Just the Man She Needs (13 page)

“Mr. Gilder on line two, Ms. Parker,” her secretary said through the intercom. “Pick up, please.”

“It’s a good piece, Felicia. How’d you like to go to the conventions?”

She controlled her enthusiasm, because from Ray Gilder’s perspective, appearing happy about an assignment was tantamount to saying you didn’t mind not getting paid for it. “That would be nice,” she said. “I’ve always wondered what the mood behind the scenes is like. That’s one thing the camera can’t capture, because politicians show their teeth the minute a cameraman approaches.”

She thanked her boss, packed up and drove to the supermarket. “I want something good to eat,” she told herself. “And I deserve it.” As she strolled through the produce department trying to decide what she wanted for dinner, her cell phone rang.

“Felicia Parker speaking.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Perspiration dampened her neck, back and arms, and she thought, How can he do this to me with just two words? “Hi, Ashton.”

“I suppose you know what it cost me to put on that business face while we spoke this morning. Thank you for not saying ‘Ashton, have you lost your mind?’ There’s a wonderful little restaurant in Riverdale. Would you like to eat there with me this evening?”

She thought for a minute. As much as she wanted to be with him, she didn’t think she’d be happy if she saw him every evening…at least not yet. And didn’t he need to spend some evenings with Teddy? But she knew it wouldn’t be wise to get ahead of him. He hadn’t said he wanted them to be together every evening.

“I’d like that, but it’s warm tonight, and we could stroll around, people watch. You don’t have to take me to swanky places. I’ll be happy as long as we’re together. Besides, I can’t hold your hand while you’re driving. Or at least, I shouldn’t.” A man passed her and the odor of his cologne lingered in his wake, the cologne that Ashton always wore.

“All right,” she said quickly. “If you want to eat in Riverdale, why not?”

“I’d like to know what happened to change your mind,” he said. “Just as I was preparing to warn my taste buds that they wouldn’t have the pleasure of greeting fancy quenelles in lobster sauce, you give them a reprieve.”

“Does that mean I have to wear something red?”

“Any color you wear will suit me. I’ll wear a jacket and tie. Is seven good for you?”

“Yes. See you then.” She hadn’t had a chance to put the phone away before it rang again.

“Felicia, this is Miles. Has Ashton Underwood told you that he’s planning a takeover of the chain that owns the
New York Evening Journal?
That’s the paper you work for, isn’t it?”

She gaped at the phone. “Who told you that?”

“I just heard it on the radio. Doesn’t that mean he’d be your boss?”

“I—I don’t know. This is the first I’m hearing about it. He wouldn’t necessarily run it just because he owned it, would he?”

She imagined Miles making a pyramid of his fingers to prop up his chin as he often did when musing over an idea. “Depends on his management style. In any case, an intimate relationship with your boss is bad policy.”

“Who says we’re intimate?”

“I do. You’ve had just about enough time to cross over that bridge. The two of you were headed for it the night you met, and he didn’t get where he is today by dragging his feet. If he succeeds, having him as a boss could become a problem for both of you. My last word on the subject—for now.”

“I’m not answering this phone again,” she said. But she remembered that Ashton had her cell phone number, dug into her handbag for the phone and answered. “Felicia Parker speaking.”

“This is Ray. I just got news that John Underwood is making a bid for Skate newspapers. Get some details, and put a paragraph on it in your column for tomorrow.”

“Ray, I’ve already written my column, and that news doesn’t fit it. Give the story to another reporter.”

“Underwood is news right now because you made him and his company news, so you should be the one to keep the public’s interest going.”

“That’s worth three lines, Ray. Tomorrow’s column is on political issues, as you know, because you’ve read it. Where does this fit in?”

“Okay. I got the message. Make it a first paragraph, three italicized lines. How’s that?”

“You’re the boss.”

She phoned Ashton and told him about the rumor. “I’m bringing it up now, because I don’t want to talk business during our dinner.”

“Perhaps we can talk about it after dinner. We can sit on the Lincoln Center Plaza, have an aperitif or some coffee and we’ll talk then.”

He hadn’t denied it, and it seemed that he wanted her to hear his views on the matter before she wrote a story about it. She felt like a kitten tripping over hot coals.

Felicia dressed in an avocado-green dress and jacket of silk crepe. Ashton liked her in red, but she had a feeling that red would send the wrong message that night.

He rang her doorbell at precisely seven o’clock, and she relaxed at his boyish smile and eager kiss. Maybe the evening would be all that she hoped for.

She gasped as they entered Palms Restaurant, a haven for lovers. Candles provided its only light, palms gave it a garden atmosphere and bouquets of roses adorned each table.

“Oh, Ashton,” she said. “If I had imagined you were bringing me to such a place, I really would have worn something red. It’s beautiful.”

“I’ve wanted to come here for a long while, ever since my secretary gave me a picture of the place. I hope the food matches the décor.”

A red dress wouldn’t have matched the pale yellow tablecloth, napkins, candles and roses, so her choice of avocado-green had been a good one. They placed their order, and almost immediately a man at nearby table got up and walked over to them. Ashton rose, stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and stared at the man, who pointedly ignored him.

“Miss Parker, I never dreamed I’d see you here tonight. I don’t know whether you’ve heard, but I’m reading at the 92nd Street Y Sunday afternoon.”

