Milly had worked at the insurance company's home office for nine years, long enough to be promoted up the ladder to assistant director of print advertising, long enough to lose her fresh-out-of-college demeanor, long enough to be a bridesmaid in four weddings, long enough to embrace understated chic, long enough to despair she would meet an eligible bachelor who did not fancy himself as the center of the universe.



And then John arrived as the replacement of the retiring Advertising Director. Every unattached woman in the department-everyone except Milly-made a play for his attention. They flirted shamelessly, jangling a bracelet, flashing a thigh, batting eyes framed in smoldering shadow. Sleuthing into his background indicated he was a good catch-well educated, widowed with no children, early 30s, tall, almost handsome, well-dressed, sense of humor, and impervious to all blatantly overt attempts to tantalize his testosterone. But the scheming hussies wore him down, and one by one, John dated all of them, all except Milly who despaired. Then she noted that John did not date any of the silly gooses more than twice. She fell victim to the covers of magazines that promoted articles entitled, "How to land a man!" or variations thereof. The entrapment strategies seemed endless-and stupid. Milly stopped buying the magazines.

Her grandmother's words made more sense than what she read about perfumes or net stockings or sidelong glances: "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." But she couldn't bring herself to invite John to dinner, to use such an obvious ploy. Besides, there was always the chance he would not accept. No, she decided, pursuit was not the answer. Instead she would try to entice him into her quiet, dignified aura. At the corner of her desk, she placed a small tray of her specialty-cheesecake tarts. Barely 1? inches across, they were easy to pick up, easy to pop into one's mouth where the flakey crust and the creamy filling embraced sensuously in a dance that piqued taste buds. John tried one, then another. The following week, Milly put another tray of her cheesecake tarts on her desk. John tried one, then another, and made small talk. By the third week, he lingered at her desk. He engaged Milly in conversation. The friendship began. By the sixth week, the bite-size cheesecakes connected with John's testosterone. The romancing began and within a year, Milly's fantasy wedding became a reality. At the reception, the bridal cake was ringed with Milly's homemade cheesecake tarts.

The unattached women from the office whose wiles never turned John's head for more than two dates could not understand how they lost to quiet, understated Milly. "What does she have that we don't?" they wondered as they watched a radiant Milly pop a cheesecake tart into John's smiling mouth.