorite chardonnay, martini, movie or slice of gossip, she most certainly did not share her interest in technology.

“Hmm,” she said, trying to seem competent instead of intimidated. “That doesn’t sound good. I think James would prefer his messages e-mailed to him, or the caller transferred to his voice mail, if they’re agreeable. He’s not thrilled with pink message slips with little hearts drawn all over them.”

Garnet folded a piece of gum into her mouth. “He could stand to lighten up, you know.”

“I know. But he runs the office.”

“But you’re the boss, right? I mean, I like James and all.” She smacked her gum. “But women should stick together, don’t you think? I mean, you should understand that—you’re a total feminist, so—Hey, cool shoes!” She bent low so she could get a better look at the yellow stilettos. “Wow, these are great! What are you calling them?”

“Misty.”

“Tight. When do they hit the stores?”

“Any day now—along with the rest of the spring collection. This is the very first pair out of production.”

Garnet leaned back in her chair. “You always do that, right? Take the first pair, I mean. I think that’s awesome. See, that’s what I mean. A man would never think to make sure each and every one of his shoes was in his personal collection. I mean, really, why are men designing shoes for women, anyway?”

This was what talking to Garnet always did to a person. Lily was usually so dizzy after their conversations she generally forgot what she’d started out discussing. She wasn’t sure if Garnet’s brain was more advanced, or if she was just incapable of holding on to one subject for more than forty-five seconds.

“I really like your philosophy,” Garnet continued, mentally zigzagging. “Date a lot, settle on no one.”

Lily was mildly uncomfortable being a role model for a twenty-one-year-old. While she and Garnet were only seven years apart agewise, it seemed decades separated them in every other sense. Garnet and the girls she hung out with seemed so jaded and…well, fast—to use an old-fashioned word. She worried about them jumping into life and relationships before they were ready. “I do date a lot, I guess. But you understand I don’t sleep with every man I date.”

Garnet waved her hand. “Oh, yeah. Lots of scumbags out there who are only interested in getting laid. But how do you feel about blow jobs?”

Lily swallowed. “I, uh—” Wasn’t this a conversation a girl had with her mother? Since Lily knew she wasn’t ready for kids—and wasn’t sure she’d ever be—she certainly wasn’t the right person for this.

Quit being goofy. She talked about all aspects of sex with her girlfriends all the time.

Garnet’s bright, curious blue gaze was fixed on her face.

“I think you should consider all sexual acts carefully.”

Garnet pursed her lips. “That’s a good philosophy. Now, about the messages…I promise to e-mail them if he’ll take a look at this computer and those weird exclamation points.”

Her head still spinning from the tangents they’d veered off on, Lily glared down at her receptionist. “If that was the problem, why didn’t you just tell him that?”

Garnet glanced from side to side, then leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t tell anybody, but he kind of intimidates me sometimes.”

Lily could definitely relate. She and Garnet were talkers. James was most certainly not. She figured Garnet felt the same way she did—quiet people made her nervous. Dead silence was a space she was obligated to fill. “Okay, well, let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to help with the computer?”

“Hey, I did all this stuff on my own before you two got here.” Admittedly not too well, but she’d managed. She leaned toward the phone. “Let’s start with the voice mail. I’m extension one, James is extension two. When you need to forward a call to his voice mail you press this button, then this one.” Lily demonstrated with a pointing finger.

“And when I need to forward a call to you?”

She’d actually told most anyone she could think of to call her cell when they needed to get in touch with her. “Same thing, just press this—” She stopped and considered the phone pad and its myriad similar-looking buttons. “How about color-coded labels? Blue for James, pink for me.”

Garnet grabbed her arm. “Oh, that’s perfect.”

They spent a few minutes finding labels, cutting them into two small sections, then coloring them with Lily’s sketching pencils. Now that the buttons on the phone were colors instead of numbers, she could only pray Garnet would get things right. She couldn’t afford to piss off James and lose his host of office skills.

“Now for the e-mail.” Lily eyed the computer with innate distrust, then closed her eyes and pressed the spacebar. When she opened them, the dancing shoes had disappeared, and the main screen was in view. She double-clicked the e-mail program—and who, exactly, had come up with that redundant system?—then waited while the computer did whatever it did to accept mail.

A yellow caution sign with an exclamation point popped up in the middle of the screen. Lily stepped back. “Yikes.”

“Told ya.”

Lily linked her fingers behind her back. “Let’s just—” She scooted away from the computer. “Let’s just not touch this anymore. I’ll, uh…go tell James.”

“Better you than me.”

As Lily slinked away from Garnet’s station, she noted the receptionist had found an emery board and was filing her nails—hard at work as usual. Lily poked her head around the door frame to James’s office, told him about the problem, then darted to her workroom. She had designs to go over.

She spent the next several hours evaluating the sketches she’d made for the Spectacular. One designer wanted her signature color to be bright orange—a hue Lily could relate to—so she’d come up with orange dots, stripes and checks; orange patent leather, bows and wraparound straps; and, finally, orange logos of the designer’s crest.

After approving the sketches with her signature, she stretched her arms over her head. She had a lukewarm date to prepare for. Maybe she should get to it. She liked cute designer Brian Thurmond, but she considered them more friendly colleagues than about-to-connect lovers. She’d befriended him a couple of weeks ago at a fashion show, since she understood what it was like to want so badly to succeed, but still be floundering. And connections were gold in the fashion business.

She couldn’t find a ton of enthusiasm for the night out, though. He’d spent most of their last date trying—a little too obviously—to convince her to get him into the Spectacular.

She was on her way out the workroom door when Garnet called down the hall, “Li——ly!”

“I’m right here,” she said as she ground to a halt in the foyer. “We have an intercom, you know.”

Garnet smiled over her shoulder. “Oh. Forgot. Line one. It’s your sister.”

