“I know.”
She nearly swallowed her tongue. “You know what?”
“I’ve known Jeffrey Nash since college days. He told me, but he made it clear that you did nothing to encourage his feelings for you.” He looked directly at her then with slightly narrowed eyes. “Sometimes I think you have no idea how attractive you are, and how alluring. Why did you try to go to bed with Jeffrey?”
“I can’t stand a man who tattles,” she said. “I wanted to get you out of my thoughts. I wanted to stop needing you. That’s why. And, dammit, stop grilling me.”
“I’m not grilling you, I need to know, and I can only find out by asking you. He wasn’t tattling. He wanted to tell me that you loved me and that, if I loved you, I ought to get busy and shore up my relationship with you. He was being a friend. I had already had as much of your silence as I could take, Felicia. If he hadn’t spoken to me, I’m not sure I would ever have made this move. You hurt me terribly.”
“But you gave me a limousine and bodyguard. Was that a business move, or what?”
“You know it had nothing to do with business. I forced it on you because I needed to protect you.”
She needed the answer to one question, and that meant raising the issue that had the potential for destroying their relationship, but she had to do it. “Why have you never invited me to your home? You’re not married, and I don’t think you’re living with a woman. Why?”
With his elbows braced on his thighs, he rubbed his flat palms together, back and forth. “I didn’t realize that that concerned you. I’ve never taken a woman home with me or invited one to visit me, because I don’t want Teddy to see women parading in and out of my life. I also don’t want him to think that having different women friends is necessarily a good thing. Most of all, I haven’t wanted him to become attached to a woman, only to have her slip out of his life to be replaced by another one. I made up my mind when I was given his sole custody that until I was certain that I wanted a woman to be my life partner, I wouldn’t introduce her to my son. As it happened, he met you and took to you at once.”
“Did that bother you?”
“Not really. I saw it as an act of fate. Is there anything else about me that bothers you?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d bought Skate newspapers? You spent an evening here and didn’t say one word about it.”
“I learned that morning that the deal went through, and I didn’t want to say or do anything that might spoil the evening. I phoned you the next day with the hope that we could have lunch together, and I’d tell you about it, but you didn’t answer my call then or anytime thereafter until today.
“Do you feel any resentment toward me?” Ashton asked her, and she could tell from his aura of concern and anxiety that the time had come to let go of her self-protective attitude and to trust that, because he loved her, he would not deliberately hurt her.
“Not that I recognize. I’ve missed you, and I confess that I didn’t really understand who you are to me until I was repelled by the prospect Jeffrey Nash—a good-looking, kind and respectable man—would possess me. I think you and I asked each other to atone for someone else’s sin. You’re right to set a good example for Teddy and to protect him from ephemeral attachments to different mother substitutes. As I think of it, your policy in regard to Teddy is commendable.”
She brushed a tear from her left eye. “I’m not crying—this eye likes to get teary.” It was a time for the truth, not for posturing or withholding her feelings. If he was closer, and if he had his arms around her, maybe sharing what ached inside of her would be easier. It would have to wait for another, more intimate time.
She smiled to remove the emotional flavor of what she was about to say and lowered her gaze. “That night at the hospital…I…Teddy was so sweet. I wanted to hold him forever, and so would every other normal woman,” she added as if she needed to defend a moment of weakness. “You haven’t touched your coffee. I’ll heat it,” she said, changing the subject and, she hoped, the tenor of the conversation.
“Thanks, but I don’t want any coffee. I want you, and I want us to see if we can make a go of this. Are you willing?” He was standing then, holding his arms wide, and she jumped up and sprang into them.
“There’s been no one else since the first time I saw you,” he said as his arms enfolded her. She stroked his cheek with loving hands, caressing and adoring him as he gazed down into her face. Don’t hide what you feel, her head told her. He needs to know that you adore him.
“And there’s been no one for me, Ashton.”
He gazed down at her until the hot fire of desire roared through her, turning her limbs to liquid. He continued to stare at her, beguiling her with the lover’s promise that raged in his eyes. She wanted to tell him to take her that minute, right there, but when she parted her lips, no words came and he plunged his tongue into her, rocking her senses. Her body recognized the touch of his fingers as they roamed over her back and buttocks, and responded to his loving. Her breasts, heavy and tight, begged for the warm tugging of his mouth, and she grasped his right hand, placed it on her left breast and sucked feverously on his tongue.
“What do you want? Tell me,” he said.
“You know what I want. I need to feel your mouth on me. Honey, please!”
He freed her breast, pinched and rubbed it, toying with her while he twirled his tongue in her mouth. Frustrated by his denial of what he knew she wanted, she gripped his belt buckle, and getting no response, she slipped her hand lower and caressed him. His body jerked as if she’d sent a shot of electricity through him. He lifted her, lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, sending her blood on a mad rush to her loins.
“Ashton. Oh, Lord.” He sucked vigorously as if he loved it, pulling her deeper into his mouth. She let out a keening cry. “Get into me now. I need you. I want you in me.”
He picked her up and carried her to bed.
