Just the Man She Needs (27 page)

Flames seemed to jump in his eyes, and she could see him battling his will, but she did nothing to help. His Adam’s apple worked furiously, and his breathing shortened. He closed his eyes briefly, and then forced a smile. “Where are your keys?” She handed them to him, stepped out into the hall and watched while he locked the door.

“One of these days, I’m going to make you holler uncle.”

She knew her smiled encompassed her whole face. “I can’t wait.”

He grasped her arm and walked more swiftly than she would have liked to the elevator and, later, to the waiting chauffeured limousine. She spoke to Bob, got in with as much grace as her long sheath would allow, and leaned back. “I’m glad you no longer see the need for me to have a bodyguard,” she said.

He bunched his shoulders in a shrug, but that didn’t fool her. And well it shouldn’t have, for he said, “I just don’t pester you about riding with him, but Bob trails you. I figured that your absence from the scene while you spent two weeks in Mississippi would cool off any likely predators.” She clenched her teeth and said nothing, for she didn’t intend to ruin her evening with him.

“If I thought you looked beautiful wearing fatigues, a baseball cap turned backward and brogans, you may imagine that the way you look right now has me strung out. You make a man feel important.”

“Thanks. You
are
important. I wasn’t exactly prepared for the way you look, either. I’m proud to be with you, and not just because of that elegant tux.”

“That’s one of the nicest thing you’ve said to me. A guy likes to know that his woman is proud of him, and I’m not talking about the way he looks.”

“If I wasn’t wearing lipstick, I’d kiss you.”

“You can do that later,” he said with a grin. “I think you alleged that possibility when we were leaving your apartment. If you haven’t already discovered it, you’ll find that I have the memory of an elephant.”

“I’ll give you something to remember,” she said beneath her breath.

“I heard that, and you can bet I intend to give you the opportunity.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek just as the limousine turned the corner and, instead of her cheek, his lips claimed her mouth.

“Please don’t do that unless you have plenty of time, Ashton. I’m not in the mood for a tease.”

“I wasn’t teasing.” His hand rested on her thigh. “I was attempting to communicate something to you.”

“I know,” she said, stroking his right cheek.

The limousine rolled to a stop in front of a town house on Eighty-third Street between Fifth and Madison. She deliberately showed no interest in the furnishings, for she didn’t wish to appear awestruck—the black gal agape at such a measure of wealth. She surmised that she’d been in wealthier homes. From the balcony, she saw that her choice of attire couldn’t have been more perfect and, with so many white, pink and blue dresses, it pleased her that she hadn’t worn either.

They walked arm-in-arm down to the garden, and her gaze landed on Kate Smallens, the mistress of Julian Smith, co-partner in Barber-Smith, Inc. She whispered to Ashton, “Don’t look toward that trellis right now, but the woman in pale blue is Kate Smallens.”

“What? Get outta here! She doesn’t belong in this crowd, or does she?”

“I don’t know, Ashton, but she’s paying us a lot of attention.”

“Really? Then let’s go over and greet her.”

“I don’t know, but if you say so.” With an arm around her waist, he was already headed that way, and Kate Smallens suddenly appeared uncomfortable.

“Hello, Ms. Smallens,” Felicia said. “How nice to see you again. Allow me to introduce John Underwood, CEO of Dream. John, this is Kate Smallens.”

“This is certainly a surprise, Ms. Smallens,” Ashton said, aware that in letting the woman know he connected her to Dream and, thus, to Julian Smith, he knocked her off balance.

Felicia had never seen a human being shrivel up so quickly. “Uh…glad to meet you,” was all she said.

“I wonder what she’s doing here,” Ashton said as they walked on.

“She may be related to our hostess.”

“That’s right. I have to find Martha and introduce the two of you.”

“Well,” Martha Buffield said to Felicia, “it’s time somebody slowed Ashton down. I’ve introduced him to four women, and not once did he invite one of them out. I can see why. Bring her to see me, Ashton. I’d love to arrange a small dinner party for her.” She appeared to scrutinize Felicia. “You
will
come, won’t you?”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said while failing to give the assurance that Martha sought.

“You response was perfect,” Ashton said later. “Would you like a drink?” he asked Felicia.

“Thanks, but this hat and this dress require that I negotiate with a level head. I’ll have a drink when I get home.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Alone?”

She raised one right back at him. “I wasn’t planning to.”

His adrenaline kicked into high gear, and the heat of desire raced through him. She looked as cool as a woman could look, but beneath that veneer of seeming indifference was a hot woman who could open her arms and send a man into the stratosphere. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to erase from his memory the sight of her writhing beneath him in orgasm after orgasm. The light touch of her hand on his arm brought him back to the present.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Do you want to leave?”

