If I Were Your Woman (14 page)

S
tephanie was curled up on her couch watching a rerun of the movie
Heat
with Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro, two of her favorite actors. They were just up to the chase scene on the airfield when her phone rang. She bit down on a cookie, the last one that she'd found in the package in the back of the cabinet, before reaching for the phone.

She looked at the caller ID before answering. “Hey, Ann Marie.” She chewed her cookie wishing that it could have lasted a while longer. Her stomach growled in protest. “What's up? You finally let that poor man out of bed?”

“I, um, Sterling got the information.”

Stephanie slowly sat up straight. She pointed the remote at the television and muted the volume. “Well…”

“The car belongs to Leslie Dixon.”

Stephanie felt the air swoosh out of her lungs.

“She lives in New Haven, Connecticut.”

“Leslie.” She let the name roll over her tongue. She knew who she was, now what?

“Steph, are you all right?”

“He's married…with a child,” she said, her voice detached.

“It doesn't mean he's married. It could be a relative, a sister, a cousin.”

“Then why didn't he ever tell me about her? He's never mentioned a sister.”

“I'm sure there's a reason, Steph. Don't jump to conclusions. You need to talk to him, tell him what you know and let him explain.”

“What am I going to say, Ann,” she yelled, “that I had friend run the license plate number of a car I saw you get in because I didn't trust you to tell me the truth? God!” She shook her head wildly. “I should never have let you talk me into this.”

Ann Marie was beginning to feel the same way. “Stephanie, I'm sorry. But it may not be what we think at all and you'll never know if you don't talk to him.”

“I gotta go.” She hung up the phone before Ann Marie could say anything else. “Leslie Dixon.” Heat scorched her throat and stung her eyes.

She thought back to when they'd first met. She'd always believed that all that instant attraction mumbo jumbo was ridiculous, but that was what happened to her when she met Tony. Something inside her clicked. She'd just extricated herself from her torrid relationship with Conrad, and Tony was like an oasis in the desert. Until she noticed his wedding ring.

All her warning alarms went off and she'd vowed to herself that after Conrad she'd never get involved with a married man again. And she didn't. She kept things strictly business between them even though Tony tried on several occasions to take things to the next step.

But then on the night of the grand opening of Pause for Men he'd told her that his wife had died five years earlier and until he'd met her, there'd never been a reason to take it off.

She'd believed him. She'd wanted to believe him. But now she didn't know what to believe. What she was sure of was that she couldn't sit in the house a moment longer.

She marched off to her bedroom, put on a pair of jeans and a heavy sweater, then went and got her coat and purse and headed out.

She wandered down Amsterdam Avenue, sidestepping puddles and piles of snow. It was already beginning to melt. In a few days the city would be a complete slushy mess. There was a new Thai restaurant on 120th Street. She had passed the point of starving hours earlier, but maybe some food would do her good.

As was typical of intrepid New Yorkers, the stores and restaurants were open, all doing what appeared to be a brisk business. The Thai restaurant was no exception. There was actually a line at the takeout counter. She was finally able to place her order and waited nearly a half hour before it was ready. By then she'd lost what little appetite she'd had.

With her bag in hand she made her way slowly back home. She reached the front door of her building and was hunting around in her purse for her keys. Just as she was putting the key in the lock she felt someone come up behind her.

She whirled around and came face-to-face with Conrad. She yelped in alarm.

He held up his palms. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was sitting out in my car debating whether or not I should ring the bell when I saw you walk up.”

“I have a restraining order against you. If you don't get the hell away from me, I'm calling the police.” She went for her cell phone and instantly realized she'd left it in the house next to her bed. “Leave, Conrad. Now!”

“She left me, Steph.”

Stephanie frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Marilyn, she left me and she took the kids. I didn't know what to do. Where to go. You're the only one I could talk to.”

She'd never seen him like this: broken, contrite, and vulnerable.

“I never thought…I don't know what I thought,” he mumbled.

She could tell he'd been crying, actually crying. The rims of his eyes were red and the five o'clock shadow was now a full day's growth. This wasn't the Conrad Hendricks that she knew. The man she knew was strong, aggressive, arrogant to the point of being abusive.

