Just the Man She Needs (14 page)

His left eyebrow shot up. “I don’t know how to take that. If I could suit myself, I wouldn’t leave you.”

If she could suit herself, she wouldn’t let him leave her. But she didn’t intend to allow them to solve their problems by making love. Give that man an inch, and he’d send her right out of her mind.

He held her hand as they walked down the long corridor to her apartment. “I think we should say good-night here,” she told him.

“For the way I want to kiss you, I need some privacy.”

She had no shame about handing him her key and letting him know that she welcomed the feeling that being in his arms would give her. He opened the door, walked into the apartment with her in his arms and flicked his tongue across her lips, demanding entry. She clung to him while he possessed her.

“I know it won’t be easy for us,” he said after catching his breath, “but I can’t let you go.”

She leaned against the opposite wall, away from him. “If you’re going to be halfhearted about us, Ashton, let’s agree to drop it. I couldn’t stand the torture. And remember that no matter what you decide, I’ll know the truth by the way in which you behave.”

“Was I halfhearted a minute ago?”

“Lord, no! Honey, what about Skate?”

“It’s true, but I’m not publicizing it. In a couple of days, it should be a done deal.”

“In that case, there’s no problem. It will be a couple of days before another of our reporters will have time to file a story. I’ll tell Ray that I can’t do it, but unless he pushes me, I won’t tell him until late tomorrow. Good luck with it.”

He stood there looking down at her, not speaking, and she wondered at his thoughts. Finally he closed the space between them and, with his arms tight around her, he spread kisses over her face and seared her lips with his own. “Good night, sweetheart.”

She closed the door. Yes, he loved her, but he had misgivings, and for the first time, so did she.

A
shton didn’t rest well that night. After he left Felicia, it hit him forcibly that he hadn’t merely fallen in love with her, but that he’d fallen deeply and had, subconsciously, considered his relationship with her to have the possibility of permanence. Making love with her had sealed it, for he had never before known the total completeness that he experienced with her. Previously, what mattered most in lovemaking was the sexual relief, but with her, it was the loving, the giving and receiving, the revelation of who and what he was as a man. In the disregard of himself, he had found heaven in her. And after the way she held him and kissed him a few hours earlier, he knew that she’d be the same woman every time they made love. Oh, she would own his heart, but he had some power over hers. If only she didn’t come with that self-seeking entourage!

Sleeping fitfully enabled him easily to arise early the next morning, and eight o’clock found him in his office. He phoned Cade. “How’s it going, brother?” he asked when Cade answered. “Don’t you think that quote you gave Felicia could cause problems?”

“Nah,” Cade said breezily and self-assured. “My spies never mislead me. Smith is in for trouble. Still, I think we’d better increase our shares of Dream. Granddad said he’s going to do that, and we ought to urge Damon to do the same.”

“I’ve already done it, and I think I’ll have my secretary check on Smith’s shares and any recent activity.”

Ashton flexed his knee and eased his right trouser leg to prevent his trousers from creasing. He could be as casual in dress as the next man, but when he faced business associates, he looked his role. “It’s the way to go, Cade, but if we’re going to buy large blocks, we ought to do it now. When it comes to money, Smith’s a savvy man.”

“I’ll tell Damon what we’re doing,” Cade said. “By the way, how are things with you and that long-stemmed beauty?”

“Felicia and I are fine. Stop pestering me about her.”

Cade’s laugh had the ring of triumph. “When I spoke with her this morning, she indicated that you left her last night feeling good, man. Way to go.”

“You imagined that.”

“Whatever you say. Incidentally, the tack arrived this morning, and the grooms are sorting it out and putting it in order. Granddad hired another instructor, and man, she’s
da bomb.
”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ashton said. “Granddad knows a leg when he sees one.”

“Tell me about it. As soon as we modernize this riding school, I want us to get to work on Underwood Systems.”

“Anything wrong?”

“On the contrary. It’s beginning to explode, and I’m wondering if we should move the operation from Frederick to Baltimore.”

“It’s a thought, but you’re right. We modernize one company at a time. Excuse me a minute.” He pushed the intercom button.

“Attorney Hayes on line three, Mr. Underwood.”

He opened the line. “Underwood. What do you have for me?”

“We’ve done it. Underwood Enterprises now owns Skate newspapers, and we got the deal on our terms. You’re the CEO, and you call all the shots. It seems old man Skate is not well. His only child, a daughter, is an addict, and his wife isn’t up to being the chief operating officer, so the deal excludes them. You own it lock, stock, and barrel.”

