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ribbing me. In fact, I remember distinctly him telling me that alimony is the screwing a man gets for getting screwed.”
    “Ruth!” Elmer exclaimed with shock.
    Naomi smiled with wicked delight. “Perfect. Take about a dozen of them.”
    Fortunately, Enrique and Jake were holed up in the conference room with some bankers, waiting for P.T.’s meeting to end. Another stroke of luck was finding the spare set of limo keys sitting on Jake’s desk.
    A few minutes later, ties and keys in hand, they prepared to swing into action.
    “Everyone ready?” Naomi asked from theirhiding place in the supply room next to the elevator.
    At the last minute, Elmer turned to Ruth, a worried frown creasing his brow. “It’s gonna be a long trip, sugar. Did you pack enough fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches?”
     
    Now that P.T. had recovered from Cynthia’s deadlier-than-sex growl, he marveled at the nerve of the woman…thinking he would give her a foothold in his company.
    “Twenty-five thousand shares of your stock and we’ll call it a done deal,” she said, repeating her ludicrous offer.
    “Absolutely not! First of all, that would be worth two hundred thousand on the day of initial offering and possibly three or four times that amount within a week.”
    “I know,” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.
    Don’t smirk so fast, Ms. Sullivan. Over-confidence has killed more than one…shark . “And secondly, it would be a clear violation of the SEC…insider trading.”
    She let out a hoot of laughter. “Insider trading is known on the exchange as the Chinese Wall…the biggest joke on the street. There isn’t a broker alive who doesn’t engage in insider trading when he has a hot advance tip.”
    “Regardless, I am not giving you stock in my company. Not even one share, let alone twenty-five thousand.” The only piece of Ferrama you’re gonna get is a part of my body, babe .
    “You should learn to compromise. There’s an Irish motto you could learn from, you know: Money is like manure. It’s no good unless you spread it around.”
    “I don’t give a flying fig what they do with shit in Ireland. In this country, we don’t throw good money away.”
    “Well, then, I guess we’ve reached an impasse.” She pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to him. “You have twenty-four hours to reconsider my offer. Just remember, ebb tides don’t wait for the slow man.”
    “Slow?” I can be slow, honey. Real slow .
    “I know what you’re thinking.”
    He grinned. “No, you do not, Cynthia.”
    “Well, whatever,” she said huffily, her face turning a becoming shade of pink under his amused gaze. “Don’t think too long, Ferrama. Grandma always said, ‘You’ll never plow a field by turning it over in your mind.’”
    “Plow?” He continued to grin.
    “Twenty-four hours,” she said with a disapproving sniff. “After that, I let Marcia Connor loose on the courts.”
    He schooled himself to show no reaction at the mention of Marcia Connor and handed her his business card. “Perhaps you’ll see the fairness of my generous offer once you’ve had a chance to weigh all the angles, including the length of time it takes to resolve a lawsuit. With the backlog in the civil courts right now, I’d predict at least five years before we ever get to trial, wouldn’t you?”
    She rolled her shoulders to indicate lack of concern, but he could tell by the slight flicker of her eyelashes that he’d hit a sore spot. He’d guarantee she needed the cash, now .
    “And I promise you,” he elaborated in a silken drawl, “it would be a dirty fight. I hope you have a squeaky clean background, my dear .” He smiled sweetly at her.
    Like a true shark, Cynthia didn’t back down a bit. Instead, she returned his sweet smile. “I should be offended by that sleazy threat, but I’m not. Needs must when the devil rides, my dear . I’d do likewise if I were in your…shoes.”
    Just before she went out the door on