“I just want to talk. Can I come up for a few minutes? I swear I won't touch you.”

With the frame of mind she was in, all twisted and distorted, a few minutes would turn into a few hours. She had to remind herself that as hurt as he might appear, this was the same man who'd held her down on her living room floor and had sex with her even though she'd said no.

“Stephanie, please?”

She blinked and he came back into focus. “No, Conrad. You can't come up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. Us, your wife, your kids. We're both responsible for where we are today and we have to deal with the consequences of our actions.” She sighed with resignation. “What more is there to say than that?” She almost reached out and touched him, but she wouldn't dare. “You'll get through it.” She turned, opened the door, and closed it gently but firmly behind her.

When she got up to her apartment, she put down her bag, went straight to the phone, and dialed Tony's number. The phone rang three times before he picked up. She heard traffic noises in the background.

“We need to talk,” was all she'd said.

“I know. I'm about an hour and a half away. Can I come over when I get into the city?”

“I'll be waiting.”

 

Chauncey was totally absorbed in the game. He was keeping his eyes on the players waiting for Michael to make his entry onto the court.

“There he is!” he shouted out to his dad, pointing to the television.

Wil pretended to be engrossed in a magazine that truly held no interest for him, but he couldn't help stealing surreptitious glances at the screen and compare himself to Michael Townsend in every way.

He could see why Barbara was attracted to him. What woman wouldn't be? He was young, fit, handsome, famous, and wealthy. All the things that he wasn't.

“Oh man, did you see that move Michael put on Maubury!” He slapped his palm against his forehead. “Nasty! Shook that brotha right out of his Nikes.” He fell back against the couch and cracked up laughing.

Wil couldn't stand it another minute. He got up and went into the kitchen. He walked around the table several times as if he were playing musical chairs until he finally decided to get a beer. He took out an icy cold Corona and twisted off the cap. He tossed it toward the open garbage can. The top bounced around the rim and popped out.

Wil shook his head in disgust. “Figures.”

Just as he was about to take a swallow he glanced down at his belly that was certainly not what it once was. He clenched his teeth.

Maybe that's what Barbara needed, a young buck. Men did it all the time when they reached his age. Besides, what could he do for Barbara on a mailman's salary? In five more years, he'd be ready to retire and live off his pension. Michael could wrap her in furs. All he could offer was wool.

He looked at the bottle in his hands, brought it to his lips, and chugged it down.

 

Barbara was channel surfing when she landed on the game in progress. A pang of guilt stabbed at her for holding on to the tickets and not giving them to Chauncey. But if she did she'd have to say how she got them—that she'd seen Michael—explain it all. She shouldn't have to explain anything. She was grown.

Then why didn't she call Wil and tell him about the tickets? For the same reason that she was going to see Michael at the Plaza the following day—she didn't want Wil to know.

I
t was almost one in the morning by the time Tony got back to New York. The two-hour drive had turned into a grueling four. He should have taken the train like he started to instead of being Mr. Macho and renting a car for the drive back. He was exhausted but he had no intention of going home until he talked to Stephanie.

He circled the block four times before he found a space that he could squeeze into. The snowdrifts made a difficult job that much harder. He grabbed his overnight bag from the backseat, locked up the car, and set the alarm.

He'd been rehearsing what he'd planned to say to Stephanie for the entire ride. But every version that went through his head sounded so weak and selfish. But that's what he'd been these past five years—weak and selfish—though those days were behind him. He only hoped that it wasn't too late for him and Stephanie. Her request to talk sounded like more of an ultimatum than an invitation.

Tony trudged across the street to her building, pushed through the first door, and pressed her bell. He hoped she was still awake. Stephanie was extra miserable when she was awakened out of a good sleep. He'd barely lifted his finger from the bell before he was buzzed in.

Moments later he stood in front of her apartment door. He started to knock just as the door was pulled open.

“Hi,” he said, totally unsure of what kind of reception he was going to get.

“I didn't think you were coming.” She stepped aside to let him in.

He walked in. “I said I would.”

