by Vicki Keener
Copyright © 2014 by Vicki Keener. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.
Vicki Keener
Mint Hill, NC 28227
[email protected]
Table of Contents
Title Page
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Author's Note
This is the first book in The Phillips Family and I hope you enjoy it.
In the book is a poem by Robert Small called “Angel Above Me” and I used the poem in its entirety without the author's permission. I found an email address for Mr. Small and wrote to him to ask for his permission and blessing to use the beautiful poem. Unfortunately, the email came back as undeliverable and I can't find a more current email address.
His wonderful poem fit my story so perfectly that I couldn't resist using it. I have given him credit within the content of the book for his authorship of it.
If any reader knows of a way to contact him, I would appreciate it if you would drop me an email: [email protected] and I will try to make amends after the fact.
Vicki Keener
Chapter 1
Cray Phillips walked through the lobby of the Plaza Hotel in New York City with his sister Mona on his arm. She said, “I can't believe you invited me to be your date tonight when you have a little black book, or should I say your cell phone, loaded with the names of gorgeous women waiting for your call.”
“It gets old, Mona. I'm sick of pretending I care.”
“So at the age of thirty-six you've given up on love? Is that what I have to look forward to in a few years? It's so cynical.”
He grinned at her and said, “Don't make me sorry I invited you.”
“I had my invitation, smart ass. I'm doing you a favor.”
“I'm eternally grateful,” he said, with sarcasm.
“You do realize that I'll ditch you if I find someone who strikes my fancy?”
“Another hook-up, Mona? When does it end?”
“When I reach the ancient age of thirty-six. That gives me another seven years to
get my fill.”
“Woman's liberation didn't give the female population any cause to celebrate.”
“It made it easier for the male species. No more waiting for months to convince a girl to drop her bloomers. First date, first fuck. Why are you bitching?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Bloomers? Did you really say bloomers? Woman's lib doesn't go back that far.”
“I'm making a point. What would you rather be doing tonight?”
“December sixteenth and I've been to twelve holiday parties already this month and there's more to go.”
“Poor baby. Tell your little sister how tough it is being a handsome, wealthy, eligible bachelor in the Big Apple. I'll shed some tears for you.”
They entered the teeming ballroom before he could answer. People stood in select groups, holding drinks, balancing canapes and chatting with their circle of friends. Someone hailed Cray and he raised his hand in greeting and kept moving.
Mona tugged at his arm. “I'm going to mingle. How long are you staying so that I can meet you back here?”
“An hour tops. If you're not here, I'll assume you found a victim and go home without you. It's a mob in here, and I'll never find you if I must start searching for you. That meet with your approval?”
“Yeah, I'm good. Have fun, I intend to do that.” Mona ambled away from him; her hips swaying.
Cray watched and shook his head. His sister had looks and a body that made a man's head turn. Unless by her choice, she wouldn't be accompanying him home tonight. She took lovers like people took showers, and they lasted about as long. She didn't have the market cornered as a man-eater, but she sure as hell figured in the top ten, much to their mother's horror. Mona didn't care. She worked hard and played hard, and she did it with her rules.
At six foot three Cray had the advantage of being able to stare over the heads of most of the people in the room. He heard a burst of male laughter and then the trill of a lyrical, loud, and bawdy female voice join the men. He stood on tiptoe and zeroed in on the corner where the hysterical group stood. In the center of a covey of men, he located the owner of the feminine laugh.
His feet began to move as he crossed the room toward her; his eyes locked on the palest long blond hair he'd ever seen. As he got closer, her porcelain complexion with a hint of pink on her cheekbones captured his attention next. Tall, elegant and as the men parted he noted her gold dress shimmering on a body made for love. He stepped in front of her and said, extending his hand. “Hi, I'm Cray Phillips. Will you marry me?”
She placed her delicate hand with the palest of pink manicured nails in his and said, “You want to marry me? Why?”
“I want to spend the rest of my life listening to your hearty, infectious laugh.”
“That's the only reason you want to marry me?”
“I am a man, and you are not without other attributes, but, no, it's the laugh that got me.”
“You don't know what makes me laugh that hard.”
“Tell me.”
“Dirty jokes,” she shrugged. “I can't help it; I love dirty jokes. If I marry you, will you tell me dirty jokes?”
“I'll make it my life's work to scour the earth for the raunchiest jokes known to mankind.” His smile gleamed at her.
She slipped her hand in his, turned to face the other men in the group and said, “Sorry, fellows, I'm going with this one in pursuit of getting to know the man who wants to marry me.”
