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Authors: Carol Rose

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BOOK: Double-Cross My Heart
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In the dim light, he saw a shifting of expressions on her beautiful face, a brief startled look that faded and she became the calm, matter-of-fact woman he knew she preferred to be.

He liked throwing her off-balance a little. No guy wanted a woman to be too sure she knew him. All the same, he was more convinced than ever that she was the woman who could help him with the restlessness that had driven him the past fifteen years.

He knew in his gut that she was everything he’d wanted or needed in a mate. Even if he’d lied to her in the beginning, what he felt for her now was powerfully real.

Even the cosmetics deal had become about her. Michele Broussard was messing with his woman and she had to be stopped. He had certain skills in business and, from this point on, he was putting them to work for Eden.

“All day I kept thinking about tonight and meeting you,” she said, quietly. “All through the horrible shit of the day.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been having such a bad time,” he said, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It felt good to have the lying behind them.

“I know you probably think I’m over-reacting to all this. I’ve been in the business world since before I finished college. I shouldn’t be so surprised that Michele would knife me in the back like this.”

“She’s a bitch,” Alex said.

“She didn’t used to be one.” Eden’s face clouded further. “She used to be terrific. Supportive and helpful when I was starting out with the company. She was older and more experienced than I was. We developed a pretty close relationship. Eventually, when she wanted to take a break she relied on me to handle most aspects of the company. But now—after she met Carl—she seems like a different woman. Someone completely strange and unknown to me.”

When the music stopped, he took her hand in his as they returned to their table.

“Eden, honey,” he said after they were seated. “This situation with Michele is pretty cut and dried. The company is vulnerable because of the lack of clear leadership. The economy’s been difficult the last few years. Companies like Michele’s are hurting. If we don’t act on taking the company down, someone else will. Since we talked the other day, I’ve had a chance to study the corporate reports. Michele Cosmetics is ripe for a take-over or worse. The profits have failed to meet expectation for three out of the last four quarters.”

“I know,” she said, her face pensive in the faint light from a candle in the middle of the table.

“Well,” he said, “what shall we do?”

He hadn’t meant to phrase it quite like that. An open-ended question typically led to more discussion. He needed a definite answer from her. They needed to move forward, for her sake.

“I’ve got my team ready,” Alex told her. “You know this is the best thing, don’t you?”

She studied him for a long minute. “I guess that depends on whose interests I’m considering.”

Clasping her hands between his, Alex smiled. “Yours, honey. Your best interest and mine. Michele certainly isn’t thinking about what you need. Maybe it’s time to take care of yourself.”

“And working with you to acquire and dismantle the company will do that?” she asked, her tone hard to read.

“Absolutely. You’ll walk away after all is said and done with somewhere close to a million dollars.”

She looked startled.

“It’s no more than you deserve,” Alex said, playing with a thin silver ring she wore on one finger, “and you’ll have to earn it. For us to make this venture successful, I’ll need a lot of assistance and information from you.”

“What kind of information?” she asked, sitting back in her chair, her hand slipping out of his.

He could just imagine that same intent, intelligent look on her face when she sat in her office, dealing with a multitude of business decisions every day. Without a doubt, she was a tough woman when she had to be.

His equal partner. Alex felt a rush of certainty, a rightness that clicked in his head.

Matching his tone to hers, he said evenly, “I need to know sales figures on the various lines—the details about marketing and product placement deals. I’ll want your personal impressions of the various board members and any information you have on them that I may not have dug up in my research. Gut level knowledge of them as people.”

“Is that all?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted, conscious of a up-rush of anticipation. He loved his work, loved inserting himself into a business and disconnecting its assets with near-surgical precision. And he could do this for her, for his woman. There was a great deal of accomplishment in ascertaining the optimal way to make money from a business with shaky foundations. In some ways, it was like putting a dying animal to rest as gently as possible.

He never dealt in trickery with the rank and file people—never left anyone but corporate executives high and dry, but he knew how to make a deal work. He didn’t worry about the presidents and vice-presidents with their golden parachutes. The real art of the deal meant knowing who to let down easily and who to drop hard. This deal was going to be just as good as the others, better even because it was for Eden.

She was hesitant now, he could see, but soon her perspective would widen. She just needed to make the commitment. After that, she’d feel better. They’d be on the same page, working for the same goals.

From now on, everything would be completely open and honest between them. He felt a huge sense of relief. The lying was over. From now on, he could be himself with her completely.

“No,” he repeated, answering her question. “It’s not all. In fact, this is just the beginning for us.”

***

The next evening, Jessica sat on the chaise lounge in Eden’s bedroom. “Will you be able to convince the board you can turn the money situation around?”

“I hope so,” Eden replied, her mind zipping to the latest report from Roberte Bergere. She knew her friend had some doubts about Eden hiding the latest test results in her bid for power, but every time she thought about it, this was the only choice that made sense.

Truthfully, this last summer—only three months ago—she’d have been shocked to think of considering this plan, but it was this or let herself get screwed over by both Michele and Alex.

Her errant mind zipped back briefly to the night before…dancing with him, kissing him…. All the while knowing she was lying to him and hating it—hating him, for the necessity.

But she didn’t see that she had a lot of choice here. She had to screw over or be screwed. Bergere’s findings on the new face cream was just part of the whole messy situation.

In her gut, Eden knew that Bergere’s find would bounce Michele Cosmetics to the top of the heap. This was the big one, the kind of product executives dreamed of discovering. If there were no problems at the testing stage, the anti-aging cream would be ready to market in six months. She’d already secretly drawn up a marketing plan.

