The Corporate Wife Read online

  She was so absorbed by a case filled with miniature books that she didn’t notice the whisper-quiet movement of the pocket doors. Not until she heard Cecile’s voice did she look around, and then she realized that she was under the balcony, in the farthest and most shadowed corner of the room, where they might not see her. Even Slater, though he’d asked her to stay, might not realize she was in the library; suggesting she wait there might have been entirely Jessup’s idea. Unless one of them spotted her abandoned tea tray...

  Cecile flung herself invitingly onto an overstuffed couch. “At least that’s finally over,” she said. “Call Jessup to get us a drink, darling, and then come here and relax with me.”

  Slater closed the library doors. “You’ve already had plenty to drink, and I’m not interested in relaxing. I asked you to be my hostess, Cecile. When you agreed, you took on certain responsibilities – including, if necessary, concealing your boredom from my guests.”

  Cecile bristled.

  Erin considered knocking a book off the shelf just to let them know she was present, but she suspected that Slater might see that as a worse sin than mere eavesdropping. She moved out into the light, forgetting the tiny volume she still held in her hands. “Pardon me, I’ll just slip out while you…”

  Cecile’s eyebrows soared. “What’s she still doing here?”

  “That’s my business,” Slater said crisply, “not yours.”

  Cecile shook her head, almost sadly. “Slater, you poor innocent, if you can’t see what she’s up to–”

  Erin looked through her and straight at Slater. “If you’ll excuse me, sir,” she said, “surely whatever it was you wanted to tell me will keep till tomorrow?”

  Cecile sniffed.

  Slater stepped into Erin’s path. “Please wait, Erin. This won’t take long.” He faced Cecile. “We are not going to sidetrack this conversation by discussing Erin. We’re talking about you.”

  “No, we’re not,” Cecile said. “You’re giving me a lecture, and I won’t stand for it. I told you why I was late. I couldn’t help it.”

  “Running into friends is not a good enough excuse. At the least, you owe Erin an apology for having to stand in for you.”

  Cecile’s gaze flicked disdainfully over Erin. “You actually think she minded the chance to play grown-up? Slater, can you really be as naive as you sometimes appear?”

  “On the whole,” he said, “it’s doubtful.”

  Erin heard the warning in his voice; Cecile apparently didn’t, for she went straight on. “You should be glad I agree to put up with these stuffy people for any length of time at all. I’ve asked you before to invite some of my friends.”

  “To provide a contrast?” Slater sounded perfectly polite.

  “Naturally. If you’re going to expect me to play hostess to this crowd, the least you could do is let me have some interesting people too. Next time–”

  “But my dear Cecile,” Slater said, “I wouldn’t dream of subjecting you to this sort of torture again.”

  Cecile blinked, and then smiled. “Well, at least you finally understand how much you’ve been asking of me. And as long as you’re flexible about who we invite, of course I’ll do my part in return and put up with your business acquaintances once in a while.”

  “We are not going to be inviting anyone. And you will not be asked to act as hostess here again. Is that clear enough?”

  Cecile’s jaw dropped. “You’re just going to dump me? After all I’ve—”

  “–Invested in trying to capture me?” Slater said. “Please, Cecile, if you must be tedious, go and do it somewhere else.” He took two steps toward the fireplace and touched a bell under the mantel. “Jessup will make sure you have cab fare.”

  Jessup arrived so quickly that Erin couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been hovering in the hallway. She stayed in the shadows as the butler ushered a stone-faced Cecile out. The gas log hissed, but there was no other sound in the room.

  Slater was standing very still, one elbow braced on the mantel, staring down at the fire as if he’d just completed the hardest job he’d ever faced.

  Erin was startled. She’d never thought of Slater as the tender-hearted sort. Certainly he didn’t hesitate when business grew cutthroat, and he was not inclined to mince words, no matter whose feelings might be hurt in the process. Besides, so far as Erin could see, Cecile didn’t have any feelings to hurt.

  She was surprised, given Cecile’s bad behavior, that it had apparently taken so much resolve for Slater to give the woman her comeuppance. But why else would he be staring at the fire as if he was looking at eternity – and not liking what he saw?

  No matter what the cause of his preoccupation, he seemed oblivious to Erin. He hadn’t spoken or even looked in her direction since Cecile had stalked across the room. Perhaps, she thought, he’d asked her to stay only in order to have a witness, and now he was wishing she’d just slip away?

  She started to edge toward the door, but she’d made little progress by the time Jessup spoke from just outside the library. “Ms. Worth is on her way, sir.”

  Slater turned. “Thank you, Jessup. That’ll be all for tonight. I’ll lock up after I drive Ms. Reynolds home.”

  Erin drew herself up straight. “There’s no need to bother,” she said. “I’ll take a cab myself. I should have walked down with Cecile and saved Jessup a trip to the lobby, but I can’t say I’m sorry not to have her company.” She smiled at the butler. “If you wouldn’t mind seeing me out…”

  “Good night, Jessup.” Slater’s voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the command in it.

  Was it Erin’s imagination, or was there a glimmer of sympathy in the butler’s fleeting glance at her? “Yes, sir.” His retreating footsteps were almost silent on the marble floor.

