“Hello, you’ve reached the voice mail of Lila Maxwell at Collette, Inc. I’m not available right now, so please leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon. Thanks—and have a great day! [Beep]”

[You have one message from Jayne Randolph, extension 555, left today at 9:05 a.m.]

“Hi, Lila, it’s me—Jayne. Just wanted to get your thoughts on last night’s bachelorette auction. Did Meredith look incredible up there or what? Not to mention the way that supersexy bachelor Adam Richards was looking at her. The chemistry between them was so obvious, I thought Adam was going to hop onto the stage and make her a bid she couldn’t refuse. I think this guy is perfect for Meredith, and she does deserve the best. Anyway, thought I’d give you a ring and we could discuss Meredith’s extraordinary transformation. Call me later, or stop by— I’ll be home. Bye!”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where every month you can count on finding six passionate, powerful and provocative romances.

The fabulous Dixie Browning brings us November’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Rocky and the Senator’s Daughter, in which a heroine on the verge of scandal arouses the protective and sensual instincts of a man who knew her as a teenager. Then Leanne Banks launches her exciting Desire miniseries, THE ROYAL DUMONTS, with Royal Dad, the timeless story of a prince who falls in love with his son’s American tutor.

The Bachelorette, Kate Little’s lively contribution to our 20 AMBER COURT miniseries, features a wealthy businessman who buys a date with a “plain Jane” at a charity auction. The intriguing miniseries SECRETS! continues with Sinclair’s Surprise Baby, Barbara McCauley’s tale of a rugged bachelor with amnesia who’s stunned to learn he’s the father of a love child.

In Luke’s Promise by Eileen Wilks, we meet the second TALL, DARK & ELIGIBLE brother, a gorgeous rancher who tries to respect his wife-of-convenience’s virtue, while she looks to him for lessons in lovemaking! And, finally, in Gail Dayton’s delightful Hide-and-Sheikh, a lovely security specialist and a sexy sheikh play a game in which both lose their hearts…and win a future together.

So treat yourself to all six of these not-to-be-missed stories. You deserve the pleasure!

Enjoy,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Bachelorette
Kate Little

KATE LITTLE

claims to have lots of experience with romance—“the fictional kind, that is,” she is quick to clarify. She has been both an author and an editor of romance fiction for over fifteen years. She believes that a good romance will make the reader experience all the tension, thrills and agony of falling madly, deeply and wildly in love. She enjoys watching the characters in her books go crazy for each other, but hates to see the blissful couple disappear when it’s time for them to live happily ever after. In addition to writing romance novels, Kate also writes fiction and nonfiction for young adults. She lives on Long Island, New York, with her husband and daughter.

For Rosie, the greatest dog you could ever imagine.

Her pure heart and gentle spirit

gave so much love during her brief life.

She will always live on in our hearts.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

One

The morning had been absolutely exasperating—even for a Monday, Meredith reflected. She’d missed the bus and gotten caught in a downpour without an umbrella. Not to mention a run in her panty hose that was now as wide as the mighty Mississippi.

She scurried from the elevator to her office at Colette, Inc., the world-renowned jewelry company. She opened the door and slipped inside. Usually a little rain or a ruined stocking wouldn’t phase her. Her appearance was always neat and carefully planned to blend into the woodwork. But this morning she had to give a presentation to just about every high-level person in the company. Meredith dreaded speaking to groups, or any situation that put her in the limelight. Having her hair and outfit wrecked by the rain made the job even worse.

With her office door firmly closed behind her, she worked on some basic repairs, starting with her long reddish-brown hair. Matted and damp, it curled in every direction at once. She brushed it back tightly, in her usual style—a simple low ponytail secured with a clip. A bit severe perhaps, but certainly practical. Her complexion was fair, with faint freckles on her nose. She rarely tried to cover them with makeup. In fact, she usually wore no makeup at all. Which was just as well, she thought, since this morning she’d definitely have a bad case of raccoon eyes from melted mascara.

Her large blue eyes stared back at her in the mirror from behind oversize, tortoiseshell frames. She removed the glasses and wiped the damp lenses with a tissue. She often wished she could wear contact lenses and had several pairs in her medicine chest. But her eyes never felt totally comfortable in contacts, especially during the close work required for jewelry design. Besides, she had no one special to impress.

A long floral skirt hid most of the run in her hose, she noticed. But her V-neck sweater, usually so baggy and figure concealing, now clung damply to her body like a second skin. Her mother had often told her that her ample curves on top were a blessing, but Meredith had never felt that way. To the contrary, she felt quite self-conscious about her busty physique and the unwanted attention it brought her, especially from men. Unlike most women she knew, Meredith did all she could to hide her curves, rather than show them off.

The large brooch pinned to her sweater pulled on the wet fabric, and Meredith carefully unfastened the clasp. She took a moment to study the pin, holding it carefully in the palm of her hand. It was amazingly unique. Anyone would notice that. As she was a jewelry designer, it seemed even more remarkable to her. It was a one-of-a-kind item you might come upon in an “arty” shop of handmade jewelry or in a place that handled estate sales and antique pieces. Meredith’s landlady, Rose Carson, had given it to her just last night, when she’d been down at Rose’s apartment having coffee. Rose was wearing the pin and Meredith had admired it. Then, without any warning at all, Rose took the pin off and offered it to her, insisting that Meredith borrow it for a while.

“Rose, it’s lovely. But it must be very precious to you…. What if I lose it?” Meredith had asked.

“Don’t be silly, you won’t lose it,” Rose had insisted. “Here, put it on.” Rose had helped Meredith with the clasp. “Let’s see how it looks.”

Meredith had to agree it looked stunning. Yet, she still felt uncomfortable borrowing such a valuable piece of jewelry. But Rose, in her gracious, gentle way, wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The design was roughly circular, a hand-worked base of different precious metals, studded with chunks of amber and polished gemstones. Staring down at it now in her hand, Meredith still found the composition fascinating, almost magically mesmerizing if one stared at it long enough, with the interplay of glittering jewels of so many different colors, shapes and cuts. The flickering shards of light thrown off from the jewels made Meredith feel almost light-headed and she had to look away to regain her bearings. She had the oddest feeling each time she studied the pin, she noticed. But couldn’t quite understand why.

Brushing the question aside, she slipped the pin into the deep pocket of her skirt, feeling sure it would be safe there. Rose claimed the pin always brought her luck, and Meredith hoped that it would work for her today at her presentation, even hidden away in her pocket.

At work, she always wore a long gray smock over her clothing. It protected her clothes while she worked, constructing samples of her jewelry designs, and conveniently for the modest Meredith, also hid her body. She took it down now from the hook behind her door. The smock was a must today, even for the meeting. Without it, I’d look like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest, she reflected wryly as she fastened the snaps.

