“Hmm. No, the man I’m eating dinner with is very conservative. I want him to be interested, not shocked. Ah.” I grinned as I plucked amber lenses from their case and wet them with saline solution. Tonight, the wolf would gaze into mirrors of his soul.
“Amber? Why amber?”
A demanding knock rattled the door. “Get that for me while I put these in.”
I finished primping and slipped over to the landing to spy on Natalie and the Wolf. He looked great, as though he’d also taken a flattering amount of time to get ready for our dinner. He’d showered and shaved. With a freshly pressed suit, he fitted into the ambience of my modernistic loft as though he’d been born to wealth and privilege, as indeed he had.
I swallowed. I wanted to blow him away, but exactly the opposite was happening.
“I’m Fletcher Wolf.” He extended his hand to Nat with a truly charming smile.
I melted.
“I’m Natalie Fletcher-Madden.” She glanced at his hand with a frown. I guessed that she didn’t know how to respond, and I figured I’d have to teach her about shaking hands.
“That’s quite a mouthful for a little girl,” he said.
I winced. She was petite and slim, but hated to be labeled “little.” The expressions on Nat’s and the Wolf’s faces told me that they both knew he’d blown it. Nat especially, who looked as though she wanted to throw him off a bridge.
She edged away from the door. Evidently taking her move as an invitation, he stalked inside and checked out my place. He looked impressed, and why not? I’d spent a lot of thought, time and money on my home. My work was mega-stressful, so my home was my refuge.
Its floors and trim were yellow pine, polished to a high gloss. The door was also pine. I’d sanded and varnished it myself. The walls remained stark white, decorated only with a few abstract paintings that I or my friends had created. I don’t like a lot of clutter in my home. The workshop’s cluttered enough.
A huge, sculpted rug with rose tones lay in the high-ceilinged living room, adding a little warmth and color. A bank of houseplants grew beneath a skylight, with Nat’s gray and red lovebirds in a cage suspended over the plants. She now poked at her birds with a stick, which sounds cruel, but they actually enjoy the stimulation. They like to hop on and off the stick.
Wolf walked over, blatantly curious. “What are the birds’ names?”
“Hillary and Chelsea.” She allowed him a tiny smile.
Hmm, I thought. If she liked him, maybe he’s okay. She didn’t take to many people.
Wolf chuckled. “So, you’re interested in politics.”
“Nope.”
“I don’t understand.”
I guessed he didn’t get that Natalie had named her birds after a mother and daughter with a tight relationship, but I understood. My child and I had been deprived of that special love. I rubbed my hand over my chest as though I could massage away the ache in my heart.
“You don’t need to.” She sounded snappish, so intervention seemed wise.
“Natalie!” I came down the stairs, picking my way carefully in the fuck-me heels. “Go get your backpack.”
She cooperated, and I extended my hand. “Mr. Wolf, please forgive Natalie. She’s going through a difficult phase.” I didn’t say anything more. My daughter wasn’t his business.
Wolf took my hand, but was staring downwards, at my legs. I smirked. Ann had been right. He was a leg man. Lucky for me, since I don’t have much up top.
He mumbled, “Think nothing of it,” giving my fingers a brief squeeze-and-release.
“Would you like to come in? I have some very nice California chardonnay.” I smiled, hoping I could get him drunk and chatty.
“No, thanks. We have reservations, and I don’t wish to be ate, er, late.”
I nodded and adjusted the strap of my gold evening bag over my shoulder. “Natalie!”
She reappeared, eyeing Wolf with obvious distaste. But I didn’t have time to wonder what she thought and why.
“Nat, go next door and do your homework with Wendy. Hurry up, Ellie and Tom are expecting you.” I opened the front door.
“See ya.” She lifted her face for a kiss, and I melted again. She might be a cranky pre-adolescent stuck in hormonal hell, but I loved her, especially when she dropped her oh-so-cool pose. I wanted to give her a big smacky one, but that would embarrass her, so I settled for a peck on the cheek. She headed down the hallway and banged on Wendy’s door. Tom opened it and let her in, waving at me.