  Slater waved a hand at the pair of armchairs in front of the fire. “Sit down, Erin.”

  She didn’t move. “If I’m being called on the carpet…”

  “What on earth for?”

  “I have no idea,” she said frankly. “But you’re barking orders as if you think I set Cecile up to be late.”

  A half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And suggested that the best way to my heart was to be rude to my guests. What a talented manipulator you must have been, to convince Cecile to believe that one. Will you sit down, please?”

  Erin complied. The tapestry upholstery had grown warm from the gas log, and the heat absorbed by the chair soaked into her back as she sank against it, relaxing muscles she hadn’t realized were tense. “How did the party go?”

  “Progress, I think. There were no firm commitments made, of course, but Brannagan loosened up as the evening wore on, so I’m sure it’ll be all right. I’ll need a letter of intent on my desk first thing tomorrow morning – I want it ready the moment he decides to sign it.”

  “I gave the draft to Sarah this afternoon.”

  He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “Are you psychic, Erin, or just confident I’d pull this deal off?”

  “Neither.” The dancing flames grew almost hypnotic as she watched. “It’s sheer laziness.”

  One dark eyebrow quirked. “Oh, really?”

  “Of course. If I hadn’t roughed out that document this afternoon, I’d have to get up at a ghastly hour in the morning, try to think before I’d even absorbed my first cup of coffee, and probably type the thing myself to boot.”

  “Laziness,” he agreed, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “And of course that’s why you stayed around all evening and helped Jessup in the kitchen, too.”

  “No,” Erin said. “That was so I could sample the leftovers.”

  She expected him to throw back his head and laugh. Instead, Slater watched her thoughtfully, and there was no amusement in his voice. “You’re always there, Erin. Anticipating what needs doing, pitching in–”

  Warily, she said, “If you’re suspicious that Cecile might have some reason for that crazy accusation of hers, let me assu
re you that I am not trying to snare you, sir, I’m merely doing my job.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “And doing it very well.”

  Despite the compliment, Erin found herself feeling a little flat – the effect of pure exhaustion, no doubt. If the reason he’d wanted to talk to her was a fairly routine document, why hadn’t he dismissed her as soon as she’d told him it was already on his desk? She realized belatedly that she was still holding the small, slim volume she’d picked up just as he and Cecile entered the room, and set it carefully down on the table next to her chair. “I really can take a cab, you know.”

  Slater nodded toward the volume. “You like my books.”

  “It’s a remarkable collection. I had no idea you’d acquired so many rare and interesting things. I’d think anybody would be impressed.”

  “Oh, no. When I walked in a few minutes ago, you looked like a debutante who’d been turned loose in Tiffany’s after closing time and told to fill her pockets.”

  “Did I?” Erin was cautious. “They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but I always thought they wouldn’t be much company on a lonely evening. Too cold, too hard, too self-centered.”

  He sounded puzzled. “Self-centered?”

  “All the fire is concentrated on the inside.” Erin felt a little foolish at having to admit the fanciful image.

  “I see.” Almost abruptly, he added, “Cecile owed you an apology.”

  It was fascinating, Erin thought, that her description of something which was totally unrelated had obviously brought Cecile to his mind. Perhaps it hadn’t been as difficult for him to send the woman away as it had appeared – if the words cold, hard, and self-centered made him think of her.

  “Yes, she did,” Erin agreed. “Is that why you wanted me to listen in to that little spat?”

  “May I make an apology for her?”

  “I doubt she’d appreciate your stepping in. Besides, you don’t owe me one.”

  “I invited her in the first place.”

  Erin smiled. “All right. I’ll accept your regrets for that. And I’m glad you sent her away. She…” She leaned back in her chair, soothed by the warmth of the fire, suddenly too tired to edit her thoughts or to wonder if tomorrow she would regret the personal nature of what she was about to say. “She wasn’t right for you.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me why you think so.”

  If you don’t already know, what’s the point of elaborating? Erin thought. “Not particularly. And I don’t suppose you’d really like to sit there and listen to my diagnosis.”

  “You were much more flattering about me this afternoon, when you said I’m not the sort to give in to blackmail.”

  “That wasn’t flattery,” Erin protested.

  “I know it wasn’t. That’s what made it such a compliment. Still, whether or not she was attempting blackmail, Hermione hit on a good point. Several of them, as a matter of fact.”

  Erin was feeling more lost by the moment.

  Slater looked around the room, as slowly and carefully if he was seeing it for the last time and memorizing each detail. Then he leaned slightly forward in his chair, and the firelight cut his face into sharply-shadowed planes as he said, “Erin, will you marry me?”

  The words seemed to echo inside her head, and the room suddenly felt like a carnival fun house in which everything looked perfectly normal but was bent at impossible angles. Erin stared at him; her fingers clenched the arms of her chair in an effort to keep herself from sliding onto the floor. “What?”

  Slater didn’t answer. He crossed the room to a shelf she hadn’t noticed before and lifted a decanter. “A glass of brandy?”

  “No, thanks,” Erin said crisply. “And if you need a bracer even to repeat the question, I think that ought to be the end of the entire subject, don’t you?”