Meredith knew she wasn’t a “babe”—not like some of the women around the office. She was definitely the type men called a “plain Jane.” It had always been that way for her and she doubted now it would ever change. Some women were just born that way. They either had it—or they didn’t. Hadn’t her glamorous mother always told her so, in one subtle way or another? If she looked a little disheveled today, nobody would care. Nobody would notice.

Meredith took a seat at her drawing table and turned her thoughts to more important matters. She flipped the lid off a paper cup of coffee and took out a large project folder. The folder held the sketches for a new line of wedding bands, her current design project. She removed the sketches and spread them out on her drawing table. It was the line she was due to present at eleven o’clock and she still wanted to do some finishing touches. Her co-workers called her a perfectionist, but Meredith had always thought that the real impact of any piece was always in the details. Since it was so difficult for her to speak at meetings, she needed to walk into a presentation feeling that her work was flawless, otherwise her shyness would get the best of her.

As Meredith reviewed the sketches, she felt pleased. She was proud of the “Everlasting Collection” and eager to see what others thought. The his-and-her wedding rings had been solely her idea, and the simple but elegant designs bore her distinctive, contemporary flair. Yet, part of her found it ironic that she was so adept at creating such perfectly stunning wedding rings, when it seemed so unlikely that a man she loved—a faceless stranger so far—would ever slip a gold band on her finger and pledge his everlasting devotion. Her single attempt at romance during her senior year at college had been a total disaster. One that Meredith believed she’d barely survived. If that’s what they called taking a chance on love, Meredith knew she wasn’t fit for the game.

Designing wedding rings or heart-shaped lockets or any of the many trinkets lovers exchanged always left her with a feeling that was bittersweet at best. But she would try to distance herself, to tell herself it was her work and there was no need to get emotional. Then she’d go home, put on her grungiest clothes and head out to her studio. Alone in the empty warehouse space, she’d fire up her blowtorch and fuel all her loneliness and frustration into her artwork—her wild-looking abstract metal sculptures.

Sometimes it was hard for Meredith to believe that she had been working at Colette for four years. Time had passed so quickly. It had been her first job out of college, and though she hadn’t expected to stay this long, she’d already had two promotions and had never once considered looking for work elsewhere, though a few rival firms had tried to recruit her.

She liked the atmosphere here, the way that everyone worked together without a lot of petty rivalry and office politics which she knew went on in other firms. Over the years, she’d made some very good friends within the company, Jayne Pembroke, Lila Maxwell and Sylvie Bennett, to name her three closest pals, who also happened to live in the same apartment building as she did, on Amber Court.

But how long would she—or anyone else on the payroll—be employed by Colette, Inc.? Rumors of a corporate takeover had started as a vague whisper among the rank and file but now ran rampant through the company. Some hotshot financer named Marcus Grey was buying up as much stock as he could get his hands on. The firm’s mysterious predator was moving in for the kill, like a lone wolf poised to strike. The giant jewelry manufacturer had few resources to defend itself. It was now just a waiting game, and morale around the office was at an all-time low.

But like many other employees, Meredith was determined to carry on with an optimistic attitude. That was partly why she was so particular about her work these days. Instead of giving a halfhearted effort, as if the assignments didn’t matter anymore, she pushed herself to give her all, to produce designs that were truly inspired and would remind her co-workers that the company did indeed have a future. And everything might just turn out all right in the end.

She gazed down at the second set of sketches and lifted her pencil to add an extra embellishment. The phone rang just as her pencil point hovered above the drawing.

“Meredith Blair,” she answered in a businesslike tone.

“It’s me,” Jayne Randolph answered in a hushed but urgent tone. “You’re needed down in the showroom for a consultation.”

“The showroom? Do I have to?” Meredith knew she sounded like a five-year-old. But she couldn’t help it. Besides, Jayne was a friend. Surely she’d let her off the hook.

“In a word, yes,” Jayne replied.

“Oh, drat.”

Meredith hated visiting the showroom. She knew she’d rather starve than have a job in sales, catering to the representatives of large accounts and an upmarket, private clientele. Yet, from time to time designers had to go down for consultations with the sales personnel and a client.

A visit to the showroom usually meant that some spoiled, wealthy woman couldn’t find the diamond ring or jewel-studded necklace she had in mind, and now wanted to drive somebody crazy as she tried to describe her jewelry fantasy. Meredith knew that nine times out of ten trying to get it right was an exercise in futility. She doubted that even a mind reader would manage to satisfy such clients. Meredith was much more comfortable hiding away in her studio then being thrust into the limelight.

Besides, if she went down now, she’d never get through the sketches in time. “Come on, Jayne. Can’t you call someone else? I’m really absolutely swamped. I’m due to show designs at a big marketing meeting this morning and I’m still cleaning up some rough spots. Can’t Anita or Peter help you?”

“I called Frank first,” Jayne said. “When I told your boss who the client was, he said to call you. Specifically, you, Meredith.”

“Who’s the client?”

“Adam Richards,” Jayne replied solemnly. She spoke in a whisper, so Meredith guessed that Mr. Richards—whoever he was—stood within earshot.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” she asked, laughing despite herself.

“No offense, Meredith but…what planet do you live on?” Jayne asked sweetly. “Adam Richards? Owns Richards Home Furnishings? One of the company’s top private clients? Spends loads of money here every year? Just your average, self-made millionaire,” she added.

“Oh, that Adam Richards,” Meredith said lightly. “I find it hard to keep up with the self-made millionaire list lately…. What’s he doing now?”

“Pacing around the showroom. In an irritated tycoon sort of way. He’s chosen a few items he likes, and he wants to speak to a designer about customizing the designs. I’m going to bring him into room number three and serve him coffee. You’d better get down here right away. I think he knows Frank personally,” she added.

Meredith had always gotten along well with her boss. He had taught her so much and encouraged her own creative talents to blossom. But Frank Reynolds still didn’t cut any slack for her, though she was probably his favorite. If Frank said she had to go, she had to go.

“All right,” Meredith conceded with a sigh. “Tell your average, impatient tycoon I’m on my way.”

Meredith hung up the phone, then grabbed her smaller sketchpad and her coffee. As she headed for the door, she thought to check her appearance, maybe swipe on a bit of lip gloss or check her hair again. But then she shrugged off the impulse. Big deal. Adam Richards. So the man had money—a great deal of money. Material success had never impressed her, and she rather disliked people who believed they were due special treatment just because they were wealthy.

She’d be courteous and professional, of course. With any luck, she’d get rid of Mr. Imperious Millionaire quickly and still have some time to review her presentation.

The elevator to the ground floor left her at the end of the long corridor that ran behind the showroom. Meredith soon caught sight of Adam Richards in room number three. He stood with his back turned toward the doorway. The first thing she noticed about him was his broad shoulders and lean build, covered by a charcoal-gray suit. An extremely well-tailored suit, she noticed, which covered his athletic build without a single gap or wrinkle.

