B004183M70 EBOK (5 page)

Now I thought I would be sick. Bradley's
behavior with Suzie, Gloria's insinuation, and now Lola flat-out telling me
that Bradley and Suzie were doing that. . . I forced myself to look out the
window and admire the skyscrapers, trying to wash away the dirty picture
forming in my mind.

Lola went on: "The fact that Dirk was
married with a baby didn't stop Suzie. She seduced him, and he became obsessed
with her. Rumors flew that they were doing it in his office sometimes more than
once a day. He was her puppet."

I turned back to Lola. "How awful! I
mean, him being married—"

Lola let out a bitter laugh. "Things
like that don't mean anything to Suzie, and to a lot of other men either. Suzie
is the only thing that matters to Suzie. It took me a long time to build my
career; then she just waltzed in, cast her spell over Dirk, and slowly took my
clients away from me. She spread rumors about me too, like that I was an aging
alcoholic, so I couldn't go to another agency." Suddenly Lola's voice
rose. "I hate Suzie Wexford! I could kill the bitch!" She stubbed her
cigarette out viciously in the little metal tray. "If she takes that Breck
contract from me, I'll strangle her."

The cab came to an abrupt halt, and I paid
the driver. I had to get out so Lola could exit the car on the
curb side.

"Thanks for seeing me home,
Deedee."

"It's Bebe."

She slammed the cab door, removed her high-heeled shoes, and limped up the steps to her building, disappearing inside.

Beside me, the cab took off, leaving me
standing on the sidewalk without a way to get home.

And with less of my innocence.

I walked down to the cross-street and put
my hand in the air. Several cabs flew by in a streak of yellow, but finally one
stopped for me, and I got in. "138-140 East Sixty-fifth, please," I
said, just wanting to go home.

Once in the apartment, I went straight into
my bedroom. Stripping to my slip, bra, and girdle, I carefully hung my dress
in the back of my closet. I took down my hair. It went off in wild directions
from all the teasing and spraying, so I put it back in a ponytail.

I like your hair better down.

Throwing on my pink chenille robe with the
big coffee-cup design, I headed for the kitchen and the consolation of a box of
Hershey's bars. When I couldn't decide how many to eat, I took the whole box
into the living room and flopped down on the pink sectional facing the
fireplace and the white-painted brick wall.

Swell, I thought, biting into the chocolate
and staring at the wall. That was exactly what I was up against in my quest to
win Bradley's heart: a brick wall.

The thought of Bradley being with Suzie in
that way haunted me. I took another bite of chocolate and chewed, the melting
sweetness comforting me. In the back of my mind I'd always known Bradley didn't
have his man-about-town reputation for nothing. But those women had been
onetime dates. Suzie was different.

If I were going to make it at Ryan, I would
have to tamp down my feelings for Bradley. For all I knew, he was a confirmed bachelor and would never marry. He
certainly wouldn't care if his "kid" secretary went out on the town,
as Gloria suggested. I ripped open another Hershey's bar and took a big bite.

Brace yourself, men of Manhattan. Bebe
Bennett is officially available.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning I headed straight for the kitchen and
coffee, but my stomach warned me not to eat anything, after I had devoured
three Hershey's bars the night before.

I peeked into Darlene's room, but she
hadn't come home. Shocked, I realized she'd spent the night with Cole. Maybe he
had a hotel suite, and they'd slept in separate bedrooms.

Opening the front door, I retrieved the
newspaper and, while drinking my coffee, fumbled to find the society column, a
section I never read.

The first thing that met my eye was a
picture of Bradley and Suzie with their arms around each other, smiling for the
camera. That must have happened after I left. I wondered how Pierre felt about
it. There, as predicted, was a list of the gala's attendees, minus my name,
though I had signed the guestbook. I threw the paper down in disgust.

During my shower—the hot water came and
went with bursts of freezing cold in between—I thought the decision I'd made
about dating and trying to control my feelings for Bradley was very mature. How
did I know he was really the one for me if I didn't play the field?