Suppressing a groan, Lily picked up the extension on the foyer table. “Hi, sis, you just caught me on my way out.” Well, she was going out—in about two hours, after she showered, redid her makeup, dressed and snacked.

“Out with who?” her older, bossier and nosier sister asked.

“A guy.” She knew her sister would never settle for that, so she added, “A fellow designer.”

“Do things look—” She broke off as something crashed in the background. “Jack Jr., get out of those cabinets!”

“Maybe you should check on him. I could let you go…”

“No, he’s fine. I was going to ask if things look promising between you and this guy.”

“I’m not going to marry him, if that’s what you mean.” Giving up the single life in the city wasn’t going to happen anytime soon—if ever.

“Lily, you really need to get busy. You’re twenty-eight, you know. When I was twenty-eight—”

“I know. You’d been married for eight years and had two kids already. I’m not you, Karen,” she added quietly.

She sighed. “Sorry. I’m nagging again. That’s my job.”

Lily smiled, relieved her sister wasn’t going to push. Neither of them were very good at understanding the other, but they were family, and that meant something that time, distance and differences in lifestyles could never erase. “And you do it well.”

“Thanks for the shoes, by the way. Though I pretended I didn’t know when Mom asked how much you charge customers for the ones you sent her.”

“Wise move.”

“And what was with that extra pair you sent me? The shiny black ones? The heels are way too high. Where in the world would I wear something like that?”

Her sister had great legs, but Lily wasn’t sure anyone but Karen had seen them in the last ten years. And Lily couldn’t think of anything more depressing than to not have anyplace to wear a great pair of new shoes. “To dinner with your husband.”

“In Redwood? Get real.”

“Then wear them for Jack around the house.”

“With what? Jeans and a sweatshirt?”

“Nothing.” She giggled. “I bet I get a thank-you card from Jack.”

She spoke with her nieces and nephews—two of each—and promised to plan a trip to Iowa to see them as soon as the Spectacular was over. Even though she wouldn’t have her sister’s life, she did enjoy visiting her nieces and nephews. Even when she didn’t fix her hair, makeup or wear designer clothes and shoes, they just adored her because she’d play Chutes and Ladders for hours on end.

As she hung up the phone, Lily said to Garnet, “I’m gone for the day if anybody asks.”

Garnet smacked her gum as she played solitaire on the computer. “Okay. Have fun.”

She walked down the hall, then through the door into her private apartment. She had a beautiful space on the twentieth floor that she’d separated into two areas for her offices and apartment. The building had a great uptown address, plus amenities like a small gym, concierge desk and uniformed doorman. Even James had been impressed with the space and had rented an apartment in the same building on the sixteenth floor.

As Lily walked into the den, she passed by the plush seating group covered in plum-and-gold fabric and headed toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated one wall. The sun was just setting, and Manhattan lights were flicking on like fireflies. Soon the suits and briefcases would be replaced by glamorous gowns and bags. The shoppers would become diners. The nightclubs and bars would spring to life, keeping time with the endless pulse of the city.

Just as it had earlier, happiness moved through her. She really had a remarkable life. She didn’t have a two-hour commute from the outskirts of the city anymore. She didn’t even have to get dressed if she found inspiration in the middle of the night. She had great friends, a challenging career and she’d achieved a level of both creative and financial success that most people would envy.

So, if—every once in a while—she felt as if her life was missing something, she managed to find a project, a new friend, a shopping trip or a party to fill it.

She’d dreamed of this life ever since she was five, and her grandmother had taken them all on a trip to the city. They’d seen a Broadway play, done the tours of the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building and all the rest. It had been the most magical five days of Lily’s life. She’d come home with a snow globe and the statue inside. She’d gone to bed every night staring at it and wishing for the day she’d finally become a New Yorker.

Waving off the small, lingering slice of emptiness, Lily strode into her bedroom, which she’d decorated in calming creams and golds. Her favorite piece in the apartment was her cherry, four-poster bed. A decorator had helped her pick out a plush duvet and lots of pillows in various sizes and shapes, then hung white fabric along the railings between posts, so she could literally close out the world if she wanted.

For the next hour, she primped—one of her favorite things when she had the time. She was such a makeup junkie, she usually tried out several different looks before settling on one. Then she perused her giant, walk-in closet—complete with custom-made, revolving shoe rack. She needed something semi-sexy but not too obvious.

Since Brian was probably more interested in her industry connections than her legs, she ought to dress accordingly.

She finally decided on a trim black pantsuit with a silver satin camisole peeking between the folds of the jacket. She picked out silver, ankle-wrap, heeled sandals that might hurt like hell if they went dancing later, but they’d look festive.

After she piled her shoulder-length dark hair on top of her head in a loose twist, she strolled back through the den and into the kitchen. She had to eat something so she wouldn’t pig out during dinner.

Knock, knock.

Lily paused with her hand on the Parmesan cheese, which she was currently shaking over her slices of reheated pizza. “Yes?”

“It’s James.”

Well, damn. She’d forgotten all about him. He’d wanted to talk to her before she left.

She shoved a bite of pizza in her mouth, then muttered around it, “Be right there.” Opening the door, she found him with his suit jacket now on and buttoned, and a serious expression planted on his face. Well, James was serious most of the time, but this was a new level—even for him. “Come on in.”

Hesitating, he glanced past her. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah. I’m just getting ready to go out. Sorry I forgot to come by your office.”

He still hesitated. He’d been in her apartment many times, of course, but he always seemed slightly out of place. The intimacy probably offended his professional sensibilities.

Lily grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. “Oh, come on. I was just about to pour some wine.” She headed to the kitchen, leaving him to trail behind. “Did you ever find out what was wrong with Garnet’s computer?”

“The CAT5 cable connection was loose between the router and the modem. I fixed it.”