He was also quite tall, an inch or so above six feet, she guessed. Meredith always noticed a man’s height, since at five-ten in her stocking feet, she was well above average for a woman. She didn’t often meet men she could look up to, but here was one. Literally speaking, at least, she thought with a secret smile.

As she drew closer to the doorway, she felt her chronic shyness move over her like a soft, heavy blanket. A smothering cloud. She took a deep breath and willed herself to go forward, to act the part of an efficient, able employee. Wisps of her wavy, reddish-brown hair had come loose from her clip and softly curled around her face. She tried to smooth back the tendrils with her hands, but to no effect.

The sooner started, the sooner done, Meredith reminded herself. Her head down, her sketch book clutched under her arm, she strode purposefully into the room…and nearly walked right into him.

He turned when she entered and quickly stepped to the side. He stared down at her with a dark, steady gaze, apparently startled by her clumsy entrance. He had brown eyes, a rich coffee color, greeting her with a mixture of warmth and curiosity. Meredith met his gaze briefly, then shyly looked away. She could feel her pulse race and her cheeks grow warm.

He was younger than she’d expected. Maybe around forty, she guessed. Weren’t self-made tycoons older than that? Older…and balding and paunchy…and far less attractive?

Finally she looked up again. He was still staring down at her, watching her in a way that made her feel even more self-conscious.

“Mr. Richards.” She thrust out her hand. “How do you do? I’m Meredith Blair, one of the designers here.”

“One of the best, I hear.” He took her hand in his larger one and briefly shook it. His grasp was firm and warm. His voice was deep. Deep and definite. The compliment made her blush again, but she tried to ignore it. “Thank you for coming down to see me. I realize now I should have made an appointment. I hope you weren’t called away from anything important?”

“No, not at all,” Meredith wasn’t deceptive by nature, but the little white lie seemed necessary under the circumstances. As in, “The customer is always right.” Especially this customer.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Richards.” She gestured for him to take the chair opposite hers at the small table in the center of the room.

“Please call me Adam,” he suggested with a smile. He had even white teeth and deep dimples creased his lean cheeks. The change in his expression, the small lines that crinkled at his eyes and etched his wide, supple mouth made something within her tingle with awareness.

Awareness…and alarm.

He was either a very nice guy, she decided, or so phony, he was able to fake it flawlessly. Meredith knew she was suspicious of men and their motives. Especially good-looking, older men. But she couldn’t help it. Experience had been a cruel but able teacher.

She took a moment to arrange the objects on the table. A necessary task that gave her a moment to collect herself. The table was set up for viewing jewelry and had a dark-blue velvet mat in its center. A magnifying lens and a high-intensity lamp with a long bendable neck stood to one side.

She rearranged the lens and lamp to her liking, then pushed up her glasses, which had slid down her nose a bit. Her hands felt strangely shaky, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“I’ll try to be brief and not take up too much of your time, Ms. Blair,” he began. “Here’s the problem. I’d like to give some gifts to my employees at a company banquet that’s coming up in a month or two. It’s part of our national sales conference, and about five hundred employees usually attend,” he explained. “A few retirements will be announced, and the firm always gives an engraved desk clock. But I’d like to give something different this year. A stickpin, perhaps. Or a gold key chain with some sort of medallion or inscription,” he suggested. “Then there are awards for outstanding achievement. Especially in the sales force. The employees are receiving a bonus, of course. But I’d like to give them a gift, as well. I’ll need about one hundred items in all. Do you think they can be ready by say…the first week in December?”

Meredith watched his face as he spoke. He had a very expressive face, she thought. Her artist’s eye appreciated his broad, smooth forehead, the strong lines of his cheeks and jaw, his wide, supple mouth. She thought she would like to do a sketch of him sometime. She also liked the way he looked right into her eyes, meeting her own in such a direct, unguarded manner.

But once he had finished and his gaze remained fixed on hers, she realized that she’d been so distracted, studying him, she’d barely heard a word he’d said.

“The first week in December?” she echoed vaguely.

“Not enough time, you think?” He shook his head. “I always leave these things to the last minute,” he admitted. She was surprised at his tone, which was almost…apologetic.

Weren’t these rich guys supposed to be much more irate and demanding? Wasn’t he supposed to pound his fist on the table or stamp his foot or something?

“Probably. I mean, maybe. I mean, it depends on what you want, specifically, of course,” she stammered, staring down at her notepad. “I do know that we’ll try to do our best to meet your schedule, Mr. Richards.”

She quickly raised her eyes to his and saw that he was grinning. Laughing at her babbling. Oh, Lord. She sounded like an idiot. And felt like one, too.

“It’s Adam,” he reminded her. “May I call you Meredith?”

She nodded, feeling a lump in her throat the size of a large jelly doughnut. She didn’t know what was happening to her. Meredith was typically nervous meeting new people—especially men—but she was usually able to hide it much better. This man was really getting under her skin for some reason, and she willed herself to get a grip on her frazzled nerves. And runaway pulse.

“You’re right. I haven’t been very specific, have I?” he said, obviously trying to put her at ease. “I found a few things I liked in the display area. I believe Ms. Randolph left them here on the table so that we could discuss them.”

“Yes, of course. That will give us a start.” Meredith picked up a dark-blue velvet bag that was sitting in front of her on the table and hurriedly opened it.

“Let’s see, what do we have here—” she murmured. She withdrew the various items one by one and laid them out on the velvet cushion. As she moved into her working mode, Meredith felt herself relax a bit. It was easier for her to deal with clients once she had something tangible to focus on and could begin the design process.

She picked up the first piece, a 14K yellow-gold stickpin with an engraved shaft, topped by a square-cut emerald of about one-third a carat in size. The stone was held in a crown-shaped setting, which Meredith didn’t care for at all.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, unsure of whether or not to be frank. She didn’t want to insult his taste. On the other hand he had requested her opinion.

“Honestly?” she asked.

“Of course.” He sat back in his chair.

“I like the detail on the shaft,” she said, turning the piece under the magnifying lens for him to see. “But I don’t care much for the setting. It’s very ordinary. And a bit…gaudy.”

“My feeling exactly.” He nodded in perfect agreement, then waited for her to continue, giving her his complete and utmost attention.

Meredith felt better. She had a strong feeling that Adam Richards had good taste. Similar taste to her own, in fact, which would make things a lot easier.

“Most people would wear a small piece like this as an accent to other jewelry,” she continued. “A simple, sleeker setting would display the stone more dramatically. And also, be less likely to clash with other items.”

She turned the pin over again in her hand, then took it out from under the magnifying glass, set it on the velvet display cushion and looked at it for a few moments.

“Wait…I have an idea.” She quickly rose from her seat. “Let’s see what you think of this….”

She walked to a polished wood cabinet, withdrew a ring of keys from under her smock and opened the brass lock. She opened the doors to reveal three rows of narrow drawers, like the drawers one might find in an old-fashioned hardware store. Only these drawers held precious stones of various sizes and hues, not screws and washers.

