.
circulation had been falling steadily in the past six months. Or that Tom had been searching for a way to turn the circulation figures around. But with Sullivan’s article? Sure, it was controversial enough, but could such a biased and outdated article accomplish a miracle?
It had to. Her job depended on it.
“I’ve decided to use Sullivan’s article as the lead feature in the September issue,” Tom continued, filling her silence. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we can do it. What do you think, April?”
Speechless, April swung her gaze to Lucas Sullivan. At first glance, the man looked like the stereotypical absentminded professor, a thatch of unruly light brown hair, clothes a little rumpled, smelling ever so slightly of musty old books.
But on second glance…The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. Under his staid exterior was one very sexy male. Early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, he had a nicely sculpted mouth and a chin that begged to be touched. As if that weren’t enough, his warm brown eyes were most definitely of the sort called bedroom eyes—heavy lidded and innately sensual. Judging from the hungry stares of the females on the other side of the glass windows of her office, she wasn’t the only one to respond to his deceiving appearance. Although to give the man some credit, he didn’t appear to be aware of it.
“April?” Tom sounded faintly annoyed. “So what do you think?” he repeated.
“Uh…” April considered the question. How could she tell him she had little good to say about the article, its conclusions or, heaven help her, about its author’s intelligence when the man was gazing at her expectantly?
If she was honest, she’d admit that her unhappy near miss at matrimony might have colored her opinion of his article. Still, a chauvinist was a chauvinist, no matter what academic credentials he carried. Now, here was a man who, if the rules he espoused in his article were to be believed, had to be the ultimate male chauvinist.
Eldridge frowned. “Something wrong, April?”
“Uh, no,” April answered.
She suddenly realized she’d been more than rude.
She rose abruptly and held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Sullivan.”
He smiled slightly as he took her hand. “Call me Lucas, please,” he said with a wary glance at her desk. “Judging by all the red on these pages, you’ve been bleeding on my manuscript.”
Considering the man’s stiff body language, April sensed he felt uneasy around her. Not only because she was his editor but because she was a woman. How he’d managed to conduct a sociological study on the subject of male-female relationships if he felt this way was a puzzle.
Tom’s disapproval of her editorial opinion or not, she felt it was her job to give Sullivan the truth about his bias before he made a fool of himself and the magazine. She had to manage it diplomatically, of course.
But not just yet. First, she had some thinking to do; she needed to come up with a few ideas of her own to enlighten him.
“I was about to go to lunch, Tom. If you don’t mind coming back in an hour or two, Mr. Sull…er, Lucas, I’ll be happy to give you my comments.”
Tom’s scowl of disapproval slowly relaxed, but April sensed she wasn’t home free yet. “I was just about to invite Sullivan up to the executive dining room for lunch, April. Oh,” he added as he turned to leave, “you can come along if you like.”
If she liked? April bit back a tart reply. Although an invitation to the male-dominated executive dining room was considered a coup, it was clear the invitation had been offered as an afterthought. What else could she expect from a man who was not only a personal friend of Sullivan’s but actually agreed with his outdated views of women?
“No, thank you, Tom. I’ve already made plans for lunch.” April smiled, went to the door and pointedly waited for him and Sullivan to leave.
To her bemusement, a dozen pairs of female eyes followed Sullivan as he trailed Eldridge to the elevator. With such interest from the opposite sex, it was a puzzle how the man had missed realizing how important it was to have a woman’s point of view to help validate his study findings, let alone his ridiculous set of rules.
Once the two men were safely out of sight, April slid Sullivan’s article into a folder to share with her close friends Rita Rosales and Lili Soulé at lunch. Rita, a research librarian, and Lili, a graphic artist, both worked at the magazine.
She couldn’t wait to show them Sullivan’s manuscript. They were sure to share her opinion and appreciate her problem.
Not that Sullivan was her problem unless she made him into one, April reminded herself as she pushed the elevator’s down button. As far as she was concerned, her job was only to protect the magazine’s outstanding reputation. And herself from being fired. But if she’d known Sullivan before now, he never would have written such a biased study and its resultant article.
Aware of the probable impact on the magazine’s readership, it was obviously time for action.
THE BUILDING WHERE THE magazine had its offices was appropriately named the Riverview, since it overlooked the Chicago River. As usual, its popular cafeteria was crowded. Raised voices, the clatter of dishes and the scent of rosemary-fried chicken and garlic mashed potatoes filled the air. A hamburger station, April’s target for today, drew her attention.
A double-decker hamburger might not be the healthiest choice of the cafeteria’s mouthwatering attractions, but the price was right, April thought as she considered the buffet. She was still in the process of recovering the huge chunk of her savings she’d spent on the wedding dress that still hung in her closet. Despite feeling that the likelihood of her ever needing it was slim, she was strangely reluctant to sell it.
She made her way through the room to where Rita had staked out a corner table. Now was her chance to discuss plans for Sullivan’s enlightenment.
Rita smiled wryly as April approached the table. “I can always tell when you have an earthshaking idea on your mind. Something sinful like sex, I hope?”
April dropped her purse and the folder on the table. “Rita Rosales, is sex all you ever think about?”
“Why not?” Rita answered, her green eyes glowing with mischief. “Even if they’re not willing to admit it, sex is what everyone thinks about. At least most of the time.”
“No, not everyone.” April handed Rita the folder that contained Sullivan’s manuscript. “Certainly not the author of this article.”
Rita’s eyes widened in disbelief as she skimmed the first few pages. “You mean a man actually wrote this? How old is he, anyway? Ninety-five?”
“Yes, a man wrote this.” April laughed as she searched for her wallet. “In fact, I just met him. His name is Lucas Sullivan and, it turns out, he’s an old friend of Tom’s. He’s a rumpled academic type, the sort who looks like he could have written something like this. But I’d say he’s only in his early thirties.”
“Get outta here!” Rita pushed her salad aside, opened the folder and proceeded to read out loud. “‘While a man is not monogamous by nature, he is more likely to see a woman as a potential girlfriend or mate if sexual intimacy doesn’t occur too soon.’”
“I don’t believe this,” Rita muttered. “Sheesh, look at this—’A woman must strive for compatibility, rather than try to be sexy.’” She flipped to another page. “And what’s this crap about a woman ‘being generous in her praise of a man’s achievements’? This guy seems to think that sexual attraction doesn’t count for anything. He’s got to be joking.”
“Tom doesn’t think so. He not only suggested Sullivan write the article, he’s making it the lead feature in the September issue.”
“What doesn’t Tom think?” Lili Soulé, the petite Frenchwoman who completed the trio of friends, arrived