The Corporate Wife

by Leigh Michaels

  Had she betrayed her husband? Violated Slater’s trust?

  If so, her actions had been even worse than Sarah’s. If a secretary had to be secretive, a personal assistant was supposed to resemble a tomb. And as for a wife...

  There would be nothing she could do which would be worse, in Slater’s eyes, than let confidential information slip. Having an affair, she thought, would be nowhere on the same plane; after all, theirs was hardly a love match, and so long as she wasn’t late for an important dinner party...

  Gallows humor isn’t going to fix this, she told herself.

  She gritted her teeth and replayed as best she could every conversation she’d ever had with Dax Porter. So far as she could remember, she hadn’t let a piece of information slip. But could she be absolutely certain? Dax was not only slick, he was diabolical; he’d not only snared Sarah but he’d managed to keep her in the dark even while he was teasing out everything she knew.

  Was it only luck that had kept Erin herself from falling into the trap?

  She looked at Sarah with considerably more sympathy, realizing how close she herself had come to disaster.

  But it was still no excuse. The damage done by Sarah’s careless tongue had been immense. Could Erin ever trust the woman again? More to the point, could Slater?

  A bit of that overheard conversation nagged at her once more. “You told Dax you’d get him the plans,” she reminded.

  “I didn’t mean it, Erin! I just had to delay him, somehow.”

  “Why? To buy yourself time to figure out what to do?”

  The secretary was nervously folding the hem of her skirt into pleats. She nodded and said, almost to herself, “My job. I need my job.”

  “I don’t know if it can be saved.” Erin felt brutal, but she knew that honesty was the only way to handle this now. It would do Sarah no good to give her false hope. “I’ll still have to tell Slater what happened.”

  Sarah looked directly at Erin, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “At least let me be the one to tell him what happened.”

  “Confession being good for the soul?”

  “It’ll be better to tell him myself.”

  “He’s likely to think that you know the truth’s going to come out, so you’re just trying to limit the damage by putting the best possible face on your actions.”

  “Well, isn’t that exactly what I’m doing?” Sarah said bitterly. “It’s the only chance I’ve got, Erin. If I can explain what happened, make him believe that I didn’t mean to do it…”

  Erin didn’t think it would make a great deal of difference, but Sarah was right about one thing – her only chance with Slater would be a full, open, honest explanation. Then at least he might let her stay at Control Dynamics, though doubtless it would be in a much less sensitive job. Otherwise, Sarah would not only be unemployed, she’d be without a reference to help her get another position anywhere.

  And no matter what the results had been, in Erin’s assessment carelessness didn’t deserve the same harsh punishment as deliberate action would.

  “The sooner the better,” Sarah said. The words were firm, but her voice trembled. “As soon as Mr. Livingstone gets back from lunch–”

  “He hasn’t gone to lunch. He went to Chicago, to try to salvage something from the Universal Conveyer deal. Didn’t he tell you?”

  Sarah’s face fell. “I just caught a glimpse of him going down the hall as I came back from the copy center. When will he be back?”

  “I don’t know. He said he’d try to be here for the Senator’s visit.”

  “But that’s Thursday night. After—” Sarah gulped. “That’s hours after Dax’s deadline. Dax could be waiting for Mr. Livingstone at the airport to tell him. And he will, just to get even with me.”

  “A phone call...” But Erin knew better. A face to face discussion was Sarah’s best – her only – hope.

  Besides, she thought, I don’t even know where Slater’s staying. For that matter, he might not know yet himself; it was Sarah who normally made arrangements for hotels and plane tickets.

  And there would be a horrible irony in the idea of calling him at Universal Conveyer to let him know what had caused the very problem he was trying to solve.

  “I have to stop Dax in the meantime,” Sarah said. “It’s not just for my sake either, Erin. I don’t know where else he’s getting stuff – but it occurred to me, along in the middle of that lecture of his, that I may not be the only source he’s using. If I tell him I won’t give him the drawings, or even that I can’t get hold of them–”

  “You believe he may be able to get them somewhere else?”