She blinked. She understood about three words in that sentence—and they were and, the and it. “O-kay.” As she poured chardonnay into a glass, she asked, “You want some?”

James pulled one of the iron bar stools away from the black-tiled counter and slid onto it. “Sure.”

Mildly surprised—he no doubt considered this a business conversation, not a social occasion—she handed him the glass, then selected another one for herself.

“What’s up?” she asked after her first sip. “There’s not a problem with the Spectacular, is there?”

He took a healthy sip of wine. “No.”

Again, with the serious tone. Curious, but not alarmed—James could get uptight on occasion—Lily snacked on her pizza. “Hungry?”

He leaned forward, peering at the slices. “Pizza?”

She grinned. “It pairs well with the chardonnay.”

After another sip of wine, he folded his hands on the counter. “I’m not really sure how to say this, so I guess I’ll just blurt it out.”

Her stomach tightened. Something was wrong. Had orders drastically fallen off? Maybe Bloomingdale’s and Neiman Marcus had both pulled their business. “Okay.”

He met her gaze. “I’m retiring.”

She angled her head. “From what?”

“My job. This job. I’m going to finish the last three months of our contract, then I’m—”

“You’re quitting.”




2


LILY’S HEAD actually spun. She gripped the counter for support. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—

“I know this comes as a shock,” he said gently. “I’d really planned to retire last year, about the time you came along with your offer. But your business seemed like such a challenge, and I just couldn’t resist.”

Her mama had always said she should have had “Born to be a Diva” tattooed on her butt the moment she was born. And she could feel a massive fit coming on hard. He couldn’t do this to her. He was deserting. “Old people retire! You’re, you’re—”

“Thirty-two. But I’m financially set, and I’m ready to get out of the city, out of the rush and craze. I’m ready to settle down. I’m going to Connecticut and open a café.”

“Connecticut!” She paced across the tiled kitchen floor. “What’s so freakin’ great about Connecticut?”

“It’s quiet and relaxing. I’ve already bought the farm. You should see it.”

Lily ground to a halt. This was a nightmare. “You bought a farm? Like with cows and chickens and stuff?”

He smiled and looked thoughtful. “No animals yet, but there are stables, so I guess I’ll get some horses. Or maybe I’ll breed dogs. Cocker spaniels or Labradors.”

She tried to picture James, suit-and-tie-at-every-hour-of-the-day-and-night James, rolling around a stable with a litter of baby cocker spaniels. Nope. The picture just wouldn’t focus.

She’d spent more than half her life on a farm. Her father had grown corn, which he’d sold to make ethanol, and her mother had believed in growing or raising nearly everything they consumed.

The work was backbreaking, hard and mostly thankless. Tractors were expensive and hard to maintain. You were always at the mercy of the weather. Chickens stank. Cows had to be led around by the nose, or they’d get struck by lightning during thunderstorms.

Suave, urban James had absolutely no idea what he was getting into.

Lily wanted to panic. Or scream. She was hitting her creative peak thanks to him. She never had to worry about the business details, because she knew he’d take care of them. He was critical to her business, to her life. She absolutely couldn’t run either of them without him.

“James, you can’t do this. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine. You were fine before I arrived.”

She shook her head, rushing toward him, tempted to jump across the bar and into his lap and bodily force him to stay. “I wasn’t fine. I was a mess. I went through two assistants in four months before you came. Before that, I was alone and clueless.”

“I’ll help you find someone else. Someone who’s reliable and understands you.”

Knowing she was acting like an idiot but not caring, she poked out her bottom lip. “I want you.”

His eyes softened. “You don’t need me, though.”

“Yes, I—”

“I have to go, Lily.” James stood, shoving his hand through his hair as he turned away, walking across the room toward the windows. “I had plans for my life. Plans that didn’t include managing spoiled movie stars and out-of-control divas.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “No offense.”

She nearly crushed the stem of her wineglass. “Oh, gee, thanks.”

He turned back to the view. Darkness had fully enveloped the sky, so the buildings were just a shadowy outline dotted with millions of lights. She knew without standing beside him what he saw when he looked down—the cabs and limos crawling through the streets, the rectangular grid of office buildings set against the silhouette of high-rises, throngs of pedestrians moving like a single determined wave across intersections.

“I’d always planned to go to culinary school,” he said quietly. “Or business school. Instead, I wound up managing my parents’ crazy career, then their friends’, then I became successful and settled on just one client at a time. I was paid well. I enjoyed the change of balancing such a complicated mix of business interests. Even life in jaded, beautiful L.A. was fun once.

“But I want out of the race. I want something else. I want to pick up my life where it veered off course fifteen years ago.”

She understood probably better than anybody how the need to fulfill your dreams was a vital part of life. But she was desperate to hold on to her own dream, and she needed James to do it. He couldn’t possibly have thought this through. He didn’t realize what he was leaving.

Shoving her wine aside, she stalked toward him. “Why a café? Hell, Starbucks is the wildest place in town.”

“My café will be more like a gathering place for the locals. You can read the paper. Exchange news and gossip. Maybe I’ll invite book clubs to meet in the evenings. I could learn to make bread and show off my famous cheesecake recipe.”

Lily darted around him and planted her hands on her hips. “You can make cheesecake?” she accused in a dangerous whisper. She was holding on to her temper by a thread. Fear was desperately trying to push its way through her body. And, at the core of it all, she just plain didn’t understand why. Why did he want to leave? How could he?

He glanced down at her, his eyes bright with affection. “I’ll make you the chocolate-turtle one before I go.”

The resolved expression on his face made her throat start to close, and not even the promise of cheesecake could cheer her. Her mind darted about for another logical argument. That was the way to get to him. She didn’t think he’d respond to tears or terror. “Why Connecticut?” she managed to ask in a strained voice. “You could open a café in the city. We could hire an assistant for you here. You could stay in charge but have more help.”