I waved back, then turned to Wolf and said, “Well, I’m a free woman until ten o’clock.”
“Good.” Wolf took my arm, and in a rush of feeling, I was fifteen again and on my first date, breathless and tense. Oh, God. Was I sweating? Would I ruin another outfit tonight?
Maybe Ann had been right, and this dinner date a big mistake. Why had I accepted Wolf’s invitation? The reasons I had given Ann had been nothing but b.s., rationalizations and excuses. Despite the situation, I wanted to shag him silly.
~*~
Wolf slid into Morton’s masculine ambience like a sword into its scabbard, settling into a leather-backed banquette with a happy sigh.
“Long day?” I ignored the queasiness my belly from the traces of cigar smoke in the restaurant.
“Actually, yes,” he said in his resonant bass, smiling at me. I again fell in love with his voice. That Virginia accent was like whipped cream and cherries on top of a banana split, making the entire package even more appetizing.
He continued, “As you may know, I live and work in Wilmington. Visits to Manhattan are a necessary evil, and are tiring.”
“Even with the driver?” I hoped my jealousy wasn’t too blatant. I spent a small fortune on smelly, rattletrap taxis because I hated to drive in Manhattan. A limo and a driver would be heaven.
“Yes, even so. I work while Sam drives. Plus, I try to make the day here pay off by packing it full of meetings. By mid-afternoon, my head’s spinning. Though I maintain an apartment where I can wind down, it’s nice to have a quiet dinner with a beautiful lady.” He gave me his heartthrob smile again.
I smiled back. So far, so good. “Aren’t we supposed to be settling the case?”
“I don’t know if it can be settled at this point. My attorney is doing some investigating to see how badly your use of the name damages my interests. Until we know the facts, we can’t settle.”
“If you didn’t know the facts, why did you sue me?” I tried to keep my voice flirty and sweet, but it was tough. What kind of a moron would spend thousands to file a lawsuit if he wasn’t sure there was a problem?
The moron sitting across from me, that was who. Just my luck. The hottest dude I’d come across in years, someone who actually seemed to be interested, and he was a smurfbrain. He could even be the jerk making the hang-up calls morning, noon, and night. Just because he ran a big corporation didn’t mean he wasn’t crazy, I reasoned. The stress could have caused him to break.
If Wolf sensed my annoyance, he didn’t show it on his face or in his voice, which remained smooth. “Muckenmyer tells me that this situation is one which requires immediate action. Apparently, the law doesn’t help those who sleep on their rights. In lay terms, you snooze, you lose.”
He glanced at the wine list as a server arrived at their table. “Perrier-Jouet fleur, please, and two glasses. You do like Champagne, don’t you?” he asked me.
“Who doesn’t? Champagne will be fine.” I sipped from my water glass, remembering something Ann had said: Fletcher Wolf is a major player. He’ll have you and your company for supper…
My pulse sped up. Was Cara Fletcher Couture the target of a corporate takeover? Why? All I had were debts.
The Champagne, in its famous hand-painted bottle, arrived and the server poured for Wolf, who sniffed, sipped, and nodded. I watched the bubbles in my flute and tried to plan. How could I dazzle someone who’d obviously been with the best? He’d probably bested them.
I decided to meet
the situation head on. “How, exactly, does your attorney hope to show my use of my name affects your interests?”
Wolf gazed at me over the rim of his wineglass, his expression unreadable. “Very clever commentary, amber contacts,” he murmured. “Quite intriguing, in fact.”
“I think so.” I met his eyes, wondering what he really thought, but he revealed nothing. “The case?”
He smiled. “And a very beautiful dress. Is it your design?”
“No, it’s by Anna Sui.”
“Anna Sui.” He sounded thoughtful. “I believe I’ve heard the name before.”
“I used to work for Anna. She’s very talented. I learned a lot from her.”
“What did you learn from Ms. Sui?”
I considered for a moment, then said, “Cut and color.”
“Cut and color.” Those amazing eyes widened as he raised his brows. I saw darker flecks in his golden irises, like dappled sunlight. Damn, he was hot. That was at least half of the problem. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to find the nearest hotel room and mess up the sheets with him for, say, a weekend. A long weekend. No, a week. Maybe two.
