Sealed With a Kiss. Gwynne Forster

man. She shook her head in wonder, but her bewilderment was fleeting; she spun on her heels and headed for her bedroom.

       “Two can play this game,” she told herself, as she remembered how elegant he’d been when he’d come to her house, even when he’d had the twins with him. “If he’s a phony,” she muttered, “we’ll both know it soon.” She reached into her closet for her silk knit “Sherman tank,” a sleeveless cowl-necked magnet for males, dismissed caution, and shimmied into it.