“The commotion of the city is what I’m trying to escape.” He lifted his hand as if he might stroke her cheek, then let his arm fall back by his side. “It’s not you, Lily, I promise.”

Her hands shook, but she grabbed his arm, turning him toward the windows. Tapping the glass, she asked, “Can you really leave that view, that energy, behind? God, James, I want to shake you. The city is the most amazing place on earth. When you have perfection, how could you possibly ask for more?”

“You grew up with trees and wide-open spaces. Stars you can see clearly at night. No subway or pollution in sight. How could you possibly ask for more?”

“I grew up in the boondocks! Have you ever tried to get a decent cappuccino on a farm?”

“I’ll make my own.”

“What about restaurants and takeout?”

“I’ll have those culinary-school classes to fall back on.”

“What about shoes?”

“I’d ask you to send them to me, but I really don’t think a pair of four-inch stilettos would suit me.”

Lily rubbed her temples. She certainly couldn’t outwit him, or outthink him. She had to figure out something else. And quick.

“You should get to your date.” He glanced at his watch. “Me, too. We’ll talk in the morning.” He started toward the door.

“What about watches?” she asked as she stalked after him. His calmness made her want to scream in contrast. “I bet they don’t sell cool watches on street corners in Connecticut.”

At the door, he turned back. “Maybe you’ll give me one—as a parting gift.” He reached out and grasped her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. That silver blouse really suits you. And, of course, it’s sparkly—perfect for the luminous Lily Reaves.”

He was out the door before she could respond.

And a good thing, too, since she wasn’t quite sure she could have resisted slugging him.

Sweet compliments as he destroyed her world by quitting? James Chamberlin had no idea how dirty she’d fight if she was pushed far enough.

No idea at all.

LIGHT-HEADED FROM her third glass of chardonnay and still depressed and frantic over James’s announcement, Lily sipped her wine and tried hard to focus on the elegant Manhattan restaurant where Brian had brought her. Black linen tablecloths, roses on the table, fine china and crystal, well-dressed patrons and spectacular service.

He certainly had excellent taste, though part of her worried about the expense. Brian’s business wasn’t nearly as successful and stable as hers.

“How are the preparations for the Spring Spectacular coming?” he asked.

Lily chewed a bite of salmon slowly to give herself time to prepare an answer to his question. She settled on a simple “Fine.”

What if this was the last big show she did? What if James’s L.A. contacts dumped her after he left? She really wanted to see a pair of her sparkly shoes on that red carpet again. What if—

She cut herself off in an effort to make coherent conversation. “How do your spring orders look?”

Brian shrugged. “Not sure. My business manager handles all that stuff.”

Though that was true for Lily as well, she certainly knew on a weekly basis how business was progressing.

“So the Spectacular preparations are going well?”

She sighed. “Yes. As usual, James has everything under control. We’re actually ahead of schedule.”

“But are you okay? You seem distracted.”

Lily laid her hand across her stomach. She was regretting this date more by the second. She should have called her friends and spent the night crying on their shoulders. “I think I’m just stressed. It’s been an…interesting day.”

“Oh.” Brian cleared his throat. “Sorry. We’ve had some great times together, don’t you think?”

Struggling to adjust to the change in conversation, she nodded slowly. “Well, yeah, I guess.”

He kicked his smile up a notch. “I think we should take our relationship to the next level.”

Lily suppressed a wince. “Well, I—”

“Will you marry me?”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“I think we should get married.”

This night was just too weird to comprehend. “You’re kidding.” She waved her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “Doesn’t matter if you’re kidding or not. No.”

Cute, blond, but obviously hard-of-hearing Brian frowned. “No?”

“We’ve only been out a few times. Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to get married?”

He reached across the table and grasped her hand. His blue eyes softened. “When it’s right, why wait?”

Lily tapped her nails against the table. Do you want the whole list, or just the top twenty-five? “I’m not getting married, Brian.”

“We’ll have a long engagement.”

“Ever,” she finished.

“Of course you are, darling. You’re lovely and talented, and you need a partner who’ll support and understand you.”

“That’s what a manager is for.” With James running her life and business affairs, what did she need a husband for? She wouldn’t even think about the possibility that he’d really leave. She would find a way to talk him out of this crazy retirement thing.

Since this was the second time tonight she’d found herself dealing with a man who was dead set on pursing a really bad idea, she figured she’d give the logical argument another swing. “We don’t know each other well enough to get married.”

“I know you.”

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Uh…”

“What’s my favorite thing to do?”

“Uh…” He broadened his smile. “We’ll learn all that.”

“Sure we will. It’s called dating.” There was something very odd about all this—not just odd because she hadn’t seen this coming, but suspicious odd. “Don’t most men want sex instead of marriage? Or at least sex first?”

His eyes twinkled. “So glad you brought that up…I’m free after dinner.”

I’ll bet. Sex aside, this was just weird. She and Brian had mild chemistry and business interests in common, but nothing that warranted a proposal. What was really going on? She might be a former farm girl, but she’d lived in the city for ten years. She hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck.

Lily pulled her hand from his grasp, then leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay. What’s the real deal?”

“We should merge our fashion empires. Think of the possibilities.”

“Our—” She didn’t have a fashion empire—though that was a promising goal—and she knew he didn’t have anything close to an empire. If he didn’t know what his sales were for the spring, he might not even have a business anymore. “So, this is a business proposition, not a proposal.”

“I figured a proposal would better appeal to you as a woman.”

“A lie, as opposed to the truth, you mean.”

He shrugged. “A woman as successful as you needs someone to support her, someone to escort her to functions, someone who won’t be offended when she puts her work first.”

