Sandra Hill by Love Me Tender Read Free Book Online

rear. Nope, she didn’t need to hear about any problems.
    “I betcha dollars to donuts she took the arch insert out of the shoe,” Beaunare said. “That’swhat put pressure on her toes, rather than the ball of the foot. Remember what I was telling you earlier, P.T., about the Pythagorean theorem and the arch of the foot? Yep, she removed the insert.”
    All eyes bored into Cynthia, whose traitorous face heated with guilt. “I’m not admitting anything. Besides, most women remove inserts. They’re uncomfortable…and unnecessary.”
    The prince and Alvarez exchanged a look of relief. Alvarez even dared to say, “Case closed!”
    “Not until the fat lady sings, F. Lee Sleazeball…in the jury, that is.”
    Without warning, Ferrama stood. “Out!” he ordered Alvarez and Beaunare, motioning toward the door. “I’ll complete the negotiations with Ms. Sullivan in private.”
    Uh-oh .
    “Now, P.T., that is not a good idea,” Alvarez cautioned.
    Right. Bad, bad idea. Me alone, with Prince Not-so-charming-but-I-can-have-you-with-a-look Ferrama? I’m not agreeing to a one-on-one meeting. That would be like the turkey voting for an early Thanksgiving . “Actually, I’m thinking the negotiations would be better handled with my lawyer.” She stood her crutches in front of her and pulled herself upright, preparing to leave.
    Ferrama ignored her protests and stalked over to the door, holding it wide for Alvarez and Beaunare to exit. The latter appeared rather bemused, then brightened. “I think I’ll go get thelimo and cruise around the block a few times.”
    “ No! ” Ferrama and Alvarez shouted at the same time.
    Ferrama was rudely shoving them forward when the lady in the green silk shirtwaist poked her head forward. The middle-aged secretary glowered at Alvarez, who was winking at her in the oddest way, before notifying Ferrama in an overwrought voice, “Charles called a few minutes ago and wants to know if you’ll be able to make his Ascot party.”
    Charles? Could she mean Prince Charles? Holy moley!
    Ferrama blinked at his secretary as if she spoke some foreign language and muttered something like, “Hell if I know!”
    “You have the underwriters meeting at two-thirty. The factory in Lisbon is in a panic over a Brazilian leather shipment and needs you to call immediately. The buyer for Bloomingdale’s will be here at four. Wall Street Journal at five. And you have a dinner scheduled at the Algonquin at nine with Liz.” She took a deep breath after her long-winded recitation.
    Liz? Liz who? Liz the columnist? Liz Taylor? Elizabeth Hurley? Oh, geez, is Queen Elizabeth in town?
    “Is that all, Maureen?” Ferrama said dryly.
    “Hardly,” his secretary retorted. Apparently her job profile didn’t include kowtowing to a prince. “Your stepsisters have been here every day since you’ve been gone. I’m giving you notice right now, if I have to deal with one more complaint from Naomi and Ruth, I’m resigning.”
    Ferrama rolled his eyes heavenward. “I’ll talk to them.”
    “Darn right you will. They’re down in the executive dining room right now, waiting for you to finish your meeting. They have a list this long of bills they want you to pay.” Maureen stretched her arms wide to demonstrate.
    “I’ll handle the situation,” Ferrama assured her in a tired voice as he started to back into his office.
    “And another thing…” the secretary began.
    He halted and tapped a foot impatiently.
    Once again, Maureen and Alvarez exchanged a look, then the secretary went on. “Your masseur, Andre, wants to know if you’ll be keeping your six-thirty appointment. And should he arrange a pedicure and facial this time?”
    Ferrama’s face bloomed a lovely shade of dusty rose, and his throat worked without any words coming out. He sliced a condemning glare at Alvarez before saying to his secretary, “Absolutely. But tell him I prefer the seaweed oil this time. That mud astringent he used last month