It took her only a few moments to find what she was looking for, and she withdrew several small plastic bags that held gemstones and brought them to the table.

“I want to show you these stones,” Meredith said, feeling excited at her inspiration. “They’re called cabochons. Perhaps you’ve seen them before?”

“No…I haven’t,” Adam replied as he watched her shake out the gems onto the velvet pillow.

“These are uncut gems, polished with an opaque look. I’ve picked out some sapphires. But all types of colored gems are available as cabochons. Rubies, emeralds, amethyst. Here, take a look,” she said, swinging the magnifying lens in his direction.

He peered down at the gems, studying them…and she took a moment to study him. His hair was dark and thick, with a slight wave. Cut conservatively short, he combed it back and to one side, though a thick lock occasionally fell down across his forehead. With the bright light nearby, she noticed how his dark mane was shot through with strands of silver. His face looked intense as he examined the stones, his thick brows drawn together over lean cheeks and square jaw. His chin held a small dimple, that seemed just right. A perfect balance to his long, straight nose.

He was handsome, she thought. Extremely handsome. Though not in the typical way at all. More of a rough-around-the-edges, self-made man way, she silently noted with a small smile at her own private joke. She wondered vaguely why Jayne hadn’t warned her about his looks. But then again, Jayne knew very well that any mention of such a thing would have rattled Meredith totally, and made her find some excuse to avoid the meeting altogether.

Adam suddenly looked up. He caught her looking at him, and she felt self-conscious, as if, gazing into her eyes, he had read her thoughts. A slow, knowing smile formed on his supple lips. She felt herself blush and looked back down at the gemstones.

“So…what do you think?” She tried her best to sound casual and professional, but her voice sounded forced and breathless. Just to give herself something to do, she removed her glasses and wiped the lenses on the edge of her smock. It was a nervous habit she had and one she wasn’t even conscious of performing.

That is, not until she noticed a strange expression on Adam Richard’s face as he stared at her across the narrow table.

“Beautiful,” he replied, his tone mindful, appreciative and even surprised. “Absolutely. Very subtle and natural. Very…unconventional.”

His quiet words and intense gaze were totally unnerving. Meredith was annoyed with herself and couldn’t understand her reaction. It was almost as if, at that moment, he wasn’t talking about the gems at all…but describing her.

But that was ridiculous. Utterly…insane. She shoved her glasses back on and turned her attention back to the jewelry.

“Uh…good. I’m glad you like them. Let’s try one with the pin.” She pulled open the small drawer on her side of the table and removed some tools and a vial of setting-glue solvent.

Moments later she’d removed the emerald from the stickpin setting and replaced it with a small sapphire cabochon.

She held it out for Adam’s inspection. “What do you think?”

“That’s lovely. Perfect,” he exclaimed in his quiet, thoughtful way. “May I see it under the lens?”

Then, without waiting for Meredith to hand him the stickpin, he reached out, cupped her hand in his own and moved it beneath the magnifier. His touch felt gentle but firm. She felt as if a sudden shock of electricity coursed up her arm, spreading swiftly through every inch of her body. But Meredith willed herself to remain stone still, not moving a muscle. Barely breathing.

“Yes, it’s just right. The sapphire is a good choice, too,” he commented, still holding her hand and staring down at the pin. “Though I think I’d like to see others made up with a ruby and an emerald, just to compare. Once we’ve agreed on the new setting design.”

He took his hand away and Meredith placed the stickpin on the velvet mat. Looking down, she flipped open her notebook, taking a moment to gather her scattered thoughts.

“Yes, of course. A ruby and emerald,” she said aloud as she jotted the note in her book. “Here’s a rough idea of a new setting design,” she added. With a few deft strokes of her pencil she sketched a new design for the pin—a smooth, organic-looking shape with a setting that would wrap around the stone, like green petals of a bud about to unfold.

Adam sat quietly, watching her draw. As she shifted the pad for him to view the sketch, he bent his dark head toward her. The expression on his face told her that he was impressed by her artistic ability. It surprised her somehow. She didn’t think a man who had spent his life in such a corporate, commercial atmosphere would recognize or value artistic talent.

Adam Richards certainly wasn’t what she had expected. Not at all.

“This is excellent, Meredith.” He looked up and met her gaze. “It’s just the type of thing I was hoping to find…but couldn’t quite put into words,” he added with an attractive, appreciative smile that set Meredith’s nerve endings tingling. “Could you make a sample for me to see?”

“Of course,” she said agreeably.

She was suddenly highly aware of their close proximity, his face just inches from her own as they both remained leaning over the sketch. She blinked and quickly sat bolt upright.

“I could have that ready for you tomorrow afternoon,” she said. She swallowed hard and pushed her glasses up higher on her nose.

“That quickly? That’s great. Let me check my schedule for tomorrow and see if I’m free…” He withdrew a small black book from the pocket in his suit jacket and flipped it open.

“You don’t need to come back here. I mean, I know how busy you must be. We’d be happy to send the piece to your office by messenger,” Meredith explained. “Then you can call and let me know what you think.”

Was she stuttering? The idea of enduring another one-on-one interview with Adam Richards had her nerves in an uproar all over again. She took a deep breath, hoping he’d agree to her suggestion.

“It’s no problem. This time of year is relatively slow for me,” he replied lightly, and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Besides, there’s more than the stickpin to figure out,” he reminded her. “And I’m due back at the office in a few minutes.” He glanced briefly at his watch. “Shall we figure out some meeting time for tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course,” Meredith replied numbly. She looked down at the table, her lips twisting in a resigned expression. She’d make up the stickpin for him. That would be fun. But as for working with him further…the very thought totally unhinged her. And she didn’t want to figure out why.

“What about lunch?” he asked.

Her head snapped up. “Lunch?”

He laughed. “You know, that meal between breakfast and dinner? Don’t you eat lunch…or are you one of those women who are forever starving themselves?”

“I’m never on a diet,” Meredith replied honestly.

There were times in her life—particularly her adolescence—when Meredith bemoaned her figure. But with the passing years any excess weight had simply melted off her long-limbed frame. Although in her mind she still carried the poor body image of her childhood, in actuality she was slim and fit, practically model-like in proportions. She did nothing extra to stay in shape, getting most of her exercise with long walks or a jog through the park with her Labrador retriever, Lucy. The heavy work required for her metal sculptures also kept her muscles hard. She didn’t like most sports, and working out in a gym, in front of all of those mirrors, not to mention the other members, was her idea of damnation. As for dieting, she wasn’t a junk-food junky, but loved to eat and rarely deprived herself.

“Never on a diet, eh? How refreshing,” Adam replied brightly. “So I can take you someplace tomorrow where they serve real food, instead of rabbit feed?” he persisted. “I know just the place. How about Crystal’s?”

Crystal’s? That was the most exclusive restaurant in Youngsville, Indiana. She’d never been there, but had heard one needed to wait a month for a reservation. Of course, not if you were a regular, as Adam Richards no doubt was.

