The American Earl Read Free

implication of all she’d said up to that moment sank in. She had probably sounded like a madwoman.
    â€œYou’re the president of Smythe International,” she murmured weakly. “The third largest import company of its kind in this country.” She had readabout him in the Wall Street Journal and Fortune, as well as the society columns in the Tribune. He was always referred to as The American Earl—Lord Matthew Smythe—a member of the British aristocracy who had come to America and made himself a second fortune.
    â€œWe’ve done well,” he murmured dismissively. “Look, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Miss Benton. You have to understand, I’m in a rare fix here. An hour from now, three buyers for prosperous, upscale retail companies, along with their wives and traveling companions, will arrive at this suite.” He shoved strong fingers through his neatly clipped hair. It fell immediately back into place, every hair in line. “Serving samples of the products I bring into this country doesn’t make a strong enough impact to guarantee a sale. I need a partner circling the room, listening for comments, keeping spouses entertained, putting on a gracious face. I need you. ” The last three words were very nearly a growl.
    â€œBut I don’t—” She was about to protest that she knew nothing about entertaining elite company when the possible benefits of her situation slammed up against her innate shyness. Five hundred dollars and goodwill toward man aside, the experience and contacts gained from such an evening would be invaluable. She’d be a fool to say no! “I’ll change and be back in less than an hour.”
    Â 
    â€œThat dress looks good, too. I don’t know why you’re fussing so much over one little cocktail party.” Abby’s roommate, Dee D’Angello, sat in the center of Abby’s bed, watching her try on the sixth dress in fifteen minutes.
    â€œIf you saw in person what he looks like, you’d understand,” Abby said dryly. “The man is gorgeous. And his suit! Better than an Armani. Had to be hand-tailored.” She tugged another dress down over her head and stood before the mirror on her closet door, smoothing out wrinkles. “Do you have any idea of the cost of a tailored suit these days? I’ll bet his tie alone cost more than my take-home pay for a week.”
    â€œSounds like someone is hung up on yon company prez,” Dee mused.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. I’m just trying to survive this night so I can pick up some pointers. Smythe is at the top of the heap I want to be in.”
    â€œYou think by spending one evening in the same room with the man, some of his brilliance will rub off on you?”
    Abby laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not that naïve. This is a chance to peek inside the real world of the import-export business. Hanging out with Lord Smythe and his high-powered clients for a couple of hours is more valuable than a year of graduate seminars, better than five years standing behind the counter at a place like the Cup and Saucer. This is how the rich and famous do business!”
    â€œAll well and good,” Dee admitted, “but be careful. The wealthy live fast lives. People who have more money than they know what to do with use it to get into trouble.”
    Abby wriggled her toes into a pair of beige sling-backs and studied the effect. “What are you saying?” she asked absently.
    â€œDon’t commit yourself to more than you can afford to give.” Dee gave her a knowing look from beneath dark, lowered eyelashes.
    Abby laughed. “You mean I shouldn’t jump into bed with one of Smythe’s clients just to cement a deal for him? Don’t worry, I won’t.”
    â€œWhat about Smythe himself? The man sounds pretty yummy.”
    Abby considered this new and admittedly interesting possibility then