“That would seem desperate,” she said, before mumbling unintelligibly another excuse.
“What was that?”
“I don’t have his number. I don’t even have his name. If I want to see him again I’m going to have to stand in front of the Hammond Communications building and surreptitiously check out every single male who enters.”
Mark nodded. “Sounds like a plan. When do we get started?”
Eva was not amused. “Ha ha.”
“Just trying to help, ma’am.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Regardless, all of that is to say, no, I’m not seeing anyone right now, so there’s nothing to stand in the way of our plan.”
He considered her for a long moment. “All right. How do we start?”
“We share a cab home.”
“But that makes no sense,” he said. “You’re in the Village and Ruth and I live in Hell’s Kitchen.”
Sometimes, Eva thought, Mark could be so thick. “Exactly. It makes no sense so it’ll start Ruth wondering. Ten bucks says I get a telephone call from her tomorrow asking what was up with that.”
“Okay, cab ride home. What else?”
Eva was as new to scheming as Mark was, so she needed a moment to mull it over. “We’ll go out Friday night. Ruth will probably call me or you to see what we’re doing and we’ll say we already have plans. That’ll get her.”
Mark imagined Ruth sitting at home on a Friday night because she had nobody to play with. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Faint heart never won fair lady,” she countered.
“But isn’t it cruel for all her friends to desert her at once?”
“Pshaw!” she dismissed. “A little cruelty now, a whole lot of happiness later.”
He paled at the thought. “Maybe we shouldn’t do—”
“Mark, you really have to chill. It’s going to work beautifully. And I was just kidding. What we’re doing isn’t cruel. Ruth does have other friends. She’ll be fine.”
“You’re right,” he said, finishing off the last bite of his salad. “I know you’re right. Okay, we go out Friday night. And after that?”
Eva couldn’t strategize that far in advance. “Let’s see what happens on Friday and then play it by ear. I don’t know how all the details are going to play out, but don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”
Mark laughed.
“Hey, what’s so funny?”
“Let’s be honest here, Eva. I’m willing to go along with your insane scheme and I’m willing to run the risk of alienating Ruth, but don’t expect me to believe you know what you’re doing any better than I.”
Although Eva thought this was a reasonable enough thing to believe, she didn’t press the point. She extended her hand. “So we have a deal?”
He shook on it. “We have a deal.”
“What deal?” asked Ruth, looking pointedly at their clasped hands.
Eva winked at Mark before whispering in his ear. “This is going to be cake.”
***
The party broke up a little before midnight, and fifteen minutes later an exhausted Eva climbed the last step of the sixty-two steps to her floor and let herself into her apartment. She dumped her mail on a small table in the kitchen, tossed herself onto the couch and kicked off her heels. God, her feet were killing her. When would she start wearing sensible shoes? She couldn’t recall where she had last seen her jacket but didn’t have enough energy to be concerned. In all likelihood it was sitting on the back of her chair at the office.
The thought of work made Eva cringe. She would have to go in early the next day to finish the letter. She had known that all along. The second she’d realized that she had blanked completely on Jenny’s birthday party, she had known she would have to get to work at the crack of dawn. She’d told Reed the proposal would be delivered first thing in the morning, and she intended to make sure it was. Now wasn’t the time to drop the ball, not when her association with Hammond Communications showed signs of prospering.
And I will finish it, she thought, pushing herself off the couch. She’d had several hours to get over her fascination with Reed and she would not repeat the mistakes of earlier. Time was of the essence, and she wouldn’t waste another second sitting at her desk daydreaming about a man she would never see again. Work was more important, she reminded herself as she unbuttoned her silk blouse. Getting the Hammond account could very well ensure her future at Wyndham’s. Certainly that was more important than an embarrassing schoolgirl crush.
