But it did matter. Sam wanted to make his mark in the world. And now, thanks to his grandfather, he had the chance to do just that. If he could win the game, he'd be the owner of a Fortune 500 company. The thought terrified him as much as it thrilled him. There was a reason he'd never been able to keep up with Sam academically. The same reason that had kept him from trying to compete with Dexter in the business world. But he'd take it one step at a time. Just like he'd done every day of his life.
Lightning flashed when he reached the aluminum gate and unfastened the chain. Big, fat drops of rain pelted him as he walked through the gate, then closed it behind him. There was no farmhouse in sight, just a lonely gravel crossroad. He looked down one road, then the other, wondering which one led into Pittsburgh. But before he could flip a coin to decide which road to take, an ancient blue Ford pickup truck appeared over the crest of a hill.
Sam hailed it as he walked to the side of the road. Three young women in halter tops sat in the front seat. They slowed down, craning their necks to look at him. Then the driver hit the brakes, the pickup truck sliding to a stop.
He approached the truck as the driver rolled down her window. They looked like twenty-somethings with too much time on their hands. "Good afternoon, ladies."
"Hi there," the driver said, as one of her passengers giggled. "Need a lift?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. Which way are you headed?"
The driver looked at her friends, then back at Sam. "Wherever you're going. I'm Mandy." Then she pointed to the girl beside her. "This is Angie, and next to her is Shannon. But everybody calls her Squeak."
He nodded, wondering if he should wait for another car to come by. The three of them looked as if they'd be happy to provide the kind of distraction he couldn't afford right now.
"What's your name?" Angie asked.
"Sam." Lightning crackled over his head. "Can you tell me how far is it into Pittsburgh?"
"Only another five miles," Mandy replied, her gaze making a slow journey down his body. "We're going to a great Mexican joint for enchiladas and strawberry margaritas. Care to join us, Sam?"
"Maybe another time." He hitched his thumb toward the bed of the pickup. "But do you mind if I just jump in the back until we hit the city limits?"
Angie leaned forward. "Oh, there's room up here for you, Sam. Really. We can all squeeze together."
"Besides," Mandy said, "you'll get wet back there."
"No problem," he said, hopping into the back of the pickup truck. "I like rain." As if the clouds could hear him, they let forth a torrent, soaking him to the skin before the pickup had even gone a mile. But Sam didn't care. The game had begun, and he'd been lucky enough to get a good head start. But then, Sam had always been lucky.
He needed luck to keep his secret.
Lauren McBride held up a red velvet garter in her hand. "When you want to make that romantic dinner extra special," she said, stretching the garter over the rim of a white ceramic bowl. "Add a little spice to the appetizers by dressing up your serving dishes."
The women gathered at the Ladybug Lingerie party oohed and aahed as Lauren added the bowl to the other items on the counter. Decorative lingerie was the latest creative solution to expanding the market of Ladybug Lingerie, a popular home-party business that was just starting to move its products in the retail sector.
Lauren had been skeptical about adorning dishes and other furnishings with artfully arranged panties, bras and assorted intimate apparel, but it seemed to be a hit at every party she worked.
If only decorative lingerie could solve the problems in her life.
Like her car, which had refused to start this morning. And her rent, which was a week late. She forced a smile as a headache throbbed behind her eyes. No doubt a result of staying late at the college library last night to read class assignments out of the textbooks she couldn't afford to buy.
The bills were mounting up and her job at Ladybug Lingerie just wasn't enough to make ends meet. Even if the schedule did allow her the flexibility to attend college full-time.
Fortunately, college coeds, like the four roommates hosting this party in their tiny off-campus apartment, were some of her best customers. Even if they did make Lauren feel older than her twenty-seven years.
The age difference didn't seem to bother her best friend, Becky Wittley, who had driven her to the party. Then again, Becky was engaged to be married in three short months and had other things on her mind.