I hadn't dated much. There'd been one guy,
Jim, who worked with me at Philip Morris, the cigarette manufacturer in
Richmond. But a girl can listen to only so much about an ex-girlfriend and how
badly she treated him. Then there was Mike, whose idea of a date
was watching TV at his parents' house, where he lived. He never took me out for
a meal, although once he broke out a bottle of beer and poured it into two paper
cups, putting me off beer for life.

I'd done the blind-date deal too, where the
guy—I couldn't even remember his name—kept talking about pine nuts and how
healthy they were for you.

As I got ready for work, I told myself
again—just to drum it into my head—that I shouldn't wait around for Bradley to
come to his senses. I needed to broaden my horizons, I decided, while making
sure my hair was perfect, applying an extra coat of mascara to my false
eyelashes, then dipping my little finger into a pot of pearly pink Mary Quant
lip gloss and smoothing it over my lips.

Back in my room I grabbed the first thing I
saw on my clothes rack. That it was a pink-and-white-checked A-line miniskirt
meant nothing. I was pulling a pink cashmere sweater over my head when I heard
the key in the lock to the apartment. I smoothed my hair and the tight-fitting
sweater, then dashed into the living room just as Darlene entered, smiling.
"Good morning, Bebe. Hey, aren't you late for work? I love that outfit on
you. Sexy."

"Thanks." Me? Sexy? Why, I hadn't
given my appearance a second thought, had I? I glanced at my watch and saw the
time had somehow gotten away from me. "Yes, I'd better hurry. But before I
go, I want to talk to you, Darlene Roland."

At that moment Cole walked through the
doorway as if he were astride a horse. He carried Darlene's suitcase.
"Hello, Bebe. Off to work?"

I shot Darlene a look. "Yes, I
am."

She grinned. "We'll have plenty of
time to catch up, Bebe, since I have a two-week layover in New York."

"Two weeks! We'll have a blast,"
I said.

"You can put that suitcase down,
Cole," Darlene said. "Yeah, two weeks. You see, Skyway has had one of
their planes on display at the World's Fair since it opened last week. The company wants to convince people how
safe flying is, and show what the inside of a plane looks like. So far the
exhibit hasn't drawn many people."

Cole took up the story. "So the Skyway
folks decided they'd do better by showing off their prettiest stewardesses to
hostess the exhibit. Naturally, they picked my lambkin."

If Cole called Darlene lambkin one more
time, I thought I'd rip his Stetson off his head and smack him in the face with
it. Then, being a good Catholic girl, I'd go to confession.

"I'm proud of you, Darlene," I
said. "I'll be going to the fair tomorrow, and I'll be sure to come by and
see you. It's great having you home."

Darlene sighed. "I'm happy too, but
you know you can't keep me on the ground for long. I do want to show Cole
around New York before I get my next flight assignment."

Cole looked at his watch.

Ah, that was my cue to leave before Cole
called Darlene lambkin again. I'd have to wait to find out what on earth had
happened between Darlene and Stu. "I'd better go. I'll just grab my purse
and be out the door."

"Good-bye, Bebe," Cole said
cheerfully.

I gave them a little wave and closed the
door behind me.

Darlene and I would have to have that talk
real soon. Cole Woodruff didn't like me, and I didn't like Cole Woodruff. There
was no real reason for it, just woman's intuition, and a nagging conviction
that Cole wanted Darlene all to himself.

Finally arriving at the Bleeker Street
stop, I was the first one out of the train and raced up the stairs to the
street. Knowing I was late, I dodged people on the crowded sidewalks and was
almost panting when I reached the steps that led to a paved area outside the
building.

I ran straight into Bradley. Well, there
was no body contact; we stopped short of that by two inches. He looked
down at me with an amused expression, a takeout cup of coffee in his right
hand and his briefcase in the other. He wore a dark gray suit, white shirt, and
a blue-and-gray tie. He looked so gorgeous with the sun shining on his
dirty-blond hair, I had to fight to keep my knees from buckling. I would be
dating soon, yes, going out with a man other than Bradley. Many men. I'd forget
all about my boss.

