If I Were Your Woman (4 page)

S
tephanie was up with the sun, and her first thought was of Tony. It was the first time in weeks that they hadn't spent the night together, and she realized how much she missed waking up next to him in the morning.

She pulled herself out of bed, not sure if this new realization was a good thing or not. A part of her knew that getting that close to someone was not a good thing; you began to rely on them for your happiness, become emotionally attached. And she knew from experience that the only one you could truly rely on was yourself.

Besides, there wasn't enough of her to go around. She had to be there for her sister, Samantha, and that took all the love and commitment she had.

She meandered into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then turned on the radio. Moments into one of her favorite songs by Kem, the DJ cut away to announce a severe snowstorm warning for the entire metropolitan area.

“Damn,” she muttered and went to the windows that faced the front. She opened the blinds onto a sea of white. Streets and cars were covered in at least two inches of snow and it was still coming down. She needed to get dressed and make a grocery store run in case she really did get snowed in.

She quickly got dressed, pulling out her heavy cream-colored pullover sweater and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. It took her a few minutes of hunting around in the bottom of the coat closet to locate her boots. She grabbed a ski cap from the top shelf of the closet and put on her coat.

“Jeez, all this just to go to the store.” She got her purse and was checking for her wallet and her cell phone when she remembered that she hadn't put her phone back on the hook from the night before. She made a quick dash back into her bedroom and hung up the phone. No sooner had she set it down than it rang in her hand. She let it ring. Just the thought that it might be Marilyn was something she wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with.
Since when did you become such a coward?
She reached for the phone and snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Steph, it's me, Tony.”

She released a breath of relief. “Hey. Feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah. Listen, I feel really crappy about not getting over there last night. Have you looked outside?”

“I was on my way out the door to run to the store when the phone rang.” He didn't need to know that she'd left it off the hook all night.

“Look, I'm going to get dressed and come over. I'll bring some stuff with me. Great day to snuggle.”

She smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay?”

“I'll be waiting.”

The one great thing about living in New York was that there was a store on practically every corner. A rather well-stocked supermarket was little more than a block away. However, it was slip and go the entire trek. Once she arrived it was clear that her neighbors had the same idea she did. The lines were long and shopping carts were piled high. She got what she needed, but the usual fifteen-minute jaunt took more than an hour.

By the time she inched her way back to her apartment building, the wind had kicked up and the snow swirled in great gusts. She lowered her head against the onslaught and hoped she didn't fall flat on her big behind before she got in her door. She turned toward her building ready to conquer the slippery steps when she felt her feet slide from beneath her. Her brain shot into self-preservation mode. The hell with the bag:
Save butt from hitting the ground.
The bag flew out of her hands as she reached for the railing to the steps. She wasn't going to make it. The bag plopped to the ground just as a strong pair of hands grabbed her beneath her arms.

“We almost lost ya,” the deep voice said from behind her.

She gripped the rail, drew in a quick breath, and gingerly turned around. Her knight's face was partly shielded by a hood and a ski hat pulled low over his forehead. The whirling snow negated a better look. He bent down and picked up her bag.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say.

He handed her the bag. “A little wet, but I don't think anything's broken.”

“'Preciate it. That could have been ugly.” He was staring at her. Her pulse raced. Instinct urged her to run. Her eyes darted left, then right. They were the only people on the street. “Thanks again.”

He nodded and started off down the street. Her breathing began to return to normal. She turned and slowly walked up the stairs. Years of living in New York had truly jaded her. Instead of accepting a simple kindness she had him pegged as the next Jack the Ripper.

 

Once upstairs she got out of her wet clothes and put her groceries away, then put water on to boil for tea and took out the fixings for a pot of homemade chicken soup. It was the one thing she could actually fix without burning.

With her ingredients simmering, and the snow gently falling outside, her apartment took on a warm and cozy feeling. She went into her living room and turned on the CD player, then decided to call Elizabeth and check on things at the spa.

“You would think that folks would have stayed home today,” Elizabeth was saying. “But we have about twenty men here already. Unbelievable.”

“Ell, I know
you
don't have far to go, but maybe you should close up early. How much staff is there?”

“Carmen is here and Barbara came in. We have one trainer and the clerk in the café. We can get by.”

“I still think you all should close early. You won't get stuck but everyone else might.”

“True. Ron is outside shoveling now and Drew is helping, but it looks like a waste of time.”

“The last thing we need is someone falling.”

“You definitely have a point. I'll talk to Barbara. It's not getting better out there.”

“It was murder just getting to the store and back.”

“Speaking of murder.” She lowered her voice. “I met a murderer last night.”

“What? Are you losing it?”

“No. I'm serious,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I'll tell you all about it on Friday at Barbara's. He's a friend of Ron's. Look, I gotta go.”

Stephanie stood there with the phone in her hand, totally unable to process what Elizabeth said. She shook her head. Ellie was obviously overworked. She went to the stove to check on her chicken soup just as the doorbell rang.

She wiped her hands on a towel, fluffed her hair, and went to the door.

“Hey, baby. I would have used my key but…”

Stephanie reached out and grabbed a bag. “What did you do, buy out the whole store?”