“I’ve heard it’s lovely. Thanks for the invitation…but I don’t think I can have lunch with you,” Meredith stammered. She rose from her seat and hurriedly gathered her pad and coffee.

“Oh, why not? I think we can get a lot done over lunch,” Adam persisted. He rose, as well, and stood in front of her, blocking her escape route from the small room. He stood so close that when she looked up to answer him, she had to tilt her head back.

“Yes, I’m sure we’d get work done,” she said diplomatically, remembering that he was, after all, an important client. “But I believe I’ll be in a meeting that will be going on all afternoon.”

That was a lie. There was no meeting. But she didn’t know what else to say.

“How about Wednesday, then? Do you have a meeting on Wednesday?” he asked. His voice was soft, with a faint note of amusement, she thought. He had guessed she was lying to him. Still, she couldn’t understand why he was so insistent about taking her out to lunch.

“I…I have to check. I’m not sure.” Meredith hugged her sketchbook to her chest and decided to charge for the door. “I’ll call your office and let you know.”

“All right.” He nodded and smiled slightly, trying to suppress a huge grin, she guessed. He was laughing at her. Finding it terribly amusing that a woman would be so flustered by a simple invitation to lunch. She felt silly…but couldn’t help it.

She looked down, avoiding his gaze as she moved toward the doorway. She just wanted to leave, to get away from him and be alone. But then she did something even more stupid. In her rush to flee she spilled coffee on herself. She felt the warm liquid seep through her smock and sweater. She looked down and saw what had happened.

“Oh…darn,” she muttered aloud. She dropped her pad to the floor and placed the leaky cup on the table. With her arms sticking out on either side, she looked down to survey the damage. Her gray smock was dripping with coffee, a huge stain spreading on one side. She couldn’t bear to see what had happened to her pale sweater and skirt.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Adam said as he quickly bent to retrieve her pad. “I’m so sorry…did I bump into you or something?” he asked with genuine concern.

“No…not at all. I manage to create these little disasters all on my own,” Meredith explained. She still stood with her arms at her side, coffee now dripping from her smock to the floor.

“But I was standing in your way. You couldn’t get by,” he said, making an excuse for her. “Can I help you get that off?” Adam asked politely.

“Uh, no…I can manage, thanks.”

The moment of truth had arrived. She had to take the smock off, it was dripping on her shoes.

She carefully undid the snaps, then slipped it off her shoulders and rolled it in a ball to contain the wet spot. Her sweater, still damp from her soaking in the rain, clung to her like a second skin. It now had an ugly brown stain covering a large portion of the pale fabric. A hopeless kind of stain that would probably never come out, she guessed.

“Oh, well. Guess I need to go find another smock,” she said, trying to sound offhand about the fumble.

She looked up at Adam and saw a strange light in his eyes. A totally masculine glow that scared her to death. He hadn’t been staring at the coffee stain all this time…but studying her figure. She was sure of it. She was just as sure that he’d never expected that beneath her baggy gray camouflage there was anything worth looking at.

She thought she had long ago outgrown self-consciousness about her hourglass proportions. At that moment, however, it didn’t seem so. At least he didn’t ogle her, but quickly looked away, his expression once again returning to a friendly smile.

“Well…here’s your pad.” Now it was his turn to seem self-conscious and momentarily off balance as he handed her the sketchpad. “And take my card,” he added, handing her a business card. “On second thought, I’ll have my secretary call you later to set up another appointment.”

“That sounds fine,” Meredith said, backing toward the door. She held the sketchpad to her chest, though it offered little coverage. His secretary. Good. She wouldn’t have to make excuses to him. It would be even easier that way.

“Well, so long, Meredith. Thanks for your help,” he said as she left the room. “I look forward to seeing the stickpin.”

“I’ll have it made up for you soon, Mr. Richards…. And, you’re very welcome,” she added, remembering her manners. She also remembered that she was supposed to call him by his first name. But she didn’t want to. She needed to put some distance between them now, to put things back on a more businesslike level. She had finally reached the door and quickly turned and opened it.

“Goodbye, now,” she called over her shoulder as she left him.

“Goodbye, Meredith,” he returned. “See you soon.”

His soft, deep voice did not sound businesslike, or impersonal at all, she noticed as she raced away toward the elevator.

Two

Feeling totally rattled, Meredith hurried down the hall to her office, grabbed a clean smock from the closet and gathered up the sketches that were still spread across her drawing table. It was five to eleven and she had no time to review the drawings any further. At least she wouldn’t be late for the meeting, she thought as she dashed out of her office and headed for the large conference room at the end of the corridor.

Despite her unsettling interview with Adam Richards, Meredith managed to collect herself enough to give her presentation. As she took her seat, she could not recall a word she had said. It had all gone by in a nervous blur. Her friends, Sylvie and Lila, who both worked in the marketing department, were present and kept shooting Meredith encouraging smiles. She was sure they’d each drop by her office later to review her performance.

Judging from the reactions of the rest of her colleagues—especially the pleased expression on her supervisor’s face—Meredith knew she must have done well. Even the crankiest sales manager seemed excited by the new line. Meredith listened to the comments and noted the various suggestions made, all the while quietly swelling with pride.

Buoyed by her success, she returned to her office and ate lunch at her desk as she worked through the afternoon. The embarrassing moment with Adam Richards didn’t seem nearly as awful now. Meredith could practically laugh at herself…if it wasn’t for the ruined sweater.

Meredith had just finished her lunch when Lila called. Lila said she thought Meredith had done a terrific job at the meeting and that she absolutely loved the new designs.

“Nick was very impressed,” she added, mentioning her boss, who was the Vice President of Overseas Marketing and also happened to be Lila’s fiancé. “I hope the company puts them into production soon,” she added. “I’d love to have a set of the bands in time for our wedding.”

Lila and Nick hadn’t set a wedding date yet, but Meredith knew that they were so crazy about each other, it was going to be a very short engagement.

“Don’t worry, Lila. I can always make a set for you,” Meredith promised, “even if the company decides not to use the collection.”

Or, if Marcus Grey succeeds in buying out Colette and shutting us down, she nearly added. But she didn’t want to voice the gloomy possibilities, especially on such an upbeat day.

After she finished her call with Lila, Meredith realized that she’d never received a call from Adam’s secretary. She was surprised. He’d seemed so adamant about pinning her down for another appointment. His business card sat on her drawing table, tucked under a clip. She glanced at it but didn’t even dare think of calling his office. Perhaps he was the type of guy who seemed all excited at the moment about something…then, minutes later, was on to something else.

Oh, well, so much the better. Maybe he’d forget all about his custom-designed trinkets and decide to give out monogrammed umbrellas or tote bags. Maybe she’d never hear from him again.

The idea should have been heartening, but somehow didn’t sit well with her. Then Meredith’s musings were interrupted by a knock on her partially opened door.