"Good morning, Miss Bennett,"
Bradley practically sang, taking a step backward. "Did you run all the way
here?"

Devil. I decided to match his tone. "I
find walking fast energizes me for the day," I chirped, and gave him a
killer smile, hoping the sun would shine on my lip gloss.

"In that case," he said, giving
me the once-over, "you must be full of vigor."

"I am. Being a single girl in the city
fills me with energy."

That made the smile disappear from his
face. "Er, good. We've got lots of work to do today. Shall we?" he
said, motioning me to go before him up to the brass revolving doors. I hoped he
would enjoy the look from behind when I sashayed in front of him.

But we were stopped in our tracks before we
could get to the door.

"Sarge! Hey! Sarge! Is that you?"
shouted a male voice somewhere behind me.

Bradley looked past me and froze. He
dropped the coffee cup he held, splashing hot liquid on the pavement, his
trousers, and my shoes and tights. I yelped, but my curiosity regarding
Bradley's reaction held me at his side.

He said, "Miss Bennett, I'm terribly
sorry about the coffee. I'll meet you upstairs." He pulled out his handkerchief
and briskly wiped the coffee from my shoes and tights. A shiver went from where
the handkerchief touched me to the pit of my stomach.

I'm not going anywhere. Something's rattled
you, and I wouldn't miss seeing what—or who—it was. Without answering him, I
turned and saw a dark- haired man in a cheap suit striding toward us at a brisk
pace.

"Miss Bennett, go on ahead,"
Bradley tried again.

But it was too late. The other man had
reached us. He grabbed Bradley's newly freed right hand and began shaking it
for all he was worth. "I can't believe it's you, Sarge, after so many
years. This here your wife? She's mighty pretty."

"No," I said, starting to
explain—while secretly loving every minute of this—when Bradley spoke at the
same time.

"No, er, she's not."

A playful look crossed the man's face.
"Not your wife? Or not pretty? Couldn't be the latter."

Heat rose to my cheeks.

Bradley looked like a little boy on the
playground scuffing his foot in the dirt. "She's not my wife; she's my
executive secretary. I'm not married. Let me introduce you. Miss Bennett, this
is Jerry Mitchell. We knew each other years ago. Jerry, Miss Bennett."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Mitchell,"
I said.

"Call me Jerry," he said
enthusiastically, and then laughed. "Sarge here makes it sound like we
were in a croquet tournament in school. Did he ever tell you that we fought
halfway up to China together?"

Bradley rubbed his forehead with the heel
of his hand and sighed.

Alarmed, all I could think of was my
beautiful Bradley fighting in . . . why, it must have been Korea, where Debbie
Ann's son had died. Suddenly all of Daddy's stories about World War II came
flooding back to me, and I realized the danger Bradley must have faced.
"No, he never told me, never said a word," I answered faintly.

"And we'll keep it that way,"
Bradley said, as if that were an end to it.

Luckily Jerry showed no sign of shutting
up. "Let's move over out of the way of these folks trying to get into the
building."

I walked with Jerry, Bradley following like
an eighteenth-century French aristocrat being led to the guillotine.

Jerry had our attention and a flair for
drama. "Miss Bennett, this guy saved my life."

"Jerry, for God's sake—" Bradley
said.

"Come on, Sarge, you got yourself a
nice Bronze Star and a Purple Heart out of it."

"What!" I cried out, completely
forgetting that I wasn't in love with Bradley anymore. "A Purple Heart
means—"

"The past is the past, Jerry. Leave it
back where it belongs," Bradley interrupted.

But no one was going to stop Jerry. He
addressed me in the manner of one about to embark on a long and exciting story.
"Sarge and I were in the army infantry. We blitzed up into North Korea
after MacArthur landed at Inchon. The advance was lightning- fast up a river
gorge. We had nearly gotten to the Chinese border when the Communist Chinese
began to overrun the United Nations forces."