Stand-In Bride. Barbara Boswell
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small and soft and very feminine.
He cleared his throat. “Would you like to go somewhere for a drink or something to eat?” he asked impulsively, surprising himself. He rarely acted on impulse.
“Looking like this?” Julia glanced down at her sweaty clothes and ran her hand through her tousled hair. “I’d scare away the other customers.”
“You wouldn’t, but I certainly might. Why don’t we make use of the drive-through window at one of the places along the boulevard? That way we wouldn’t have to leave the car. We could sit in the parking lot and have a sandwich and a cup of coffee or a soda or something.”
Julia understood that he was going through the motions of being polite, but there was really no need. “It’s kind of you to offer, but I have to get home.” She glanced at her watch, startled by the time. “In fact, I have to go right away.”
It was almost time for her nightly telephone call to Joanna. And tonight it was important that she call a bit early, because Joanna watched a program on television in the lounge with a group of other young patients. The weekly program had become a regular social event, with popcorn, soft drinks and candy shared among them.
Julia was thrilled that her little sister had gained the interest and the ability to socialize. And to be able to comprehend and concentrate on a plot was a major accomplishment for Joanna. For a year and a half after the accident, the girl’s attention span had been as short as a toddler’s. She’d barely been able to follow the fast-paced, visually stimulating programs designed for preschoolers.
But now… A small smile curved Julia’s lips. Joanna had a circle of friends and enjoyed age-appropriate shows. She was showing improvement every single day.
“You’ll have to give me directions to your place,” Michael said as he walked her to his car. He wondered why she had to rush home—or if the real reason for her hasty departure was because she was eager to escape from his presence.
Michael Fortune, currently being pursued by hundreds of women who claimed to be willing to do just about anything with him or for him, could not even persuade Julia Chandler to drink a soda with him in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant. The irony was not lost on him.
His lips twisted in a grim smile. Wasn’t there a verse about a prophet not being valued in his own land? Or words to that effect. It seemed that the same principle applied to the appeal of an eligible bachelor boss in his assistant’s eyes. Julia spent hours in his company at work. Who could blame her for wanting to steer clear of him in her off hours?
Still, the notion rankled, and the fact that it did bothered him even more. Withdrawing into a moody silence, Michael steered his car through the steady stream of traffic, turning on the radio to a station broadcasting a Minnesota Twins baseball game. The game was meaningless, since neither team had a chance of making it to the play-offs this year, and the Twins and their opponent were merely filling time with lackluster performances.
Neither Julia nor Michael spoke, except when she told him where to turn. When he pulled up in front of her three-story frame apartment building, she opened the car door before he had braked to a full stop.
“Thanks for the ride,” she called, jumping out and slamming the door behind her.
Her abrupt departure was jarring. Irritating, too. Michael watched her dash into the building. He wondered which apartment she lived in. It occurred to him that he didn’t know if she lived alone or with someone…or if that someone was a man. Julia never talked about her personal life at work, at least not with him. He’d never bothered to ask her anything about her life outside the office, and she had never volunteered any information.
Michael drove to his own apartment, a penthouse in a futuristic new building downtown, not far from the Fortune Building. His jumpsuit disguise was in the back seat, and he groaned at the thought of having to put it on again. Luckily, his admirers had given up for the night, and the entrance to the building was clear.
He hurried inside, punching in the code to disengage the security system of the private elevator, then riding it to the top of the building. The elevator doors opened onto a small vestibule directly in front of the door to the penthouse. To the left stood a wall of windows that provided a spectacular view of the Twin Cities skyline.
Michael didn’t pause to glance at it.
Four
The new issue of Fame finally hit the stands, and the top-ten most eligible bachelors in the U.S.A. were last week’s news. The syndicated TV tabloids and talk shows stopped calling, as did the out-of-state newspapers. The number of letters began to drop off. Denny informed Julia that one of the new hires on the “Fortune bachelor team” had been let go, but the other had been asked to stay on in the mail room, as he’d proven himself to be both efficient and accurate on the job.
Though the national media had lost interest, locally Michael was still very much a celebrity in demand. Since his new home phone number was unlisted and he used an answering machine to screen his calls, he was safe from the telephone overtures of his admirers, at least while in his apartment. He continued to be plagued by amorous phone calls at work, but fortunately, the voice-mail system was able to handle the reduced number of them.
However, the Twin Cities media kept up their requests for interviews. They were well aware of local interest in the area’s own homegrown bachelor and knew that information about him would capture the attention of the all-important 18-to-34-year-old female market share.
“Just one interview with Mike and we’ll back off,” promised Faith Carlisle, among the most persistent reporters on the “local beat” at Channel 3 News. Somehow Faith consistently managed to elude the Fortune Corporation’s receptionists, secretaries and voice-mail system, and though her calls never made it through to Michael, she talked to Julia at least once every day.
Julia was amazed by Faith’s proficiency. And one could only admire the newswoman’s tenacity. Faith Carlisle said she would never give up until she’d landed her interview with Mike Fortune, and so far, she hadn’t.
“You’re wearing me down,” Julia confessed when Faith’s second call of the day came through. “I actually told Michael that I thought it would be a good idea if he met with you.”
“And what did he say?” Faith pressed eagerly.
“He said no.” Julia sighed. “Sorry. I tried.”
“Doesn’t he know that by being elusive, he is increasing his appeal?” Faith was frustrated. “Think Jacqueline Onassis. Everybody wanted to interview her because she was the one interview nobody could ever get. Well, Mike Fortune is playing by those rules.”
“I don’t think he’s playing by any rules. He just wants to be left alone.”
“It’s not going to happen, Julia. Say, how is the voice-mail system over there? Any problems with it lately?”
“No, thank heavens.” Julia remembered Jake Fortune’s fiery visit the last time the system had crashed. She shivered. “The number of calls have dropped off. I think interest in Michael Fortune is finally starting to fade.”
“Don’t be too sure of that, honey,” Faith said, hanging up.
Julia thought nothing more of the conversation until later that day. Not until the voice-mail system abruptly and unexpectedly became so overloaded with messages for Michael Fortune that it short-circuited. Again! Worse, the company’s entire computer system shut down along with it, like a sympathetic unionist supporting a fellow laborer’s strike.
Michael paced his office, infuriated and distraught. Julia leaned against the wall, her arms folded, staring anxiously at the pearl gray carpet.
“Faith Carlisle is responsible, I’m sure of it,” she murmured. “She made a threat, but I didn’t recognize it as a threat at the time. I’m positive she orchestrated this call-in campaign, just to show she could do it. And she’ll keep on doing it until you give her an interview, Michael.”