“As soon as I locate our host in this thicket of human flesh we can leave. I dislike cocktail parties, and the fact that this one is out of doors in a garden doesn’t make it more palatable.”

He accepted the handshake of an older man. “Good to see you, Underwood. I understand we’re in for a fight with Barber-Smith, but the board’s behind you. Still, we have our work cut out for us.” He looked at Felicia. “To be honest, I stopped to have a closer look at your charming companion.”

“Gordon Ellsworth, this is Felicia Parker.”

“Not
the
Felicia Parker. I hope you give ’em pure hell about their latest tricks.”

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Ellsworth. What tricks? It’s dangerous to make such statements to a reporter.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. If you’re planning to do a story, here’s my card. I hope to see you both again soon.” The man shook hands with Ashton and walked on.

“I think he knew who you were,” Ashton said. “Ellsworth is a cunning man, and I suspect he knows something about Barber-Smith or one of its partners.”

“I wonder what it could be,” she said.

Ashton found Mark Buffield of Hobart and Buffield, thanked him for the party, and escorted Felicia to their limousine. “If you don’t mind, could we put the hat in the trunk of the car and let’s get some dinner. We can’t go to Subway with you wearing that dress. What about Plaza Athenée? It’s upscale, the food is delicious and the clientele aren’t likely to annoy you.”

“Wherever you may be, I’ll follow you,” she sang the song in a subdued but honeyed tone.

“Be careful. Those words may come back to haunt you.”

“Not unless you decide to take me somewhere.” With his hormones galloping out of control and his testosterone at flood level, he was in no mood for three hours of foreplay, starting with her ability to seduce him with words.

After an elegant meal that began with Margueritas and ended with Crème Courvoisier, he was more than ready for what she had teased him about during the past four-and-one-half hours.

As they headed out of the elegant restaurant, Felicia patted his left arm. “Excuse me a second, please.” In the ladies’ room, she brushed her teeth, freshened her lipstick and dabbed some Fendi perfume in strategic places. “He’s been sending me signals all evening,” she said to herself, “and I hope he got mine.”

She stepped out of the women’s room just as he emerged from the men’s room. “If we didn’t have the limousine, we could walk,” he said, taking her arm.

“You want me to use up my energy walking?” she asked him. “I wouldn’t have thought it.”

He missed a step. “When I first met you, you weren’t so fresh.”

“When you first met me, I didn’t know as much about you as I do now.”

Bob held the door while she slid into the car and Ashton followed her. “I hope you’re choosing your words carefully,” he said, leaning back with a grin on his face. “Because you’re going to pay for this.”

She eased closer to him so that her thigh was snug against his. “Will I enjoy it?” she asked him

“I’ll do my best to see that you do.” This time he didn’t smile, and she knew she’d carried the joking as far as he would permit. Remorseful for having joked about something sacred to them both, she grasped his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you’re all I’ve thought about all day and I…I need to be with you.”

His arms went around her. “I know. I need you, too, more than you can imagine.”

He remembered to take her hat out of the trunk of the limousine, walked over to Bob and spoke softly, but she heard the words, “Good night,” and her heart began to thump madly in her chest.
No point in acting cool, girl. You started this.
Yes, she had, but courage was easily come by when there was no possibility of following through. At the door of her apartment, she handed him her key and asked, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“Yes. I’d like that a lot.” He opened the door, followed her into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. “I like this room,” he said. “It’s uncluttered, spacious and these colors are warm and inviting, like you. Soft, autumn colors. But your bedroom is lavender and a dark shade of pink. It’s beautiful, but so unlike the living and dining rooms. I’ve wondered about that.”

She didn’t want to talk about the colors in her apartment, and she doubted he did. She smiled to hide her nervousness. “Would you like wine, scotch or vodka and tonic?”

“Vodka and tonic, please, and try not to stay away from me too long. I may get lonely.” She wondered at his sober expression and tone, but didn’t articulate her thoughts. He was here, and before he left her, he would be hers once more. She brought the drinks and a dish of toasted pecans, placed them on the coffee table and sat beside him.

He lifted his glass, and she did the same. She thought he’d say some kind of a toast, but he merely clicked her glass and sipped his drink. Finally he said, “Felicia, I’ve never stayed out all night since I had Teddy, but I want to spend the night with you. I also want to be home before he gets up.”

She mused over that for a minute or so, glanced at him and realized that he was waiting for her response. “I can set the clock to alarm. Is six o’clock too early?”

