Can't Help Falling in Love by David W. Menefee, Carol Dunitz Read Free Book Online Page B

“How old do you think she is, Jeff?”
        
Jeff helped Allison with her coat. “About thirty-two, thirty-three, I’d guess.”
        
“She’s never been married,” Marshall commented.
        
“Well, I’m not married either,” Allison said. “That doesn’t mean anything.
Anyone as attractive as she could get any man she wanted. She’s obviously a
career woman with strong ambitions. She said she had an appointment with
Phillip Samuels.  Who is he?”
        
“He’s the owner of Star Records,” Marshall said.
        
“Oh?”
        
“I’d guess that she’s muscling in on your efforts,” Marshall put in. “She must
want your account bad. Why else would she be running to see him?”
        
Allison tried to hide her true worries. “Maybe she’s planning to shoot her way
into the lobby and take the company by force? Perhaps she’s been watching too
many John Wayne movies and thinks a hand grenade works better than a handshake?
In any case, why should I be worried? What’s Star Records or Phillip Samuels
got to do with me?”
        
“That’s the record label that just put out your new singer’s record.”

Chapter Eight
     
      
Allison had failed to clarify that little detail about Star Records earlier.
The revelation came to her like a hammer blow. She returned to her office
emotionally exhausted from the psychological brow beating she suffered during
her momentary confrontation with Sharon Eaton. The advertising vulture was said
to be on a quest to devour clients belonging to others.
        
Allison looked at the clock over Marge’s desk. The time was a minute to three.
As if her secretary read her thoughts, Marge said, “You’ve got an hour until
your next appointment.”
        
“Thank you, Marge. I think I’ll have some afternoon tea,” Allison mused out
loud. “I need to pull together some ideas for him.”
        
“Before you do, you need to read this message he left for you. He called hours
ago to ask if you wouldn’t mind meeting him at the Arcade diner on Main Street.
He left his number.”
        
Allison studied the clock again. “The Arcade ? I’ve barely got time to gather my things
and drive there. He must have a tight schedule today, or maybe he was on
business in the vicinity and thought he’d be late arriving all the way over
here. Of course I’ll meet him at the Arcade. Would you be kind enough to call
him and let him know? I’ll just grab my things now and be on my way.”
         “Sure, Allison. Oh, by the way—he said he’d be wearing
blue suede shoes.”
         “Blue suede shoes?”
        
Marge shrugged her shoulders. “I stopped trying to second guess you young folk
a long time ago. I couldn’t imagine what men could possibly like about a dumb
blonde like Marilyn Monroe, and look what happened!”
         
Allison nearly flew from her office to her apartment just so she could change
clothes. The Arcade was no fancy restaurant, but the diner was popular and
usually crowded. Sometimes, patrons had to wait more than an hour just to get a
seat in one of the lumpy booths. They did not go there for the ambiance but for
the nationally famous food and occasionally famous customers. The restaurant
had become known as a place to see and to be seen. 
        
Allison changed into a silk lilac-colored shift that was tightly cinched at the
waist. Its long full sleeves gave just the right amount of extra color without
being overly dressy. She carried her paperwork in a smart leather folder, and a
nearly-matching purse accessorized the ensemble without giving her too much to
carry. She did not want to lug a briefcase and look like a lawyer preparing for
trial. After a final moment of scrutiny in front of her full-length mirror, she
locked the apartment door and dashed down the hall.
        
As she reached the elevator, she pressed the button and waited. The elevator
was between floors, but coming up. When the doors