Just the Man She Needs (16 page)

When she opened the door wearing a shimmering red silk jumpsuit, and bunches of gold coins swinging from her ears, he thought his eyes would leave his head. Did she expect him to spend the evening looking at her in that getup without touching her? He kissed her on the mouth, deciding that he didn’t care who stood behind her.

“Hi. You look good enough to eat. If the dinner is anything like you, beware!”

Hearing her warm and exciting laughter, he forgot about his misgivings. “Thanks for the flowers and the wine,” she said, gave him a quick hug—he hadn’t expected that, either—took his hand and walked with him to her living room.

“Miles, this is Ashton Underwood. Ashton, this is my brother, Miles Parker.”

He didn’t know what he had expected, but he experienced surprise at seeing the man. About an inch taller than his own six feet, three inches, Miles Underwood appeared as fit as a track champion, unlike the kind of man who sits bent over law books and students’ papers. A handsome, smartly dressed man, he bore a strong resemblance to his sister.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Ashton,” Miles Underwood said, and gripped his hand in a warm and sincere handshake.

“And I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, and meant it. “Felicia has met some of my family, my younger brother, in fact.”

“Yes,” Miles said, his eyes twinkling. “I think I’ve met him, too. He took one of my courses on corporate law. I hope he’s not planning to be a criminal lawyer. He excelled in that class.”

“I think he’s planning to be a corporate lawyer. He’ll open an office in Frederick, but I suspect he’ll move to Baltimore within a year.”

“What would you like to drink, Ashton?” Felicia asked him. “Did you drive or take a taxi?”

“Taxi. Do you have any bourbon?” Her eyebrows shot up, and he knew that was because he never drank hard liquor.

“I do indeed.” She served hot hors d’oeuvres, broiled bacon-wrapped liver, thumbnail-size quiches and grilled shrimp.

“Keep bringing this good stuff,” Miles said, “and I won’t need any dinner.”

“Me, neither,” Ashton said, enjoying the male support.

“I watched that great show you two put on for cable television,” Miles said. “I’m sure that by now you’re sick of hearing about it, but indulge me, that was a great show.”

He leaned back and decided to enjoy himself. “It was the red dress, man. Drape Felicia in red, and she could stop an army. Look at her in that red thing she’s got on now.”

Miles’s lower lip dropped, but only for a split second. He crossed his knee, sipped his scotch and said, “Man after my own heart. I was wondering about that.”

“Keep it up, you two, and I’ll be the only one who gets any dinner here,” Felicia said.

She had annoyance plastered all over her demeanor, but he didn’t care. She wanted to blow his mind with that outfit, and she’d better be glad her brother was here or, by now, he’d have had it off her, that and everything else she had on.

“Dinner is served, gentlemen.”

She really laid it on. A seven-course meal fit for the most discriminating palate. “You’re a terrific cook. I wouldn’t have dreamed that a professional woman would be so domestically efficient.”

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s simple. I put my whole heart, mind and energy into everything that I do.” Felicia returned to the kitchen out of earshot.

He made the mistake of glancing at Miles and saw that the man looked at him for a reaction. Her insinuation wasn’t lost on her brother. “You and Felicia are very close,” Miles said, “at least, so I’ve gleaned this evening, casual though the two you have attempted to behave. So, what are your intentions?”

If the man had shot him, he wouldn’t have been more surprised. After nearly three hours of good food, wine and conversation, Miles Parker got down to business and, Ashton suspected, his reason for coming to New York in the first place.

“Don’t you think Felicia’s old enough to look after her own personal affairs?” he asked Miles, serving notice that he could spar with the best of them.

Miles’s lips parted in a grin. “Did she ever ask you that question?”

“No.”

“Then she doesn’t look after her affairs properly. We’re talking about my baby sister, man.”

He calmed his temper. The man had a right to ask. He sat forward and looked Miles in the eye. “Does Felicia know we’re discussing this?”

“If she did, she’d raise hell.”

“There’s nothing casual about my relationship with Felicia. I’m deeply in love with her, and she loves me. But I haven’t made up my mind that I can handle her popularity. Go out to dinner with her, and you’ll see what I mean. I came damned near socking a man who interrupted my date when he came to our table to make sure she saw him and would mention him in her column. Minutes later, a has-been actress walked over and demanded that Felicia autograph a card and mention her in her column. I have a four-year-old son, and I’m doing all I can to give him a stable environment. The three of us would never be able to have a meal undisturbed in any good restaurant.”

“Didn’t you expect this?”