Lauren finished her presentation, encouraging the guests to peruse the catalog and examine the sample items she'd brought with her. Then she turned to Becky, who sat in a chair beside her. "Find anything you like?"
Becky heaved a wistful sigh, gazing at a picture of a lovely white peignoir in the catalog. "I like everything. But the wedding is already costing Don and I a fortune, so I'd better just look instead of buy."
"I have an idea," Lauren said, straightening the stack of order forms in front of her. "Why don't I give you a Ladybug Lingerie party for a bridal shower?"
Becky's eyes widened. "You can do that?"
"I don't see why not. I'm one of your bridesmaids, after all. Just write up a list of who you'd like to invite and I'll set it all up."
Becky smiled. "That would be perfect. Wait until Don hears about this." Then her smile turned to a mischievous grin. "On the other hand, maybe I'll keep it a secret. Then he can find out on the honeymoon."
"My lips are sealed." Relief flowed through Lauren at Becky's enthusiasm for the idea. She'd come up with it a few days ago, after weeks of worrying about how she'd possibly be able to afford giving her best friend a bridal shower. This way, her party earnings would pay for the shower, and since Lauren received a generous discount on any Ladybug merchandise she purchased, she could afford to give Becky the white peignoir that she had her eye on as well.
The guests began to fine up and place the orders, keeping Lauren and her calculator busy for the better part of an hour. At last the room began to clear, leaving Becky to help Lauren pack up the display cases.
"So how would you like to meet the perfect man?" Becky asked, sliding the red garter off the ceramic bowl.
"Is this a trick question?"
"I'm serious. His name is Leroy."
"He doesn't sound like my type."
"Don't you think you should at least meet him before you decide? I know, I'll invite him to my Ladybug Lingerie bridal shower! Then he can see you in action."
"Forget Leroy," Lauren said firmly. "A Ladybug Lingerie party is no place for a man. Besides, I'm still recovering from the last blind date you set me up with. Remember Harold?"
"I thought you liked Harold."
"I did. We went out on one date, then I never heard from him again. But at least he was better than Brian, who disappeared during the movie intermission on our first date. I never saw him again either."
"Harold and Brian were your transitional men. Leroy could be the one."
Lauren shook her head. "Where do you find these guys?"
"They're everywhere," Becky assured her. "You just have to look around. Be open to the possibilities."
"I'm open."
"Okay, then how about that guy?" she asked, pointing out the window. A painter stood on an eight-foot scaffolding at the adjacent apartment building, wearing a pair of worn blue denim overalls and a ball cap. "Would you go to bed with him?"
"How do you know it's a guy?"
Becky looked at her. "Wow, it has been a long time for you, hasn't it?"
Lauren shook her head. "There are women painters, too. Besides, we're too far away to tell."
"Okay, then hypothetically speaking, if that painter is a man, would you sleep with him?"
"Of course not. I don't even know him."
"Let's say you hit the scaffolding with your car when you backed out of the parking lot and he fell and broke his leg."
"You drove today, remember? Besides, I'm not quite desperate enough to maim strange men with my car just to meet them.
At least, not yet."
"Just go with me on this. His leg is broken. You feel guilty, so you offer to bring him dinner every night until he's back on his feet."
"You know I'm not a good cook."
"Night after night," Becky continued undaunted, "you visit him in his apartment, the attraction between you is building, until one night you arrive to find him out of his cast. And out of his clothes."
"That's a little presumptuous on his part, isn't it? Answering the door naked?"
"He gave you a key."
Lauren laughed, packing the last of the lingerie. "Okay, I give up. If he was a nice guy, and if I really, really liked him, then I might sleep with him."
"Might? How are you ever going to fulfill your New Year's resolution with a might?"
Lauren swallowed a groan, wishing she'd never shared her New Year's resolution with her friend. Especially since fulfilling that particular goal was the least of her problems.
"It's already September," Becky reminded her. "You've got less than four months left."
