A Black Tie Affair

by Sherrill Bodine

Genres: Women's Fiction; Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Fans of New York Times bestselling authors Carly Phillips, Jennifer Probst and Julie James will fall in love with Sherrill Bodine! Suited for Seduction Fashion curator Athena Smith will do anything to get her perfectly manicured hands on the Clayworth family's celebrated couture collection for her exhibit. So when she's called in to make sure the gowns are the real deal, she's ecstatic...until a dress she's examining turns out to be loaded with toxins (talk about killer threads!) and Athena faints, only to wake up face-to-face with the One That Got Away, notorious Chicago bachelor Drew Clayworth. Drew still believes Athena betrayed him all those years ago, and he's sure he can't trust her. But when the priceless gowns go missing, she offers to help track them down. Reluctantly allied in the quest, Drew and Athena are soon stunned by the barely restrained passion still sizzling between them...and memories both bitter and sweet. Is their new partnership just a business arrangement? Or is this something more than... A Black Tie Affair

Release date: December 12, 2009

Publisher: Forever

Print pages: 240

Sample

This was the day. The day for which Athena Smith had begged, borrowed, or stolen every favor and debt ever owed her. And now she was so late
she might miss it.


On purpose?

The thought stopped Athena cold as she eyed the distance to the elegant doors of the Fashion Institute of Chicago.

No! Nothing will stop me, not even the Clayworths!

Realizing she had no other choice, she hiked up her pencil skirt and ran the last three city blocks in her favorite but impractical
heels and burst through the doors.


Her tinted glasses tipped off the end of her nose, and she pushed them back into place, not to see, but to hide her real feelings
when stressed. No one needed to know she wasn’t like Athena, goddess of wisdom, although she always tried to be. In reality
she was more like Athena, goddess of too many mistakes.


Her chest ached from the final one-block sprint as she gazed up at Leonard, the museum’s oldest security guard.

“Please tell me I’m not too late,” she gasped.

He grinned yet somehow still looked solemn, as befitted his duties.

“Nope, Miss Smith. The Town Car Clayworth’s Department Store sent for you and your intern is running late. They called to
say they’d be here in ten minutes.”


“Thanks, Leonard. You’ve made my day.” She sighed, waved, and headed to the staircase.

The treasure trove of Bertha Palmer gowns the Clayworths had locked away in their Secret Closet danced before her eyes. It
was the Holy Grail, the Golden Fleece of Chicago historic costumes.


She shouldn’t be diving headfirst into their Secret Closet, because if she saw any of them up close and personal she’d just as likely tell
them to go to hell as say, “Thank you very much for your support of the museum.” But despite the wretched Clayworth men, she
would get her hands on those dresses for the exhibit and scholarship benefit.


After all, it’s my duty as curator of costumes. My duty to help fund Makayla’s scholarship fund. My duty to set a good example
for her. Thank God she’ll be with me to remind me to behave.

Of course today was so much more important for Makayla. An opportunity like this was very rare indeed for an intern. It was
one of the reasons Athena had fought so hard to make it happen.


Blissful, despite the Clayworths, that this day had finally arrived, Athena swept into the Costume Collection office.

She loved this room with its heavy carved crown moldings. Sometimes, when she stared upward, trying to brainstorm new ideas
for the museum, the wood carvings looked like faces to her.


But today the rich ruby Oriental rugs and antique furniture in front of the stone fireplace didn’t give off their usual cozy,
old-world vibe.


Something’s wrong.

Athena eyed the cup of green tea cooling on Makayla’s desk. She should be here, fussing around the office like the perfect
intern she’d become.


Worried, Athena headed out to find her.

She stopped when she heard the powder room door across the hall open, then close, followed by sturdy, slow, oddly heavy footsteps
coming toward the office.


Makayla Elliott hopped into the room, her right foot and ankle swaddled in a thick Ace bandage.

“My God, what happened to you?” Athena rushed to help her ease down on the red velvet sofa.

“I was working last night at my part-time job at Maggiano’s and I dropped a bowl of spaghetti on my foot.”

Kneeling, examining Makayla’s swollen toes, painted a vivid purple, Athena ached with worry. “Those bowls are big enough to
feed a family of ten. Is anything broken?”


“No,” Makayla shook her head so hard her black ponytail flicked her cheek. “No problem, Athena. I’m awesome, ready to go when
you are.”


As Makayla struggled to the edge of the sofa to stand up, Athena saw pain in her kohl-lined eyes.

In that split second, Athena swore the carved crown moldings looked like the laughing faces of those three nasty Greek Fates,
Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, gazing back at her, secure in their absolute power of deciding everyone’s destiny. Lately they’d
been doing their worst with her. Well, she wouldn’t let them mess with Makayla. Being orphaned, living in a group home, and
working two jobs and an internship was enough already.