After brushing her teeth, Eva climbed into bed, set her alarm and closed her eyes. It felt so wonderful to lie down. The emotional roller coaster she had been on ever since meeting Reed had drained her thoroughly, and she was looking forward to five solid hours of sleep. She would have preferred to sleep to her usual seven-thirty, but she wanted to be at her desk typing by then. She would write up her proposal, send it to Coleman Hammond and hope for the best. Maybe Mrs. Hemingway would call to reschedule her appointment. Maybe she wouldn’t. But there was nothing wrong with hoping for the best. At least not as far as innocuous business associations were concerned. But she wouldn’t hope for Reed to call.
That would be futile and completely useless and a total waste of time. And besides, it would be just plain dumb, and Eva Butler hated being dumb.
CHAPTER THREE
When Cole Reed Hammond stepped off the elevator after lunch with the representative from Wyndham’s, he wasn’t at all surprised to find his efficient admin staring at him with stony eyes. Eva had sized up Mrs. Amelia Hemingway to a T. She was a gatekeeper, and she hated when anyone—even someone he had endorsed—slipped through without her sanction.
When she wasn’t feeling thwarted or gotten around, Mrs. Hemingway always asked Cole how his meeting went. Now she just looked through him as he approached her desk.
Cole wasn’t put off. “Mrs. Hemingway, please call my mother and see if she’s available for dinner. Make a reservation at the Four Seasons if she is. Also, tell Philip Knight that I’d like to see him in my office right away.”
“You have a dinner engagement, sir, with Ms. Wingate for eight,” she reminded him stiffly.
He had completely forgotten about Lucy. “Cancel it.”
“Should I reschedule, sir?”
Cole said nothing for a moment. He didn’t want to reschedule. In recent weeks, spending time with Lucy had become more chore than pleasure. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why. She was beautiful, intelligent, well traveled, and excellent at tennis, but something was missing. Despite her accomplishments—or perhaps because of them—she had started to bore him.
“Sir, should I reschedule Ms. Wingate?” Mrs. Hemingway asked again.
As much as Cole wanted to, he couldn’t very well have his assistant break up with the woman he was seeing. “No, leave Ms. Wingate to me. I’ll give her a call.” Because he knew she was still annoyed at him, he looked her mildly in the eye and asked if there was anything else.
He could tell that she wanted to take him to task for overstepping his authority earlier, but she reined herself in. “No, sir. Nothing else.”
“I’ll be in my office. Hold all my calls, unless from my mother or Ms. Butler.”
This last was said to be deliberately provoking, and as he brushed by her desk, he heard his admin mumbling beneath her breath. Cole smiled. He loved when Mrs. Hemingway mumbled. It was so undignified and beneath her, yet she couldn’t seem to help herself.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Did you say something?”
She swiveled in her chair. “No, sir.”
“Are you sure? I could have sworn I heard you say something.”
“No, sir, I didn’t say a word. But if I had, perhaps it would have been something about how I don’t make the rules around here, I just follow them. And that if you want to meet with random strangers off the street who fail to make appointments, perhaps you should set aside an hour each week, like the pope or the queen.” She turn
ed back to her computer. “But of course I didn’t say a word, so I wouldn’t know a thing about it.”
Cole laughed as he opened the door to his office. “Mrs. Hemingway, you are a jewel.”
She harrumphed without conviction. “That’s what your dad used to say.”
“He was a wise man.”
Once in his office, Cole took off his tie and threw it on the couch. Sitting at his desk, he stared at the marketing report, which was right on the top of his pile. He had promised his marketing people a final decision on their new advertising campaign for Style X, Hammond’s high-end fashion magazine, but he hadn’t even glanced at the file yet. His had intended to read it the second he got out of the budget meeting that afternoon, but then he’d heard Eva arguing with Mrs. Hemingway and his intentions flew out the window. At first, he had only been amused by her predicament and the way she had dealt with it, but then she'd handed Mrs. Hemingway the pen and insisted she record the appointment in ink. At that moment, Eva Butler became irresistible to Cole Reed Hammond.
He’d assumed she would recognize him the moment he made his presence known and had been unusually pleased to see nothing but a flicker of pure female interest in her appraisal. The feeling, and interest, were definitely mutual—he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so aware of a woman—and before he knew it, he was insisting she join him for lunch.