"Celibacy isn't a terminal disease, you know. The only reason I made that silly resolution was because I decided it was time to get over Chuck once and for all."
Becky's face darkened at the mention of Lauren's ex-husband. "Well, sleeping with another man would be a good start. And so much fun to rub into Chuck's face."
"You know I'm not into revenge," Lauren said softly. As much as she appreciated Becky's outrage on her behalf, she'd gotten over her ex-husband's infidelity a long time ago. But his betrayal had hurt, and made her insecure about her own appeal. Even two years after their divorce, she was still suffering from rejection-phobia. And her last two dates certainly hadn't helped.
"Lucky for Chuck," Becky mused, a note of disgust in her voice. "He used you to pay for his college education, then he just dumped you."
"I dumped him," Lauren reminded her. It had been the day he'd gotten the news that he'd passed the bar exam. She could still remember how hard it had been for her to say the words—to ask him to leave. He'd cracked a joke that she could hire him for her divorce lawyer.
"So don't you think it's about time you start wearing some of this lingerie you sell so well?"
"I will … someday."
"You're too picky." Becky stuffed a handful of silk camisoles into the case. "You've been divorced for two years and gone out with, what, three guys?"
"Four," Lauren replied. "If you count Brian."
"Brian was an idiot, so he doesn't count."
"Okay, then three. That was more than enough. And the sad thing is, I wasn't really sorry to see any of them go."
Becky shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"
Lauren shrugged. "So maybe I am picky. What's wrong with that? Besides, I'm more interested in earning my teaching degree than in romance."
"Can't you have both?"
Lauren wasn't so sure anymore. She'd believed it once. When she and Chuck had met as freshmen at Penn State, they had both been full of big plans for the future. Chuck wanted to be a lawyer and Lauren wanted to be an elementary school teacher. They'd fallen in love quickly and married over spring break. That was her first mistake.
Her second was dropping out of school and working full-time. They agreed that once Chuck was through with law school, it would be Lauren's turn. She could go back to college and earn her teaching degree while Chuck supported them.
But it hadn't worked out that way. Their divorce had come on the heels of Chuck's graduation from law school. Now Lauren was on her own, still determined to get her college degree. Her divorce attorney had pushed her to sue for alimony, but her pride wouldn't let her take one penny from her ex-husband.
So she'd found a job at Ladybug Lingerie with a schedule flexible enough to allow her to take classes full-time at the University of Pittsburgh. It paid fairly well, but her small budget was still stretched well beyond its limit. She cut corners wherever possible, including her grocery list. Unfortunately, the bills were still piling up and Lauren didn't see a solution in sight. But that didn't mean she was ready to give up.
Thunder rumbled in the sky, signaling the release of a downpour. Becky smiled as rain pelted the window. "I'll bet that poor painter is going to get soaked."
"He's a man," Lauren said with a wry smile. "He probably deserves it."
* * *
2
« ^ »
Sam had started his afternoon surrounded by cows, but now, three hours later, he was in much more familiar environment. He sat in an office at Midnight Lace surrounded by bras.
Big bras, skimpy bras, lacy bras and leather bras. Bras of every color, style and texture. The only problem was they were worn by headless mannequins instead of warm-blooded women. But that might be a blessing in disguise, since Sam was determined to keep his mind on business for the next four weeks.
According to his game card, that business was working as a salesman for Midnight Lace. Sam glanced at his watch, wondering when the interview would begin. He was confident that the company would hire him. For one thing, Midnight Lace was a subsidiary of the Kane Corporation, so he knew his name would carry some weight. For another, he'd become an expert at separating ladies from their lingerie. How hard could it be to operate in reverse?
But despite his optimism, his palms were damp and he kept looking at the door. Escape was still an option.
