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Manhattan, Spring.
“Cara? Over here.”
Waving from the back corner of the coffee shop, Beryl Gilbert caught her
sister’s attention. The place was crowded, and she’d been lucky to
secure the small table.
The sisters bore a strong
family resemblance, despite the fact that one was brunette and the other
blonde. Both were of medium height, slender, elegant, with long,
stunning legs, graceful arms and hands, and beautiful, if somewhat
different, faces.
“Hi,” Cara St. James said
breathlessly. “Sorry I’m late. Chad has a deadline, and I
thought he’d never stop dictating.”
“I was about ready to give up
on you,” Beryl said, taking a sip of her latte.
Cara smiled. “Well, I
couldn’t very well interrupt him mid-sentence.”
“No, I guess you couldn’t.” With a frown, Beryl added, “But you
seem to find it difficult getting away for something as simple as a cup
of coffee with your sister.” She sliced Cara a look. “Cara,
I’m going to say it again. Why won’t you consider Reece’s offer to
work for him as his Personal Assistant? Think of it. You’ll
have a zillion perks, and a huge salary increase to boot.”
With a groan, Cara shook her blonde head, looking up from the menu.
“Not again, please. Believe me, Beryl, working for Reece Andrews
would be a major disaster. I’d detest him in no time flat.
You should hear him on the phone to his employees, rude, sarcastic,
downright abusive sometimes. Moreover, I always think people who
sleep with their bosses are at risk for a double whammy. If,
for some reason, things go wrong privately, they not only lose a lover,
they’re also out of a job. No, I’m just fine where I am.
Chad is a great employer. Working for him is always interesting,
exciting even, seeing a book grow as he writes it. Working for
Reece, watching him do his financial tycoonery — about as thrilling as
watching a dripping tap. No, thanks.”
“You should hear yourself, Cara.” Beryl laughed. She set her
coffee down and waited while Cara ordered a latte.
“You know…” Beryl went on after
the waitress left. “I still think you could get him to propose if
you played your cards right.”
“Who?” Cara asked, placing the
menu back into its holder.
Beryl rolled her eyes.
“Who, indeed. Reece, of course”
“Oh, please. Reece and I
are fine the way we are.”
“But don’t you want to
marry him?”
“To be perfectly honest, Ber,
no. Not particularly.”
“Cara, are you mad? I feel strongly that you should put your foot
down. Reece is having it too easy. He’s had a year of living
with you. It’s high time you two were married.”
Cara smiled. “You’re advocating marriage after the horrendous
divorce you and Bill just went through? No, Reece and I had better
stay as we are. If, for some reason, one of us wants out, we
simply separate, politely, I hope—”
Concerned now, Beryl asked, “You think that’s a possibility?” She
waved a dismissive hand, “Of course, I’ve always said, when you
make it so easy for a man to have what he wants, why should he take the
next step: commitment, marriage?”
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