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help me look my best?”
    “Bernie is a magician.   You know he has special powers.   He’ll do his voodoo on you.   He’ll say smoky words, cast melodic spells,
and then he’ll eradicate any trace of fatigue from that face of yours.”
    “In other words, he’ll just use
some kind of fancy concealer.”
    “Oh, how you diminish him!”
    “Are you jacked up on caffeine
right now?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be—tonight is
more critical than you think.   When
can I pick you up?   Time is of the
essence.   I have an appointment for
us at Barney’s.   They’re willing to
open the store early just for us, but we need to move on it—before the
others come.”
    “The others?”
    “The people,” she said.   Her voice lowered a notch.   “The tourists.”
    “You’re such a snob.”
    “I’m a businesswoman who
understands that, even if we find the right dress, they’re still going to have
to tailor it to fit that ass of yours.   No small feat that.   With
your stature in this city now, don’t be surprised if you receive a note asking
if your ass can be hoisted up at the Thanksgiving Day Parade.   Hell, it could be a float at this
point.   When can you be ready?”
    “Ninety minutes.”
    “Make it sixty.”
    “But Alex is in the shower now.”
    “Oh, please.   Oh, Maine.   Then get in the shower with him—but please, for the love of all things Dior, just keep it to the
soap.   Now, get yourself ready.   Wear something pretty that’s simple to
slip out of.   God knows how many
dresses we’ll need to try on before we find the right one.   And don’t you dare disappoint me—the
press is going to be outside of your apartment the moment you leave.   They’ll have cameras.   They’ll snap photos of you.   I want you looking smart and chic, and
your face better match your look with full makeup and a contented smile.   Are we good?”
    “We’re good.”
    “So, I’ll pick you up in sixty
minutes?”
    “Seventy.”
    “Sixty.”
    “Fine.   I’ll see you in an hour.   But Barbara?”
    “What?”
    “You better have one massive cup of
coffee in that car for me if you want me to get through the day.”

 
 
 
    CHAPTER FIVE

 
    By the time Alex and I were preparing
to leave, he already had heard from Robert, and the news was good.  
    Five interviews were slated for
morning, and three were scheduled for early afternoon.   The Times was first, followed by
the Journal and Bloomberg .   Through their websites alone, they could change the course of today’s
stock should it need it—especially if Alex kept on point and played this
right, which I knew he could.   What
Alex needed to deliver to each outlet was a focus on all the potential growth
and wealth that rested in Wenn’s near future.  
    When he emerged from our bedroom
and leaned into the doorway of our master bath, he was in a dark, charcoal gray
suit with a white shirt and a blue tie.   I thought that he looked perfect.   I turned away from the mirror I’d been standing at, and took in the
length of him.   He was wearing the
black Prada business shoes I’d purchased for him a few weeks ago, and his
gleaming dark hair was parted on the side and slicked away from his
forehead.  
    On his face was his usual,
disarming dust of stubble, and his blue-green eyes seemed especially bright,
perhaps because he was on his game and knew that he was about to go to
war.   Looking at him now, he still
had that ability to take my breath away, and so I let him take it from me.   He knew that photos were coming the
moment we stepped out of our apartment and then again when he arrived at Wenn,
and he was nothing if not camera-ready.   He looked like a damned model.  
    “I could devour you right now,” I
said.
    He cocked an eyebrow at me.   “Is that so?”
    “You know what happens to me when I
see you in a suit—especially a fitted suit.   And then there’s that stubble of
yours.   And your dimples.   It’s