  “Why not? If he thinks I’m not going to come through, why wouldn’t he try another route? Erin, there are fifteen sets of those drawings floating around this building. I handed them all out myself.”

  Erin felt sick.

  “Dax didn’t offer to cut me on in the finances,” Sarah said dryly, “because his source of supply depended on keeping me acting dumb. And I’m sure he’d still prefer to get information from me because he’s got such a hold on me he knows he won’t have to pay for it. But what about the others? If he offers enough money…”

  “Those plans have to be worth a million dollars to Fritz MacDonald.”

  Silence settled over the office.

  “If I’m the cause of another deal going bad,” Sarah said drearily, “I’ll kill myself.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “I’m glad you’re so sure of it.”

  “I mean we’ll stop him.”

  “How, exactly, do you propose to do that? Call in all fifteen sets of drawings? For all we know they’ve been recopied already. Besides, the engineers need them now. They don’t have all the time in the world to do this project.”

  Erin shook her head and smiled. “We’ll give Dax exactly what he asked for. We’ll give him the Brannagan drawings.”

  *****

  Not the real ones, of course, just a fairly close facsimile. But her brainstorm was more difficult to carry out than Erin had expected.

  The alterations themselves were simple enough. The Brannagan plans were not only complex, they were also far from neat. Obviously several draftsmen had worked on them in stages – some using computer technology, others making additions and corrections by hand – and no one had bothered to take the necessary time to smooth out the final version and make it pretty. So it was easy to add a line here and take one out somewhere else without leaving obvious signs of precisely when the drawings had been changed, or by whom.

  But knowing what to move, what to draw in, what to delete, was another question. Erin was no engineer, and neither was Sarah. It seemed self-evident that with such sensitive equipment, a minimum of change would throw off the whole. After all, if this one infinitesimal switching mechanism were easy to build, Bob Brannagan wouldn’t be so agreeable to the idea of paying multi-millions to get the work done. But how would Erin know whether she’d changed enough? Exactly which alterations would be most disruptive?

  Just as important, what would be least obvious?

  On the other hand, Erin reflected, her experience, limited though it was, had to be more extensive than Dax’s. She’d been working with things like this for a year; in the course of his regular duties, he’d probably never seen an actual set of plans. So long as the changes didn’t leap out at him as obviously wrong, Erin’s plan would work. Dax would pass the drawings along as the real thing – and he wouldn’t have any reason to keep looking for another set.

  They could buy at least a few hours. Enough, Erin hoped, for Slater to get home and for Sarah to make her confession. Then he could decide what to do about Sarah, and Dax, and Fritz MacDonald.

  So, with Sarah hovering nervously over her, Erin rubbed out a few lines, altered an equation here and there, turned a chip the opposite direction, and smudged the connections for a fuse. Rather than risk using the copy center in the building, Sarah smuggled the resulting plans down the street to
a commercial printer and made a set for Dax.

  Erin was quite pleased with the results. It seemed to her that even someone with experience in reading plans and specifications would have trouble making sense of these drawings. Or – perhaps even more importantly – realizing that they made no sense at all.

  With any luck, Erin thought, Fritz MacDonald’s people wouldn’t realize they’d been conned until after the Brannagan project was so far along it couldn’t be harmed. Then, most likely, they’d fume in silence rather than admit they’d been bested at corporate espionage.

  With any luck, Sarah could confess and maybe even keep her job – for she had, after all was said and done, saved the Brannagan project.

  And with any luck, Slater would never have to know that Erin had taken a hand in the situation at all.

  *****

  Erin was just finishing arranging the centerpiece for the Senator’s dinner party when Jessup came in to remind her of the time. “Mr. Livingstone hasn’t arrived yet?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Surely she’d have heard him. Surely he’d have come in to say hello.

