"Fascinating," Sam said wryly. "I'm not doing it."
Cooper sighed. "That is certainly your choice, Mr. Kane. However, your grandfather did ask me to pass on a message. If you refuse the job, you're out of the game. Whatever that means."
Sam scowled. "You're certain my grandfather knows about your plan to turn me into a woman?"
"It was his idea. According to the memo he sent over to our office, you took quite a few drama classes in high school." Cooper reached around his desk and picked up a file folder. "And it sounds as if you made something of a name for yourself impersonating a woman called Philomena Gallagher."
"You know about Mrs. Gallagher?" he muttered, wondering what else the man knew. Mrs. Philomena Gallagher had taught English at Jefferson High during Sam's junior year. A strict disciplinarian, she demanded high standards of achievement and terrified most of the students.
Except for Sam, who could crack her up with his voice impersonations. He had a talent for it and could mimic Mrs. Gallagher's low, imperious tone to a T. Even going so far as to develop a silly classroom comedy routine for the school's radio station. He didn't realize his grandfather had even been aware of it. Especially since Sam had dropped out of high school in the middle of his junior year.
"I hope you'll reconsider," Cooper said, tossing the file folder back on the desk. "We've already invested a considerable amount of money into this project. Not only have we hired a top makeup artist and fashion consultant to assist you in the transition, but we have custom wigs, professional cosmetics and a full wardrobe ready to go."
Sam slumped back in his chair, wondering if all the rumors questioning his grandfather's sanity were true. How could masquerading as a woman possibly prove that Sam was capable of taking control of the family business? It didn't make sense. But then, neither did this game. So he'd either have to play along—or let Dexter win again.
"I'll do it," Sam said, before he had time to change his mind.
Cooper nodded his approval. "Good. We've already laid the groundwork and sent a fictional résumé and job application for Philomena Gallagher to Ladybug Lingerie. All you have to do is show up for the company seminar tomorrow morning."
Sam's jaw dropped. "That soon? How will I ever convince anyone I'm a woman if I don't have time to get used to the idea? Much less figure out how to pull this off."
Cooper shrugged. "We're working on a tight schedule here, Mr. Kane. But you won't be totally on your own. Ladybug Lingerie assigns each new saleswoman a mentor to teach her the ins and outs of the business. These mentors are their most trusted employees and have access to all their new prototypes before they hit the market. Find a way to get close to your mentor and you'll find the Seductress bra."
"There's got to be an easier way to get our hands on that bra." He cleared his throat. "I do have a certain way with women…"
Cooper shook his head. "We've already tried that approach. Company loyalty runs high at Ladybug Lingerie. The only way to acquire the Seductress is to become one of them. And do not, under any circumstances, reveal your true identity. That's imperative. If you do…"
"I'm out of the game," Sam finished for him, realizing he didn't have any wiggle room to avoid this particular job assignment. "And if I accomplish my mission before the four weeks is up?"
"We'd like you to stay on at Ladybug for the full month, just to keep from raising suspicions."
Sam sat back in his chair as doubts began to sink in. He had to work as a woman for the next for weeks. He'd never be able to pull it off. He loved women, but he didn't begin to understand them. And he sure as hell didn't act like one.
"I'll be your only contact at Midnight Lace. The only one who knows what's really going on," Cooper said, obviously not sharing Sam's doubts about his ability to do the job. "Everyone else will be in the dark."
Sam couldn't believe he was actually going to go through with this ridiculous charade. But what choice did he have?
"This might be more fun than you think." Cooper leaned back in his chair. "Hey, if you're lucky, you might even get a Bug."
Sam nodded, wondering if a fake bout with a nasty virus would keep him in the game but out of a dress. He gave a weak cough, then rubbed his chest. "Actually, I am feeling a little congested."
"Not that kind of bug," Cooper said wryly. "A Volkswagen Beetle custom-painted like a ladybug. You know, orange with black dots. It's one of the incentive prizes the company uses to reward their most productive saleswomen."