“It occurs to me that part of our difficulties may be due to our differences. I have never in my life concerned myself with cut and color.”
“Someone must have. That Armani you’re wearing is a masterpiece.”
“A masterpiece?” He laughed. “Ms. Fletcher, a DaVinci is a masterpiece. This is a suit, nothing more.”
“So why don’t you shop at K-Mart?”
“The blue light special doesn’t come in my size.”
I grinned. Score one for Fletcher Wolf, who was not only hot but had a sense of humor. I liked that, even though I wasn’t supposed to like him.
A server rolled up a cart covered with pieces of dead cow, red, bloody, and wrapped in Saran. My saliva suddenly tasted of bile. Stomach roiling, I pressed a napkin to my mouth and told myself not to retch. Deep breaths, Cara. Deep breaths.
Wolf ordered a porterhouse, rare. A suitable choice for a ravenous wolf. My tummy did a backflip worthy of an Olympic gymnast. The Champagne, acidic and bubbly, churned.
I looked away. Breathed. Gulped. “Could you just give me some fish?” I asked the server.
“May I suggest lobster?”
Would I have to select my prey from a tank? “How about a salad?”
“Are you all right, Ms. Fletcher?” Wolf asked.
“Yes. I’ll be fine.” I dredged up a smile. “I’ll, er, have the crab salad, with bleu cheese dressing on the side.”
He lifted his glass and smiled back. Did he enjoy my discomfort? I hoped my fate was not in the hands of a sadist, but he probably didn’t know what I felt. How could he? I’d spent hours in front of a mirror preparing my façade.
“Your hair.”
“What about it?” Grateful for the distraction, I ran my hand through my hair. Its short ends tickled my nape.
“You seem to change hair colors like others change clothes.”
“Why not?”
He seemed startled. “Why not, indeed?” He sipped. “I suppose it strikes me as frivolous.”
I sighed, with no patience for closed-minded zipperheads who mocked me and my work. “Decorating the body is one of the oldest human art forms.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. This tendency crosses cultural barriers and, incidentally, is the basis of my livelihood. If people didn’t want to change the way they look, they’d wear the same clothes every day, and I wouldn’t have a job.” Damn, but I sounded like a college professor. A college professor of clothes. How absurd.
“So you practice what you preach, albeit in a very extreme manner?”
“Albeit?” What a pompous jerk.
“Doesn’t the bleaching and coloring damage your hair?”
“That’s why I keep it short.” Judgmental, too, based on his tone of voice. No nooky for you, Mr. Wolf.
His eyebrows drew together. “I really don’t understand why. Aren’t you all right just the way you are, au naturel, as it were?”
I chuckled. “Quite frankly, I can’t even remember what my natural hair color is, and I don’t care.”
A predatory smile spread over his face. “I guess there’s only one sure way for me to find out.”
I gasped. “Just what are you saying?”
“Oh, I think you know what I’m talking about.” That wolfish grin again, accompanied by a glance down to my breasts.
“Excuse me, please.” I got up and strode to the women’s restroom before I did or said anything I’d regret later. Was Wolf actually implying that he wanted to get me naked to check out my pubes? That was the weirdest proposition I’d ever received, and in the Manhattan dating scene, I’d thought that I’d heard everything. Apparently not.
“Of all the nerve,” I muttered to myself as I pulled at my pantyhose. Okay, so I’d been thinking about doing him, but that didn’t mean that he could speculate about my privates in public. Or anywhere else. We simply didn’t know each other well enough.
After I’d flushed and started to adjust my dress, loud voices attracted my attention. Two women had come in, and judging by the sound of running water, they were talking at the sinks.
“I knew he’d show up,” one voice said, apparently gloating over some triumph.
About to leave, I shot back the doorbolt of my stall.
“How did you know Fletcher Wolf would come here?” another voice asked.
I stopped.
“Wolf always comes to Morton’s. He has a taste for red meat. He’s a real man, and rich as Trump,” the first woman replied.