Laugh away, Fates. No way will I let my dear, sweet, brave Makayla traipse through the Clayworths’ closet if she’s in pain.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to be disappointed, but I can’t let you go today when you’re in so much pain. You might do
real damage to your foot. I’ll do provenance on the Bertha Palmer dresses alone,” Athena informed her in her best boss voice.


“No way!” Makayla wobbled to her feet, hanging on to the sofa’s fat padded arm for balance. “No way… I mean…” she stammered,
widening her brown eyes like she always did when worried. “I mean, I gotta go. It’s an awesome opportunity for me. And what
if you, like, run into any Clayworths so soon after your dad’s… retirement? And I’m not there to… help you?”


Oh, no, does everyone know I want to tell them to go to hell for dear old Dad?

Disappointment for Makayla burned in her chest, but Athena plastered on her best PR smile. “Please don’t worry about me. We at the museum love the Clayworths for everything they do for us. Plus, we need to convince them by hook or crook to donate the Bertha Palmer
dresses to the exhibit and benefit so we can raise more money for your scholarship. That is more important than my feelings.”


“Excuse me,” Leonard called from the open door. “The Clayworth Town Car is here, Miss Smith.”

Once again adjusting her glasses, Athena turned and smiled, ready for the glamour and romance of the Secret Closet, even if
she must go alone.


“Thanks, Leonard. Please tell the driver I’ll be right down.”

She swept up the white lab coat, blue rubber gloves, and tape recorder from her desk.

“Wait, Athena.” Makayla hobbled toward her, little wisps of fine dark hair clinging to her damp cheeks and her pale lips parted
in a grimace of pain. “The Costume Collection manager is on maternity leave for another six weeks. You’re already doing two
jobs. You’ve got a meeting with Miss Keene tomorrow, and she’s always breathing down your neck. Pandora’s Box is opening on
Saturday. You’ve got too much to do. I’ve gotta help you no matter what.”


Gently but firmly, Athena urged Makayla back down on the sofa. “I’ll handle the deputy director. Pandora’s Box is ready to
fling open its doors. You can help me by taking care of yourself. Put your foot up and stop making me feel guilty for depriving
you of the joy of examining those beautiful gowns we’ve been plotting for months to get our hands on.” She squeezed Makayla’s
warm fingers. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re terribly disappointed not to go.”


“It’s a bummer. Everyone I know wants to see the awesome stuff the Clayworths are hiding out there. It’s like an urban legend.
But I don’t feel so great.” Makayla’s lips quivered into a smile.


“I know.” Looking into Makayla’s pale face, so young, so earnest, Athena knew this wasn’t another mistake. “Tomorrow I promise to tell you everything about the treasures buried out there.”


Sighing, Makayla lifted her foot up onto the sofa. “You’re awesome, and so are your sisters and your dad. That Rebecca Covington-Sumner
is right on in her column about your dad. I think the Clayworths gave him a bum deal after all the years he worked for them.”


Athena blinked and curled her mouth into her “oldest-sister smile.” The one she’d perfected to protect those younger and more
vulnerable from learning about an unhappy possibility sooner than necessary.


Or Dad made a horrible mistake. Or he’s covering something up. Otherwise surely he would have stood and fought like he taught
me to do instead of running away.

Like she was fighting now to fix everything she and her dad had messed up.

Which was why, without so much as a blush, a tremble in her voice, or more than a tiny shred of guilt, Athena told the second-biggest
lie of her life. “I agree with Rebecca, too.”


Athena spied Bridget O’Flynn waiting next to the black Lincoln Town Car and swayed to a stop, nearly toppling off her heels.

Why in the world would the den mother to the Clayworth men and head of security for John Clayworth and Company be driving
me out to the Secret Closet?

“I cleared my schedule so I could get the chance to see you,” Bridget called, as if she’d read Athena’s thoughts.

Before the debacle with her dad, Athena would have loved spending time with her, but right this second she wanted to run and
hide like she’d been doing for weeks.


Bridget smiled at her, and Athena couldn’t resist. She’d always adored her, so she smiled right back.

Walking slowly toward the car, Athena glanced around, half expecting the Clayworth brothers, who were widely known to be off
overseeing their far-flung empire, to have suddenly returned to cause more problems. The way this day was going, Bridget’s
nephew, Connor, the stuffy lawyer with the body of a Greek god, would probably pop up in the back seat. Or, God forbid, Drew
might climb out of the trunk to torment her.


She tried to think back to the days when she’d been friends with all the Clayworth men. Well, she’d been more than friends with Drew, but that was ancient history.


Now good manners and real affection made Athena slide into the passenger seat next to Bridget instead of hiding in the back
to lick her wounds like she’d planned.


“What’s wrong, Athena? Why are you still wearin’ those dark glasses?” Bridget’s voice held the familiar note of gruff, kind
concern that made her so lovable.


“Just a bit of eye strain.” Athena glanced over and got caught in Bridget’s sharp green stare.

“You’ve been wearin’ those shades since your dad left town. Have you seen a doctor?”

Athena adjusted the offending glasses, painfully aware that Bridget never minced words.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I keep straining my eyes at work.”