She gasped. The constant reminders about the Spectacular, the seeming lack of direction regarding his business, the way he’d conveniently forgotten his wallet on their last date. It all suddenly made sense. “You’re looking for a sugar mama.”

He looked shocked for a second, then laughed. “I thought that had gone out decades ago. It’s such a charming expression.” Then he stopped abruptly and leaned forward. “Actually, yes, that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

“I see,” she said. She supposed there was still enough of the farm girl in her to actually be shocked by this jaded idea.

“You need a man who’s tied to you legally,” he went on. “One you can trust.”

“I trust James. You, however, I don’t.” She rose and tossed her napkin on her plate. “Goodbye, Brian.”

Eyes wide, Brian stood as well. “Lily, I’m only trying to help. As a woman, you’re in a vulnerable position.”

She stalked two steps forward, planted her four-inch stiletto sandals dangerously close to his instep and glared. “Do I look vulnerable to you?”

“Uh, well…actually—”

“Goodbye, Brian.” She spun away, almost plowing into the waiter who’d obviously rushed over to see what the problem was.

“Madam, can I get you some more wine?” the waiter asked, his expression carefully bland.

I need a lot more wine, pal. She gave him a wan smile. “No, thank you. I’m leaving.”

Brian grabbed her arm. “Do you think you can spot me some cash? I’m kind of tapped out.”

How the hell did she get herself into these situations? She glanced at the waiter, who’d stepped back several feet. She crooked her finger at him, and when he stood in front of her, Lily said quietly, “We’re going to be splitting the check.” She fumbled in her bag for some cash, quickly tallied her dinner, plus a tip to cover the whole check—since she doubted Brian would part with his portion—then slid the bills into the waiter’s hand.

She cut her gaze toward Brian. “He’s on his own.” Whirling, she strode out of the dining room without a backward glance. Red-faced with anger and embarrassment, she retrieved her coat, then stepped outside and asked the valet to hail her a cab. After giving the cabbie her address, she fumed in the back seat.

What was with men these days?

The guy she’d dated before Brian had only been interested in a one-night stand. Then she’d met Brian and had found his easy smile and awareness of her industry refreshing. She’d only had a moment of pause over his slightly superior attitude, though most designers had something of an ego, or at least blind ambitions. If you didn’t believe in your designs, no one else would. But had she foreseen him being a smiling hyena, looking for a woman to feed off for contacts and financial support?

No, she had to say that had been a bit unexpected.

“Merge our fashion empires. What an idiot,” she said aloud.

“Whatever you say,” the cabbie returned in a thick Brooklyn accent.

“Even if I had a fashion empire, why would I want to merge it with a guy via a marriage contract? I mean, they have regular contracts for that kind of stuff.”

“Sure they do.”

“And since I’m not even sure I want to have sex with him, I see absolutely no benefit to me. I mean, isn’t that what marriage is all about—regular and sure-thing sex?”

“Not in my house.”

Another hit to marriage. She’d seen her sister settle into her happy, domestic life, but sex never seemed at the top of her list. There was the house, the kids, the laundry and the carpool. And her husband seemed just as hurried, trying to advance at his job and earn enough to keep his family comfortable and happy.

None of it was easy. Yet they managed. They loved each other, and they managed. Lily admired them, even as she doubted her life would ever be that balanced.

“Can you believe that man! He actually proposed.”

The cabbie shook his head. “I’ll be damned, lady. You just can’t trust anybody these days.”

“Hear, hear. And he’s not the first! Last year this doctor I was dating proposed that I marry him, move to Connecticut and have six kids together.”

“Men are pigs.”

Lily stared out the window at the passing city lights, the people streaming past the shops, the crush of cabs and limos outside the hotels. Damn, she loved New York. Full of crazy men, but still the best.

“Here ya go,” the cabbie said as he pulled up to the curb in front of her building.

“Thanks.”

The doorman opened the cab’s door and greeted her with a dignified nod.

Lily paid the cabbie and tossed in an extra twenty. Hardworking cabbies were cool. Designers with an attitude and delusions of matrimony were not.

JAMES STARED at Teresa over his menu. “Did you say something?”

“Twice.” She smiled. “I asked what you were going to have.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe the fish. I’m not really hungry.” He set his menu aside and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t get the look of shock and—dare he say—hurt on Lily’s face out of his mind.

To say the least, her reaction was unexpected.

Though she was flamboyant, disorganized and temperamental, she was also smart, savvy and talented. With the money pouring in from her designs, she certainly needed a financial adviser, but a decent secretary could handle her appointments and the office work.

She didn’t need someone like him to hold her hand, get her out of bed in the morning or rescue her from her latest crisis. All things he’d done over and over for past clients.

Maybe, at times, she lacked complete confidence in herself. She had confidence in her work, but not in her ability to multitask, to handle her business, to make the best decisions. But he saw all those qualities in her. And more.

As a man, he couldn’t deny her physical presence—bright green eyes, long legs, black hair and toned figure. But her temper, all-night parties, spontaneity to the point of head-spinning craziness, flashy personality and—had he listed her fiery temper?—had him shaking his head. Too much like his mother and her wild actor friends, the people he’d known from childhood, but never understood or felt comfortable with. A business-casual distance from Lily was a necessity for him.

Client she was. And client she’d stay.

“James?”

James blinked at Teresa. He had the feeling she’d called his name more than once. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand—just as he’d done to Lily earlier.

Get her out of your mind, buddy. The workday is done. Thank God.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Teresa. She was the kind of woman he belonged with, the kind of woman who wanted a quiet, normal life. “I had a wild day at work, and I’m having a hard time setting the details aside.”

“I saw several pairs of Lily’s shoes at Bloomingdale’s the other day. They were really…colorful.”

“That’s Lily.”

Teresa smiled, and pushed a strand of her blond bob behind her ear. “A second-grade schoolteacher doesn’t have much use for four-inch stilettos, I’m afraid.”

