The Glass Shoe by Kay Hooper Page B

father's baby. He's started it nearly thirty years before with the design and manufacture of small appliances—radios and the like. When he and his brother formed a partnership and branched out, Patrick Wilderman kept the electronics division separate from the other ventures.
    Though Amanda had inherited substantial shares of the family businesses that her uncle Edward now ran, Wilderman Electronics had been left to her alone. It was a public corporation, but since Amanda controlled slightly over sixty percent of the voting stock, her decisions were the company's. In addition, Wilderman Electronics was the parent corporation for several smaller divisions, including a nationally known research and development branch.
    That particular subsidiary had been trying to get Eric Dunbar on their team for several years.
    Dunbar's new system wouldn't make existing technology obsolete—at least not immediately—but it would, as Ryder said, offer a distinct advantage to any company with an eye to the future. And at Wilderman Electronics's most recent board meeting less than two weeks before, a substantial chunk of capital had been earmarked for the sole purpose of acquiring the permanent employment of Eric Dun-bar, the rights to his new system, and, if possible, getting the patent itself.
    "The wave of the future," she said now, trying to think. "But what if... what if you can't get the rights?"
    Ryder smiled a bit wryly. "I've been scratching and clawing for ten years to build the company. I wouldn't go under without this new system, but I'd have to go on fighting just to stay afloat. It's a competitive market; I need an edge."
    Though she had more than once thought it a curse rather than a blessing, Amanda had taken her personal wealth for granted. It had always been there, and a carefully handpicked group of advisers, accountants, and lawyers virtually assured that it always would be. She had never had to scratch or claw for anything she wanted.
    And now she felt like the worst kind of fraud. Heaven knew she hadn't intended to deceive, but here she was, squarely behind the eight ball. Ryder knew her under a false name, and he never would have confided his business plans to her if he'd known who she was. He was fighting for a goal with limited capital; she had access to almost unlimited capital.
    For him, it was do or die, with years of struggle ahead of him if he lost the deal. For her, it was a deal that would definitely make a difference—but not that big a difference. Wilderman Electronics had the resources and the time to control a healthy share of the market even without an edge.
    He laughed suddenly. "I'm sorry, you can't be interested in all this."
    She looked at him and felt trapped. "I—I find it very interesting. I minored in electrical engineering in college."
    "What was your major?"
    "Business administration."
    "So you ended up managing guest ranches?"
    Amanda hesitated. "I'm just here to oversee the renovation and decorating."
    "And after that? Do you live in Wyoming?"
    She felt as if she were skating on very thin ice. "No. As a matter of fact, I live in Boston. The owner of this place lives there; I'd done some work for him in Vermont, and he wanted me for this job."
    "You live in Boston? Isn't it odd that we both had to come way out here to meet?"
    "Yes," Amanda said. "Very odd."

Chapter Four
     
    "It's not the first time that's happened to me," Ryder said consideringly. "I mean, meeting someone from Boston when we were both hundreds or thousands of miles away."
    Amanda smiled. "I know , it's happened to me too. I once met a neighbor of mine for the first time in London. And we'd lived near each other for years."
    As if the phrase "near each other" had reminded Ryder of the distance between the two of them, he slid closer suddenly and lifted the catalogues from her lap. "Choosing furniture?" he asked, leafing through the topmost brochure quickly.
    "Just making a few preliminary decisions," she replied, trying not to