Meredith turned in her seat to see Sylvie in the doorway. Sylvie usually visited her at work at least once a day, to chat and catch up. They also saw each other at home, since Sylvie was Meredith’s neighbor.

After they met, they realized they had many things in common. Though they both had a tendency to be loners, over recent months they’d become close friends. Like Meredith, Sylvie rarely dated and also looked back on her upbringing with mixed emotions. But, Meredith often reflected, unlike Sylvie, at least she’d been raised by two parents who loved her. Even if they didn’t love each other. Orphaned as an infant, Sylvie had no family and had been raised in foster homes. She’d left the system when she was eighteen and eventually came to work for Colette, Inc., where she was presently the assistant director of marketing. While such a childhood would have made many people bitter, Sylvie was just the opposite. Her bright, warm, upbeat personality easily won her friends and cheered everyone who knew her. She looked upon the company as her family, and it seemed that her co-workers loved her in the same way.

Everybody loved Sylvie…and loved to confide in her. Sylvie just had a way of finding out the juiciest company gossip. As Sylvie took a seat, Meredith was sure her friend had come to deliver the news about the takeover.

“You really wowed them this morning. Marianne already called a meeting about the ad campaign,” Sylvie reported, mentioning one of the marketing managers. “A full-page ad in a leading bridal magazine, for starters.”

Meredith usually met such news calmly, but even she was excited to hear that her designs were so successful. “Really? I didn’t even start the samples yet,” she mused aloud.

“Sounds like you’d better. What are you working on now?”

Sylvie peered over Meredith’s shoulder at the stickpin Meredith had designed for Adam Richards. Meredith had worked on it most of the afternoon and it was almost done. She felt the urge to confide totally in Sylvie about her meeting with the handsome, seemingly single, self-made millionaire, but suddenly stopped herself. She didn’t want to talk about him. Not even to Sylvie. She felt a giant lump in her throat even thinking about him. She was acting like a teenager.

She pushed the stickpin aside and turned back to her friend. “It’s nothing. Just a sample I need to put together for a client. Any news about the takeover?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“No really big news.” Sylvie shrugged and pushed back a lock of her shiny black hair. Meredith had often noticed her friend’s beautiful hair, a perfect match to Sylvie’s warm-brown eyes. “I think Grey has picked up a few more shares of stock, but he still has a way to go before he holds fifty-one percent.” Sylvie’s eyes darkened as she spoke about the company’s adversary and Meredith could practically feel her friend’s righteous indignation. “The word is that once he gains control of the company, he plans to destroy it. He just wants to see Colette wiped out. Nobody really knows why. Somebody has to stop that guy.”

“Yes, of course,” Meredith agreed with a sigh. “But who? It would have to be someone with an awful lot of money…or someone who could cause Grey to have a change of heart.”

“If the man even has a heart,” Sylvie said. “I just hate to see morale get so low around here. We can’t just give up. That’s what he wants. We really have to pick up our skirts and plow on.”

Sylvie’s folksy, upbeat expression made Meredith laugh.

“Which for some odd reason reminds me, Meredith…you never gave me a firm answer about the auction. You’ll do it, won’t you? First I lost Jayne, and then Lila,” she said, mentioning their mutual friends who had both recently become married and engaged. There’s a real shortage of gorgeous single females this year and we really need you,” Sylvie pleaded.

For many years Colette, Inc., had sponsored a bachelorette auction, with all proceeds going to a local orphanage. The same orphanage in fact where Sylvie had lived for many years, so of course the cause was close to her heart and she always took on a large role in the planning. The annual black tie event was very upscale and would be held this year in the ballroom of the city’s fanciest hotel, the Fairfield Plaza. The guest list included the most prominent social figures in the city. Meredith always bought a ticket to contribute to the cause. But had never attended. She really disliked large, formal events.

This year, however, not only were her friends pressing her to attend, but they wanted her to step up on the auction block. The very idea made Meredith want to run to the nearest airport and book a one-way ticket to Brazil.

Of course she couldn’t do that.

But neither could she dress up in an evening gown, step up on a stage and display herself as strange men made bids to “buy her” for the night. She’d rather be boiled in oil. She’d rather be tarred and feathered. She’d rather be asked to shimmy up a greasy flagpole with a rose in her teeth. She’d rather—

“You’re going to do it, right?” Sylvie asked point-blank, interrupting Meredith’s thoughts. “I can come over tonight to help you with your outfit. Jayne and Lila said they’d come, too. I’ll bring dinner. How about Chinese?”

“Well…tonight’s not so good, actually,” Meredith fibbed. She tried to meet her friend’s steady gaze but couldn’t.

“Meredith…I know that look in your eye,” Sylvie said, calling her out. “You’ve got to do it. I won’t take no for an answer. We’ve got to pull together around here. The auction is a chance to show Marcus Grey that we’re carrying on, business as usual. We’re not rolling over and giving in to him.”

While Meredith had to agree with Sylvie’s point, she still didn’t feel entirely persuaded that if she paraded around a stage in a tight gown and heels—wiggling her extremities for the highest bidder—the effort would do much to thwart the heartless corporate raider.

“Meredith, please. You know how much this means to me. It’s just got to be a good auction this year. The absolute best. We have to show that man what we’re made of,” her friend insisted. “I know how shy you are and I know this is hard for you. Really, I do. But it might be a good thing for you, too. I mean, you’re absolutely gorgeous…but nobody but me and a few other select people even have a chance to realize it. I want everybody in this company to know what a babe you are. They’ll be talking about that for months,” Sylvie added in a teasing tone. “Won’t you help…please?”

Meredith wanted to refuse her…but she couldn’t let her friend down. This event was important to Sylvie, and to the entire corporate image. If the charity event went off successfully, as it usually did, it would show a strong united front to Marcus Grey.

And something else in Sylvie’s words had rung true. Maybe it was time she stopped hiding like a scared little mouse in a hole, Meredith realized. Maybe forcing herself to get out on that stage would be good for her. If she had a few more ounces of self confidence, maybe she wouldn’t act so flustered by a man’s mere invitation to lunch. As she had with Adam Richards.

“Okay, you’ve got me. I’ll do it,” Meredith finally agreed.

“Fantastic!” Sylvie leaned over and enveloped her in a huge hug. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Do you have anything at home you can wear?”

“How about that gray silk dress I wore for the Christmas party?” Meredith asked.

Sylvie’s lovely brow crinkled in a frown. “I’m not sure I remember…. Oh, yes. The gray silk. It had long sleeves and a sort of high, cowl neck?”

Meredith nodded. Sylvie smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring over a few things. We’ll come up with something great,” Sylvie promised.

Meredith was worried. She knew that her idea of “great” and Sylvie’s were probably a fashion galaxy apart. But she tamped down her fears and put on a brave smile.