But first, she had to get the board of directors to back her promotion…and keep Alex from suspecting her true intentions.

Looking at Jessica, Eden said, “The profit margin in the last two years hasn’t been good. I don’t think it’ll take much to convince Sol Klineman and the others that the company is on the brink of disaster if they don’t hand the reins over to me.”

Reaching for a Payday in a box stashed next to her bed, Eden ripped open the package.

“Those candy bars are going to kill you.” Jessica said without conviction. “Why don’t you have huge thighs?”

“I’m blessed,” Eden replied thickly as she chewed.

Jessica’s gaze brooded on the patterned carpet. “You’re going to have to give Sol some solid evidence of Michele’s lack of leadership.”

“I’m planning on giving him the big picture.”

“Will he believe you?”

Eden nodded, ignoring the tightness in her shoulders. “I’ve kept an itinerary of Michelle’s trips. She’s been away from the company too much recently.”

Jessica’s face was pensive. “You’re suddenly in the middle of the gamesmanship thing. It’s weird. You’ve always hated it.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t that Eden had never played the corporate game before. One didn’t succeed in the big business climate without learning to exchange a little back-scratching. But she hadn’t played hardball to this extent and certainly never even thought of doing so with the woman who’d been her mentor.

She was really trying not to think about hating the necessity to do so now. When it came right down to it, was she all that different from Alex? They were both taking devious means to get what they wanted.

Refusing to pursue the thought, Eden said, “Four of the seven company managers have given me confidential, notarized statements making it clear that they’ve been receiving their directions from me in the last year. That should prove I’ve been doing Michele’s job—except for the major decisions she wouldn’t let me make. The changes to update and maintain our market position on the Passions line and the organic beauty line. I kept the memos Michele sent me when she was out of town, refusing to consider the dipping revenues and allow me to study the changes needed to be made.”

“That’s pretty damning,” Jess agreed. “Cosmetics requires keeping pace with fashion and continuously marketing to the latest trends.”

“Yes.”

“So, you can probably convince the key players that Michele is getting beyond the day-to-day running of the company. How are you going to convince them to go with you as opposed to Wendi?”

Eden lifted her chin, her lips feeling tight as she munched on her peanut-covered treat. “I have a plan for that, too.”

Her friend waited.

“After I made the decision to do this, I had someone investigate Wendi. I’ve bought some information from her last job. It doesn’t make her look good.”

Jessica said slowly, “You bought information? You must have had to really dig.”

Shrugging, Eden didn’t bother giving details. She wasn’t particularly proud of siccing a private investigator on Wendi, but the information was valid. It wasn’t as if she were manufacturing anything.

“How bad is it?”

“Implications of financial impropriety with company funds at her last place of employment.”

“Whew! Can these ‘implications’ be proved?”

Eden shrugged again, taking another bite of candy bar.

“Of course, if you dig deep enough there are things that make us all look bad,” Jessica said slowly.

Eden knew her friend was thinking about Uncle George.

“Yes.”

“This is a major game you’re playing,” Jessica said, her eyes worried.

“I know.”

“I guess you’re just hoping Wendi’s not playing at the same level.”

Eden laughed, the sound short and hard. “I don’t know. So far, I don’t see the woman showing even that initiative. All she does is schmooze, but I’m hoping to cut her off at the knees with her lack of actual work involvement and her past problems.”

“Sounds like you’ve got an effective game plan.”

“I hope so,” Eden shifted the pile of reports sprawled across the foot of her bed. “I’ve thought about it long and hard. As a last resort, I might have to tell them about Alex’s attempt to get control of Michele Cosmetics and dismantle the company.”

“You know,” Jessica said, “maybe I’m not so sorry I got out when I did.”

After her friend left, Eden stretched out on her bed and found her thoughts drifting back to Alex.

She was damned if she was going to sit back and let herself get manipulated by every person playing the game. If it was screw or get screwed, she knew which way to go.

Stupidly, she kept wishing he were an honest man and that things were different.

***

Sauntering into the big boss’s corner penthouse office, Wendi upped the wattage of her smile and deliberately threw in a little deferential impishness for good measure. “Michele? Am I interrupting? Can you spare a moment to chat?”

“Wendi!” Michele said, beaming. “How are you doing, my dear? It’s been days since I’ve had the chance to speak with you. You’ve been so busy.”

Wendi responded with a wide smile. It always gave her a brush of warmth to be appreciated.

Crossing the office to the elderly woman’s desk, Wendi responded with just the right blend of affection and respect. “I’m sorry. I’ve been covered up! Completely covered up with work. What with sheparding the Passions line and assessing the best advertising angle for the new lipsticks, I’ve hardly had time to catch my breath.”

Michele immediately showed her concern, her face puckering as best it could with her botox-relaxed forehead. “You mustn’t take on too much. Here at Michele Cosmetics, we have a strict new policy. Everyone has time for a personal life! I insist on it now. When I was just a poor struggling immigrant housewife, concocting make-up in my garage, even then, I knew women needed to take care of their families, but it was difficult with a family. Still, my son always came first.”

Schooling her features to attentive listening mode, Wendi bit back a sigh and reminded herself that tolerating the old woman’s trips down memory lane was just part of the job. “I’m sure your employees tremendously appreciate your generous personnel policies. You’re so ahead of your time, too. Most companies try to wring the last ounce of energy out of the workers, their home lives be damned.”

BOOK: Double-Cross My Heart
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