“You’ve done a great job. I’m extremely pleased. Did you hear any of that?” he asked Cade, who had remained on the line.

“Some of it. We own Skate?”

“Right. We and we alone. Hayes will send a note on it to you, Damon and Granddad. Now, if we can just hold back Barber-Smith, we can concentrate on building our businesses.”

“Ashton, relax. I am not worried about Barber-Smith. Smith is an old fool, and Barber has no business acumen and leaves business matters to Smith, who’s his brother-in-law. Let’s increase our shares of Dream by the end of tomorrow. And you work on your girl. She’s choice, man.”

He didn’t need anybody to remind him of that. If only some way could be found to remove the problems attending her celebrity. He couldn’t and wouldn’t even consider asking her to choose another writing genre. That was her profession, and she had worked hard to earn the recognition that she received. But, by damn, he had to provide a stable environment for his son. If the three of them went to a restaurant…he didn’t want to think of what would happen.

“But I love her, and I have to deal with it.”

Felicia faced another, and equally compelling, dilemma, and in that connection, she phoned a colleague, Duke Jackson, financial columnist and editor of the paper’s business section. “Duke, this is Felicia. Would you clear something up for me, please?” She gave him the information available to her on the proposed takeover of Dream. “You know I’m following that story. Underwood wouldn’t tell me what he’s doing to ward off the takeover, so I’m left with skimpy coverage.”

“My Lord, Felicia. The man would be stupid to give you that information. Smith would clobber him less than twenty-four hours after the paper came out. In that game, surprise is what matters.”

“Thanks, Duke. I’ll stop pressing. I definitely do not want to be a nuisance, because I have a feeling that this story has barely begun. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

She’d heard rumors that the Underwoods were buying stock in Dream, the perfect opener for her column, but if that was Ashton’s weapon against Barber-Smith, she couldn’t wreck his plan by publishing it. For the first time in her career as a journalist, she deliberately sat on a piece of news.

“I can’t help it,” she said to herself. “I’m not going to write anything that will adversely affect his business. Besides,” she rationalized, “only the rich care about the buying and selling of stocks, and my refusal to use this information definitely won’t hurt them.”

She telephoned Miles, her brother, for his opinion on her decision. “If you do that,” he said, “it’s because you feel a lot for him. I’m not asking you how far this thing has developed, but I do know that the two of you don’t have an understanding. If you did, you would discuss the rumor with him and ask him how he’d feel about your printing it. I want you to get an understanding with this man, Felicia. Please don’t drift into an affair with him and find yourself with a broken heart five years down the road.”

“I don’t intend to do that, Miles, even though I…I’m nuts about him.”

“If that’s the case, you don’t hold the cards, sis.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve got the music that makes him dance.”

She loved hearing Miles laugh. It always started in the pit of his belly and rolled up slowly like water beginning to boil. “Maybe
now.
But you be careful. A man with sense doesn’t rush out to buy what he can get for nothing. And another thing. I want to meet his man.”

“I’ll bring him to see you, provided he ever gives me a reason.”

“That’s precisely my point. When is he going to give you a reason? End of discussion. I got a note from Aunt Lou. She said Papa’s not well, but I’m not exercising my behind to go to California to see him.”

“He definitely wasn’t there when we needed him, but—”

“It’s up to you, sis. I don’t want to embarrass him or to lay a guilt trip on him by showing up in order to help him breathe his last breath. Besides, I’d botch it. I don’t feel a thing for him, and why should I? I haven’t seen or heard from him directly in thirty-three years, and I’m forty years old. To hell with him! I cried enough about him when I was seven.”

“I don’t even remember what he looks like,” Felicia said. “Anyway, he made the choice, I didn’t. And he’s one reason why I can’t stand philanderers. He remarried the same day that his divorce from our mother was final. I wish him well. Thank God for Uncle Adam, God rest his soul.”

“Amen to that. See if you can get some tickets to a good show. I think I’ll take a trip to the Big Apple. Make it a Friday or Saturday.”

“Okay. I’m so glad you’re coming up. See you soon.”

“Right, and don’t forget anything I told you.”

Felicia took pride in her brother. Miles Parker was a Distinguished Professor of Law at GW and a frequent media consultant. “I won’t. ’Bye for now.”