Sam realized he'd seen some of those odd-looking cars zipping around Pittsburgh. He'd always wondered who would be nuts enough to own something like that. "I think I'll just concentrate on finding the Seductress."
"Good. That's why I knew we needed a man for this job. Someone who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty."
"And who would agree to wear a bra."
"That, too." Cooper waved his hand around the room. "Go ahead and pick one out. You're going to need it."
Sam surveyed the array of bras surrounding him, realizing they didn't look so bad on the mannequins after all. The question was, how would they look on him?
* * *
3
« ^ »
Lauren walked into the Verandah Café, her mouth watering at the savory scents that met her at the door. She'd left class early to attend this lunch meeting, knowing it would be foolish to turn down an invitation from the owner of Ladybug Lingerie. Especially since food had become a luxury item on her budget.
The hostess approached her. "Table for one?"
"I'm meeting someone here," Lauren replied. "Mrs. Tina Chavez."
The hostess checked her reservation book. "Oh, yes. Mrs. Chavez has already arrived. Follow me, please."
Lauren's curiosity was almost as strong as her appetite. Mrs. Chavez was known for her generosity and frequently hosted lavish lunches for her employees. She also tended to provide doggie bags for the leftovers. With careful planning, one of those doggie bags could last Lauren a week. She wondered if it would be in poor taste to ask for a doggie bag at a place like the Verandah Café.
Mrs. Chavez looked up as Lauren approached, a wide smile wreathing her wrinkled face. She had a salt-and-pepper beehive and wore a huge diamond ladybug brooch on the lapel of her black silk jacket "Hello, Lauren. I'm so glad you could come."
"It's my pleasure," she replied, taking a seat across from her. Her gaze fell on the basket of crusty rolls in the center of the table, their fragrant, yeasty aroma making her stomach rumble loudly.
Mrs. Chavez pretended not to notice. "I'm starving. Shall we order right away?"
"Our special today is the pan-fried chicken," the hostess said. "It comes with mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, cole slaw and baked beans."
"That sounds delicious," Lauren said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
"We'll take two specials." Mrs. Chavez said. "And a pitcher of your raspberry iced tea."
The hostess nodded. "I'll give your order to your waitress."
"Have a roll." Mrs. Chavez held the basket out to Lauren. "This is one of my favorite restaurants, but their cooks never get in a hurry. It could be awhile before our food arrives."
"Thank you," Lauren said, taking a roll and tearing off a corner. It melted in her mouth. She tore off another chunk, then hesitated, reminding herself to eat slowly.
Mrs. Chavez took a roll also, breaking it open and slathering on a generous helping of butter. "I asked you here today because there are two items that we need to discuss. The first is your promotion."
Lauren froze, the roll halfway to her mouth. "Promotion?"
Mrs. Chavez nodded. "I realize you've only been with the company a little over a year, but your sales numbers are outstanding. I think you're ready to move up the ladder and become a mentor."
Lauren didn't know what to say. But she did know that sitting there with her mouth hanging open wouldn't impress Mrs. Chavez. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity. I promise not to disappoint you."
"Please und
erstand that you'll have to go through a probationary period. Each new mentor must bring her first protégée successfully through the seven-week Ladybug training program. Some of our Ladybugs, though wonderful at sales, simply aren't cut out to be teachers."
Lauren nodded, sincerely hoped that wasn't true in her case since teaching was her chosen profession.
"So the pay increase for your new position won't be in effect until your protégée successfully completes the Ladybug Lingerie training program."
Lauren set the half-eaten roll on her plate. "May I ask how much that pay increase will be?"
Mrs. Chavez scribbled a figure on the paper napkin in front of her, then slid it across the table. "I hope you'll find this satisfactory."
Lauren stared at the number, unable to argue with her. "More than satisfactory."
"Good." Mrs. Chavez licked the buttery crumbs off her fingers. "Of course, becoming a mentor includes another perk in addition to a salary increase. And I don't think we should make you wait for it."
