The Corporate Wife Read online

  Slater was silent for so long that she began to regret letting the sarcastic note creep into her voice. Had she hit a nerve so deep he wasn’t going to answer at all?

  “I would very much like to have a family,” he said finally. “Like you, I’m in no hurry. And I don’t have any particular requirements for my children, either.”

  Erin felt just a little ashamed of herself.

  “I quite understand that you aren’t comfortable with the idea just now, and I’m content to leave the final decision for the future.”

  “And if – assuming I was to accept this incredible offer – the time never came that I was comfortable with the idea?”

  “Then we would still have the partnership we started out with.”

  The gas log hissed. Drops of rain spattered against the skylight far above.

  How sad for Slater, Erin thought, that he honestly believed the deal he was offering was the best that a marriage could be. And how doubly sad it would be if he committed himself to such a makeshift marriage and then found a woman he truly loved, because his sense of honor would hold him to his promise.

  “Thank you,” Erin said. “And I really mean that. I am honored. But…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words again.

  “But your answer is still no?”

  She took a deep breath. “Listen to yourself, sir.”

  “Do you suppose you could drop the sir, Erin?”

  “You’re settling for something that wouldn’t even be second-best, and down deep you know it. I can hear it in your voice.”

  From the way his eyes darkened, Erin knew she’d hit the mark precisely. Not that she expected him to admit it openly, of course.

  “Someday,” she said, “a woman will come along that you can really care for, and when you feel the magic of loving someone, you’ll know the difference.”

  “That’s a magic you’ve experienced in the past, obviously. Or do you mean you’re experiencing it now?”

  Erin hesitated. When exactly would I have time? she wanted to ask, but she expected he’d just turn that around into another reason for accepting him. “Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Slater shook his head. “I think it simply means you’re very innocent. It’s been my experience that magic is greatly overrated where relationships are concerned. It so frequently turns to melodrama instead.”

  He sounded very tired.

  Erin put her half-full brandy snifter aside and stood up. “Not every woman’s like Cecile,” she said. “And when you meet the right one, and discover that I’m absolutely correct about that magic… well, just send me a thank-you card, all right?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Erin offered once more to take a cab, but Slater briskly told her not to be ridiculous. “At this time of night there’ll be a half-hour wait just to get one dispatched. If you let me drive you, you’ll be home before that, and so will I.” He walked down the balcony hallway beside her and summoned the elevator.

  “I just thought–” she began weakly.

  He stepped back to let her precede him, and pushed the button for the garage level. “If you’re worried about me annoying you,” he said shrewdly, “you needn’t. Only an idiot would believe that some fool stunt like kissing you goodnight would change your mind.”

  Erin felt herself coloring a little. He didn’t quite have it right, but he was uncomfortably close to reading her thoughts. It wasn’t the question of Slater’s behavior that concerned her; he might be merciless in the board room, but she couldn’t begin to picture him forcing her – or any woman – against her will. She couldn’t imagine him wanting to use coercion on an unwilling woman when there were plenty who would happily cooperate.

  No, she wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid that their conversation tonight would change everything: the easy atmosphere in the office, the smooth working relationship between them, the effortless exchange of ideas. If she had to start watching everything she said for fear of how he might interpret each word...

  “Can we just forget this happened?” she said plaintively.

  “I think we’d be better off not to try.” He guided her toward a red convertible in a sheltered corner of the garage. “But you needn’t be concerned that I’ll bring the subject up again. I asked my question, and I got my answer. I’m not crazy enough to think that merely asking it again would get me a different one.”

  “Good,” Erin said. “Because I do like working with you, and I’d hate to have that messed up.” Relieved, she settled into the deep leather seat. “This is new, isn’t it?”

  “The car? Yes.”

  “I never suspected you were the convertible type.” Too late, she realized that she’d practically issued an invitation for him to tell her all sorts of things she’d never known about him. The kind of personal things she’d just as soon not know about a man who was – despite that incredible proposal – never going to be anything more than her boss.

  But Slater was as good as his word; he didn’t seize the excuse. “Just consider it part of my mid-life crisis,” he said dryly.

  Erin, grateful for the teasing note in his voice, wrinkled her brow. “You’re not old enough to have one.”

  “A sports car?”

  “A mid-life crisis. You’ve got at least ten years to go.”

  “I was always precocious. Just ask my Aunt Hermione.”

  Erin laughed and put her head back against the leather seat. She half-wished he’d taken the time to put the top down. Though the night air would be too crisp for true comfort, there was something inviting about the idea of a chilly breeze tugging at her hair and refreshing her brain, clearing away the complicated thoughts of the last hour and leaving only enjoyment.

  When the car pulled up in front of her townhouse, Erin noted that the living room lights were on. At this hour, her mother would normally have doused all but the hall light and gone to bed. She wouldn’t be waiting up for Erin; that had been part of their pact two years ago when Angela Reynolds had moved in to share her daughter’s home.