“How would I? Man, I don’t associate with celebrities and affluent people who’re looking for the limelight. I eat dinner at home, go to the neighborhood movie, and I don’t have a box at the Metropolitan Opera or Avery Fisher Hall.”

“I see. How does she get on with your son? I don’t really need to ask because Felicia’s nuts about small children.”

“They’ve only been together once, and I got the impression that they would get along very well.”

“You say you love her, and I believe you. I suppose you know she’s impatient. If she decides you’re not going her way, she may love you, but she’ll still walk.”

“I definitely believe that, but I’m going to do everything I can to prevent her from walking out on me.”

“The guaranteed way is to ask her to marry you. If she says no, and she might, she’s responsible for the effect of her decision.”

“You’re right, of course, but—”

“I know. You are the master of your fate.”

“Evidently not when it comes to women. I—”

Felicia walked in, carrying a flaming baked Alaska. “Sorry this took so long, but it can’t be done in advance.” She sat down, began to slice the dessert. “What happened to the conversation? Say, were you two talking about me?”

When neither he nor Miles answered, she narrowed her eyes. “To which one of you should I direct my ire?”

Ashton looked at Miles and quickly raised both hands, palms out. “Not me. Why would you be angry with me?”

“Don’t look at me,” Miles said. “I haven’t done anything except have a pleasant and gratifying conversation with your guest. Incidentally, is that baked Alaska?” She nodded and continued to slice the dessert. “It’s my favorite,” Miles said to Ashton, “and she makes it every time I come, but this is the first time she’s flamed it.”

“I know you’re getting me off the topic,” she said to Miles, “but if you did what I suspected, I’ll settle with you later.”

At eleven, he figured he couldn’t stay longer, but the more he looked at Felicia in that red jumpsuit, the hotter he got, and that gourmet dinner accompanied by good wine and followed by fine aperitifs did nothing to appease his libido. He could get used to sharing that kind of life with the beautiful woman facing him.
Fancy thoughts.

He stood and shook hands with Miles. “It’s been a genuine pleasure meeting you. I must be going.” He turned to Felicia. “Thanks for a most wonderful meal and a precious evening.”

She took his hand and walked with him to the door. “You’re a fantastic hostess,” he told her, “and what a cook! This was a wonderful evening.”

“Thanks. Did my brother ask you what your intentions were?”

He couldn’t help laughing. “He’ll tell you all about our conversation as soon as I’m out of this door. I’m certain of it.” At last he had her in his arms and his tongue in her mouth. “Easy, sweetheart. The minute I looked at you when you opened the door, I wanted to take you to bed. It got worse by the minute, and I’ve been looking at you for four hours.” He kissed her lips, squeezed her close, and enjoyed the feel of her nipples against his chest.
Get it together, man. Her brother’s sitting in there.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said in guttural tones that betrayed his emotions. “By the way, I like your brother.”

As soon as he stepped out of the building, he stopped, faced the rising wind and inhaled deeply a few times. A taxi slowed down, but he ignored it and began walking. He needed the exercise, and if he’d been wearing sneakers, he would have jogged home. At Broadway, two blocks from his house on Riverside Drive, a panhandler stopped him.

“I’m a foolish man, mister. I allowed myself to be scammed out of everything I owned, and now I’m flat broke. I need a job, and I need money for some food. Can you help me?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw a squad car parked not far away and decided that he could take a chance. He’d just had a satisfying meal and didn’t feel like sending the man away hungry, that is if he was telling the truth.

“How about going with me over there to McDonald’s, friend? I’ll see that you get a decent meal.”

“You serious? I’m not dressed up like you, man, but I sure will go with you. I haven’t sat down to a decent meal in I don’t know when. You wouldn’t have one of those towelettes, would you? I’d like to wash my hands.”

“I’m sure McDonald’s has a restroom.”

He sat at the little table waiting for the man to get back from the restroom so that he could order and pay for the food and go on home. “I may not get the chance again soon,” the man said when he returned, “so I washed up and shaved as best I could. I never liked hair on my face.”

Ashton’s attention was suddenly riveted on the man. This guy was not a bum. “My name’s Ashton Underwood,” he said, motioning for the man to sit down.

“Ron Peters. You’re an exceptional person, Mr. Underwood.”

“Not really. Order whatever you want, and then we’ll talk.” He waited until the man finished eating before he asked him, “What kind of scam cleaned you out?”

“Two outstanding citizens inveigled me into investing in a sure thing. It was such a sure thing, that I borrowed the money to invest and put my house up for collateral. They took the money and made off with it, but thank God, their asses are behind bars. Unfortunately, I’m left with nothing.”

