“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Amos asked.
“You remember that plan we were talking about the other day? I’ve decided to go through with it.”
He looked wary. “Why are you telling me?”
“Good manners. You said you wanted to know what I decided. Also…” She let the silence drag out. “Also because I think you’re the perfect candidate.”
Amos went so still that for a moment she thought she was sitting next to a statue. “Oh, no. You’re not dragging me into this stunt.”
“I have no intention of dragging you. You said yourself that it’s a matter of proper incentives. Or, to make it perfectly clear-cut, bribes. So let’s talk about it, Amos darling. What will it take to buy you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Forty-five years to write a book,” Erika mused. “I think maybe there’s a way to cut that down. If, of course, you’re interested in talking about it.”
CHAPTER THREE
AMOS said, “I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”
Erika thought he sounded as if he was talking to himself. Or, rather, as if he were lecturing himself. “Why shouldn’t you listen?” she challenged. “Because you’re afraid if you hear me out you’ll be tempted?”
He raised both eyebrows at her. “Wishful thinking, sweetheart.”
Erika took a deep breath and regrouped. “Amos, you seem to be a sensible, pragmatic kind of guy. So—”
“Oh, that’s great. You know me so well after—What’s it been now? Four days and three conversations?”
“You remember exactly?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” His voice was heavy with irony. “Of course, with such extensive experience to draw on, you’re the expert on what kind of pigeonhole I fit into.”
“Don’t try to make this about me, Amos. It’s not like I don’t have reason to think that you keep your own self-interests right at the top of the list. That’s why you took this job in the first place, isn’t it? It’s not exactly your style to be at people’s beck and call.”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me what my style is, oh great psychologist.”
“Being independent,” she said. “Being your own boss. But you thought this would be a pushover of a job, didn’t you?”
He winced.
“I don’t mean that in a bad sense,” Erika said hastily. “It must have looked very practical at the time. You thought you’d have a nice place to live right in the middle of the action, enough cash to pay the expenses and a lot of free time to do what you wanted.”
He sighed. “You got that much right.”
“Of course, it didn’t turn out that way. If you had more experience with the kind of people who live in upscale Manhattan apartment complexes, you’d have known that.”
His gaze flickered, and suddenly he was looking beyond her, into the park.
Oops. Major mistake. “Sorry,” she said. “ That sounded really snobbish, didn’t it? But I was just stating a fact, really.”
“You do have a way of stating facts so they sting like darts, you know.”
“Hey, as long as we’re talking about throwing darts, you’re the one who said I need a keeper. But that’s all beside the point. Taking the job was a pragmatic and sensible decision to make at the time, even if it hasn’t worked out very well. So now that you know the truth about the job, what’s so terrible about looking around for a better deal?”
“What you’re offering is not a better deal.”
“How do you know? We haven’t even talked about it.” She took a bite of her hot dog. Don’t be in any hurry, she told herself. Dangle the idea in front of him and give him a chance to wonder what he might be missing if he walks away.
He looked at her again. “You’ve got a point,” he said finally. “I may as well listen.”
She’d never had any particular desire to go sports fishing, but now she knew how it felt—she’d managed to set the hook, but landing this shark was still going to be a challenge. She took another bite to give herself a moment to think.
“So what are you offering?” Amos asked.
He’s impatient. That’s good. “Freedom,” she said. “The kind you were looking for when you took this job. A roof over your head, food on the table and no more tenants calling you to move computers or stack boxes. All of which comes down to lots of time to write. Interested?”
“And of course a few teeny-weeny little strings attached.”
Erika shrugged. “There will be a certain public presence required. But it’s not like you have to dangle from my sleeve all day.”
He didn’t comment. “So what happened to change your mind?”
She told him about Felix’s phone call, and he was silent and thoughtful for a long time.
Finally he mused, “He must be an awfully sensitive kind of guy not to thrust out his chest and brag about his name being linked with yours.”
“There’s Kate—”
“I know, he’s a grieving widower and all. Still, to get so bent out of shape about a little gossip that he’ll turn down a good offer for a business…You’re sure he’s not just trying to raise the price you’ll pay?”
“He was pretty clear. End the gossip about him by Monday, or he’ll be selling to the competition.”
“And you don’t want to see that happen.”
“Of course I don’t. Kate’s products are the best—I use the stuff myself. If those formulas get into the hands of one of the giants, there will be no point in us even trying to develop a competitive line.”
“Maybe this is just his way of getting out of one deal because he has a better one on the horizon,” Amos speculated.
“And he wants me to look like the guilty party, so he doesn’t appear to be going back on his word?”
“Something like that. They might be offering him more money than you did.”
Erika shook her head. “I don’t think so. The giants don’t need Kate’s formulas. I expect at least one of the companies would pick them up if they were handy and cheap, but they’re not going to pay an enormous price to secure a niche in the market. Besides, Felix wants to sell to me, because he knows I’ll keep Kate’s name and her label, and the giants won’t. I just have to make it possible for him to do it.”
“By stopping the gossip.”
She nodded. “Will you help me, Amos?”
His eyes narrowed. “I wondered how long it would take you to get around to actually asking. Until now you’ve been making it sound as if you were doing me the favor of the century and asking practically nothing in return.”
“Well, I am doing you a big favor,” Erika pointed out. “And I’m doing myself one, too, of course. That’s the beauty of it—there’s no downside, because neither one of us is giving up anything.” She darted a sideways look at him. “Unless you consider quitting your job to be a sacrifice, of course.”
“So what—exactly—are you proposing?”
She leaned forward and tossed her hot dog wrapper in a nearby trash container. “A short-term marriage of convenience.”
“Exactly