  She might have company, of course, though Erin’s quick glance up and down the street didn’t reveal any cars she recognized. Angela hadn’t dated much since her divorce, but there had been a couple of men. Men sort of like Dax, Erin thought with a smile – more interested in Angela than she was in them.

  “Just drop me off in front,” she said.

  As if he hadn’t heard, Slater parked the convertible in the space nearest the townhouse and came around to open Erin’s door.

  “Really,” she protested. “You don’t need to–”

  “You might as well save your breath, Erin, because I’m going to walk you to the house no matter what you say.” There was no argumentativeness in his voice, only a simple statement of fact.

  And though Erin could have pointed out that she got herself home after dark on a regular basis without any escort at all, she knew it would be a waste of time. “Yes, sir,” she said and dropped into step beside him.

  He glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent comment on her assumed meekness. After a year of working together, Erin thought, he didn’t need to say a word to get the message across.

  He didn’t touch her, not even to take her arm. Nevertheless Erin found herself almost holding her breath as she put her key in the lock. Despite his reassurances earlier, would he try to take advantage of the situation? Only an idiot would believe some fool stunt like kissing you goodnight would change your mind, he’d said. And yet...what would she do if he tried?

  Her back was turned to him as she fumbled with the key, but she was aware that he was standing very close; she could feel the warmth of him blocking the chilly breeze. He reached over her shoulder, and his sleeve brushed her hair. Erin jerked away just as he pushed the door open and stepped back.

  “See you tomorrow,” Slater said, and a moment later he was gone into the shadows of the night.

  Look who’s talking about idiots, Erin told herself. Have you ever known
Slater Livingstone not to keep his word?

  The living room lights were dimmed, and the television murmured. On the long couch, Angela Reynolds sat up and flicked the remote control. “Did I hear someone with you outside?”

  “Mr. Livingstone brought me home.”

  “Why didn’t you invite him in? I’d like the chance to meet him.”

  “At this hour?”

  “How late is it?” Angela peered at the clock. “It must have turned into quite a party.”

  “That’s for sure.” Erin considered dropping down beside the couch and telling her mother about Slater’s impossible proposal. But she’d already dealt with the question; what else could Angela add? “I thought you’d be in bed.”

  “I must have dozed off,” Angela said. “I had a headache earlier, and an upset stomach. Probably ate something that didn’t agree with me.” She yawned and pushed herself up off the couch.

  Erin said goodnight and retreated to her own room. But the darkness she had longed for didn’t bring oblivion, only a swirling kaleidoscope of thoughts and images. Again and again, however, she saw Slater’s face as he had so earnestly asked her to marry him.

  What an absurd, unforeseen question it had been. She’d tried to handle it sensitively, defusing an awkward incident before it led to an impossible situation – before it threatened the job she had come to love. She’d done her best, and there was nothing more she could have done.

  You could have said yes.

  The whisper in the back of her mind was like an electrical shock forcing her upright. Then she began to laugh at the foolishness of the whole idea. Marry Slater Livingstone? She was too exhausted to think straight, that was the problem, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

  She’d given him the only answer she could. The only sensible answer, for both their sakes.

  Hadn’t she?

  *****

  Erin overslept, making her doubly glad that she’d already prepared the documents Slater would need when he met with Bob Brannagan that morning to clinch their deal. “And something tells me,” she muttered as she stood under the hottest shower she could bear, “that even if I’d said yes last night instead of no, if that letter of intent wasn’t on his desk by nine this morning he wouldn’t be very understanding.”

  She was already mentally sorting the day’s list of things to do when she came into the office, and she almost ran headlong into Dax Porter when he slid off the corner of Sarah’s desk into her path.

  “Sorry,” Erin said automatically, and wondered why he’d been sitting there. Surely Sarah wasn’t encouraging him to hang around the office, was she?

  One look at Sarah dispersed her suspicions, for the secretary was her imperturbable self, with not a hint of guilt or self-consciousness. “Dax brought up the latest results from the new direct-mail campaign for you.” There was a teasing glint in her eyes.

  As if they wouldn’t have survived interoffice mail. “Very kind of you,” Erin murmured.

  “I thought maybe you’d like me to go over them with you,” Dax offered. “There are some interesting trends.”

  Erin cut him off. “I’ll look over them when I have time.”

  “You are a little late this morning. Livingstone’s party got uproarious, no doubt?”

  That, Erin thought, was unworthy of comment. “Sarah, if the Universal Conveyer bid is ready, would you bring it into my office?”

  “I’ve got it here.” The secretary closed a folder which was lying on her desk blotter and handed it to Erin. “But the boss wants you right away.”

  Dax said, “If you have any questions about the campaign…”

  “I won’t hesitate to call you,” Erin assured him. “But I’m sure you have work to do in the meantime.” She waited, trying not to tap her foot impatiently, till Dax was out of sight. “Can’t that man take a hint? Was he annoying you?”

  “He’s harmless, Erin. He only flirts with me to make a point with you.”

  “The point being that I’d better not wait too long or another woman will grab him? If only someone would. Why does Mr. Livingstone need me? Was something wrong with the Brannagan letter of intent?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s being an iguanadon today.”