“Humph!” Bridget snorted through her aquiline nose. “Seems to me you’ve had nothin’ but a ton of strain lately. Sure you want
to visit the closet yourself today?”


“Absolutely!” Athena said with real feeling. Her fate might be sealed, but she would defeat it. If she saw any of the Clayworth men, she’d simply shove them out of her way and get to those clothes. “Everyone wants a peek into that closet. Mom once told me that in the old days they covered the eyes of all who went out there because
of the treasures locked away in its depths.” She slid Bridget a hopeful look. “Are you going to put a blindfold on me? Any
Clayworth skeletons for me to find out there?”


Bridget chuckled. “No skeletons and no blindfolds. I trust you.” She gunned the high-horsepower engine. “All right, then.
Rest your eyes a while. We’ll be there in about an hour. Dependin’ on traffic.”


Athena turned her head toward the window, but she couldn’t close her eyes. Now that she was on her way to the family’s top-secret
fallout shelter, built beneath a farmer’s field during the Cold War, which currently housed many of their treasures, including
Bertha’s priceless gowns, excitement made her feel warm all over, like it had her entire life. Like she’d felt when word came
that the Clayworth family had agreed to the museum’s request to examine the dresses for possible inclusion in the exhibit.


Why had they agreed? Guilt? For old times’ sake?

Their tangled friendships were such old, old news. Yet since her dad’s firing, the Clayworths and everything they’d meant
to her filled her mind nearly every waking moment. She shoved them away again, determined to focus on her goal of doing provenance on the department store’s impressive, never-before-seen collection of
vintage couture clothing.


Warm and eager, she watched the city fade away into flat prairie. Travel on I90 appeared lighter than normal. Thirty minutes
later, Bridget exited onto a two-lane highway. She seemed to know the road by heart, anticipating the bad patches and the
sharp twists. Prairie gave way to slightly rolling cornfields. Bridget slowed and turned onto a one-lane black-tar road. She
sped up, a clear, smooth stretch of road before them. All at once the tar turned to gravel and Bridget made a sharp right
onto a bumpy dirt track leading into a soybean field.


She braked to a halt, and Athena, getting more eager by the second, sat up straighter. They were plop in the middle of Midwest
farmland, surrounded by low soybean sprouts and rustling stalks of short young corn.


Athena pressed her nose to the window. “There’s nothing here.”

Bridget laughed. “They built it so it couldn’t be seen from the air. Look again.”

When she’d been a child whiling away the long, hot summer afternoons, lying on the grass in their back yard in Lincoln Park,
Athena’s family would play the cloud game. She squinted her eyes looking for the secret. Once she’d been the best at spotting
everything from her cat, Drusilla, to the Field Museum in the clouds, and once, absolutely, she still swore to this day, she
saw Abraham Lincoln in his top hat.


In this case, at first she thought she must be simply gazing at good black Illinois dirt, but no.

I’ve found it!

A steel door big enough to back a semi trailer into. The rolling field of soybeans directly in front of her had to be the
roof.


“I see it!” Athena quickly stepped out and followed Bridget to the enormous black wall. She paused to read the sign engraved
into the steel: “When the alarm sounds, a blast has occurred. You have three minutes to get inside.”


“Gives you the willies, doesn’t it?” Bridget shuddered. “Wait until you see the rest.” She punched a code into the panel on
a smaller door, barely visible, and led Athena into silent blackness.


Athena blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim, vast cavern looming in front of her. She pulled off her glasses to
get a better look.


The cooler air sent goose bumps crawling along her arms, and she rubbed them away. “This constant underground temperature
is the best storage.”


Beside her, Bridget chuckled. “You don’t need to whisper. Let me turn on more lights so you can see the place. It’s a real
time capsule.”


The harsh glare of fluorescent lights made Athena blink again. Now she could see they were standing in a small entrance to
the huge cave that stretched out before her. To her right loomed an oven big enough to roast an ox.


“This is the decontamination chamber.” Bridget moved briskly forward. “That oven is the incinerator where we would have burned
our clothes.” She glanced back, her wide smile splitting her pale face. “I guess they would have been naked as the day they
were born until they got to the bedroom.”


Athena burst out laughing. “The Clayworth men running around naked. Now, there’s a sight half the women in Chicago have dreamed
about seeing.”


Bridget shook her head. “Those boys are too good-lookin’ for their own good. I fear half of those ladies have had their dreams
come true.”


And I’m one of them.

She felt herself getting warmer.

Bridget shot her a sharp, inquisitive look. “Are you all right?”

“Great! Love it. What’s next?”

“The bedrooms.”

Athena followed Bridget into a room lined with rows of bunk beds and one appropriately green-tiled 1950s-style bathroom. Beyond
she saw a kitchen with appliances in the same color and a Formica dinette set, straight out of a vintage television sitcom.


“What kind of clothes did you find here when they decided to turn it into their Secret Closet?” Athena as. . .