Free Crazy in Love by Luanne Rice

companies are joining forces in one area they have in common—fiber optics—in the EEC countries. The company that hired us—our client—will actually own more shares in the new company that will be formed. That means that they’ll hold the controlling vote.”
    “The controlling vote? Like Honora?”
    Nick laughed. “She’d make a dandy chairman of the board. And she does exert a certain amount of control around here. But I don’t hear anyone complaining.”
    “We humor her. But go on with your day,” I said, smiling at the idea of anyone thinking they could humor Honora.
    “Let’s see. After the signing we all went out to lunch at the Windmill. I made sure to order spa food so I could eat a good dinner tonight.”
    “That’s commendable. We’re having chicken.”
    “And after that we returned to the client’s office on Park Avenue and he told me a few war stories about his days as an arbitrator in London.”
    “Oh? He’s a lawyer?” I asked.
    “Yes—he’s general counsel for the corporation.”
    “Company lawyers work less than lawyers at law firms,” I said, dismayed to hear an accusatory tone in my voice.
    “True, but their deals are not so big. Not so exciting.”
    “I know,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to give up what you do. You love it so much. Even if the price is BLTs from room service.”
    He leaned across my outstretched legs and gave me a long kiss. His hands held my knees as if they were breasts, then moved to my breasts. His tongue parted my lips, and with our lips touching he said, “Right now I don’t want a BLT.”
    We sat on that sofa kissing for fifteen minutes. Having enough free time to kiss is one of the great luxuries of a busy marriage. We knew we’d wind up making love, but we didn’t want to rush into it. I lay back, not touching Nick with my hands, and felt him kiss my mouth, my eyelids, my collarbone. We sat side by side, our arms around each other, kissing with our eyes closed, then open. He kissed one corner of my mouth, then the other. Running his finger down the length of my spine, he made me arch against the pressure.
    The timer sounded to tell us the chicken was ready.
    “I don’t want a BLT and I don’t want roast chicken,” Nick said. And we walked into our bedroom.

    THE DAY OF THE summer outing dawned clear and fine. The air held no trace of humidity. I lay awake, enjoying the novelty of Nick still asleep beside me. Today he wouldn’t go to the office; it wasn’t allowed. The invitation, printed on Hubbard, Starr cream vellum stationery, had read:

    Our annual summer outing will be held Thursday, June 25, at Stoneleigh Bath and Tennis Club. We hope all of you, together with your dates or spouses, will be able to attend. As always, attendance at this affair is mandatory—so please make your plans accordingly. Those who do not attend will be subjected to heinous sanctions currently being developed by the Corporate Coordinating Committee in plenary session.
    There will be golf and tennis available to all, as well as appropriate intra-team athletic contests to be organized by the Super Athletic Coordinating Committee.
    All of this will be followed by cocktails on the Club Terrace commencing at 6:30
P.M.
and dinner at 7:30
P.M.
The club requests that jackets and ties be worn on the Club Terrace.
    Sincerely,
Corporate Coordinating Committee

    Lying still beside Nick, who was snoring, I reflected that tonight would be the first weeknight in months that any Hubbard, Starr associate had eaten dinner at seven-thirty.

    OUR BAGS PACKED with tennis and evening clothes, we began our journey. We took one train into New York and transferred to the Long Island Railroad.
    “See that blond girl toward the back of the car?” Nick asked.
    Pretending to look for the conductor, I saw who he meant. The young woman was slight, with blond hair and a pink sundress.
    “She’s a summer associate,” Nick said. “Her name is Michele and she’s starting her third