She’d swear that while she gazed at him, storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “It would be perfect,” he said, as if passion hadn’t gripped him. “What are you drinking?”

For an answer, she put her glass to his lips and let him taste the gin and tonic. She rarely drank hard liquor, but for this night, she was in a mood to let it all hang out. Even though she knew she shouldn’t drink it fast, she put the glass to her lips and drained it. Almost at once, the gin made its presence known in the pit of her stomach, and she rested her head on the back of the sofa.

“I’d put my head on your shoulder,” she told him, “but I don’t want to soil your white suit. Lord, you look great in this thing.”

He put his glass on the table, pulled off his jacket, threw it across the arm of the sofa and pulled her into his arms. “I’m not wearing the jacket now.”

“No, but you’re wearing this silk shirt,” she said, and began unbuttoning it. She looked up, found him gazing at her with his heart in his eyes, and sucked in her breath. “Oh, darling, hold me. Love me. I—”

His mouth came down on hers fierce and possessive, and his arms tightened around her. As if frustrated, he lifted her onto his lap, and kissed her eyes, face, neck, ears, throat and her lips, while his hands stroked her arms and her back.

“Take this off me. I want to feel your hands on my body.” He unzipped her dress, lowered the bodice and sucked her nipple into his mouth. She let out a keening cry for more, and he stood and carried her to bed. At last, he was storming inside of her, moaning her name, driving her to climax after climax. “You’re mine,” he said. “Do you hear me? You belong to me.”

“And you are mine,” she breathed. “Mine alone.”

Suddenly he became still, pushing back the relief for which she reached so desperately. “Tell me you love me. Only me. I don’t want you with anyone else. You’re all I want. All I need,” he said.

“I love you. I’ll always love you,” she whispered. He locked her to his body, found the place that she loved to have him stroke and took them both to the sweet oblivion of ecstasy.

When the clock alarmed at six o’clock, he separated their bodies, kissed her and left her bed. A few minutes later, she heard to front door close and automatically lock. He’d done and said everything but ask her to marry him. It was time she asked him about his intentions.

T
aking the stair steps two at a time, Ashton hurried to Teddy’s room, opened the door softly, peeped in at the sleeping child, and breathed deeply in relief. Whenever he was away from the boy, even for a short while, he didn’t rest until he saw him safe and unharmed. He went to his own room, got out of his white tuxedo, showered, dressed and went downstairs. When he realized that it was too early for Eartha to have started the breakfast, he made coffee, toasted a bagel, smeared raspberry jam on it, and sat down to eat and read the previous evening’s paper.

His glance caught a boxed item in the lower right-hand corner of the front page, and he nearly spilled hot coffee on his trousers. Readers were told that Underwood Enterprises was in for the fight of its life against Barber-Smith, and that a full accounting would appear in Felicia Parker’s Thursday column.

What the hell! I don’t believe this. She was with me for twelve hours and didn’t see fit to tell me she was writing about something this important to me. She had the perfect opportunity when old man Ellsworth told her he had information she could use for her next column about Barber-Smith and invited her to telephone him.

He read the financial section word for word, but could find no other mention of the upcoming story or of his battle with Barber-Smith. “How could she?” He fumed.
She swears to love me, and last night she practically hypnotized me. I could hardly make myself get out of that bed and out of her and come home.
He rubbed his forehead as if confused.
Just when I’d convinced myself that I couldn’t live without her, that she would make a good mother for my child…I couldn’t have been that far off. We’ve been through a lot together. Hell! I was going out today, buy a ring and ask her tonight if she’d marry me.

“Good morning, Mr. Ash,” Eartha said, rubbing her eyes. “Why you in here so early? No, don’t get up. I can have you some scrambled eggs and bacon in ten minutes, and I only have to warm the biscuits.”

“I have to make a call. No. Never mind. I’ll do that later.” He sat down, having decided to bring up the matter while he was looking at her. He sat there pretending to read the paper, but he didn’t see words, only his dream slipping away from him.

Within a few minutes, Eartha put his breakfast on the table and topped off his coffee. “Why you so somber, Mr. Ash? Anybody would think you’d be grinning from ear to ear this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

She hurried back to the stove and busied herself. “Well, since this is the first time you ever stayed out all night when you were right here in the city, I was hoping you’d found…uh…you know what I mean.”

He didn’t answer her but forced down his breakfast as quickly as he could. “I’ll be in my office.”

“Yes, sir. Me and Teddy are going to the supermarket soon as he gets up and eats his breakfast.”

