Joe grinned. “Poor Matt. Women just throw themselves at his feet. So, in Paris, it wasn’t the French babe, it was our… Sorry. It was Susannah, huh?”
“You could say that, yes.”
“Why not the French babe?”
“She’s not my type.”
“What’s she look like? Maybe she’s my type.”
“She looks the way they all look,” Matthew said impatiently. “Tall, gorgeous face, great body, eager to please, blond hair down to her butt…”
“Ah,” Joe said wisely. “Definitely not your type.”
Matthew scowled. “I know. It’s crazy. The one who’s really not my type is Susannah. In looks, in temperament… The woman has the disposition of a porcupine.”
“Is that why you were supposed to fly to New York last weekend? To see her?”
Matthew nodded.
“But you canceled out. And now you’ve canceled again.”
“Business,” Matthew said gruffly. “The Vernon deal, the Tolland contract…”
“Oh. Well, sure. Any of that stuff would be more important than being with the lady.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s more important than…” Matthew muttered under his breath. “You see what I mean? It’s crazy.”
“You want to see Susannah?”
“No.”
“You want to break things off.”
“No!” Matthew jammed his hands into his trouser pockets and paced the length of his office. “You know how it is, Joey. You meet a woman, something clicks, you know where it’s going to lead.”
“Of course. Straight to bed.”
“Right. Once you get there…well, no matter how great it is, you know it’s going to end. But…”
“But?”
There was a long silence. “But this situation doesn’t seem to be going that way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hell,” Matthew said, with a bitter laugh, “neither do I.”
Joe cleared his throat. “I must be missing something here. Susannah doesn’t look like your dream girl. She’s as bristly as a porcupine.”
“You’ve got it.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Matthew stared at his brother. It was a good question. What, exactly, was the problem?
Joey smiled. “You know what you need, pal? A night on the town. A couple of hot chicks, some good vino, a rare steak. Take Dr. Romano’s advice, you’ll be a new man in the morning.”
Matthew smiled, too. “You think?”
“I know. And, if you change your mind and decide you still want to see Susannah, well, she’ll be there when you want her.”
“Yeah.” Matthew cleared his throat. “I just wonder about this friend she’s seeing this weekend.”
“Did you ask her who it was?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s none of my business.”
“Well, then…”
“It better not be Sam. Or Peter.”
“Who?”
“On the other hand, we didn’t make any commitments. If she wants to see another guy, that’s that.”
“Now you’re thinking straight.” Joe clapped Matt on the back. “Take out your little black book. Get yourself a date for tonight. I’m seeing somebody new, did I tell you? We’ll go out to dinner, have some laughs…”
Matthew shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m not really in the mood.”
“Nonsense. You need a night on the town.” Joe’s voice softened. “Matt. You need to clear your head, and this is the only way to do it.”
“Maybe,” Matthew said. “But I’m going to pass.”
* * *
Things started to come apart at CHIC on Friday morning.
Claire came bristling into Susannah’s office at nine o’clock and dumped a stack of magazines on her desk.
“Time for the monthly check,” she said briskly. “Got to see what the competition’s up to.”
“You see. I’m busy”
“Busy?” Claire’s brows rose. “You’re staring into space.”
“I’m being creative,” Susannah said stubbornly. “How’s the vote coming? Who’s going to be our sexiest man centerfold?”
Claire grinned “Actually, there’s an unofficial but unanimous vote for Matthew.”
Susannah could think of other names for him, but she decided to keep them to herself.
“The man is gorgeous, Suze.” Claire smiled slyly. “Studly, to quote an authority”
“Claire, I’m really busy. Could we get to work? Let’s see what’s doing in these magazines.”
Claire raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, she shoved the current issue of Vogue across the desk.
Susannah opened it, thumbed quickly through the glossy pages.
“Nice idea they have with this layout on shoes. Ask Amy what she thinks. Next?”
“Harper’s. Take a look at the perfume ad on page eighty. Why don’t we see if we can’t get some bigger advertising bucks out of Chanel?”
“Fine. Next?”
“The latest Women’s Wear Daily. There’s a really clever column on… What’s the matter?”
Susannah didn’t answer. She sat staring at a page of celebrity snapshots.
“Suze?” Claire came behind the desk. “You’re white as a ghost. What… Oh, hell. Is that—”
“Matthew.” Susannah swallowed. “Matthew and—”
“Bebe. The model.”
Bebe, the model Bebe and Matthew, on the steps of a building the caption identified as the headquarters of Romano Inc., in California. Bebe, with her pouty mouth, her big eyes, her long blond hair. Bebe, standing a step above Matthew, her hands on his shoulders, her big eyes gazing adoringly into his face. And Matthew, gazing back at her, his hands spanning her waist, the look on his face one of dark intensity.
“The sexiest bachelor alive,” the caption burbled, “and his newest conquest, the hot new model Bebe Le Beau.”
Susannah began to tremble. “The son of a bitch,” she whispered.
Claire tried to tug the magazine from her hands. “Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s not her. Maybe—”
“The no-account, lying, cheating swine!”
“Suze, there’s got to be an explanation.”
“There’s an explanation, all right. I just gave it to you. Matthew Romano is a pig. A filthy, lowlife, dirty pig. And I’m a fool. Was a fool. Was…”
Susannah grabbed the telephone and punched a button.
“Suze? Listen, you really need to calm down. Think this through. Don’t do anything you’ll—”
“I want to speak to Matthew Romano,” Susannah said furiously. “This is Susannah Madison calling.”
“Suze,” Claire pleaded, “don’t do this!”
“Don’t do what?” Susannah slapped her hand over the receiver. “Recover what little remains of my dignity? We’ve been friends for a long time, Claire. Don’t ruin it by defending a—a gob of human scum!”
“I’m not defending him. I’m just saying you could be making a mistake.”
“I made my mistake in Paris. And now I’m going to set things right.”
Matthew’s secretary came on the line at the same instant Claire shut the door behind her.
“He’s not in?” Susannah said. “Not to me, you mean. No, there’s no problem. Just give him a message, please.” She took a deep breath. “Tell Mr. Romano that he has my notice. That’s right. I’m quitting. Quitting as of today. No, he won’t be able to return my call. I’m leaving the office immediately, and I won’t be taking any calls at home.” She hesitated, then went on in angry defiance, despite the tears that were already blurring her vision. “Tell him I’m spending the weekend with—with my lover. With Mr. Peter Katz. And Mr. Katz and I most definitely will not want to be disturbed.”
Susannah slammed down the telephone, gathered her things and left.
* * *
Peter didn’t like wine. He didn’t like bee
r, either. He was pretty much a heavy cream man.