“I wouldn’t think that’s a bad thing. They look really uncomfortable to me.”

The waitress appeared with their drinks, then took their orders. James ate in this casual restaurant down the street from his apartment often. He liked the worn tables, open-air kitchen, simple food. Others obviously agreed with him, he thought, noting the entryway crowded with people waiting for tables.

After a sip of wine, James admitted, “I told Lily about my retirement today.”

“Ah. I guess she didn’t take it well.”

“No.”

“She relies on you. She probably feels you’re abandoning her.”

“I thought she’d throw things at me.”

“And she cried instead?”

He angled his head. How did other women know this kind of stuff about each other? Teresa and Lily had never met; they were as unalike as two women could be. Were there Cliff Notes somewhere? Maybe a course? “She was upset.”

“Give her some time. She’ll accept it and move on—without missing a beat, I’ll bet.”

Well, he wouldn’t mind if she missed him a little. Even if he had begun his career with reluctance, he’d gotten pretty damn good at it.

But not for much longer. Soon he’d only have himself to worry about. Himself and maybe a family of his own.

He could envision Teresa embracing retirement with him. His culinary classes. His marketing studies on the latte business. She’d also fit in well with his horses, or maybe dog breeding. She’d enjoy helping him run a café. And his life would finally be regular like everybody else’s.

“You’re right. She’ll be fine without me.”

“People like Lily always come out on top.”

She made the comment without any jealousy or anger. Graciousness. Wasn’t that an ideal quality in a mate? “They do indeed. Mostly because she’s determined that’s where she belongs.” Considering, James sipped his wine. “It’s kind of an odd mix of willpower and ego.”

“From the descriptions you’ve given me, she seems really…flashy.”

“Oh, she is. She certainly fits in much better with my parents’ theater friends than I do.”

Smiling, Teresa nodded. “Your parents are very flamboyant, too.”

“Especially Mother.”

“But entertaining. The night I met them at that party, and your mother and her friend reenacted the entire final scene of a play they did ten years ago? Amazing. She was obviously born to her craft.”

He liked talking with Teresa. They were friends, and their relationship was comfortable. With his parents’ volatile marriage as his first impression of lifetime commitment, he’d figured out really early that was not what he wanted for himself. He didn’t need impulsiveness and all-consuming passion. Flames like that burned out—or burned each other up. He’d seen it happen over and over again among his parents’ friends.

Before he could respond to Teresa, someone called his name.

He turned to see his good friend and lawyer, Dalton Roberts, approaching their table with a slinky blonde clinging to his arm.

Dalton had moved to Manhattan from South Carolina several years ago after his law practice had fallen apart. His partner and his wife had had an affair that devastated him, so now he was a confirmed bachelor and play-the-field guy.

Actually, he and Lily were very alike. If James didn’t have a strict aversion to playing matchmaker with friends and business associates—between anybody, really—he’d encourage them to go out.

He rose and introduced his buddy to Teresa, then was introduced to Dalton’s date, Cindy. James appreciated Teresa’s ability to send the new woman a welcoming smile and stare into her eyes rather than at her chest. Dalton tended to go for flash over substance in choosing women, but Cindy and her well-endowed figure was a new, uh…high.

The waitress appeared to offer the new guests drinks, and James encouraged them to hang out until their own table was ready. With his longish blond hair and quick smile, Dalton was “dreamy” and easy to talk to, according to the female population. Teresa might as well meet his friends.

“So, how’s business?” Dalton asked James.

“Good. Spring is a big season for us.” Actually, he’d told Dalton he’d get him near-the-front seats for the Spectacular—he was sure his friend would enjoy checking out the models—but he didn’t want to say so in front of Cindy. He expected his buddy would want to come solo.

Dalton took a sip of the whiskey the waitress brought, then grinned. “Any woman who showed up at my door wearing those high-assed shoes I saw in that ad on Fifth…Whoa, baby.”

The ad was provocative—showing a woman from behind, wearing no top as she smiled teasingly over her shoulder and dressed in a short, black skirt, fish-nets and a pair of Lily’s red stilettos.

Cindy leaned forward, and James feared they all might get to know her a little too familiarly if she made that motion then drew a deep breath. “You’re the one who works for Lily Reaves?”

She said Lily’s name with the same breathy quality he’d witnessed in countless women the last several months. Women apparently worshiped shoes with the same fervor as men worshiped sports. Or women.

“She makes the most amazing shoes,” Cindy continued. “I’ve got on a pair now, in fact.” She lifted her leg above the table, obviously intending to show everyone, but Dalton tamped her down.

James exchanged a look with Teresa, who grinned at him and shrugged. Their quiet dinner was turning into a sideshow, with Lily being the topic of conversation. Gracious didn’t even begin to cover the woman’s positive qualities.

Yep, she’d fit into his plans perfectly.




3


BACK IN HER APARTMENT, but still dressed in her Brian-the-disastrous-date pantsuit, Lily punched in Gwen’s cell-phone number. “I need you,” she said without ceremony.

“Now? We’re at the Tiger, Lil.”

“I know.”

“I just saw some big-time rapper.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know his name, but he ordered champagne for the entire bar, so that qualifies as cool in my book.” She paused, slurping. “What’s up?”

“James is retiring. Brian proposed.”

Silence. Then, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Duh! I’m officially having a pity party. Where are you?”

“I’m having a free freakin’ glass of champagne.”

“I’m drinking alone.”

“I’m now draining said glass and signaling Kristin. We’re on our way.” Her voice became muffled, then she came back clearer. “Any particular reason for retirement or proposal?”

“James wants to open a café in Connecticut. Brian thinks I’m a vulnerable woman who needs his protection.”

“I won’t even touch the vulnerable-woman thing, ’cause that’s just stupid, but what the hell is so interesting about Connecticut?”