“Why didn’t you declare bankruptcy? That would have given you some relief.”

“Because I believe in paying my debts.”

Point in the man’s favor. “What kind of work did you do?”

“I had a business that distributed prepared gourmet meals, bottled milk to subscribers, bread to restaurants, and other things. I’ve even had a kids livery service. But I lost all my trucks when I lost my house.”

Ashton thought for a minute. If his instincts served him well, Ron Peters was a decent man. He wrote his office number on a piece of paper. “Call me at this number Monday around nine.” He handed the man a fifty dollar bill. “This should keep you going until then.”

Ron stared at the money, then focused his gaze on Ashton. “Is this real money? I’m going to buy myself a cup of good coffee first thing tomorrow morning. And you look to hear from me Monday morning. I won’t try to thank you, but you know how I feel right now.”

“I can well imagine. We’ll speak Monday.” He bade the man goodbye and left McDonald’s thinking of his own good fortune. It had taken less than a minute in Ron Peters’s presence for him to forget about his raving libido. “That was a jolt that I needed,” he said to himself as he inserted his key into the lock on his front door. “I need to shift my focus for a while. If I still feel this way about her two months from now…no, six weeks, I’ll ask her to go home with me to meet Granddad and Cade. I have to be certain, and right now, although I’m leaning that way, I am still not positive.”

He raced up the stairs and tiptoed into Teddy’s room. As he leaned over the sleeping child, his heart seemed to swell with love. And then the picture of Felicia walking into Teddy’s room at the hospital, concerned and uncertain of her welcome, flashed through his mind’s eye. If he gave them the chance, they would love each other. So what was he waiting for? He was an intelligent man, and he knew he couldn’t expect certainty in a relationship. Why couldn’t he be like Teddy…ready to open his arms and accept love? He reminded himself that he hadn’t loved Karla, and that she hadn’t professed to love him. So why couldn’t he trust his relationship with Felicia?

“I’ve got to get a grip on this. If I don’t, and soon, I’ll lose her.”

A
t the moment, Felicia wasn’t of the same mind, but by the time Miles returned home to Washington, D.C., she would be. She took a minute to compose herself after Ashton left her, then strolled nonchalantly back into the living room to face her brother’s judgment.

“Ashton Underwood is not your average man,” Miles began. “He’s in love with you. He said so, though I had already guessed it. But being in love with you is not the only fuel driving his engine, sis. That man’s head rules him. Yes, I asked him about his intentions, and he told me. He loves you, but in so many words he’s not certain you’re for him. He’s very much concerned about your celebrity.”

She flopped down in the overstuffed chair facing Miles, unmindful of the air of elegance that she had made a part of her being. “He told you that?”

“He’s honest, as straight as the crow flies. I don’t know when I’ve met a man I liked as much as I like him after so short a time with him. I’d like to see you marry him, but the two of you are so much alike that I’m not sure it would work.”

She slowed down her breathing in the hope of making her heart beat slower. “You think I’m like Ashton?”

“Absolutely. His main concern is his child. He doesn’t want the boy exposed to the fame-seekers who hang around you. You know, I’ve never heard of a rich man living as simply and as privately as he says he lives. His idea of a wonderful evening is to barbecue hot dogs or hamburgers with Teddy in his backyard.”

“I know how he loves that child, Miles, and Teddy looks exactly like him. He’s so sweet.”

“Underwood said that you love him, and he’s right. But don’t expect your relationship to gel easily. Do you know anything about his marriage and why he’s divorced with custody of his son?”

“Yes. They married because she was pregnant. He begged her not to have an abortion, and she finally consented to carry it to term, with the understanding that the child was his to raise and care for. He married her and took care of her during her pregnancy. At the divorce, she didn’t even want alimony, only her freedom, a ticket to Italy and one thousand dollars for hard times.”

He sat forward and a frown settled on his face. “I never heard of such a thing. Were they dating casually?”

“So he said. They weren’t in love.”

“Is he bitter about it?”

“I don’t think so, although I sense that he tries to be both mother and father to his son.”

“Be careful, sis. I’d hate to see you brokenhearted about this guy, but there’s a good possibility that you will be.”

She leaned back, closed her eyes and let the truth flow out of her. “A little over ten years ago, I thought I was in love, and I left myself open to a horrible disappointment. In ten years, I didn’t give a man a serious second look. Then, I saw Ashton Underwood leaning against that registration desk in the Willard Hotel. By the time he walked over to me, introduced himself and said, ‘I’m your escort for the evening,’ I was already a goner. That was then. The difference now is that I know
why
he poleaxed me and why he sometimes still does. He’s as deep inside of me as anybody will ever get. If he wants to walk, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life, but I definitely won’t die over it.”