Tony stomped his feet before coming inside. “Wanted to make sure we had everything just in case.”

Stephanie walked toward the kitchen. “Just in case of what—a nuclear disaster?” She chuckled.

“You just wait. You'll be begging me for those goodies come tonight.”

Stephanie put the bag on the counter and took a peek inside. There was everything from snack foods to full-course meals already prepared. “You didn't miss a thing.” She started unpacking.

“Told ya.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned down and kissed the back of her neck. “Did you miss me last night?”

She turned to face him and looked up into his eyes. “Just a little.” A grin played around her mouth.

“Oh, I see. I may have to stay away longer. So I can be appreciated when I return.”

“Think that will help?” She ran the tip of her finger across his lips. He captured it and held it there for a moment. She pulled it out slowly.

“I don't want to find out,” he said slowly, then lowered his head and kissed her. He took his time, stroking her cheek with one hand, holding her close with the other.

Stephanie felt light. Her heart thumped against his chest. She moved closer. The strength and security of Tony's nearness pushed her anxieties away. In his presence she felt as if she could deal with anything that life tossed at her.

“You really did miss me,” he said, easing back. He looked down into her eyes.

Stephanie glanced away, the instant of vulnerability broken. She shrugged. “A little.” She turned her back toward him and busied herself with unpacking the groceries.

“Why is it so hard for you to admit your feelings?”

“I do admit my feelings.”

“Maybe when it comes to a client or a new campaign or your friends or the spa, but not when it comes to me, Steph.” He stepped closer. “I know that you care. I can see it in your eyes. I feel it in your body when we make love, but you won't let yourself admit it out loud. Maybe not even to yourself.”

She felt her body stiffen. Why couldn't he just leave things the way they were? They got along fine, they enjoyed each other's company, they were great in bed together. That should be enough.

“Okay. I give up. I'll leave it alone. I can tell this isn't something you want to discuss.” He wandered over to the other side of the room and sat down at the kitchen table. “Something smells good.”

“Chicken soup.”

“You're kidding.”

She spun around to face him, hands on hips, a look of challenge gleaming in her brown eyes. “I beg your pardon.”

“Well, let's be honest, Steph, finding your way around a kitchen isn't one of your strong suits.” His right brow rose for emphasis.

She tossed a dish towel at him, which he snatched out of the air in midflight. “Very funny. I'm talented in other areas,” she said with a petulant grin.

“That you are, sweetheart.” He chuckled softly. “Which makes me a bit suspicious about the soup.”

“It was the one thing I learned how to fix. When Sam and I were growing up, our mother was rarely around. So I used to toss whatever was in the fridge into a pot and let it boil. I kinda stumbled across fixing chicken soup. But it turned out pretty good. Sam and I had chicken soup at least five days a week. When it ran out, we had sandwiches.”

“Sam couldn't cook either, I take it.”

“No. Sam always had her head in a book.” She stared off into the past. “She could go for hours reading and reading. If I didn't remind her to eat she never would. She wanted to be a doctor, you know.” She sighed.

“It wasn't your fault, Steph,” he said softly.

She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes that had grown misty. “I've been trying to convince myself of that for years.” She went to the stove and checked on her soup.

“At some point you're going to have to listen.” He paused a moment. “Is that what drives you so hard?”

“What do you mean?” She put the lid back on the pot, then turned to him.

“Your guilt over your sister. Is that what drives you? Is that what keeps you so busy that you won't give yourself time enough to think of your own life, to feel?”

“My sister needs me. I'm all she has. So I suppose yes, it is what drives me. I have to do whatever I can to make sure she's taken care of.”

“Even sacrificing yourself and your own happiness in the process?”

She came to the table and sat down. She stared him straight in the eye. “What if it was you, Tony? What if you were the only person someone you loved dearly could depend on? Would you turn your back for your own personal happiness?”

He swallowed. He could see his daughter's face. See her tears. Hear her laughter. His stomach twisted. “No. Of course not.”

“And neither can I,” she said, pushing her point home.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I understand I really do. It's just that I don't want you to shortchange yourself in the process. I want you to be happy.” He squeezed her hand. “Most of all I want you to know that I'm here for you. You're not alone anymore.”

She lowered her head. “Thanks.”

“I'll be able to see how much you appreciate me after I test out your soup.” He winked.

“And what are you trying to say?”

“If I make it—”

“Anthony Dixon, don't you say it! You'll eat this soup and love it. Besides, St. Luke's Hospital is only ten minutes away.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “Very comforting.”

 

They spent the rest of the day relaxing, stretched out on the couch, watching music videos, munching, laughing, telling bad jokes, and talking about the state of the world. In between they shared intermittent kisses and playful touches. At some point during the course of the day, Stephanie had slipped out of her sweater and Tony's pants had come mysteriously loose. The sun had long ago set and the snow continued to fall.

“There's been a project on my mind for a while now,” Tony was saying as he stroked her stomach.

Stephanie snuggled closer as an old video of New Edition played. “What's that?” She grabbed a handful of potato chips and pressed her rear closer to Tony.