“Chinese sounds good. And don’t forget an extra dumpling for Lucy,” she added, remembering her dog’s favorite treat. “And don’t worry, Sylvie. I won’t you let you down.”

“I know that,” Sylvie assured her, and Meredith knew she was telling the truth. Although Meredith didn’t make friends easily, her connections were deeply felt. True to her word and loyal to a fault, she’d go the limit to help a friend in need and never went back on her promises.

“Don’t worry, this will be fun,” Sylvie promised as she rose from her seat. “Oh, I almost forgot…” Sylvie stared down at the package she’d been holding, a medium-size box wrapped in brown paper. “The receptionist asked me to give you this,” Sylvie explained. “It was delivered a little while ago.”

She glanced at the label as she handed Meredith the box. “Hmm, it’s from Chasan’s,” she noted, naming one of the most expensive clothing stores in town. “I thought you did your shopping at the outlet mall, Meredith. Did you go out on a spree without telling me?”

“I’ve never been to Chasan’s. There must be some mistake.” Meredith examined the package and saw her name printed on the label.

Clearly too curious to leave, Sylvie stood by as Meredith tore off the paper and found the trademark, dark-blue gift box tied with a thick gold ribbon. She untied the ribbon and opened the box. Under a layer of gold tissue paper, she found a beautiful pale-pink sweater set, much like the one she had on. However, with one touch, she could tell it was of a far finer quality…and far more expensive than her own.

Meredith took the sweater set out of the paper and Sylvie gasped, “God…that’s gorgeous. Who is it from? Is it your birthday or something?”

“My birthday’s in June. You know that,” Meredith replied, without glancing at her friend. She took a deep breath before reading the gift card she found inside. She already guessed who had sent the gift, but could hardly believe it.

Meredith,

Are you sure I didn’t bump into you this morning? You insisted that I didn’t, but I still feel responsible somehow for ruining your lovely sweater. Please accept this gift with my appreciation for your help today—and my hope that I’ll see you again soon.

Adam

Meredith felt a bit shocked as she placed the card back in the box and closed the lid. It appeared he had picked the sweater set out and bought it himself. Had he really gone to so much trouble for her?

“Who’s Adam?” Sylvie asked, and Meredith realized her friend had read the card over her shoulder.

“It’s a long story, Sylvie,” Meredith replied.

“Judging from that blush on your face, I’ll bet it’s a good one.” Sylvie laughed, her lovely face alight with interest. “You’d better tell all tonight, dear,” she warned, “or no fried dumplings.”

“In that case, I guess I have to,” Meredith replied with a grin. “But there’s nothing to tell, honestly. He’s just a client, and I’m doing some special designs for him.”

“Right, you meet some client this morning and he sends you a hand-delivered gift from Chasan’s. But there’s nothing to tell.” Sylvie smiled knowingly and gently patted her friend’s shoulder. “Meredith, we need to talk.”

“Don’t you have enough torture planned for tonight? You don’t need to give me a lecture about men, too, Sylvie,” she warned in a good-natured tone.

“Me? Give you advice about men? Don’t be silly. I’m leaving that job to Lila and Jayne. After all, Jayne’s married and Lila’s engaged. They both should know something about the species.” With a quick wave Sylvie suddenly disappeared through the doorway.

Left alone with her surprise package, Meredith stared down at the box, which sat squarely in her lap. She opened the lid, looked at the sweater set again—now noticing the label of an exclusive European designer—then she looked at the card. She liked his handwriting. It was neat and crisp, with thick, blocky letters. Straightforward as the man himself, she thought.

Oh, dear. She was sinking into some type of warm, romantic mire, like a big steamy bubble bath. Inch by inch, minute by minute. Even though she’d forced Adam Richards’s image out of her mind today, she still felt her attraction to him gaining a hold on her.

But she simply wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen.

She just could not allow it.

Meredith stood and stuck the box in her office closet. She would return the gift to him with a polite, but curt note. She’d complete the sample stickpin, as she had promised, but she would make Frank assign a new designer to the project. She would not permit herself to see Adam Richards again. Certainly not alone. Absolutely not for anything as social as a “fake” business lunch date.

She wasn’t as naive about men as her friend Sylvie suspected. She knew what this ride was all about, the uphill climb of the roller coaster car was totally exhilarating—the thrill of a lifetime. It was the downhill slide, and the unavoidable crash, that she feared. Feared with all her heart. Or what was left of it.

Meredith had felt this strongly this quickly about a man only once before. Years ago, in college. Jake was superficially very different from Adam, but in many respects they were much alike, she realized. An established artist, Jake was a visiting professor at her college for a year, and students clamored for the chance to study with him. Jake chose only students he felt were the most promising, and Meredith was thrilled to win a place in his sculpture studio during her senior year. She’d expected to learn a lot about art—not about love. But from the very first moment he spoke to her, other than to critique her work, she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning. She kept her crush a secret from even her closest friends for weeks, never once dreaming her feelings could be returned. But miraculously they were, and she soon entered into a torrid affair with him, agreeing to secrecy in order to keep Jake out of trouble with the school authorities. It was certainly against the school’s policy for professors to seduce their students.

He was older, more mature and experienced. A man with status, who could have just about any woman he wanted. He’d swept her off her feet, and the force of his desire had been heady, intoxicating, too much to resist. But the romance—Meredith’s first—had ended badly. Very badly. Meredith was so heartbroken at one point, she didn’t get out of bed for weeks. Feeling empty and lost, so worthless and humiliated by Jake’s rejection, all she did was cry.

While logically she knew that all men weren’t as selfish and heartless as Jake Stark, she simply couldn’t risk it. She believed that while other women had some special sense of sniffing out the nice guys from the phonies, she had none. She didn’t trust her judgment about men as far as she could toss her living room sofa, and felt far safer not taking any risks.

It took her years to gain her confidence back after Jake, and Meredith knew that in some ways she’d never really recovered. But she finally felt in control of her life and her emotions—happy and productive and standing on steady ground again. Maybe her life wasn’t perfect. Maybe she was lonely at times and wished that she had someone close to share her ups and downs. Someone to love wholeheartedly, who loved her in return.

But the risk of failing at that game was too great. The price for losing too high. When she felt blue and needed a lift, she turned to her work at Colette and her sculptures. She turned to her friends, like Sylvie, Jayne, Lila or Rose Carson, her landlady. Or even to her dog, Lucy, who always had a way of bringing a smile to Meredith’s gloomiest hours.

The thought of Lucy made Meredith glance at the clock. It was past five, and Lucy was waiting for her walk. Meredith got her work in order, collected her belongings and left her office. She, too, looked forward to the nightly stroll. It gave her a chance to unwind and renew. As she left the office building, she said goodnight to a few friends. Outside, a cool breeze greeted her. The morning’s wet weather had cleared and except for some lingering traces of snow on the ground from last month’s freak snowstorm, the November evening was dry and the darkening sky, cloudless.