  “Not at all.” He poured two snifters and handed her one. “Just in case you change your mind. It’s very good brandy. I’m not reluctant to repeat the question, Erin, I just don’t think that would get us anywhere. I’d rather tell you why I asked it.”

  “It’s really not—”

  “Necessary? What was it you told me just last week, about the need to have all the pertinent information before making a decision, in order to be certain of reaching a wise one?”

  “I was talking about a very important contract.”

  “And the one I’m suggesting would also be.”

  Once started, Erin realized, he was obviously not going to stop. There seemed to be no option but to listen and then let him down as easily as possible. Or would it be better, perhaps, to treat the whole thing with humor?

  She let a note of amusement creep into her voice. “Well, please don’t tell me that your Aunt Hermione’s letter inspired you to realize that you’ve fallen in love with me, because the idea is absolutely ludicrous.”

  He smiled, slowly and gently, as if she was being very foolish. “Give me some credit for knowing that you’re not gullible enough to swallow a tale like that. You’re quite right; it is ludicrous.”

  At least he’s being sensible about that much, Erin thought.

  “You’re also not vain. You know perfectly well that a declaration of affection which was based on an old lady’s eccentric ideas wouldn’t be very complimentary.”

  “Any man who couldn’t figure out how he felt without Aunt Hermione’s interference wouldn’t be much of a prize,” Erin agreed.

  “Exactly. And if you were either gullible or vain enough to believe a story like that, you’d hardly be the sort of woman I was looking for, anyway.”

  Despite herself, Erin was intrigued. “What kind of woman are you looking for?”

  “Maybe it would be easier to list what I don’t want. I’m not interested in a trophy wife whose only function is to be decorative.”

  “Thank you,” Erin said crisply. “I think.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t decorative, I said beauty alone isn’t enough. I’m also not looking for a woman who thinks only of herself and wants me to be constantly entertaining her.”

  She couldn’t stop herself. “Like Cecile.”

  “And a few others,” Slater agreed. “The women I meet in the run of things aren’t at all the kind I’m looking for as a partner.”

  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

  “Amazingly enough, that idea had occurred to me.” His voice was dry. “It’s the main reason why we’re having this talk, because when I looked around, I saw... you.”

  “And what exactly made me eligible for the short list?”

  “The qualities which attracted me, you mean? You’re solid. Sensible. Practical.” Slater sipped his brandy.

  “Very flattering.”

  “As a matter of fact, it’s intended to be. Would you rather hear a silly ode to your beautiful eyes?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t think so. The job of corporate wife isn’t really much different from what you’re doing right now, you know. That’s why I’m so certain you’re right for the position.”

  “So what you’re really proposing,” Erin said thoughtfully, “is a sort of business marriage. A personal assistant, if you will, who just happens to have a very long-term employment contract.” Just when, she asked herself in astonishment, had she stopped thinking this was funny and started taking him seriously?

  “And some extra perks, of course.”

  Erin’s muscles tightened. Precisely what about this incredible proposal did Slater think would be a bonus?

  He seemed not to notice her sudden stillness. “For instance, there will be a certain amount of travel.”

  Erin thought wryly that Slater’s kind of traveling could hardly be considered a benefit. He’d been around the world, but it seemed to Erin he’d seen little more than airports and offices.

  “A lifestyle that’s far from shabby.” He glanced around the library once more as if to emphasize the point. “A great deal of freedom to do exa
ctly as you liked. I certainly wouldn’t expect that every moment of your time be devoted to my projects. A wardrobe, probably far more extensive than you have now. A substantial private income.”

  “In effect, you’d be paying me more for doing the same work I am now.”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Why?” Erin asked baldly. “So you’ll never have to fuss about finding a hostess again?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  Erin gave him points for honesty. “Saving you from the Ceciles of the world... what a mission.”

  “And also because I happen to think we fit, you and I. We work together well. This gives us a chance to guarantee a good combination. To make it permanent.”

  “That’s a benefit from your point of view,” Erin said. “Having a personal assistant who can’t ever resign.”

  “And for you, there’s the security of knowing you’ll never have to worry about a paycheck again. Or much of anything else, either.”

  For a long moment the only sound in the room was the soft hiss of the fire. Erin stared at the flames and wished she could pretend none of this was happening. If only they were simply sitting beside the fire, having a friendly chat about books...

  But Slater had asked a question, and he was waiting for an answer.

  “Look,” she said, “I’m very flattered. And I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t say things if you don’t mean them, Erin.”

  “All right,” she said irritably, “I’ll be blunt. The answer’s no. I hope you won’t take it personally, because it’s not you I’m refusing, exactly. It’s just that I want more than a marriage of convenience. I want a family.” She felt as if she was stumbling over her own tongue. “Someday, I mean, not right now. But you must see that I can’t honestly…”

  “So do I.” His voice was so soft that for a moment Erin wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly.

  She swallowed hard. “You can’t mean... You’re actually suggesting...? But of course you are. It’s part of the corporate executive’s wife’s job to produce the perfect little family, isn’t it? Football players and ballet dancers, I suppose, and honor students as well?”