He could no longer deny it; he belonged to her as he was now certain that Felicia Parker belonged to him. He looked down into the face of the sated woman lying beneath him and knew that she was his morning sunrise and his evening shade. He’d have to learn to adjust to her public life, because he didn’t see how he could live without her. Yet he wasn’t ready to cross that final bridge. He didn’t understand his hesitancy, and especially not after what they had just shared, but he believed in following his lights.
“I’m not going to see any other women, and I don’t want you with any other man. I want us to see if we have what it takes to make a life together, and I don’t mean shacking up. Will you agree to that?”
“Yes.”
“And until this controversy about your column blows over, is it understood that you’ll accept the car and bodyguard whenever you step outside?”
“All right. It will never sit well with me, but I suppose it’s for the best.”
She wasn’t going to like what he was about to say, but he couldn’t help it. “Will you understand if I leave now? I have a nine-thirty meeting this morning, and I need to make some notes first. I’ll make up for it. I promise.”
With her hands at the back of his head, she brought his lips to hers. “Is everything all right between us?”
“As far as I can see. What about you?” he asked, wondering what had prompted her question.
“I’m happy. Call me tomorrow.”
He was almost happy. If the uncertainty about Dream didn’t pester him daily, he could coast on his achievements at least long enough to enjoy a two-week vacation somewhere with Felicia. By three o’clock that morning, he’d prepared himself as well as he could for the board meeting and by ten-thirty he was satisfied that the board stood with him one hundred percent in his fight with Barber-Smith. He adjourned the meeting and got busy familiarizing himself with the individual Skate newspapers.
He’d barely begun when his secretary brought him an indictment from a woman named Roma Jones, who claimed to have sustained a rash and other faci
al blemishes from use of the cream that made Dream famous and a bestseller. He sat at his desk, dumbfounded, wondering when life would stop screwing him. One day, he’d get a blessing, and the very next day, he would receive a curse.
“We’ll fight it in court,” Cade told him when they spoke. “Looks like there’s no end to the calamities you can get in business. I just spent an hour teaching a mad-as-hell customer how to get a computer working, and while I was doing that, I lost a good half a million dollars and a new client who didn’t have the patience to wait until I taught Miss Dufus how to start her computer. Have you called Damon about that suit?”
“I left a message on his cell phone. I’ll talk with you later.” He telephoned Felicia, knowing that her voice would raise his spirits. “I hope you slept well,” he said. “I did, but my peace of mind was short-lived.” He told her about the civil suit.
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to take her word for it, are you?”
“What do you mean? If she’s got skin blemishes, we don’t know how she looked before.”
“I’m sure your lawyer will tell you this. Have her take a skin test, and make sure it’s administered by an independent chemist or other person. She’s got to prove that. Some people will do and say anything for money.”
“I didn’t think of that. I’ll get onto it right away. I haven’t spoken with Damon about it yet, because he hasn’t returned my call, but I won’t wait for him. This is too important. I’m in your debt.”
“No you aren’t,” she said. “What hurts you hurts me. Talk later. Kisses.”
“I love you,” he said, and hung up.
When Damon returned his call, Ashton told his brother what Felicia suggested.
“Absolutely,” Damon said. “I wouldn’t think of taking her word for it. Fax me a copy of the papers, and I’ll get right on it.”
The following morning, Thursday, Ashton opened a copy of the Wall Street Journal and shuddered when he saw that the value of Dream had plunged to its lowest point in months. He phoned his stock broker.
“What caused that action on Dream?”
“News travels fast, Ashton, and three papers carried the story of the Jones woman’s suit against that product.”
“But I only got the papers an hour and a half ago, which means somebody tipped off the papers no later than yesterday afternoon. I smell a rat.”
“In this business, friend, they’re all over the place.”
A week later, Ashton opened results of the test and a feral expression froze on his face. He contacted a fraternity brother, a police captain, for the information he needed, got it, and phoned Damon.
“This is Ashton. I have the report, and Roma Jones is not allergic to that cream. The allergist put it behind her ears, on her neck and at her throat. No reaction whatever after three days. I want to know why she came up with that lie.”
“Getting a court date takes a while. I suggest we indict her,” Damon said, “and offer her a chance to plea bargain.”
Faced with the prospect of a decade in jail, Roma Jones confessed that Barber-Smith paid her to make the claim and promised her that no one would know whether she was telling the truth, that allergies were temporary conditions.
At dinner with Felicia that evening, Ashton pondered his next move. “Industrial sabotage is a crime, and since I have a video of the woman making the statement in the presence of three policemen, I figure I’ll get justice from Barber-Smith, but I need to get the value of that stock up.”
“I think I can do something about that,” Felicia said. “Send me a transcript of that tape. I’ll publish it verbatim.”
He stared at her. “In your column? You’d do that? Suppose your editor, what’s his name, objects?”
“If he does, I’ll remind him of who pays him.”
Ashton couldn’t help laughing. “Would you believe I hadn’t thought of that?” He stroked the back of her hand, found that an unsatisfactory expression of his emotions, reached across the table and caressed her cheek. “You’re precious. If you hadn’t told me to have the woman tested, I might not have thought of it.”