“By the way,” Miles said. “Is Damon Underwood related to Ashton Underwood?”

“Why, yes. Damon is Ashton’s youngest brother. Why?”

“He just passed the national bar exams with high marks, and it’s his first attempt. That’s a good show. As I recall, he took a class under me and got the top grade. Be seeing you.”

She hung up and dialed Ashton’s office number. “Hi,” she began when he answered. “I was talking with my brother a minute ago, and he told me that Damon just passed his national bar exams. I’m not sure Damon knows it, yet. He made a high score, too.”

“Thanks for telling me. Mind if I hang up, call Damon and then call you back?”

“Of course I don’t mind. Congratulate him for me.”

Minutes later, she answered her phone and heard Ashton’s voice. “My brother is delighted. He hadn’t heard the news, and probably wouldn’t have known he passed until he received a notice in the mail. He’s a happy man. I had intended to ask if you’d like to go with me to the Village Vanguard tonight. Horton’s there. I hope you don’t have another engagement.”

“I’d love to go,” she told him. “What time?”

“What if I’m at your place at a quarter of eight, and we make the nine o’clock show? I want to have dinner at home with Teddy tonight.”

“Fine. See you then.”

“Is there a reason why I can’t have a kiss?”

She made the sound of a kiss. “’Bye.”

On the way home after work, she bought a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and a reddish-brown curly wig that, she had to admit, looked great on her.

“This disguise should give us some privacy,” she told herself. The idea of disguising herself for any reason gave her an odd feeling, however, for she didn’t regard herself as a celebrity or even as a famous person. If she were a political columnist, nobody would approach her, she figured, because frivolous people rarely became attached to a serious writer: they neither read nor appreciated literary work.

At home, she made a shrimp salad and garnished it with slices of tomato and avocado, toasted one slice of whole wheat bread, made a cup of tea and sat down to eat her dinner and to read over what she’d written for the next day’s column.

She had to keep her mind off Ashton; thinking of him interfered with her work. When the pages that she turned reflected his face, she closed her notebook, went into her living room and sat down.

She rarely allowed herself the luxury of enjoying her apartment. Now, she gazed around her, seeing the brown-velvet sofa, the beige overstuffed velvet chairs and the brown-and-gold Tabriz carpet as Ashton must have seen them. She’d chosen each item carefully, but she was most pleased with the walnut unit that housed her television, books, curios, valuable crystal vases and other important things. She kicked off her shoes, rested her feet on the brass-framed glass coffee table and crossed her ankles. The entire apartment bespoke elegance and not a small amount of money, but it wasn’t a home. To her mind, a home sheltered a family.

Oh, why had she allowed Ashton Underwood into her life? If he’d wanted to settle down, he would already have done it. That man only had to whistle and he’d have more choices that he could sample in a month. And she should stop fooling herself; she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She showered, dressed in a yellow seersucker suit and white sandals and flipped on the television set while waiting for Ashton.

A few minutes before seven, the telephone rang and shivers crawled down her spine as she went to the telephone. A strange feeling told her that something was amiss. “Hello? This is Felicia.”

“Miss Parker, Mr. Ashton asked me to let you know that he has to cancel your date. He’s very sorry.”

Her heart began to race. “Is anything wrong, miss?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Teddy. Mr. Ash took him to the emergency room.”

She sat down. “The hospital? Which hospital?”

“Columbia Presbyterian.”

“Are you Mr. Underwood’s housekeeper?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you for calling me. Good night.” Felicia got the telephone book, found the hospital’s address, grabbed her pocketbook and left. She hailed a taxi at the corner of Central Park West and Seventy-third Street and a few minutes later stood at the hospital’s information desk.

“Did you register Theodore or Teddy Underwood in emergency within the last couple of hours?”

The woman eyed her dispassionately. “Yes, he’s here, but you can’t visit this time of night unless you’re a close relative, a parent or sibling. Are you his mother?”

Felicia presented her
New York Evening Journal
ID. “I’m his mother.”

The woman recognized the name Felicia Parker and didn’t question the absence of the name Underwood. “This way, Miss Parker.” She called a guard. “Jack would you please take Miss Parker to room E-7L?”

Felicia thanked the woman and hurried along behind the guard who seemed determined to give her a good workout. At the E section, the guard spoke with a nurse who escorted Felicia to Teddy’s room. Ashton sat on the side of Teddy’s bed holding the child’s hands.