He telephoned Felicia. She was probably still in bed getting her Saturday morning rest, but he couldn’t help that. He knew he’d better call her before he developed a hardened attitude, and did the unthinkable, for if he didn’t call her after having spent the night in her arms, and her body, she’d have every right to think him a scoundrel.

“Hi.” Her voice was that of a warm, sleepy and sated woman.

“Hi. I take it you’re still in bed.”

“I am,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m on my way to my office. How about dinner around seven-thirty? I can’t make it earlier, because I’d like to sit with Teddy while he eats.”

“Sounds good to me. Couldn’t we go someplace where he can come, too?”

“Hmm. Some other time, maybe. See you at seven-thirty.”

“Okay,” she said. “Love you.”

Before he could reply, she hung up, and he knew she detected the coolness that he tried without success to hide. “Why didn’t she tell me? She knows what Dream means to me.”

“You talking to me, Mr. Ash?” Teddy came barreling down the stairs, and he didn’t have to answer Eartha.

“Daddy, ask Miss Felicia if we can go to the zoo today. I want to pet the little pig.”

“Not today, son. If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, I may take you.”

He stared, disbelieving, when Teddy’s bottom lip protruded, and he dropped himself into the chair at the table beside his father. “I want Miss Felicia to take me.”

“You’re either going with me, or you’re not going. That’s that.”

The child looked up at him with a pained expression. “Then can she come over to see me?”

What did he say to that? Teddy needed Felicia’s softness and her sweetness. He knew that, even when she reprimanded Teddy, she did it with a softer hand than he used. He had to teach the boy to be a man, but she taught him how to feel and to express affection and caring.
Why the hell did she neglect to tell him?

“We’ll sort this out tomorrow, son. I have to go to the office now. Be a good boy and don’t give Miss Eartha any trouble.”

“I don’t bargain with her anymore, Daddy.”

Teddy walked with him to the front door where he lifted the boy and hugged him, probably tighter that he should have, for Teddy looked at him with an inquiring expression and said, “I’ll be good, Daddy. Honest.”

Alone in his office that Saturday morning, he struggled with thoughts as to what he should do about that story. He owned the paper, and he could put a stop to the publication in the
New York Evening Journal
of that or any other item with one phone call. But he didn’t believe in censoring the news simply because he didn’t like its content. Moreover, he didn’t see himself doing anything to hurt Felicia, not even if her column contained something unfavorable to him.

He answered his cell phone. “This is Damon. What the hell does Ray Gilder think he’s doing? Has he forgotten who owns that paper? Or did you give Felicia permission to write that story?” Damon demanded.

Just what he needed. An irate brother to deal with. Any minute, he’d get calls from Cade and his grandfather blasting Felicia. “I’m dealing with this, Damon. One way or the other, it will work out all right. Cut me some slack here, please.”

“I suppose you know that Ray’s brother formerly owned that paper, and Skate got control of it.”

“No, I didn’t know that. Thanks for telling me. Leave this to me, Damon. I’ll handle it. I saw that notice about an hour ago, and I haven’t talked to Felicia about it yet. I have to see what she says.”

“Yeah. Maybe Ray hasn’t told her he’s giving her the assignment.”

“God willing. I’ll be in touch.”

The day sped by much too swiftly, for he dreaded the moment when he would see her and, knowing himself, he wouldn’t greet her as a man greeted a woman he loved and who, twelve hours earlier had been his eager lover.

“I can’t pretend what I don’t feel,” he said to himself, “but I’m going to try my best not to hurt her until she’s had her say.”

He needn’t have worried. Felicia also saw the notice in the paper and guessed the reason for his coolness. She had planned to interview him for the article, but that was insufficient excuse for not having mentioned it to him, and especially since Ray wanted a story that would incriminate Ashton.

She dressed in a lavender-colored, cotton-pique sheath, sleeveless with a scooped neck, and told herself to expect the worst. He rang the bell at seven-forty, evidence that he hadn’t knocked himself out to be punctual, as was his style. She opened the door and looked up at him. She’d guessed right; his entire demeanor mirrored his anger.

“Hi,” she said, grasped his left hand, reached up and kissed his cheek. “I see you’ve had a rough day.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” She locked the door herself and put the key in her handbag. “Where’re we going?” She didn’t usually ask, but she needed the sound of something other than that of her shoe heels clicking on the tile as they walked.

“Lydia’s on Columbus Avenue. It’s walking distance.” Where was the man who asked her opinion about everything that concerned her and some things that didn’t, who forced a bodyguard on her because he had to know that she was safe, and who had a man trailing her for the same reason though he deemed that the bodyguard was no longer necessary? That John Ashton Underwood was no where in evidence.