“You've said a lot of things.” She shut the door. It sounded like a cannon to Tony.

He took off his coat and draped it over his arm, unsure of how long he would be staying.

“You can hang up your coat. This is going to take a while.” She walked past him and into the living room. She sat on the love seat and waited.

Tony came into the room with his hands in his pockets. “You want to start or should I?”

“Why did you lie to me?” she fired at him, her eyes blazing and her heart racing a mile a minute.

“Lie to you, about what?”

“About your life, your real life.”

Did she know? How could she?

“I came to your apartment. I saw you and
her
.”

For a minute it didn't register. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Is that who you're with when you say you're with a client…your wife?”

He felt as if he'd been kicked. “My wife?” He shook his head in confusion and denial. “My wife…Kim died five years ago. I told you that.” He stepped closer.

“Are you sure her name isn't Leslie?”

“Leslie? Oh man…Leslie isn't my wife, Steph, she's my sister.”

For an instant the wind rushed out of her sail. “Right, why should I believe you?” she asked with much less bite, suddenly doubting everything she'd seen, heard, and done in the past twenty-four hours.

“Because I'm telling you the truth.” He came over to her and stooped down to eye level. “Leslie is my sister. And if you saw what I think you saw, the little girl is my daughter—Joy.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
Daughter
. “I don't understand,” she finally stammered. “You never said you had a daughter. Where does she live? Why isn't she with you?”

“That's what I want to talk to you about.” Slowly he stood up and walked to the opposite side of the coffee table and sat down on the couch. He leaned forward and braced his arms on his thighs. “I never told you much about Kim because it hurt too much,” he began. Hesitantly and with great pain, he told Stephanie how they'd met and fallen in love. He told her all about Kim's illness and her mother's vehement refusal to accept him in her daughter's life.

He told her about Kim's miscarriages and the final pregnancy that cost her life.

Stephanie fought back tears as she listened and felt every bit of the agony and remorse that she heard in his voice.

“I know it's a selfish thing to admit, but every time I looked at my daughter I saw Kim. I blamed myself for her death, and as much as I love my daughter a part of me blamed her too. I knew she needed love and a solid home, and I knew that I was in no emotional shape to give them to her. My sister said she would take her and raise her until I was ready.”

“You could have told me. I would have understood. I could have helped you.”

He shook his head. “So many times I wanted to, but when I saw how devoted you were to Samantha even with all that she's dealing with, and for me to admit to you that I couldn't take care of my own daughter…I didn't want to see the look in your eyes. You deal with the guilt you feel about your sister even though it's cost you so much personally, financially, and emotionally. How could I face you and not be willing to do the same thing?”

“I grew up without my father. And it has affected me in ways that I may never fully understand. I know it has a lot to do with how I feel about commitment and men in general—you can't stick with them because they're not to be trusted. And if you put your heart and your love into their hands they will walk away. Just like my father did. Just like you did to your daughter.” Her eyes accused, tried and convicted him. “So why now? Why tell me now?”

“My time for running is over. I don't want to do it anymore. I can't. I want to be the father that my daughter needs and deserves on a full-time basis. And I want to be the man that you need and deserve. That can't happen if there are secrets between us. It's time that I forgave myself so that I can live—completely.”

Stephanie got up. “I don't know what to think right now or how to feel. I need time.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He got up to leave.

“You don't have to go. It's late and I know you're exhausted.” She waited a beat. “You can sleep on the couch. I don't think I'm ready to sleep with you yet.”

His face went through a series of expressions and finally settled on acceptance. “Sure.”

“You know where the blankets and sheets are.” She turned and headed to her bedroom before she changed her mind and invited him to come with her.

“Steph?”

She stopped.

“Why did you come to my apartment? You never told me.”

Stephanie lifted her chin a notch. “I came to tell you that I'm scared as all hell and that I love you.”

She was gone so fast Tony wasn't sure if he'd imagined what he'd just heard. He just stood there. Frozen in place.
I love you.
He'd said the words to her dozens of times, but she'd never until that moment said them to him.

He flopped back down on the couch. Maybe there was hope for them. They could work through it.