“Maybe not, but Damon would have. Can you fax me that transcript tomorrow?”
“I’ll get it to you tonight.”
“Then, let’s go,” she said. “Maybe I can rewrite my column for tomorrow. I have to fax it in by eleven.”
Felicia wrote the story and ended it with a verbatim account of Roma Jones’s testimony. Ashton asked himself time and again whether Felicia’s work was that of a first-class journalist or of a woman in love fighting for her man. It didn’t make sense that he wanted her to have done her best because of her feelings for him. Yet, how else could he explain his buoyant feelings when he read the article? A call from his broker confirmed that the column may have had a positive effect on the stock. He didn’t telephone Felicia, for to do so would be to risk unloading all that he’d stored in his heart for her.
Two days later, he nearly jumped from his chair when his secretary handed him a copy of Felicia’s interview with Roma Jones, in which the woman told of her meeting with Smith of Barber-Smith, her personal favors to him, and the amount he paid her to lie about the Dream cosmetic.
He phoned Felicia. “You actually interviewed her?” he asked Felicia after greeting her. “I can’t believe she’d speak so freely with a reporter.”
“There’s more. I’m going to run this story a few more days. I see that the stock is up again today. This will teach old man Smith a lesson,” Felicia said. “Roma Jones is a poor woman, a single parent, trying to care for three children. Even a few thousand dollars seemed like riches to her.”
“I can imagine. Get her address, will you? Someday, perhaps I’ll be able to thank you for what you’re doing, but right now I can’t find words that will do justice to what I feel.”
“I don’t want you to thank me, Ashton. It’s enough that I’ve done something that makes you happy.”
He couldn’t answer, and not even telling her that he loved her seemed enough. He needed to love her, to show her what she meant to him. “May I see you tonight?” he heard himself ask her.
“I’d like that, and I’ll try to get my column done this afternoon.”
After he hung up, he told himself that he was on a nonstop, one-way train, and for the first time, the idea failed to disturb him.
That night, he went into her arms and into her body trembling with excitement and anticipation, overflowing with love.
The following Monday, Underwood Enterprises filed suit against Barber-Smith, charging industrial sabotage. The media picked up the story from Felicia’s series of reports. And the value of Dream began an upward spiral to the financial advantage of Ashton, his brothers and his grandfather. In a call to his grandfather, Ashton told him, “Damon has done a great job with this case, but without Felicia, I doubt we’d be smiling now.”
“Does she know you feel this way?” Jake asked him.
“I don’t know. I tried to show her what she means to me.”
“But you haven’t done your best. She’ll get the message when you bring her to see me, and I don’t want you to wait till she’s looking down at me lying in a box. I won’t live forever.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.”
“See that you do.” It wasn’t the time, but he didn’t tell his grandfather that. He had an important job to do and, as usual, he would not allow anything to interfere.
“I’ll be in Mississippi for the next two weeks,” he told Eartha several days later, “and you know that’s not for publication, unless Teddy, Granddad or one of my brothers needs me.” Each year, he took his turn helping to build a home for some underprivileged family. This year, the house would go to another of Katrina’s victims. He kissed Teddy.
“Be good, son, and obey Miss Eartha. I’ll be back in two weeks.” He telephoned Felicia, but didn’t get an answer at home or in her office. Disgusted and saddened, he headed for the airport and called once more when the boarding p
rocess started but, getting no answer, he satisfied himself with the notion that he’d call her from Mississippi.
Felicia couldn’t know that Ashton tried but failed to reach her before leaving New York. At the time, she was speaking at a school in Chicago, and had turned off her cell phone. She didn’t understand his silence and, after a week during which she experienced a feeling of alienation from him, she replaced her hurt pride with anger and telephoned him at home.
“He’s out of town, Miss Felicia, and I can’t reach him. His lawyer, you know…his brother, is trying to get hold of him. Something must be wrong. I’m going out of my mind. He never did this before. Teddy is worrying me to death.”
“You’re right, this doesn’t seem like Ashton at all. If you’d like, I could go over and try to distract Teddy.”
“Lord, Miss Felicia, I sure wish you would. The poor little thing is fretting so badly. This child loves his daddy. When are you coming over?”
“In about an hour.” She stopped at a store, bought a building game and a stuffed tiger, and wondered what she’d do with a four-year-old boy who only wanted to see his father. Eartha opened the door, holding Teddy in her arms.
“You must be tired,” she said to Eartha. “Teddy, I’m Felicia, how would you like to build a teepee? Some Americans once lived in teepees.” She had his attention immediately. “Some Native Americans still live in them.”
“Do you know any stories of Native Americans?” he asked her.
“I do,” she said, and held out her arms to him.
“Daddy says I’m getting heavy,” he told her and indicated a preference for standing on his feet. He led her to what she presumed was the family room, and said, “Tell me some stories, please.”
She told him the story of Hiawatha, of Minnehaha and, when his appetite for the stories proved insatiable, she made up a few. He would laugh, slap his hands, and ask her if he could go play with the Native American children. She couldn’t help but join in his infectious happiness and, after promising to visit him again, she had to force herself to leave.
Just the Man She Needs Page 18