  “He’s probably caught in rush hour traffic,” Jessup said gravely. “It’s only a few minutes till the guests will be here, Mrs. Livingstone.”

  “I know. I just hoped...” She put the last pink antherium into place and stood back to admire the result. The silver bowl with its matching tray had been a good choice; the flowers’ reflection in the shiny surface made the arrangement even more impressive.

  As she climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, Erin couldn’t help remembering the last dinner party, when Jessup had sent her off to the guest room to ready herself because she might have to fill in for Cecile. How different things were now – and yet how much the same.

  She was just pulling her white-spangled cocktail dress – her wedding dress – over her head when Slater came into the bedroom.

  Her heart began to pound. He looked tired, she thought, as if his trip hadn’t been much of a success. But despite the weariness in his face, he was still the most gorgeous sight she’d ever seen.

  He didn’t even say hello, just came to stand behind her at the mirror. “I know I told you I like that dress,” he said, and kissed the nape of her neck. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing you can ever wear.”

  “I haven’t had time to shop.” Erin settled the neckline into place.

  Slater zipped the dress. “Besides, why take a chance of spilling red wine or something and ruining it? Shouldn’t you put it away to keep?”

  “For posterity? Do you really think any of Aunt Hermione’s nieces would want to be married in it?”

  “Why not? If it was good enough for their mother...” He slowly turned her to face him.

  Erin was reluctant to meet his gaze, for fear he’d see in her eyes that there was something she didn’t want to tell him.

  Tomorrow, she thought. As soon as he gets to the office, Sarah will confess... and then I won’t have secrets anymore.

  At least, she wouldn’t have quite so many of them.

  The intercom buzzed, and she stepped away from Slater. “That’s Jessup,” she said quickly. “That’s the signal that the doorman just called to tell him the first guests are on their way up.”

  “Then you’d better go.” He pulled his tie loose. “I’ll be down just as soon as I can.”

  “At least have a hot shower to relax you. In just a few minutes we’ll be going downstairs for the cocktail party and the Senator will be swamped for the next two hours, so it really doesn’t matter if you’re a little late.”

  “Cocktail party?”

  “In the lobby. Didn’t I tell you about that? The Senator wanted to meet as many of Control Dynamics’ employees as he could.”

  “Is it election year?”

  “Isn’t it always? Since he’s only going to be here overnight, it seemed the best way to fit everything in. We’ll appear at the party, then come back up here for dinner.”

  There was a twinkle in Slater’s eyes. “That’s much easier than having the party here and actually getting everyone to leave on time.”

  “It certainly is. Anyway, you may as well take your time. I’ll look after things.”

  “I know you will.”

  Of course he knew, Erin thought. He had faith in her abilities, or he’d never have married her. The perfect corporate wife...

  He vanished into the bathroom, and she turned toward the stairway. Apart from zipping her dress, she thought unhappily, he had hardly touched her.

  The Senator was bluff and hearty, white-haired and red-faced, the stereotypical politician. He greeted Erin like a long-lost pal, except that the kiss he pressed on her was slightly more than friendly, and introduced his daughter. “It turned out to be a good thing, really, that I had to postpone my trip until this week,” he said, “because it meant Katrina could come with me. She works with disadvantaged children, and they need her so badly that she seldom takes time off.”

  “Dad,” Katrina said. “Stop trying to make me look like a saint, all right? Nobody believes you, anyway.” Her voice was the audible equivalent of hot fudge sauce – slow-moving and rich and very, very appealing.

  Furthermore, she was not only the most gorgeous woman Erin had ever encountered – an obviously natural blonde with porcelain skin and huge, improbably brown eyes – but there was an instant warmth about her which made her very hard to resist. If her father had taught her the politician’s trick of seeming to be everybody’s chum, Erin thought, he’d done a good job.

  The Senator made noises of disagreement, but he didn’t actually argue the point. Erin was amused enough at his attitude to forget the over-zealous way he’d kissed her, until she saw Katrina glance over Erin’s shoulder toward the doorway with unmistakable interest in her eyes.