 

Stephanie sat on the side of her bed gripping the mattress for dear life. She'd said it. She'd said out loud what she'd only thought to herself. She was shaking all over. A giddy sensation of euphoria flowed through her. She'd never said that to any man in her life. Never. The feeling was so new and uncharted she didn't know how to manage it.

She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming. She was in love. It was official. She glanced toward her bedroom door. That still didn't excuse Tony for lying to her all these months. Well, maybe not out-and-out lying but hiding the truth, which was just as bad.

It pained her deeply to imagine a little girl growing up without her dad. What did she look like? she wondered. Was she smart? Was she big or small for her age? Would his daughter accept her? Was she creative like her father?

Suddenly she jumped up from the bed and marched out front. Tony jerked to attention.

“What if she doesn't like me?”

A smile burst across his face. He got up and walked over to her. He ran his eyes over her face, seeing real concern in her expression but also a hopefulness.

“She'll love you,” he said softly. “Just like I do.”

Stephanie pressed her head against his chest and closed her eyes. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her so close they could feel each other's heartbeat pounding in rhythm with each other.

His hands caressed her back, her waist, her hips in gentle up-and-down motions. He leaned back and looked down into her eyes. “If you let me, I'll prove it to you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I like the sound of that,” she whispered.

He lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss filled with all the love and desire he had in his heart. She moved against him and linked her arms up and around his neck. His tongue moved in slow motion with hers.

Reluctantly she pulled back and looked up at him. “If we're going to make this work, if I'm going to be your woman and you're my man, there can't be any more secrets between us. Ever.”

“Promise.”

“In that case we have some making up to do.”

“I'd like nothing more.” He kissed her long and deep without restraint. She moaned against his mouth, tugged his shirt out from his pants, and ran her hands up along his chest and around his back. He grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it up and over her head, then tossed it to the floor. She didn't have on a bra and his senses went into overdrive. She fumbled with the buckle on his belt until she loosened it, then pulled it through the loops and tossed it on top of her discarded sweater.

Tony pulled down his zipper and then hers. She wiggled out of her pants until they pooled at her ankles.

“I want you,” he groaned against her pliant mouth.

“Show me,” she commanded.

He hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band of her panties and inched them down over her hips.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

His fingers gently caressed her folds, parted the tender lips, and slid up into the wet well that throbbed for his touch.

She trembled and pressed her pelvis against his hand, rotating her hips, needing more of what he was giving her. She widened her thighs and he probed deeper.

Heat engulfed her. She reached for him and sighed deep in her throat when she felt how hard and ready he was. She couldn't wait. She pulled him with her down to the floor and rolled him over onto his back. She positioned herself above him, then eased down, inch by maddening inch, until she was filled.

“Ooooh,” he hollered. “Yessss.”

She rode him slow and steady, needing to feel every pulse and beat.

He grabbed her hips and pushed her solidly down on his erection, refusing to let her simply have her way with him. He held her in place as he moved up and in her in hot circles.

She reared back, her body bending nearly in half, her lush breasts pointing to the heavens. “Ohhh, baaaby…all of you, all of you.”

Tony let her hips go and reached out for those delicious fruits that seemed to be calling his name. He tweaked her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and her entire body vibrated. The muscles in her neck popped up like ropes beneath her skin. Her mouth opened but no sound escaped, the ecstasy so intensely beautiful it defied sound.

Witnessing the splendor of her climax set off his own, and the explosive release washed away all their doubts and fears and bound them together in a love that they readily admitted.

At some point they gathered enough energy to get up off the floor to crawl under the mounds of fluffy covers.

Her body was half wrapped around his, her head pressed against his heart.

He stroked her hair as he relived their incredible lovemaking session. It just seemed to get better and more intense each time. And he didn't think it was possible.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For being patient and not giving up on us…and thank you for telling me about your daughter…and Kim. I know it wasn't easy.”

“But you listened. That's what's important.”

She sighed, contented.

“You know I wanted to ask you…How did you find out about Leslie?”

She looked up at him and grinned. “A girl's gotta have at least one secret.”