A Fashionable Affair Read Free Page B

his face unreadable. “Have you ever seen any of these shopping centers Fred invested in?”
    “No, of course not. They’re all somewhere in the Midwest.”
    Michael’s brows rose and he looked at her in momentary silence.
    Patsy gave him a charming, rueful look. “Oh, dear, I don’t mean to sound like an ugly New Yorker.”
    “No one will ever call you an ugly anything, sweetheart,” he said, returning his attention to her papers.
    Patsy found herself thrown a bit off balance. She frowned and studied his absorbed face, trying to figure out what was so different about him.
    He was older, of course, but that wasn’t it. There was an authoritative air about him that the boy had not had, a quality of quiet power. She looked at the thin dark face.
    The long lashes lifted. “Everything seems to be in order, but I’m going to have to do some checking,” he said. “Is it all right if I take your files back to my own office?”
    “Of course it’s all right.” She looked at the files heaped on the desk. “You’re never going to get all that home on the train.”
    “I’m planning,” he explained calmly, “to borrow your car.”
    “Oh, are you?”
    “Yes.” He stood up. “Come on, we’ll go back to your apartment and collect it. I’ll drive it back in for you tomorrow morning.”
    Patsy followed him to the door. It occurred to her that she had been hopping to his orders since yes terday afternoon. “Fortunately, I don’t need the car tonight,” she said a trifle acidly.
    “Fortunately,” he agreed with perfect compo sure, and held the door open for her.
    They took a taxi to Patsy’s apartment. It was rush hour and the streets were clogged with traffic.
    “You don’t want to drive in this madhouse,” Patsy said as they got out of the cab. “Why don’t you let me fix you some dinner and you can leave when things have calmed down.”
    “Great,” he said instantly.
    Patsy laughed. “Don’t let me twist your arm.”
    He grinned. “Six months out of New York and I’m reverting to being a hick. This traffic gives me the willies.”
    Patsy felt a stab of irritation. She was not accus tomed to men regarding her as a mere refuge from rush-hour traffic.
    “You’re sure I’m not keeping you from another engagement?” he asked as they walked toward her front door.
    As a matter of fact, Patsy was planning to cancel her date as soon as she could get to the phone. “Nothing important,” she said airily. “Lucky for you I’ve got a steak in the freezer.”
    “Lucky for me,” he repeated amiably, following her into the lobby.
    She left Michael fixing drinks in the kitchen and went into her bedroom to make her call.
    “Hi, Don,” she said to the man on the other end of the wire. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to break our date tonight.” She listened for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on a favorite landscape hanging on the pale golden bedroom wall. “I know,” she said at last. “And I’m terribly, terribly sorry. But the IRS is going to audit me, and I have to huddle with my accountant. It’s all too dreadful, Don. Fred died last night. He had another heart attack.” She listened again, her foot tapping lightly on the thick beige carpet. “Yes,” she said, “I know. I’ll call you when things straighten out a bit. Yes. I know you do, Don. All right. Good-bye.” Patsy hung up briskly and went into the kitchen.
    Michael had taken off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. In his shirt sleeves he looked much stronger than one would have sup posed. Patsy, however, was not surprised. “Why don’t you take off your tie too?” she said. She picked up her drink and took a sip while he did as she suggested. “Do you remember the time you beat up Dean Walters?” she asked unexpectedly.
    He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and looked at her in surprise. “Dean Walters?” he repeated. “Your old boyfriend?”
    “The same.”
    “Yeah. Whatever brought that