  There was no doubt in Erin’s mind what Katrina was looking at, for she’d heard Slater’s step in the hallway. He came to stand beside Erin’s chair, one hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, feeling proud that he was hers, ready to make the necessary introduction.

  And saw bemusement in his eyes as he took his first good look at the Senator’s daughter. Bemusement – and fascination, which was even more frightening because she’d never seen it there before. He’d certainly never looked at Erin that way.

  Her heart dropped like a stone.

  Someday you’ll find a woman you can love, she’d told Slater blithely on the night he’d first proposed to her. But she hadn’t really believed it would happen. Or rather, even without realizing how she felt, she had hoped to be that woman. She’d let herself be convinced at some unconscious level that someday he would come to see her as more than a useful adjunct. She had put her perfectly sensible prediction out of her mind and married him, and trusted that someday it would be all right.

  And when, on her wedding night, she’d realized that she’d been fooling herself all along, she’d made up her mind to play the game. She’d been logical and reasonable and cool in her decision to be the wife he wanted – the perfect corporate wife.

  But all that logic and reason wasn’t doing Erin any good right now. It was one thing to prepare herself for jealousy in the abstract sense, but quite another to stand toe to toe with it. It was one thing to think of a hypothetical woman – faceless and without personality – and tell herself that she wouldn’t watch Slater, she wouldn’t question his feelings, she wouldn’t wonder if this woman was the one.

  But Katrina was neither faceless nor without personality. And Erin could try all she wanted not to wonder about Slater’s feelings, but the truth was she didn’t need to speculate; he looked as if he’d been hit over the head with a telephone pole.

  Erin wished she could say the same about herself. It would have hurt a great deal less than the knife blade she was feeling in her heart.

  She concentrated on her breathing, and she managed to smile as she introduced them. And then, because it was too painful to watch as her husband took Katrina’s hand as caref
ully as if it were glass, she turned back to the Senator and asked about the Pentagon matter which had delayed his trip last week.

  A few minutes later she set her wine glass down and said, “I believe it’s time to go down to the lobby for the cocktail party.”

  The Senator set down his glass. Katrina didn’t seem to hear at all; she sat very straight, glass in hand and still as full as when Erin had poured it for her, looking over the rim at Slater. Slater looked as if he’d never heard of a cocktail party before, much less been told about this one.

  The Senator laughed. “Don’t feel bad,” he rumbled to Erin. “It happens all the time. People get so wrapped up in Katrina they forget everything else.”

  The people in question, Erin thought grimly, no doubt being of the male persuasion.

  “I don’t mean to brag,” he went on. “But my little girl–”

  Is seducing my husband, Erin wanted to say. And she deserves to be spanked for it. She bit her tongue hard and told herself that this was no way to deal with jealousy.

  The chatter of the cocktail party, already in progress, carried up through the atrium all the way to the top floor. She linked her arm through the Senator’s and guided him into the confusion, stopping here and there to introduce the senior staff. But it wasn’t long before the Senator had both hands outstretched as he worked the crowd with supreme efficiency.

  Erin turned away, running a practiced eye over the guests in search of problems in the making. The person who was too shy to leave the corner, the one who was drinking too much, the one who wanted to monopolize the guest of honor...

  Her eye fell on Katrina just as the young woman stretched out her lovely slim hand to take the glass Slater had fetched for her. Erin saw the brush of the woman’s fingers against the back of Slater’s hand, saw her lashes sweep up and then tantalizingly down again. And she saw Slater smile down at Katrina, with a warmth and ease that made her heart ache.

  Beside her, Dax Porter was watching too. Erin wasn’t surprised to see him; though it took incredible gall to appear at a company party when one was stealing from the host, his absence would have been noticed. She supposed, despite what he’d said to Sarah about his long-term career plans, Dax wasn’t actually planning to give up his position at Control Dynamics as long as he could get his hands on saleable secrets.