Lauren watched in disbelief as the older woman pulled a set of car keys out of her purse.
Mrs. Chavez smiled. "Your new Volkswagen Beetle is out in the parking lot."
Her throat grew tight as she took the keys out of her hand. The increase in salary would unlock the stranglehold on her budget. She could actually pay her rent. Afford to buy clothes again. Splurge on fast food once in a while. But best of all, a Ladybug of her very own would finally allow her to consign her twenty-five-year-old lemon to the junkyard where it belonged. "I don't know what to say."
"Say—pass the honey. Your roll looks a little dry to me."
Lauren choked on a giggle, her elation making her a little giddy. "Pass the honey, please. And thank you, Mrs. Chavez. Thank you so very much."
"You don't have to thank me," Mrs. Chavez replied, handing her the small honey pot. "You still have to earn the promotion, Lauren. But you're a hard worker, so I have no doubt you'll succeed."
"Are you sure you're not my fairy godmother in disguise?"
Mrs. Chavez laughed. "If I had a magical wand, I'd have a body like a supermodel and a lover who looked like Sean Connery. No, I'm just a businesswoman. But I will admit this is one of my favorite parts of the job."
Lauren wrapped her hand around the car keys, the metal warm against her palm. She'd struggled for so long in pursuit of her dream to become a teacher. To prove to herself that she could make it on her own. Now everything was falling into the place. The reality of it all made her eyes sting and her throat tighten. Part of her feared this was all some incredible dream and she'd wake up to find another eviction threat under her apartment door.
Of course, she still had to bring a protégée through the Ladybug Lingerie training program before she'd see that increase in her salary, but how hard could it be? Lauren had completed the seven-week, program without any problems. And she looked forward to the chance to give another woman a helping hand.
Her life was definitely taking a turn in the right direction. A new car. A new promotion. A new chance to make her dream of becoming a teacher finally a reality.
What more could she possibly want?
Becky's reminder about fulfilling her New Year's resolution niggled in the back of her brain, but she ignored it. What were the chances of meeting the right man in the next three months? Besides, she needed to concentrate on her new job until the probationary period was over.
Lauren wasn't about to let anything or anyone stop her now.
That afternoon, Sam put himself into the hands of two sadists who were disguised as a fashion consultant and a makeup artist. He stood on a dais in a salon trying to decide which part of his body hurt the most. They'd plucked his eyebrows, shaved his legs and wrangled him into a gel bra.
Now they were circling him like two fashion vultures, ready to draw blood if necessary to transform him into a believable woman.
"I'm glad we went with the peplum jacket," Amy Kwan said to Marco. "It makes the padding we added to his hips and waist more flattering and hides the width of his shoulders a little better."
Marco nodded. "The pantsuits are a must. His legs are hideous."
Sam frowned. "That's because I've got bandages all over them from all the nicks you inflicted with that damn razor."
Marco tutted under his breath. "My, aren't we testy this morning. Must be that time of the month."
"Let's not fight, girls," Amy chided, then looked back up at Sam. "How does the wig feel?"
"It itches like crazy," Sam replied.
"You'll get used to it," Amy assured him. Then she turned to Marco. "He looks pretty good. I don't think I could tell if I saw him on the street."
Marco wrinkled his nose. "I don't find him very attractive."
"Well, that's a relief," Sam said, shifting on his feet. His toes were pinched by the low-heeled pumps Amy insisted he wear. "The less attractive, the better."
"Wait a minute. I have an idea." Amy turned and rushed over to the walk-in closet.
Sam held his breath, fearing the worst. Her last idea had been to insert wax pads in his cheeks to make them plumper. If Marco tried to corral him into a girdle again, he was drawing the line. A man could only take so much.
"Here we go," Amy said, holding out a pair of translucent pink plastic-rimmed eyeglasses. "These have clear lenses, so they shouldn't affect your vision. But I think they'll add just the right touch."
Sam put them on, then waited for their reaction.
