Just the Man She Needs (17 page)

“You can’t imagine how pleased I am to meet you,” he said. “Miles and I have been tight since we roomed together in undergraduate school. I knew he had a sister, but he was careful not to tell me how beautiful she is. What do you do?”

“I write a column for the
New York Evening Journal
.”

He released a subdued whistle. “You’re
that
Felicia Parker? This
is
a pleasure.” He took her hand and held it as if they had been lovers for years.

He amused her, but at the same time, she appreciated the attention. “Jeffrey. You move faster than a stud missile. May I please have my hand back?” But at that moment, she targeted Jeffrey Nash as the man who would ease Ashton Underwood out of her thoughts. She appealed to Jeffrey, and his every move broadcast his intention to go after her. She didn’t consider how Miles would react to her plan.

As a first step, she didn’t answer Ashton’s telephone calls, believing that if she didn’t hear his voice or see him, she wouldn’t think of him. Instead, she allowed Jeffrey Nash to be her constant companion, taking her to dinner, meeting her at work, accompanying her on her reporting assignments, and taking her for long drives in Westchester and to whatever place she fancied. In spite of it, Ashton remained in her thoughts, although she smiled gaily as if her life had never been fuller or richer.

“I’m surprised at you,” Miles told her one evening in late May when they talked by phone. “You know you’re in love with Ashton Underwood, yet you’re letting Jeffrey fall for you. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not seeing Ashton, because I won’t wait around until a man decides to dump me. Jeffrey cares a lot about me, and he’s fun to be with.”

“What? Underwood is in love with you…or was. If he’s got any sense, by now he’s taught himself to get over you. I never would have believed you’d throw away that relationship.”

“And I never would have believed he’d decide that I wasn’t good enough for him.”

“He didn’t say that. I should have kept my mouth shut. I was trying to help you cement that affair, but you decided it was easier to run away than to mold your relationship with him into something permanent. Did you at least break it off graciously?”

“I, uh…stopped answering or returning his calls and…and we just drifted apart.”

“He deserved better.”

“Yes, I know, but if I talked to him or saw him…I—”

“You wouldn’t have been able to go through with your stupid scheme, because you love Ashton Underwood, and he could change your mind at will. You’re going to regret this. Look, I know Jeffrey has always been a ladies’ man, and he probably deserves a couple of real hard knocks, considering how many he’s dished out, but you don’t have to be the woman to administer them.”

After she hung up, a sense of loneliness pervaded her. She’d lost points with Miles, and…she checked the caller ID and answered the phone. “Hi, Jeffrey.”

“Hi, sweetheart. It’s nice out. How about going down to the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center? I’ll get us some tickets. They’re doing Jean Paul Sartre’s ‘No Exit.’ I saw it once in Denmark years ago. It’s fabulous.”

“I’d love to, Jeffrey.” At least she wouldn’t be alone. “Are you wearing a jacket and tie?”

“Absolutely.”

She liked the play well enough, but the subject matter almost made her morose. Three people locked together for eternity—a lesbian, a nymphomaniac and a young but impotent man in a room that had no windows or doors. The lesbian wanted the nymphomaniac, and the nymphomaniac wanted the impotent man, who could do nothing for her. The play left Felicia badly in need of a pair of strong male arms.

“You’re not talking much,” Jeffrey said as they approached the building in which she lived.

“I guess that play made me sad.”

“Unrequited love is a painful thing,” he said. As usual he accompanied her to her apartment, and as she opened the door, he gazed down at her. “I want to come in with you.” She pushed the door open and closed it behind him.

“I can offer you coffee or a glass of white wine,” she said.

He shook his head, opened his arms and pulled her into his embrace. She put her hands on his shoulders to control the kiss, but he took charge of it, and within a few minutes fired her up as his hands roamed over her body, caressing and adoring her hips and breasts.

“Why not?” she said to herself. “If Ashton wanted me, he’d find a way to make things right.” Jeffrey Nash picked her up and carried her to her bed. He wasted no time undressing her, and putting her between the satin sheets, but when he began to undress himself, she sat up, repelled at the thought of what she was about to do.