“I'll marry you, Angelica,” one of the men said.
“Too late, Graham. You always blush when you tell me a dirty joke. This one won't.” She squeezed Cray's hand.
“You are angelic,” Cray said, moving her through the crowd toward the entrance. “Do you have a bit of the devil in you, Angel?”
“I do. She's my alter-ego, and I love her. I never suppress her when she rises to the surface. Are we leaving?”
“Yes, we'll stop for your coat on the way.”
She giggled and said, “I checked my wings and pitchfork, too.”
“I'll be sure to ask for them. What about your halo and horns?”
Her laugh burst forth, and it charmed him. She leaned close to him and said, “I store them in my nightstand at home.”
“Which item gets the most use?” he asked as she gave him her coat-check tag, and he edged close to the woman behind the counter. He handed the woman the two tags and dropped a large tip in the basket when she handed him their coats. “I thought we'd go to the lounge downstairs for a drink before we leave. I'll carry your coat.”
“Will you dance with me? They have a tiny dance floor
. I love to dance up close and personal.”
“Of course we'll dance. Do you have any special requests for the combo?”
He lead her to the lounge, his hand in the middle of her warm bare back. Her dress rose high on the front but exposed her beautiful back. Her skin, silky against his hand caused him to harden a bit. He hadn't reacted to a woman at the mere touch for longer than he could remember. He held her chair as they sat at a low round table.
“Our meeting calls for a bottle of champagne,” he said, “if you like it.”
“A heavenly choir of angels sing when I drink champagne and the devil in me does a happy dance because I don't hold my liquor well. Yes, please order champagne.”
They waited until the server brought their champagne and poured them each half a glass. Cray raised his and said, “Angel, to you since I consider this a propitious meeting.”
She clinked her glass against his, and they drank. She said with a devilish grin, “This better be propitious since I'm going to marry you.”
He thought he'd lost his mind when the mention of marriage to her thrilled him. He'd avoided marriage like the Ebola virus. Now it seemed like the finest idea in the world. “Do you want to request a song?”
“Yes, ask them if they're familiar with the Monster Mash.” She started to laugh, and the hearty outburst echoed in the room.
He pulled her to her feet, laughed and said, “Did the devil make you do that?”
In his arms with her heels on, the top of her head rested against his cheekbone. As they moved to the slow, sensuous song the combo played, she said, “It depends on my mood.”
“I'm sorry. What depends on your mood?”
“Whether I don the halo persona or devil's horns in my bedroom.”
With her cheek against his face, his smile widened. “I see.”
“Which do you think you'd prefer?”
“I can adapt to either.”
She leaned her head back and grinned at him. “Good answer. Do you want to kiss me, because I want to kiss you?”
He smiled at her and said, “How far do you want to take this kiss?”
She shrugged. “We're in public, so not raunchy.”
He grinned again. “If I get carried away, will you stop me before I embarrass you and myself?”
“If I can,” she said in a hushed voice as his head tilted toward her, and he cocked his head before placing his lips on hers. His kiss started light, friendly, gentle and then his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer as his kiss deepened. His tongue didn't touch her lips, and he released her after a few seconds.
She gazed in his eyes and said, “If I had my wings on they'd be ready to take flight.”
A frown creased his forehead. “Is that good or bad?”
“Both.”
“I'm afraid I don't understand. Did you like the kiss or not?”
She gazed at him with a serious expression on her face and said, “The angel in me wanted that kiss to go on and on to a cloud and float in the heavens. The devil in me wanted to stay here and get down and dirty.”
He pulled her closer and then swung her out, twirling her and bringing her close again to the beat of the music. “You're a refreshingly honest woman. I like you, Angelica.”
“You should like the one you marry. Tell me a dirty joke,” she said, her sky blue eyes twinkling.
“My repertoire is limited. I promise to fill a file cabinet with dirty jokes before our wedding day.”
Her eyes sparkled. “You must remember one.”
He stared at the ceiling. “There is one that comes to mind. It's old.”
“Tell me,” she said, pretending to be breathless with anticipation.
“Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden and he said......”
“'Stand back. I don't know how big this is going to get,'” She doubled over laughing, and the room reverberated with the sound. “I love that joke.”
“You stole the punchline,” he said as though angry.
Her mouth attached to his and she murmured, “I'm sorry. Forgive me?”
“How can I not? I'm in love with your laugh.”
“But since you're a man you're aware of my other attributes,” she said her arms tightening around his neck.
“More than aware, I'm mesmerized. Do angels cast spells?”
“I'm not sure, but don't put anything past the demons.”