Marco gasped in appreciation. "This is why they pay you the big bucks, Ms. Kwan. Those glasses are the pièce de résistance."
Amy nodded, a satisfied smile curving her mouth. "We did it, Marco. He's a woman."
Marco walked over to the corner and pulled a full-length mirror out into the center of the room. "Take a look, Sam. Or should I call you Samantha?"
But Sam didn't even hear the question. He gaped at the woman in the mirror. She looked about forty and a little on the heavy side. Her hair was cut in short blond bob and she wore too much makeup.
He stepped off the dais for a closer look, wishing the glasses he wore did have corrective lenses in them, because he simply couldn't see himself anymore. Sam Kane had disappeared. And in his place was a stranger. A female stranger. "Damn."
"That, my dear Samantha, is an understatement," Marco replied. "But you've got to do something about the voice. It's too deep."
Sam cleared his throat, then spoke in the distinctive voice that he'd impersonated so often in high school. "My name is not Samantha," he replied, nailing the high-pitched inflection perfectly. He saw Amy's eyes widen. "It's Philomena. Philomena Gallagher."
Amy burst into laughter. "I can't believe it. That's perfect! How do you do it?"
"I'm a man of many talents."
"Not anymore," Marco replied, leaning against a counter and folding his arms across his narrow chest. "You're a woman. And now that we've worked our magic, would you mind telling us what this is all about? Mr. Cooper was marvelously mysterious about it all. Are you in the witness protection program or something?"
"Sorry, that's confidential," Sam replied, trodding carefully across the room. He felt as if he were walking on ice.
"Try to glide," Amy suggested. "And take shorter steps. You'll get used to it after a while."
Sam wasn't so confident. He'd admired women for as long as he could remember, and certainly enjoyed spending time with members of the opposite sex. But he hadn't realized that everything about them was so complicated. From their shoes to their hair to their makeup. And that was just on the outside.
What if he made a major blunder? Blew his chance to win the company before he ever had a chance to prove to his grandfather and himself that he could handle the job?
He began to pace back and forth across the room, imagining all the worst possible scenarios.
"That's better," Amy said, watching him walk. "I think you're getting the hang of it."
He paused, taking a deep breath and pushing his worries away.
He'd pulled off tougher charades than this. Hell, he lived a lie every day of his life. The key was confidence. If you portray a strong belief in yourself and your abilities, other people tend to naturally follow along and believe it, too.
"I think I'm ready," Sam announced.
"I'm not so sure," Marco said, scowling at Sam's chest. "I think his breasts are all wrong."
Sam looked down at the two foreign lumps sticking out under his collarbone. "Are they too big?"
"No, too small," Marco said, moving toward the counter. "They're out of proportion with the rest of your body. Makes you look a little hippy." He turned to Amy. "Do we have a bigger gel bra?"
"What size?" Amy asked, digging through the box full of bras Sam had brought with him from Midnight Lace.
"Let's try a 40D."
She pulled out a big white bra and approached Sam. "Maybe you should put this one on. You're going to have to get dressed on your own from now on."
"Sure." He shrugged out of his jacket, then removed the blouse. It couldn't be any harder to put on a bra then to take one off. And he'd had years of experience doing just that with more women than he could count.
The bra was huge, the two cups filled with a gel-like substance designed to give it a natural look and feel. But he had to contort his arms at an uncomfortable angle around his back to pull the two straps together. It took three attempts before the hooks finally caught and the bra was on.
"Your boobs are riding a little high," Marco commented, watching the show.
Sam looked down and bumped his chin against his new breasts. Grasping the elastic band on the bottom edge of the bra, he tugged it down farther on his chest.
"That's better," Amy said. "I think you're ready."
He was exhausted. Becoming a woman was hard work. The clothes, the padding, the bra. And the makeup. Marco had written down instructions on how to apply the heavy layer of cosmetics that hid his whiskers and softened the hard angles of his face. Tomorrow Sam would have to do all of it on his own.
OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY Page 15