“Exactly my reaction.”

“Okay, hang on. We’re on our way.”

By the time they arrived, Lily had pulled cold pizza from the fridge again and was drinking chardonnay straight out of the bottle. She leaned against the door and let her friends in the apartment.

“Give me that!” Kristin said, snatching the bottle. “For God’s sake, you can at least use a glass.”

Lily sniffled. “Why? My life is over.”

Gwen grabbed her arm, dragged her over to the couch, then pulled her down and sat beside her. “Stay.”

Lily slid her arm from her friend’s grasp and was about to shove another bite of pizza in her mouth when Gwen grabbed that, too. Man, that woman was tough. She had a reputation for tough, and Lily knew better than anybody just how truly deserved it was.

She, Gwen and Kristin had met about five years ago at a women’s business seminar. They’d all been out of school for a few years—Lily from the fashion institute, Gwen from NYU and Kristin from the Pink Petal School of Hair and Cosmetology. Lily had been working for a top designer at the time, but he never let her share her creativity or have any input into the designs. The others had had similar experiences, so, frustrated working for other people, each of them had decided to open her own business—and had absolutely no idea what the hell they were doing.

Over the years they’d shared ideas, triumphs and setbacks in both their business and personal lives. Lily was more grateful for their friendship than just about anything.

Kristin brought glasses, the wine bottle and ice bucket into the den, arranging everything on the coffee table. Then, when she saw the pizza, sent Gwen into the kitchen for a decent snack.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the sofa, Kristin stared at Lily. “Let’s start with Brian.”

She huffed out a breath. “Why? I don’t care about Brian.” How whiny could she get? She hated how this was affecting her so adversely, but, damn, she really hadn’t seen a day this awful coming.

“But maybe I’ll understand a little better how you got in this state,” Kristin said.

Gwen—her tall, thin body encased in a spectacular bronze dress, her dark hair pulled up loose and sexy on her head—shoved aside a stack of magazines, then set a plate of grapes and cheese on the coffee table. Lily’s gaze shifted to Kristin—a voluptuous blonde, who wore a body-skimming pale pink pantsuit.

She’d really messed up her friends’ night out. Since they looked as great as they did, she felt doubly guilty. “I shouldn’t have dragged you guys over here.”

Kristin waved her hand. “Forget it. We weren’t having that good a time, anyway.”

As she was settling on the other end of the sofa, Gwen opened her mouth, looking as if she might argue, but bit into a grape instead.

“So, Gwen told me Brian thought you were vulnerable and that’s why he proposed.”

“What I want to know,” Gwen said, “is whether you kneed him in the balls or ground your stiletto into his foot.”

Lily tossed back her hair. “Neither. I showed great restraint.”

Kristin grinned. “That’s a first.”

“He also said I needed a partner who’d support and understand me.” Lily frowned. “I’ve got James. What do I need with a partner?”

Kristin pursed her lips. “He probably meant an emotional partner, someone to share your life with.”

Lily waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m not ready for a commitment like that. Besides, I’ve got friends.”

“What about sex?” Gwen asked.

Lily gulped her wine. “According to my cabbie, marriage isn’t a guarantee of that, either.” And she was going to give her sister hell about that the next time they talked. She’d never felt as though she fit in with her conservative, country-loving family, though she’d never all out said she was against something as basic to human life as marriage. But this whole lack-of-sex thing had her reassessing.

“My cousin says the same thing,” Kristin added. “Says she and her husband never do it anymore.”

“I wasn’t that interested in Brian, anyway,” Lily said, then, sighing—the whole deal really was pretty embarrassing—she recounted her conversation with Brian, including his revelation that he wanted a sugar mama.

Kristin shook her head in disgust. “Men are whacked.”

“It’s no wonder we’re not all married and knocked up on a regular basis,” Gwen said dryly.

Lily raised her eyebrows, the picture of a blown-up Gwen zipping laughingly before her eyes. “You pregnant? Ha!”

“Maybe someday,” Gwen said.

“You’re not very maternal, girl,” Kristin pointed out.

“You kill plants,” Lily said.

“And pets,” Kristin added.

“One fish.” Eyes narrowed, Gwen raised her finger. “One lousy, stupid beta fish, and you guys think I’m a killer.”

“Well, you can’t deny your place is a grave for any kind of fern, ivy or ficus tree,” Lily said.

“I can’t help it if people keep giving them to me.” She pointed at Lily. “In fact, you gave me the last green thing.”

“Along with fertilizer and very specific instructions. I still don’t know how you managed to kill it in less than a week.”

“I would have thrown myself off the balcony the first day,” Kristin said without meeting Gwen’s gaze. “Less suffering that way.”

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest. “Since when did this become a ‘let’s pick on Gwen’ party?” She snapped her fingers. “Let’s get back on topic, people.”

Lily pushed out her lip. “I don’t want to talk about Brian anymore.”

“I agree,” Kristin said. “What a jerk.”

“Then we move on to James.” Gwen met Lily’s gaze. “How much time have you got?”

“Three months.”

“Three months! What happened to giving two weeks’ notice?”

“James plans ahead,” Lily said. And she didn’t. Yet another reason she absolutely couldn’t let him go. She really wished she could set aside the clawing fear that she was going to fall flat on her face if James left, but the dread in the pit of her stomach just wouldn’t subside.

“Okay, so we’ve got some time to convince him to stay,” Kristin said.

Gwen kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. “Just sleep with him.”

Kristin toasted Gwen with her half-empty wine-glass. “Sounds like a plan. He’s dreamy.”

Lily stared down at her friend. “Dreamy? James?”

Kristin batted her lashes. “He’s got great eyes.”

“And a great ass,” Gwen added.

Had she been asleep for the last nine months? “Since when are you two checking out my assistant?”