And what an entertaining experience that had been. He had been reluctant for it to come to an end, which was extremely novel for him. Usually it was he who kept looking at his watch and insisting that it was time to return to the office. But he would see her again, that he knew, even if she was in doubt of it. He could tell as he helped her get out of the cab that she was disappointed he’d made no mention of further plans. It had been on the tip of his tongue to suggest dinner again, but he held back. He knew she was hesitant. She was obviously disconcerted by the attraction she felt toward him. That was fine. He’d give her a little time to get used to it.
Cole opened the file and began reviewing ad mockups. Although the two campaigns were decidedly different, they both optimized the celebrities who appeared regularly in the magazine and on its website.
A knock on the door disturbed his concentration. “Come in,” he called, closing the folder.
His right-hand man, Philip Knight, entered. “You wanted to see me?”
He gestured to a seat. “I wanted a status report on the Hammond collection. Have we picked an auction house yet?”
Philip sat down in the plush leather chair and leaned forward, surprised by his boss’s interest. From the very beginning Cole had said that he wanted nothing to do with it. “No decision yet but your mother is leaning toward Davidge’s. She met with Ardmore Cartwright himself and was very impressed with his presentation. Brooks’s also made a strong pitch but they sent a senior VP, not the CEO like Davidge’s.”
Cole nodded. “That’s what I thought. All right, here’s what I want you to do. I’m expecting a proposal to arrive tomorrow from Wyndham’s. When it does, you’re going to look it over with a fine-tooth comb and tell me what you think. Also, find out all you can about Eva Butler.”
Philip cocked his head. “Eva Butler?”
“Yes, she’s representing Wyndham’s,” he explained casually, as if the interest weren’t personal. And it wasn’t entirely, he assured himself. “I had lunch with her today, and she made a very good case for her firm. As you know, I’ve been trying to stay out of this, but my mother has been passing along details. If I’m recalling the facts correctly, then Wyndham’s might make the most sense.”
After making several notations in his notebook, Philip looked up at his boss. “Is there anything else?”
“One last thing.” He tossed the folder with the mockups to him. “Which do you like better?”
Philip had already seen the advertisements in several forms—in fact, he’d had a front-row seat to their evolution—so he could answer promptly. “The runway series. I think it’ll make great billboards and will translate well to TV. I was also going to suggest that we do one for movie theaters, to show before the previews. Something eye catching, not our usual style,” he said, before backtracking. “Not that eye catching isn’t our usual style. I just meant something artsy with more jarring elements than we’re used to.”
Cole nodded. “Excellent idea. Tell Orlando and see what he comes up with. And I agree with your choice. We’ll go with the runway series.”
“Great. I’ll do that now,” he said, standing up. “And I’ll let you know right away what I think about Wyndham’s. It’s smaller and doesn’t have the same name recognition as Davidge’s or Brooks’s, but your mother has interacted with the Wyndhams socially and felt compelled to give their firm a chance.”
“Great. Thanks again for helping out with the auction, Philip. It’s not official Hammond Communications business, and I appreciate your going above and beyond.”
He flipped his notepad closed and slid it silently into his pocket. “Not at all. I like working with your mother. She’s a fascinating woman.”
Cole knew his mother, beautiful still at sixty-seven, held a certain attraction for younger men. She was famously known here and abroad for her elegance and her soft-spoken words and for being a deft editor, but those who got to know her recognized a keen intelligence and wicked sense of humor. “You’re not bucking to be my stepfather, are you, Knight?”
His second in command flushed slightly but looked him in the eye. He knew it was better to play along than to deny the accusation. “I don’t think she’d have me.”
Cole was still smiling as Philip closed the door to his office. Left alone, with the most pressing details of his day sorted out, he glared at his telephone. There was no putting it off. He had to call Lucy.