Miles looked toward the ceiling, frowned and an expression of pain drifted over his face. “You’re in love with the man, so instead of telling yourself how stoic you can be if he walks out on you, do what’s necessary to guarantee that he never leaves you no matter what happens.”

“How do I do that?”

“If a man gets what he needs from a woman, and I’m not talking about sex alone, he goes nowhere. Understanding, loyalty, camaraderie and genuine friendship keep a relationship going. If that isn’t working, sex will be the last thing on his mind. Be there when he needs you, and no matter how much you want a raise at that paper, never print anything that’s against his interest.”

“But it’s my duty as a reporter to report the news, and to do it honestly.”

“You may one day have a chance to decide what means most to you, your job or Ashton Underwood. I think I’ll turn in. What are we seeing tomorrow night?”

“‘Sound of the Trumpet.’ It got rave reviews.”

Miles yawned. “Great. This has been a delightful evening. See you in the morning.” He kissed her forehead, headed for the guest room and left her to contemplate what he’d said about Ashton and Ashton’s attitude toward her. It didn’t take a mind reader to know why he had never invited her to his home: he didn’t want his child to bond with her, because he didn’t think their relationship had a chance of being permanent.

Miles looked at the relationship from a man’s point of view; but from hers, she saw no reason why she should hang around waiting for Ashton Underwood to dump her.
The thing for me to do is to develop an interest in another man.

The next morning, Saturday, after preparing breakfast for Miles and herself, Felicia got the papers at her front door and then sat down to eat. She gave Miles the paper for which she wrote, opened the
Brooklyn Press
as she did every morning, and turned to the column by Reese Hall, her principal competitor.

“What’s the matter?” Miles asked, and she realized that her eyes had widened and her lower lip sagged.

“Would you believe this? That man spent four hours here last evening and didn’t remember to tell me that he’d bought Skate newspapers. My paper is a Skate paper, and by damn, he knows it. This does it!”

Miles turned a page, picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip. “The man came to dinner. He wasn’t here to discuss business.”

She dropped the paper on the table and threw up her hands. “
Business?
The man’s now my boss. He should’ve told me.”

“And ruin his evening? Why would he do that? When did the deal go through?”

“Yesterday, according to this gossiping wench.”

Miles threw back his head and let the laughter pour out of him. “I’ll be damned. You pick up the paper, and the first thing you read is your rival’s column. I’ll never understand women.”

“You’ll understand them before I understand men, especially this one,” Felicia shot back at him.” She took the dishes to the kitchen, returned with the coffeepot and topped off their coffee. “And you can bet, brother dear, that I won’t be holding the bag this time.”

The following Monday morning, Ashton sat at his desk trying to figure out what he regarded as the cool reception he received from Felicia when he’d called to thank her for what he considered an unusually pleasant evening. Maybe she was reserved because her brother might have heard her end of the conversation. He hoped so. But shouldn’t she have called him back and explained?

“No point in creating a problem where there isn’t one,” he said to himself. A call from Ron Peters took his mind off the matter.

“Underwood speaking,” he said when Ron asked for him. “You’re punctual. That recommends a man to me. I’m planning to change the way my newspapers are delivered locally. I don’t promise anything, but I’d like to talk with you about it.”

“I thank you, Mr. Underwood, but could you give me a chance to go by Goodwill and see if I can pick up something to wear? I could do that this morning and see you this afternoon.”

He’d wanted to work out his plan that morning and discuss it with Damon in the afternoon, but the man didn’t want to walk into an office looking like a bum. He appreciated that. He gave Ron the address. “Try to get here by three.”

“I’ll be there, sir.”

He’d bought Skate newspapers at what he regarded as a bargain because management had allowed its sales and distribution systems to become outmoded. He intended to make changes right at the start.

Ron Peters arrived on time looking far better than expected considering his resources. After greeting the man, he told him about the distribution problem and that he intended to change it.

“The only way to distribute anything on a daily basis in a city like New York is to have your own trucks,” Ron said. “Distribution is different from the kind of service that UPS, Fedex and those guys offer. You gotta get those papers out in a hurricane, a snow storm, sleet, every kind of weather, and on Sunday and every holiday. To do that, you gotta have men responsible directly to you. Now, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your business, but I built my delivery service on the fact that distributors often disappointed the small businessman. You know what I’m saying?”