Gwen smiled. “Since the moment he got here.”

Lily fluffed up the pillow behind her head. “I’m not sleeping with him.” Not that James was completely un-sleep-with material. She just didn’t think a) he’d go for it, or b) that he’d be fooled for a second by her sudden amorousness. “I could throw a fit.”

Kristin giggled. “I bet you already did that.”

“I might have raised my voice,” Lily said indignantly, even as Gwen snorted with laughter. “But Connecticut, Kris! Why would anyone want to live in Connecticut?”

“It’s peaceful and elegant. Lots of nice estates and quaint towns.”

“I guess they have some great restaurants,” Gwen said. “You can get a kick-butt chowder—”

“You two are not helping.”

“What have you got against a whole state?” Gwen asked, reaching over to pull the wine from the ice bucket.

“They…they have…cows.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

“How about I come up with a list of cons for why he shouldn’t leave? James is into lists.”

Kristin pursed her lips. “Hmm. Like what?” She patted Lily’s leg. “Other than the obvious fact that he’s losing you.”

“The pulse and excitement of the city, for one,” Lily said.

“But you said he wants peace and quiet,” Gwen reminded her.

“We have peace in the city,” Lily said. “What the hell do you think Central Park’s for?”

“And the Met,” Kristin added. “Culture, refinement, tourists whispering and pointing at the Van Goghs.” She paused. “Okay, maybe not.”

Lily glared at her friends. “Hel-lo! The theater, the clubs, the restaurants, the shopping, Bloomingdale’s, Tiffany, Henri Bendel—”

“I sincerely doubt James will mourn the loss of Henri Bendel,” Gwen said.

“Cosmetics and accessories are probably not his thing,” Kristin agreed.

But Lily grinned. “I’ve got it. The Yankees.”

Gwen shivered. “Oooh, Derek Jeter.”

“James is a huge Yankee fan,” Lily continued. “I bought him season tickets for his birthday. The games are practically the only time he takes off, and if he can’t go, he follows them on the radio or Internet. Yankee Stadium is quite a commute from Connecticut.”

Kristin gestured with her glass. “Oh, that’s good. Love these, by the way.” She picked up the silver sandal Lily had kicked off earlier.

Tears burned in Lily’s throat. “I’ll never design another pair once he leaves.”

Gwen tossed a pillow at her. “Get real, girl.”

Kristin set the shoe aside, then met Lily’s gaze. “Are you sure losing your assistant is all that you’re worked up about?”

“It’s not like he plays a minor role in my life.”

Kristin and Gwen exchanged a glance. “Are you sure his business expertise is the only thing you’re worried about losing?” Kristin asked.

“What else would I be worried about losing?”

“What Kristin is trying—and not too well—to ask you is…do you have the hots for him?”

Those two had lost their minds. The hots for James? The man who thought wearing a beige shirt instead of a white one was a fashion risk? The man who probably organized his sock drawer? As an assistant, she wouldn’t have anybody else. As a potential lover, forget it. “Of course I don’t have the hots for him. Where in the world did you get that idea?”

“You’re really messed up about this,” Kristin said gently.

“Well, yeah. I’m worried my business is going to go down the drain!”

“That’s all?” Gwen pressed.

“Isn’t that enough?”

Kristin angled her head. “I don’t know. I think you might be making a mistake. James is…”

“Smart,” Gwen said.

“Responsible,” Kristin said.

“Loyal.”

“Dreamy.”

Lily folded her arms across her chest. “My assistant.”

“Not for much longer,” her friends said in unison.

“Please stop,” Lily said dryly. “You’re cheering me up way too much.” She reached for the wine, pouring the last few drops into her glass. A bit woozy, she rose and headed to the fridge for another bottle. As she refilled everyone’s glasses, she considered her strategy with James. He would respond to a logical list of pros and cons—though without the pros, since she didn’t want him to leave. But she needed a backup. He would probably find a way to argue around her cons. She hadn’t succeeded in moving him an inch earlier.

She paced the den. “Maybe I could sue him. For canceling our contract or something.”

“But you said he’s finishing his contract,” Gwen said.

Kristin shook her head. “Oh, that’s good. Kill him with kindness.”

Lily stopped and smiled for the first time all night. “That’s it!” James didn’t realize how much she needed him. He didn’t know how grateful she was that he’d done so much for her business. She had a tendency to be single-minded, and the designs for the Spectacular had taken up so much of her energies. She’d neglected her most valuable employee. As she’d learned so long ago at the women’s business seminar, that was a big no-no.

“I haven’t complimented him enough,” she went on. “I haven’t let him know how much I appreciate him.”

Kristin set down her wineglass with a click. “You could wine and dine him. Bring him gifts, little treats with his coffee breaks.”

“And what about a raise?” Gwen added.

Kristin frowned. “Don’t you think that’s a bit obvious?”

“Since when is Lily ever subtle?”

“Stop nagging,” Lily said, planting her hands on her hips. “And help me think of a plan.”

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, as James was answering his e-mail, Lily appeared in his office with a cookie—one of those giant chocolate-chip ones with lots of icing that formed mostly illegible letters of white goo. Thonk Yau was written on the top.

“You shouldn’t have.”

James marveled that with bloodshot eyes, Lily still managed to beam as she set the box on his desk. “Just wanted to let you know you were appreciated.”

That was his Lily—subtle down to the tips of her hot-pink, patent-leather ankle boots.

He tore off a small piece and offered it to her. She curled her lip, and laid her hand across her stomach. “It’s a bit early for me.”

Striving for polite, but suspicious as hell of her motives, James popped the cookie in his mouth. After swallowing, he asked, “Late night?”

Guilt skittered across her face. “A bit.”

What exactly had she done on this date?

“Actually, I got back early from my date and called Gwen and Kristin.”





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