He wasn’t particularly worried that he was breaking Lucy’s heart. They’d only been seeing each other for two months and their relationship had never been serious. Neither one had even hinted mildly at a future together; at best they made plans a week in advance. Still, he knew there would be a scene. Lucy was used to getting her own way and could be petulant when thwarted. That was one of the things that was starting to wear thin. At first, he’d admired her commanding way, but after a while he realized it as the merely entitled confidence of a spoiled child who expected everyone to bend to her will.
Cole didn’t like bending to anyone’s will.
He called her, selfishly hoping she was in Barney’s or The Waverly Inn or the hair salon at Bloomingdale’s—any place where she’d be too embarrassed to make a scene. She would employ her snippy, peevish tone, of course, the one she used with waiters and anyone behind a cash register, but that would be infinitely better than her hurling invectives at him.
As he listened to the phone ring, he wondered why he hadn’t made this call sooner. He had known weeks ago Lucy and he weren’t working. On the face of it she was perfect for him—reared in a wealthy household, educated at the finest schools, accustomed to dealing with the demands of a consuming job—but she was somehow soulless.
Just as he was about to hang up, she answered, breathless and panting. “Cole darling, is that you?”
“Yes, Lucy, it’s me,” he said, mildly annoyed at the way she always answered the phone as if slightly unsure who it was. “Have I caught you in the middle of something?”
“Yes, but not really. I’m just in the middle of my daily jog,” she said breathily. Lucy always ran fifteen miles a day on the treadmill at the gym, rain or shine. “You know I’m never too busy to talk to you.” Still, she didn’t stop jogging. She was breathing heavily and had to talk slowly to keep up with her legs.
Much to his regret, Cole knew Lucy spoke the truth. Although she was a busy woman, she always took his calls. He hated that. There was something very cloying in her availability. Not that he wanted her to pretend otherwise. Cole wasn’t looking for a woman who played games. It was just that he often wished that once in a while Lucy would be genuinely too involved in an
activity to take his call. She had a life, didn’t she?
Cole knew that on paper he and Lucy made the perfect couple, but he also realized that in itself was part of his appeal to her. And he didn’t like it. He wasn’t a shiny bauble to be shown off at the country club.
“Lucy, I’m going to have to cancel dinner for tonight,” he said easily.
“This is awfully last-minute, darling.”
Cole could practically hear her pout. He hated when she pouted. “Some unavoidable business has come up,” he explained.
“That’s such a shame, darling. If you’re sure it can’t be avoided….” She let the suggestion hang in the air for a few seconds. Cole didn’t bite. “Perhaps I should come by later? For a nightcap?”
Her tone took on a wheedling note, and Cole felt a flash of annoyance. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. In fact, I don’t think our seeing each other anymore is a good idea,” he said, suddenly finding the whole thing very easy. It couldn’t be avoided any longer. He had to do it now. “I think we’re going in different directions.” This was an inaccurate statement as far as Cole was concerned. They had never been going in the same direction. Only Lucy didn’t know that.
“I think you’re being hasty,” she said, her voice even. “Our relationship is mutually beneficial to us both. I don’t see how that has changed.”
“My definition of mutually beneficial has changed.”
“Uh-oh. I believe I’m about to be on the receiving end of the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech. How droll.”
Cole had no intention of making any speeches, droll or otherwise. “I’ll have Rutherford send over your things.”
“Cole darling, you’re such a bastard,” she said smoothly.
“Good-bye, Lucy.”
He hung up, leaned back in his black leather chair and sighed deeply. It felt good to get that over with. Lucy wasn’t the right woman for him—not that he was looking for the right woman. He wasn’t quite ready to settle down, but nor was he enjoying casual relationships as much as he used to. The things that had given him pleasure in the past were starting to wear thin. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was his father’s death. Even though his dad had handed him the reins to the company four years before his death, it felt different without him watching over. What he had told Eva was true: He did start in the mailroom. But that was seventeen years ago. He had since proven himself a worthy and responsible heir to the Hammond fortune. Perhaps that was it: He was the Hammond heir and was tired of being liked for all the wrong reasons.
Winner Takes All Page 5