Three hours ago, he'd jumped out of an airplane to start the game that could change his life. The problem was that Sam had never won a game of Chameleon—never stood a chance of winning given his liability. But his older brother, Dexter, had always goaded him into playing and Sam had usually put an end to the game with his fists before he could be mocked as a loser. At least in a fistfight he had a fifty-fifty chance of coming out on top.
But he wasn't ten years old anymore. Now, at age twenty-seven, his entire future hinged on beating his brother at this real-life version of Chameleon. Dexter was probably already hard at work, impressing his new boss. It was true his brother had balked a little when he'd discovered his new career was as a male escort. But Sam didn't have any doubts about Dexter's abilities. Sam had spent too many years living in his big brother's overachieving shadow.
The door opened and a short, plump man with thinning brown hair walked inside. "Good afternoon, Mr. Kane. Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."
"No problem," Sam replied, rising up to shake the man's hand.
"I'm Howard Cooper, marketing director here at Midnight Lace." He sat down heavily in the chair behind the desk. "Your grandfather told me you'd be coming."
"I see." This was news to Sam. Had his grandfather done the same for Dexter? Or was he trying to give Sam a little extra help?
Cooper smiled as he leaned back in the chair. "I'm so glad you accepted this assignment. It's a little delicate, of course, but Amos Kane assured me that you're the perfect man for this position."
"When can I start?" Sam asked, assuming he'd learn the details along the way.
Cooper held up one of the bras displayed on his desk. "As soon as you can fit into one of these."
Sam blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're welcome to choose any style you wish," Cooper said, motioning to the other bras around the room. "I recommend the cotton/spandex blend with hidden underwire, but perhaps we should leave the final decision up to the fashion consultant I hired. You've got an appointment scheduled with her this afternoon…"
Sam held up both hands. "Hold it. I am not wearing a hidden underwire bra or any other kind of bra. I'm supposed to sell the lingerie, not model it."
Cooper's brow furrowed.
"I see we have a slight communication problem. Didn't your grandfather fill you in on the details of this assignment?"
"Obviously not. Because this sounds crazy. Why would I possibly want to wear a bra?"
"Because that's the only way to infiltrate the Ladybug Lingerie company."
"I thought I was supposed to work here, at Midnight Lace."
"You will be working for us, but not as a salesman. Your job is more of an undercover assignment." Cooper chuckled. "In more ways than one."
"You want me to spy on the competition?"
Cooper leaned forward, his face sober now. "We want you to get your hands on the Seductress."
"Who?"
"The Seductress isn't a who, it's a what. A bra, to be exact. Ladybug Lingerie plans to launch their new Seductress bra during the Christmas season. The reports we've received so far indicate that it has the potential to become the hottest bra on the market. But we don't know enough about it. Certainly not enough to come up with a good, competitive product of our own."
"You want me to steal a bra?"
"Steal is such an ugly word. And we would certainly never condone anything illegal. But if you become an employee of Ladybug Lingerie and obtain possession of one of the prototypes of the Seductress, there's no reason you couldn't let our designers take a look at it for an afternoon or two. All in the name of research, of course."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Sam asked, his head spinning.
Howard looked affronted. "I can assure you that our company's position as a leader in the lingerie market is no joke. And we intend to keep it that way."
"But you still haven't explained why it's necessary for me to wear a bra."
"Because the founder of Ladybug Lingerie insists her company hire only women in its sales department. There are two reasons for that. One, they're just beginning to explore retail outlets, preferring to go into people's homes to sell their products. A man going door-to-door with a trunk full of sexy women's lingerie might cause a few problems—with both the women and their husbands or boyfriends."
"And the second reason?"
"Ladybug Lingerie touts itself as a progressive company that hires women who have difficulty finding jobs elsewhere. Women in transition, such as widows or those adjusting to life after divorce. That's how the founder apparently got the business started over twenty years ago. Her husband bailed out on their marriage, so she began making and selling nightgowns and negligees to support herself. Her business took off from there and now she wants to give that same opportunity for a new start to other women."
OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY Page 14
