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  Cole was used to being treated with awe, with fear, and even with veiled hostility, but he was always treated with respect, and he was never, ever treated with relaxed cordiality, let alone impertinence. Diana introduced him to everyone in all the departments, where Cole was subjected to everything from stern admonitions to take care of Diana to smiling remarks about the difference in their height ensuring that he would be head of the family to flagrant comments about his physical attributes. At first he was astonished, and then he found it amusing. A perky twenty-year-old in the layout department complimented his tie, and a wheelchair-bound artist asked him how long he had to work out each day to stay in such great shape. When they left the sales department, another woman made a remark about his build that made him glance at Diana in disbelief.

  “What did she just say?” he demanded in a whisper.

  Diana kept her laughing face lowered. “She said you have ‘great buns.’ ”

  “That’s what I thought she said.” After a moment he glanced at her. “The woman in the last department—the one with the ink on her hands—liked my tie. Thank you for loaning it to me.”

  That morning he’d realized the only tie he’d brought along as a spare had a black background, not dark blue, as he’d thought. Diana solved the problem by going into her bedroom and emerging with a tie box. “I loved this when I saw it,” she explained, “so I bought it for—someone.”

  Cole assumed from her pause that she’d bought it for Penworth, and even though it was a little brighter than the conservative ones he normally wore, he was glad to have it.

  “It isn’t a loan, it’s a gift,” Diana said simply. “And it wasn’t for Dan. When I see things I like, I buy them to have on hand.”

  The press conference was scheduled to take place in Diana’s large office, where thirty reporters and photographers had already crowded. Outside the door, Diana stopped and turned, straightening the knot in his tie in an ordinary wifely gesture that seemed so much more intimate under their unusual circumstances. “Perfect,” she announced.

  Cole thought she looked “perfect” in her lemon silk dress with its jaunty white collar and wide white cuffs, and the bold admiration in his gaze told her that. The unspoken compliment made her fingers curl inside his handclasp as she stepped forward and opened the door to her noisy, crowded office.

  The first thing Cole noticed was that Diana’s grandparents, her mother, and Corey were near the front by her desk. It was a show of family solidarity that shocked and touched Cole as he walked to the front of the room while cameras flashed and Minicams whirred.

  The next thing he noticed was that the atmosphere at this press conference was vastly different from that of any other of his experience. There was no hostility or suspicion in evidence. Instead of shouting loaded questions at him that were filled with innuendo, they joked about his longstanding bachelorhood and teased Diana about a woman’s right to change her mind—a remarkably gallant way of ignoring Penworth’s defection that surprised and pleased Cole. Diana bore it with unflappable serenity, her smile never wavering.

  “How long have you known each other?” someone called.

  “We first met when Cole was in college,” Diana replied, each of them taking a turn with an answer, as Cindy had suggested they do.

  “When’s the honeymoon?”

  “Later this week, when we can both clear our schedules,” Cole answered, referring to their trip to visit Cal.

  “Where are you going?”

  Diana opened her mouth to reply, but Cole interceded. “You are the last people on earth we’d tell,” he replied with a joking affability that was in complete opposition to his hostile reputation with the press.

  The whole thing went off without a hitch until the very last question was called out to Cole by a thin, bespectacled man in the first row. “Mr. Harrison, would you care to comment on the rumor that the Securities and Exchange Commission is preparing an investigation into possible improprieties in connection with the Cushman deal?”

  He felt, rather than saw, Diana stiffen, and Cole had an almost uncontrollable impulse to yank the little weasel off his feet and throw him through the window. To everyone’s astonishment, particularly Cole’s, it was Diana’s grandmother who waded in with her verbal fists raised. “Young man,” she warned the forty-year-old journalist in an irate voice, “I can tell you’ve been eating chemical fertilizers on your food and they’re affecting your disposition!”

  The entire room erupted with laughter that lingered as the news people filed out of Diana’s office. Cole’s limousine was waiting outside to take him to the airport so that he could be at his Dallas office for a meeting in an hour and a half. He was furious with the reporter and touched by the presence of his temporary relatives, particularly Diana’s grandmother. He looked at the Fosters and was at an utter loss for what to say. For lack of knowing any other way to handle it, he sent a general smile in their direction; then he leaned down and pressed a brotherly kiss to Diana’s cheek. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

  He closed the door behind him, leaving the family alone in Diana’s office. Henry Britton was the first to speak. “I wonder,” he said, staring thoughtfully at the closed door, “how long it’s been since anyone spoke up for that boy.”

  * * *

  Corey stayed behind to help Diana straighten up her office. Spence’s negative remarks about Cole’s allegedly questionable business practices revolved in her mind in tandem with the reporter’s alarming reference to an SEC investigation.

  She picked up a gum wrapper and a scrap of paper from the pale blue carpet. As she pushed four chairs back into place at the far end of the room, Diana walked over to her desk and perched a hip on the edge of it, watching her. “Corey?”

  Corey looked up with a bright smile as she carefully lifted one of the pieces of Steuben crystal from Diana’s collection, a beautiful peacock, off a bookshelf and returned it to its rightful place in the exact center of a small conference table. “Hmm?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Corey stepped back to check the position of the peacock in relation to the crystal candy bowl and moved the bowl two inches to the left. “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m the compulsive organizer, remember? You’re the gerbil who likes clutter.”

  Corey jerked her hand away from the pieces of glass candy she’d been about to sort by shapes and swung around. “It’s just that reporters always make me feel uneasy.”

  “Particularly,” Diana speculated with a knowing smile, “when they make insulting innuendoes about your new brother-in-law?”

  “Particularly then,” Corey admitted with a sigh. She couldn’t bear to tell Diana that Spence had his own doubts about Cole’s integrity, but she couldn’t leave Diana without some sort of warning either. “Spence said yesterday that Cole has made a lot of enemies over the years.”

  “Of course he has,” Diana replied without concern. “The only way to avoid making enemies is not to succeed in anything.”

  That made perfect sense, but what impressed Corey most, as she looked at Diana, was her sister’s ability to be calm and logical at such a time. Perched on the edge of her desk with every shining hair neatly in place and her trim figure set off by a bright silk dress, she looked more like a fashion model than a CEO.

  She had founded a thriving corporation and she managed to run it without losing any of her femininity or humanity.

  Corey smiled and spoke her thought aloud. “You do us women proud, Sis,” she said softly, then she vanished with a cheerful salute.

  * * *

  When she left, Diana stared dreamily into space, remembering the tender, unforgettable things Cole had said last night and thinking of the honeymoon that would begin on Thursday. By the time she surfaced to reality and glanced at her watch, she realized she wouldn’t have time to call Doug until after the production meeting. She didn’t want him to hear about her marriage on the news; she wanted to tell him herself.