After a short bus ride to her neighborhood, Meredith got off at the Ingalls Park stop and walked across the park to Amber Court. Her apartment building, 20 Amber Court, was a large limestone building, built at the turn of the century. It had once been a private mansion, but was converted into four levels of apartments at some point in the seventies. Meredith loved old houses and had even studied a bit about Victorian architecture. She’d fallen in love with the old building at first sight, and the owner, Rose Carson, who lived on the first floor, had been so warm and welcoming that Meredith had felt right at home from the very first day she’d moved in.

She let herself into the front door and then picked up her mail in the large marble foyer—a magazine, some bills, some junk mail and a letter from her mother.

The sight of her mother’s handwriting filled Meredith with mixed emotions. The return address was Malibu Beach in California, where her mother had moved after her parents’ divorce, many years ago. Meredith guessed that her mother was writing to invite Meredith to visit for Thanksgiving. The envelope was so thick it might even contain another plane ticket, she speculated. But Meredith didn’t want to fly out to the West Coast for the holiday. She would have to make some excuse, of course. She didn’t want to think about that problem now, and shoved the letter, along with the rest of the envelopes, into the magazine.

Her apartment was on the third floor. As it was situated at the front of the building, many of the windows afforded a breathtaking view of Ingalls Park. Though the building had a small elevator that had been installed during the renovation, Meredith usually preferred to take the stairs.

Once at her front door, she heard Lucy on the other side, sniffing and whining as Meredith unlocked the door. Meredith had adopted the golden-colored Labrador retriever from a shelter several years ago, and Lucy knew better by now than to jump up. But still, every time Meredith came home, Lucy acted like a puppy and could barely contain her excitement. She ran toward Meredith, carrying a chewed-up tennis ball in her mouth, her tail beating a mile a minute against Meredith’s legs. Finally she dropped the ball at Meredith’s feet, then licked any part of her owner she could get close to.

“Oh, hello, Lucy. Hello sweetheart,” Meredith bent to greet her four-legged pal, patting her soft head and rubbing her chest.

“Thank you for the ball, Lucy,” she crooned, as if the gooey tennis ball was a true treasure. “Gee, everyone’s giving me presents today.”

Lucy sat as still as she could manage in her excited state, content to have the thick, soft fur on her chest rubbed. She leaned forward and covered Meredith’s cheek with a sloppy lick.

Meredith laughed and ruffled Lucy’s silky ears. “You’re such a sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said and knew it was true.

Meredith stood up and smoothed out her clothes. “Go get your leash,” she told Lucy. “Let’s go out.”

The dog jumped up and darted away, reappearing seconds letter with her thick blue leash in her mouth. Meredith patted her head and clipped on the leash, then allowed Lucy to drag her out of the door and down the stairs as they headed for the park.

The weather was so wonderful that Meredith gave the dog an extra-long walk. She returned home feeling tired but invigorated, as if the cool breeze tossing the treetops in Ingalls Park had somehow blown loose the cobwebs in her mind.

She had just enough time to feed Lucy, then shower and change into comfortable clothes before Sylvie, Lila and Jayne arrived. Her friends bustled in, one carrying a paper bag of Chinese food that emitted warm, appetizing aromas, and the other an armload of evening clothes.

“Here we are,” Lila said.

“Right on time,” Sylvie added.

Meredith gritted her teeth and grinned. “May the condemned woman at least eat one last meal in peace?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to eat while we work on the hair and makeup,” Jayne said, glancing at her watch. “I need to get home by nine for Erik.”

“These newlyweds,” Sylvie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare ask why.”

“Don’t be silly. He needs some help with his computer,” Jayne replied curtly.

“Right,” Sylvie said.

Meredith saw Jayne blush scarlet but she made no teasing comment to second Sylvie’s. If she were married to Erik, she’d want to get home early, too. Jayne had gone through so much in her life and it was great to know she’d finally found real happiness. Orphaned at age eighteen, she’d given up her own chance to go to college and bravely raised her siblings, who were four years younger. Her younger sister and brother, who were twins, were now away at college. Jayne missed them terribly, but also appreciated the time alone with her new husband.

Lila tried to hide her smile as she turned to open a small overnight case filled with beauty supplies.

“So, are you ready?” Lila asked. She turned to Meredith, brandishing her weapon of choice, a huge, fluffy makeup brush.

“Right,” Sylvie said. “So, are you ready?” Sylvie asked turning to Meredith.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let the games begin….” Meredith said.

Meredith had balked at first at all their fussing, then sat back and allowed herself to enjoy it. Having her friends make her over, from head to toe as shown in the fashion magazines, reminded her of her college days—the best memories of her college days.

She had been a social disaster in high school. A straight-A student and a total bookworm with a few close friends who were equally “geeky.”

Her father—a high-powered corporate attorney—was hardly home. When he was, he rarely had time for her. His affection and approval seemed to come in limited doses.

Her mother, a former actress who prided herself on a glamorous image, had tried time and again to make improvements on Meredith’s appearance. “You have assets, dear,” her mother would assure her. “We just need to bring them out more.” Meredith secretly did not see her assets and thought her mother was just trying to be nice. She believed that no amount of new clothes or haircuts would ever make her small-boned and blond like her mother. But trying hard to please her mother—to win the love and approval she’d never truly felt as a child—Meredith wore the fashions or hairstyles her mother advised, feeling silly and uncomfortable most of the time. She squinted and blinked as she forced herself to wear contact lenses. In time she’d finally given up and reverted to her baggy, dull clothes, her dowdy hair-dos and thick lenses. Her mother would rail and moan about the wasted effort, the wasted money—and even call her only child a lost cause. Meredith would burrow even deeper into her shell, hiding her tears behind a favorite novel.

But in college, far from home, Meredith found friends who shared her interests and views, who made her feel valued and appreciated just as she was. She began to develop her own style—a style of dressing and acting that was far different from her conventional, status-conscious parents. Meredith had always known she was different—but for the first time in her life, she began to see that difference as her true asset. An asset she tried to make shine through.

There were some wonderful years in college, and Meredith gained self-confidence and feelings of self-worth. Even her parents noticed the difference when she came home for holiday visits. “A late bloomer,” her mother pronounced, and though Meredith could tell she hadn’t at all bloomed into the exotic flower her mother had hoped for, Carolyn Blair was nonetheless impressed.

Of course, falling in love with Jake had made her positively glow. There was no lotion or cosmetic in the world that could improve a woman’s looks as much as falling in love.

But all that ended just at the time she graduated college. That was when Jake abruptly returned to New York, leaving her a cool, terse note, despite the fact he had promised more than once to take her with him and introduce her to his well-known circle. Why had he treated her so badly? Meredith knew she’d never fully understand it. All she knew was that, along with losing Jake, she’d lost her special glow. She’d returned home to Chicago defeated and depressed, and reverted to her old dowdy ways of dressing, as if to avoid male attention all together.

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