If the Stiletto Fits.... Wendy Etherington
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