“Jeffrey, I can’t. I’d give anything if I hadn’t let it get this far, but I wanted to…I mean, I needed the affection. But I can’t do this, Jeffrey. Please forgive me. I’m so ashamed.”

He sat on the bed and looked at her. “For some reason, I’m not completely surprised. You’ve never opened yourself up to me. Something’s always been lacking. Who is he, Felicia?”

“I won’t cry. No matter how much this hurts, I am not going to cry,” she told herself.

“Who is he?” Jeffrey repeated when she hesitated.

“John Ashton Underwood.”

Jeffrey’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’re in love with him. You don’t have to confirm it. I know you are.” She nodded. He stood and began buttoning his shirt. “I’ll let myself out.” Halfway to her bedroom door, he turned. “I’m glad you didn’t go through with it. My feelings run deep, and I’d have known if you faked it. I wish you luck.”

She heard the front door close and fell over on her belly, mortified. How had she let herself think that she could let any man other that Ashton into her body? Yes, she needed love and affection, but not from Jeffrey, and she shouldn’t have misled him.

“I’m not going to beat myself to death about it,” she said out loud. “I learned a lesson that I won’t forget.” She showered, wrapped herself in a terry-cloth robe, went to the living room and watched late-night television until sleepiness sent her to bed. The next morning before leaving home, she telephoned the florist with whom she maintained an account and asked that she send Jeffrey a dozen white roses with a note that said “Thank you for understanding. Felicia.”
It isn’t atonement for what I did, but he will know that I know I was wrong.

Little did Felicia know that her awkward behavior with Jeffrey would work in her favor. Ashton had known Jeffrey well since their days as undergraduates at Howard University, and receiving a phone call from Jeffrey did not surprise him. However, when Jeffrey asked to see him urgently and at his home, he hesitated.

“I gather this is important. Anything wrong, Jeff?”

“I’m not sure. You may think so, and that’s why I want us to be together when we talk.”

He didn’t like the sound of it, but he regarded Jeffrey Nash as a friend and an honorable person, so he said, “I’ll get Teddy to bed by seven-thirty, so come between then and eight. I’ll ask Eartha to fix something that I can warm up, and we can have supper.”

“Thanks, man, I’ll be there shortly after seven-thirty.”

Ashton left the office at four that afternoon, because he didn’t want to rush Teddy to bed. He played the Barcarolle for the boy until he thought his fingers would cramp, but he enjoyed the child’s expressions of joy whenever he played for him. Music fascinated Teddy, and he always sat quietly and listened to his favorite music.

“Thanks for the Barcarolle, Daddy. I’m going to learn how to play it.”

“You have to practice more. That’s what it takes.” He put Teddy in bed and read Young-Robinson’s
Chicken Wing,
the child’s current favorite, until he thought Teddy was asleep.

“I’m going to start reading, Daddy, and then you won’t have to read to me.”

“I enjoy reading to you,” he said, “but I want you to read.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can learn to read and play the piano and do all the things Miss Eartha wants me to learn how to do. Why do I have to learn how to use the knife and fork, Daddy? I can eat with the spoon.”

“Spoons have their uses, but not for everything. You’re trying to avoid going to sleep.” He kissed Teddy’s cheek. “Good night, son.” He wondered if Teddy had already learned how to be sarcastic. He hoped not.

“’Night, Daddy.”

He had just enough time to replace the button on Teddy’s shirt. The child loved that shirt and insisted on wearing it every day. He also soiled it every day. Ashton sewed on the button, went down to the basement and put the shirt in the washing machine. With luck, he’d remember to put it in the dryer before he went to bed. He put the casserole in the oven to warm, looked in the refrigerator and found the salad. He liked having his friends as guests, but not on Eartha’s afternoon off. A note on the refrigerator door read “Apple pie on the kitchen counter. Serve it with cheddar cheese, also on the kitchen counter.” The doorbell rang. He wiped his damp hands on the back of his jeans and went to open the door.