They stayed until the bar closed. He helped her on with her coat, white wool with a hood trimmed in fur. She buttoned up to her chin; donned white leather lined gloves and pulled her hood over her straight fall of light blond hair.
Cray said, “Are you expecting a blizzard?”
“I hate the cold and that's crazy because I was born and grew up in Norway.”
“When did you come to the states?”
“At eighteen to attend college. I went to school in Southern California and loved the weather.”
He handed her to the back seat of the chauffeur-driven limo. “What brought you here?”
“A job offer,” she said and then gave the chauffeur her address.
“What do you do?” he asked as the limo pulled into traffic.
She smiled at him and said, “You'll never guess. No one does so I'll tell you. I'm a professor at Columbia University. I teach Philosophy.”
“You're right. I would never have guessed. If I had to, I'd say a model.”
“I did that, too, in California to help with college expenses and grad school. You can't imagine how boring it is to pose under hot lights hour after hour in skimpy clothes. God, I hated that more than the cold in Norway.”
“No, I can't imagine the boredom, but I can picture you as a model. You're beautiful, Angelica.”
“A bit long in the tooth to be walking the runway or posing for magazine covers at my age. Of course, with airbrushing anyone can look far better than they are in real life.”
“Are you saying you're too old?”
“Yes, at thirty-five I'm way past my prime, but who cares? I don't.”
He turned her face to him, switched on the side lights in the car and said, “There's not a line on your face.”
She shrugged. “I did learn the tricks of the trade. You should see me without makeup when I get up in the morning.”
“I'd like that,” Cray said.
She patted his hand resting on his knee and said, “I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.”
He grinned and said, “But Angel, when we're married we'll be waking up beside each other every morning.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Cray Phillips.”
The driver pulled up in front of a secure apartment building, and Cray said, “I'll walk you to your door.”
“Thank you. The building is secure, but it's late.”
They exited the elevator on her floor, and he followed her to her apartment where she stuck her key in the lock and turned to face him. “I'm not going to invite you in, Cray.”
“I didn't expect you to, Angel.”
She leaned against the door jamb and said, “Do you call me Angel to shorten my name or as an endearment?”
“Both, I guess. I didn't think about it.”
“Cray, what do you do for a living?”
“I buy failing businesses around the country.”
“Do you splinter or fragment them to make a killing?”
He leaned his shoulder against the jamb opposite her and said, “Not if there's any other way. Often a business is failing because of poor management of the business or financial incompetence. A lot of what I buy is manufacturing that's trying to compete with imports. I believe firmly in made in America, so if there's any way to salvage the plant and make it viable, I do.”
In one fluid
glide, she moved to his embrace and kissed him. The kiss deepened, and his tongue sought hers, meeting in a tangle of need. Her body pressed closer to his, but their heavy outerwear prevented an actual connection. After a long minute, she released his mouth, and he let her. “Three years ago,” she said, “I became a naturalized American citizen. I love this country, and I'm glad you do, too.”
“You might even appreciate this country more than I do,” Cray said, “although I never heard of hardship in Norway.”
“No, Norway is a wonderful country, and my parents were upset when I gave up my citizenship. I plan to live the rest of my life here, so I want to vote and express my opinions as is my right as an American.”
He smiled at her. “We won't discuss politics. Most university professors are rather liberal.”
“And you're not.”
“It depends on the subject under discussion. Angel, have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“I'd like that. What time?”
“Seven. Does that suit?”
“Perfect. Where are you taking me and what shall I wear?”
“Northern Italian food if you like it and I'll wear a suit if that helps. The restaurant isn't fancy, but we can go out dancing afterward.”
“I love the food and I'll dress appropriately for dancing afterward. I guess I should have invited you in since we stood out here this long talking. You're easy to talk to, Cray.”
“You make it easy, Angel. I'm leaving now.”
“One more time,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoes. The kiss lasted longer than the other times and when they drew apart panting she said, “You're superb at that.”
“I credit my partner's influence.” They exchanged phone numbers. He winked at her and walked away toward the elevator.
He climbed in the backseat of the limo and pulled his phone from inside his coat. The thing had been vibrating off and on since he and Angelica left the party. Six phone calls from his sister Mona. Too late to call her now.
He rested his head against the back of the seat and considered the evening's events. What a woman. Gorgeous face, delectable body, intelligent, self-sufficient and funny. So many of the women he dated were needy, high maintenance or had a train load of baggage from their previous experiences. If Angel had those, it wasn't apparent and most women he knew started to unload after a few hours together whether the first date or not.