  That’s a new one, Erin thought. “Which means?”

  “Ferocious-looking but basically harmless. I keep forgetting that you have no reason to know about the more obscure dinosaurs. Those of us who have eight-year-old boys, on the other hand, learn all of this in self-defense.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever have a son,” Erin said.

  Slater’s words seemed to echo in her head. I’d very much like to have a family, he’d said last night.

  And just how long am I going to have flashbacks of that conversation? Erin asked herself. Knock it off, Reynolds. It’s over!

  She tapped on the door and went straight in.

  Slater’s morning mail was laid out neatly on the blotter; on one corner of the glass-topped desk lay a still-folded newspaper. Slater was standing at the window, looking out over downtown St. Louis toward the Mississippi River, but he turned away from the view when he heard her. “Good morning, Erin.”

  The deep timbre of his voice was the same as always, the greeting just as professional, his smile perfectly normal. All she had to do was return the cheerful words and go to work.

  But there was a difference anyway. When she looked at him this morning, Erin saw not only the boss she respected but the lonely man who had asked her to share his life.

  She’d suggested last night that they ignore the entire episode. But she realized now that she’d been naive to think it was possible. Slater had already known that, obviously. We’d be better off not to try, he’d said. And he’d been right; things had changed, and there was no changing them back.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked.

  “You forgot something at my apartment last night.”

  She frowned, trying to recall what she might have left behind. She hadn’t missed anything. A hairbrush? A lipstick?

  Slater moved across the room to the credenza behind his desk and picked up a slender crystal vase containing one red rose. “Jessup seemed to think this was important to you.”

  Dax’s rose. Too bad she couldn’t have made use of it last night, but its deep red would have glared in the midst of the all-white centerpiece, so she’d laid it aside while she arranged the rest of Tonio’s flowers. She’d forgotten all about it, the poor thing – but Jessup must have picked it up with the discarded stems and put it safely away for her.

  She took the vase and sniffed the rose’s heady fragrance. It was a particularly beautiful bloom, and it wasn’t the flower’s fault that it had been Dax who gave it to her. Regardless of the source, it served as a sort of wake-up call, pulling her back to reality before she could let herself drown in a sea of sympathy. She had her own life, after all, and she couldn’t fix whatever was wrong with Slater’s.

  My goodness, aren’t we feeling important? she mocked herself. For all she knew, even though he’d been seemed serious last night, perhaps he’d spoken without truly thinking things through. He’d certainly been frustrated enough with Cecile’s conduct to have acted in haste. This morning he might even be feeling that he’d had a lucky escape when Erin had turned him down.

  She smiled at him over the rose. “Thank you for bringing it, sir. I’ll return the vase, of course.”

  “No hurry.” His voice was level. “Jessup will be pleased to know how happy you are to have the flower back. If I’d realized you were seeing someone, Erin, I wouldn’t have bothered you with that nonsense last night.”

  She opened her mouth to assure him that the rose meant nothing, that there was no one special in her life. Then it occurred to her that he might take it personally if she told him, in effect, that she had refused to consider his proposal because she preferred having no one at all in her life to having him. Confused, she glanced up at him and bit her lip. And you thought you could
just pretend this never happened!

  “There’s no need to explain,” Slater said. “I understand. Now, shall we get down to work, before Bob Brannagan comes in?”

  *****

  When Erin came out of Slater’s office an hour later, carrying the crystal vase and a to-do list which would take her the better part of three days to finish, Sarah eyed the red rose with undisguised interest. But she didn’t comment, just waved a thin sheaf of message slips at Erin.

  “Anything important?” Erin asked. Her hands were too full even to reach for the bits of paper.

  Sarah riffled the slips as if she were dealing cards. “Depends on your point of view. The Senator’s secretary called to cancel his visit for Thursday because of an important vote. Something to do with the Pentagon.”

  Erin groaned.

  “Know anybody who wants four non-refundable tickets to the ballet?” Sarah went on imperturbably. “Because I just managed to get my hands on them this morning, about ten minutes before she called.”

  “I’ll ask Mr. Livingstone if there’s anyone else he wants to invite. Otherwise we’ll just put a notice out to the employees, unless you want to take your son.”

  “To a ballet? If it’s not set in prehistoric times…”

  “Afraid not.”

  Sarah shrugged. “They’re missing a sure bet. Dinosaurs in tutus – I bet a lot of people would pay to see that. Also, Mrs. Brannagan called. She wanted to thank you for the party last night.” Her eyes were bright with interest. “Not Mr. Livingstone. Not the worthy Cecile. You.”

  “We had half of a very nice conversation,” Erin said. “And by the way, before you put any more calls through to Mr. Livingstone from Cecile Worth, be sure to ask him if he wants to take them.”

  Sarah looked intrigued. “Another one bites the dust? That’s a comfort. I was beginning to think we were stuck with her permanently. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what happened, either.”

  Erin lifted an eyebrow. “Why do you assume that I know?”