“Hi. Come on in, man. It’s great to see you. The food’s ready. I just had to warm it up.”

“Thanks for having me on short notice.”

Surprised at Jeffrey’s formal manner, Ashton’s head jerked around. “You wanna talk now? I was thinking we’d eat first.”

“I don’t know. I suppose it can wait.”

Ashton put the chicken pot pie, green beans Southern-style and the lettuce and tomato salad on the breakfast-room table that Eartha had already set, sat down and said grace. “Help yourself, Jeff. We have apple pie with cheddar cheese for dessert.”

They spoke of the weather, the tennis championships in Paris, their support of Habitat for Humanity and other impersonal topics, as if they had never been college classmates and close friends.

“Do you mind if we eat the dessert later?” Jeffrey asked him. “I love apple pie, and I can enjoy it better if I get this business out of the way.”

“Right. Let’s go in here.” In the den, Ashton poured two glasses of aged tawny port and sipped idly on his own while he waited.

“It’s about Felicia Parker.” Ashton bounced forward, spilling the wine on his jeans.

“What about her?”

“Not to worry, man. Her brother, Miles, and I are friends and occasional colleagues, and he introduced his sister to me when I ran into him recently. I don’t mind telling you that I went for her, and we started seeing each other. Last night, I thought I was going to make it with her.” He paused, and Ashton thought he’d never get his breath back.

“Don’t get upset, now, Ashton, but she went so far as to let me put her in her bed, and then she told me she couldn’t do it. She always kept some space between us, and I had sensed false gaiety in her. From the time I met her, she seemed hell-bent on being happy if it killed her.

“I’d never had a woman back out on me at that stage, and considering the type of woman Felicia is, I sat down and asked her who the man was. She said John Ashton Underwood, and admitted that she’s in love with you. She said she was sorry she had encouraged me, but that she needed affection and thought she could do it. Anyway, this morning, I got a dozen, long-stemmed white roses and an apology from her. I thought over it after leaving her last night, and I realized that she had not encouraged me that much, but had accepted my company and my overtures of friendship. She has never telephoned me.”

“I’m stunned. What the hell was she…” He gaped at the man before him who had just confessed to undressing and putting to bed the one woman he’d ever loved. He forced himself to remain sitting. Jeffrey didn’t come to him to gloat. He was not that kind of man. Ashton rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

“All of a sudden, Felicia stopped returning my calls, and she didn’t call me. I had a wonderful dinner—that she cooked—with her and Miles in her home, and when I left there, I was a reasonably happy man. Perhaps Miles advised her against our relationship.”

“I don’t know why he would,” Jeffrey said. “I bumped into them at the Morgan Museum. Come to think of it, Miles didn’t rush to make the introduction. Before you make a mistake here, buddy, get in touch with Felicia. I can’t speak too highly of her, she’s choice, man.” Jeffrey leaned back in the chair, drained his glass of port and gave the appearance of one who’d just heaved a load from his shoulders. “I could use some of that pie.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Thanks for telling me this, Jeff. You didn’t have to do it, and I definitely will not forget it.”

Several hours later, long after Jeffrey left him, Ashton sat on the deck overlooking his back garden, wondering what had caused Felicia to abandon their relationship. Somehow, he didn’t think Miles spoke against him, for the two of them found common ground, and he enjoyed the man’s company. Suddenly he remembered the question she asked him as he was about to leave that night. She’d wanted to know whether Miles asked what his intentions were toward her. He also remembered what he said to Miles, and if Miles repeated it to her, would she have become angry and thrown in the towel instead of helping him develop the relationship?

After musing over the matter for another hour, he slapped his thighs so hard that it hurt. “Damned right, she would,” he said. It annoyed him that she focused on his concern for her celebrity rather than his telling her brother that he loved her. And as for his ownership of the paper she worked for, she didn’t give him a chance to tell her. He intended to have some words with that lady. If she thought it was over between them, she couldn’t be more mistaken. He had the proof that she loved him, and he meant to use it well, but knowing what he knew, he’d take his time. Didn’t their confessions and promises to each other mean anything to her?