Though the Wolf was successful, I doubted that he was worth upwards of a couple billion dollars, as was the legendary dealmaker Donald Trump. The dossier Ann had provided estimated Wolf’s personal wealth at seventy million, corporate shares and other assets included. Though that was fairly decent, even in Manhattan.
“If he’s anything like Trump, he’ll be damn hard to get to,” came the dubious reply.
“Just as long as he’s hard when I get there,” Woman Number One joked. I rolled my eyes at the bad pun.
“If he’s rich and smart, there’s no way you’ll get anything from him.” The second woman wasn’t convinced.
“That’s true,” Number One acknowledged. “I heard that his pre-nup is over thirty pages long. But marriage would be worth it. What a stud! And if I can get just one roll in the hay, I can file a paternity suit.”
I didn’t know which place made me sicker, the restaurant with its resident Wolf or the conniving witches in the powder room. As I opened the stall door, the number one witch said, “I just have to figure out a way to get rid of the bleached blond ho he’s with.”
Taking a deep breath, I left the stall. “Excuse me, but the ho would like to use the sink.” They edged aside so I could wash my hands.
I left the washroom with visions of frying pans and fires dancing through my head. Because of Natalie, I’d had given up on men, at least for a while. Though I dated, celibacy was the rule of the house. I had to set an example. Though I missed sex, I had to admit that I wasn’t into a serious relationship. I had enough going on.
After this evening, Fletcher Wolf was off my hot prospects list. Aside from the crack about my pubes, only a paranoid would demand a thirty page pre-nup.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Fletcher. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Wolf’s voice was smooth as I returned to the table. He didn’t sound contrite, but I had to accept his apology. Otherwise, I’d be just as boorish.
“If you’re really sorry, you’ll quit looking at me in, umm, that weird way.”
“What do you mean?” he asked as our meals arrived. I was about to answer when he cut me off with a wave of his hand, and told the waiter, “Please bring me a glass of the Rombauer cabernet. 2012.” He turned back to me. “Well?”
I was speechless. But if women all over the eastern seaboard threw themselves at him, he had no reason to be considerate. I sucked
in another deep, calming breath. If I wasn’t careful I’d hyperventilate.
“I’m not prey for the Big Bad Wolf,” I said.
Smiling, he picked up his cutlery. “Is that how you think of me, as the Big Bad Wolf? I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. It’s not a compliment. Hasn’t it occurred to you that neither your business associates nor your dinner companions want to feel as though they’re on the menu?”
“But you aren’t a business associate,” he said in a very soft voice. “You are, in fact, prey.”
Leaning forward, I decided to nail him, if I could. “I hate to trash your plans, but you’ve lost the first round, and you have no facts to support your case. Why don’t you just drop the suit?”
“My attorneys and my experience tell me that it’s early days yet in this lawsuit. No doubt the poll I’ve commissioned will reveal that there is a substantial likelihood that the public will be confused and misled by the similarity in the names.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I win and you lose.”
“Only an idiot would mix up clothes with tools!”
His eyes brooded, the dappled sunlight growing shadowed. “The public is composed of idiots, Ms. Fletcher.” He cut into his steak and took a bite.
As red juices flowed all over his plate, a geyser of bile erupted into my throat. Pressing a napkin over my mouth, I darted out of the restaurant before I ralphed all over the tablecloth.
Outside the restaurant, I found a convenient streetlamp and leaned against its pole, dragging in deep drafts of air. Around me, crowds flowed along Forty-fifth. Just when I’d attained some sort of equilibrium, an arm snaked around my shoulders. Fletcher Wolf. I stiffened.
“Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been upset ever since we walked into the restaurant.” His voice was surprisingly gentle.
I tried not to choke, instead pressing my lips together until the nausea passed. Thank heaven I hadn’t disintegrated into a full blown panic attack. It had been close, though. I said, “Oh, n-nothing’s wrong. I just love going to dinner with someone who’s deliberately intimidating and rude.” I fumbled in my shoulder bag until I found a hanky. I dabbed my nose and mouth, then crushed the cloth in my fist, wishing I could crush my problems as easily.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 153