She ordered a simple meal of shrimp
diable,
spaghetti and a green salad. And although he ordered veal Marsala, mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach, he hardly tasted it. They talked very little while eating. Later, sipping espresso, he looked her in the eye and said, “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re doing another story on Barber-Smith’s attempted takeover? Did you learn something new? Is that why you’re doing it, and behind my back yet. What’s the secret? And after meeting you in my company, what’s Ellsworth going to think was your reason for not admitting to him that you’re writing the story? In this case, you’re either with me or against me. There’s no middle ground.”

“Ray demanded that I write a story unfavorable to Underwood Enterprises, and I told him I wouldn’t do it. He has no new information about Barber-Smith, but he wanted me to write a column fabricating something. I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t tell you, Ashton, but since I had no intention of writing it, I didn’t mention it to you.”

“Good for you. But you damned well should have told me. Ray may know something. If you don’t write it, he may get another reporter to do it. You even gave Ellsworth the impression that you didn’t know what he was talking about when he asked if you were going to write another piece on Barber-Smith. Maybe there is something brewing. You know what this means to me, and you had plenty of time to bring it to my attention. Didn’t it occur to you that I might be able to take some strategic steps on my behalf?” He ran his fingers through his hair, punishing his scalp. “If Ray prints a lie in that paper, he can look for another job.”

“I knew I wasn’t knowingly going to write anything that I couldn’t verify as being true, so I didn’t take it all that seriously.”

He stopped himself just before he banged his fist on the table. “
You didn’t take it seriously!
You know how important Dream is to me. You say you love me, but you don’t concern yourself with my interests. Hell, Eartha wouldn’t have withheld such vital information from me as you did, and we know she’s limited.”

She bristled at his attack. “If you’ve finished berating me, I’m ready to leave.”

“What do you have to be upset about? I risk losing almost half of my income, and you didn’t take it seriously.” His lips quivered, and she didn’t know whether from anger or some other emotion.

If she knew anything about Ashton, it was that, when it suited him, he could be intransigent. He hadn’t listened to her explanation, but was so immersed in his disappointment, that he couldn’t see the logic in her explanation.

“I said I was sorry, and I am,” she told him, pained and no longer able to look at the eyes she adored, but which held no warmth for her now.

“Thanks for dinner.” Without realizing that she would do so, she whirled around and walked out of the restaurant. “I love him, and maybe I was wrong in not telling him. I’m sorry, but I’m damned if I’ll give my blood to placate him.” She flagged a taxi and went home. So much for that. It was a great ride while it lasted.

Ashton didn’t allow his gaze to follow her; it was sufficient that the clicking of her heels sounded increasingly softer as her anger took her farther and farther from him.

“Would you like something else?” the waitress asked him.

“Another espresso, please.”

“And one for madam?”

He shook his head. “Cancel that, and bring me the bill.”

At home, he checked his answering machine and found that he’d had calls from Cade, his grandfather and Gordon Ellsworth. He phoned Ellsworth first.

“I don’t think the press has this yet,” Ellsworth said. “I got an inside tip, and I hear it’s going to be an uphill fight against Smith, though the board members are with us. We need more shares if we’re going to bury them. Why would Smith go to such trouble for Kate Smallens? She’ll spread for any pair of trousers that has a pocketful of greenbacks.”

“Beats me. I appreciate your support, and I’ll be doing everything I can to keep the company.”

“Attaboy. I expect you’ll make it.”

So this was something that not even Felicia’s editor knew about. He sat beside the phone for nearly half an hour before he called his grandfather. “How are you? I just got in.”

“A movie company wants to shoot a feature film here. If we allow it, I want them to bring their own horses, build the fences, houses or whatever, and leave the property as they found it. Cade wants all that and more in a contract.”

“Cade’s right. Tell Damon to draw up a contract and to charge them by the day, so they won’t stay there forever.”

“Sure will. I hadn’t thought of that.”

He hung up, phoned Cade and heard more about the probability that a feature film would be produced on their property. Thank God, neither of them had seen the paper or heard the latest rumor, and neither had spoken with Damon.

After hanging up, he went to the kitchen, got a bottle of pilsner beer, took it out to the deck at the back of his house and sat down. Stars nearly covered the sky, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen the moon so brilliant. It was not a night for being alone, but he was, and he probably would be for the rest of his life. He drank a swig of beer from the bottle, and rested it on the floor. It should have been the happiest day of his life, for if fate hadn’t intervened, Felicia would be wearing his ring. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. Maybe she wouldn’t have.