He did indeed. “And, Mr. Underwood,” Ron went on. “Those big trucks don’t hack it anymore, ’cause they can’t go everywhere. A good size minivan can go on any highway, over any bridge, or through any tunnel that takes a passenger car. So you save gas on two counts.”

Ashton studied the man for a few minutes. “Do you have a family?”

Ron shook his head, and his personality appeared deflated. “All that went down the drain when I lost everything else. I guess that part was my fault. You can’t be a man if you don’t have the price of an egg. We didn’t have children, so I told my wife to go back to her folks, and I guess she was glad to do it. She filed for divorce right away, and I didn’t contest it. I cashed my one Series E Bond, lived at the Y and hunted for work till my money ran out. You know the rest.”

“Then you can work in Philadelphia?”

He sat forward, his eyes lit up, and his entire body seemed primed for flight. “Mr. Underwood, I can work anywhere you got a job. I’m tired of living like an animal. I can do better if I just get a chance.”

“I believe you. Can you plan route patterns for newspaper drop-offs in New York City?”

“Yes, sir, from the Bronx to Staten Island, I know this city like the back of my hand. I’ve driven a taxi here, delivered for stores, you name it. I know this town. You just give me the addresses. Yes, sir, this is right up my alley. Yes, sir.”

Ashton called his secretary. “Find an office for Mr. Peters, please, and give him the list of the merchants that carry our papers.” He looked at Peters. “You’ll get eight-fifty a week to start, but you’ll soon be working directly on the distribution, and your salary will increase. Does that suit you? I suspect you’ll need a salary advance, too. I’ll see to it.”

Ron stared at Ashton. “Eight-fifty what?”

“Eight hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Lord, yes to everything. I’m ready to work, provided I don’t pass out from shock.”

Ashton called Felicia. “Greetings, sweetheart,” he said, hoping to inveigle her into a loving mood. “Honey, you kind of left me hanging when I called you this morning. How’s Miles?”

“He’s dressing. We’re going downtown, and we won’t be back until after the show. He wants to visit the Pierpont Morgan Library and Museum.”

“I’ve been telling myself for years that I’m going there. Perhaps we can go together sometime.”

“Miles is ready to go, and he’s ready to bust out of his clothes if he has to wait. Talk with you later.”

“Hey, wait a minute. Don’t I get a kiss?” he said and, for once, it was a serious question.

She made the sound of a kiss. “’Bye.”

“Something is not right. She came damned close to giving me a cold shoulder,” he said out loud. “Just as I’m ready to commit fully to her, she let’s me know how foolish I am.” He sat there twirling a pencil and trying to figure out what had cooled off the hot woman who’d almost sent him into convulsions the night before in her slinky jumpsuit, spike-heeled sandals and teasing, unbound breasts, tidbits thrown at him in the presence of her big brother. “Look, and you can’t touch” was the message.

He couldn’t give up on that relationship easily, he knew, for he had invested too much of himself in her. He phoned Damon and got his brother’s approval on the arrangements he’d made and planned to make with Ron Peters. Then he called his grandfather, talked for a while and turned his attention back to his work.

“Here’re the morning papers, Mr. Underwood,” the messenger said. He opened the
Brooklyn Press
and thumbed through it. His gaze caught Reese’s column, a writer that he read only because she liked to take potshots at Felicia. But this time, he saw an announcement of his purchase of Skate newspapers. How had that leaked out so soon?

He snapped his fingers. So that was it. Felicia had also read the column, and she was angry because he hadn’t told her of the purchase. He slapped his forehead with his right hand.
My Lord! I’m her boss. No wonder she’s irritated.
He hadn’t thought about the purchase in connection with her; certainly he’d given no thought to the fact that he owned the company for which she worked.
What a mess!
He considered calling her back and thought better of it. She should have voiced her concern; besides, she had already left home.

Ashton’s failure to contact Felicia at that time proved to be a serious stumbling block in their relationship, for she had made up her mind to try and forget him by whatever means were available to her. A challenging means presented itself when she entered the Morgan mansion and Jeffrey Nash greeted Miles as only an old friend would.

After they threw high-fives and hugged each, Nash’s gaze fell on Felicia. “Man, this lovely must be your sister,” he said, “and thank God for that.”

He didn’t blot out the rest of the world as Ashton did, but the man was a number ten if she ever saw one. She extended her hand to accept his greeting, and wherever Jeffrey Nash had started now seemed unimportant in his scheme of things. He’d been on his way out of the building, but he now turned back and walked with them.