“I’ve heard,” she said, doing her best to smile. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Yes, of course,” the man said, and dropped a business card on the table. She didn’t look at Ashton, for she knew he couldn’t help but be displeased.

Ashton sat down, and when he remained quiet for a minute, she knew that he was waiting for his irritation to dissipate. “What does your editor want you to say about my attempt to purchase Skate?”

“I thought we were going to discuss this
after
dinner. I’m not working now,” she said, smiling to make light of her remark.

“No? You couldn’t prove it by me.”

She was about to answer when a woman whose popularity had long ebbed rushed to the table. “I wasn’t sure it was you, Ms. Parker, but the maître d’ assured me it was. Could you please sign this, and would you mention that you saw me here with Bill Schubert, producer of
Fly Away Baby?
”

“Miss Pickett,” she said, not bothering to hide her anger, “you’re disrupting my dinner engagement.”

“But you’re powerful, and I need the publicity.” Realizing that the woman was about to create a scene, she signed the card. “Please excuse me.”

Shock reverberated through her when Ashton stood and said, “Would you please leave here before I have you removed?” The woman gasped and rolled her eyes, but she hustled away.

“I’m sorry, Ashton. I didn’t think this could happen way up here.”

Ashton made no attempt to hide his annoyance. “I suppose you’d have had a line if we’d been in Manhattan.”

“I couldn’t help it, Ashton.”

“I know that, and that’s the problem.” With those words, the joy she’d felt when she’d enter the restaurant drained out of her, and she wanted to leave. But to suggest it would have put an even heavier damper on their evening together. He signaled for the maître d’. “Ms. Parker does not wish to be disturbed by any patrons, so please do not identify her to anyone.”

“Yes, of course, sir. I’m extremely sorry, sir,” the man said, genuflecting as he spoke.

She barely tasted what was probably a delicious meal, for her thoughts dwelled on the emotional distance between them. No one would have imagined that on the previous night they confessed to love each other and made love for the first time, spine-tingling love. Both declined dessert, a signal that the evening had disappointed them. She had already judged Ashton to be a private person, conservative for a man of his age, stature and wealth, and she knew that the evening’s events had impaired their future relations.
I can’t help it. It’s who I am.

“Are we going have that aperitif in the Lincoln Center Plaza?” she asked him as he drove toward Manhattan.

He flexed his shoulder in a careless shrug. “Print whatever you think is fair.”

From the route he took, she could see that Lincoln Center was not in his plans. “You’d better tell me something,” she said, annoyed that he should blame her for the bad manners of two publicity-seekers. “If you don’t, I’ll tell my editor that you wouldn’t discuss it with me, so he should assign the story to another reporter. If Blaine Phillips gets it, you’ll be sorry. Forgive me, I should watch my tongue. If you do acquire Skate, you’ll be my boss.”

“You’re angry, and I can imagine why, Felicia, but I can’t help the way I feel right now. I know it wasn’t your fault, but it’s a fact of your life, and I don’t know whether I can handle it.”

“I’m a journalist, Ashton, a public person, and you knew that from the beginning, but if it’s too much for you, let’s break it off right now. I only wish to hell you’d come to this conclusion before you rocked me out of my senses last night. That’s the cruel part of it.”

He parked in front of her address and cut the motor. “Do you think I’m happy? I haven’t said I wanted to break it off, but I know myself. That guy behaved as if I wasn’t there, and by the time I cooled off, that foolish woman showed up and began to create a scene. If there had been a third one, I know I would have been ready to knock him down.”

“But I thought you smiled at that man.”

“When I’m angry, that smile is a reflex. It doesn’t have a damned thing to do with the way I feel at the moment.”

“Is it always a reflex?” she asked him, trying to soften the moment.

“No, it isn’t, and you already know the difference.”

“Where does this leave us? I’m in limbo, and if you force me to dig my way out of this without your help, we probably won’t see each other again. I’m not good at crawling, Ashton. My knees don’t even know how to bend. I love you, but I’m damned if I’ll suck up. It isn’t in me.”

He leaned back and stretched his right arm across the back of the seat, though he didn’t touch her. “My granddad said he’d like to be around if the two of us came to loggerheads. He’s a wise man.”

“How did that come up?”

“I told him that I was putting some distance between us and you were letting me do it. He knows that two plus two equals four.” A half smile crossed his face, and he turned to look at her. “I was so happy with you last night. The whole day today was a blast of sunshine after years of frost.”

Without warning, he gathered her to him and held her. “I don’t like to think that I’m self-centered, but I work hard at creating a normal life for myself and for Teddy. I avoid bars, nightclubs and high-society things. I’ve avoided the hostesses who are always looking for an unattached, eligible man for their dinner parties. That’s not the kind of life I want. Some good music and the smell of hamburgers or hot dogs roasting in my backyard and Teddy enjoying it with me have been the joys of my life since I left Rose Hill, Maryland. I could enjoy that even more with you, but I’m not convinced that it suits you at all.”

She thought for a long time before answering him. In spite of his success as an entrepreneur, Ashton Underwood had not become enamored with his importance. Wrapped in his arms, she knew she belonged with him, just as she’d known it the night before when he was buried deep inside of her. “I can’t give up my work, Ashton. If I did, I would be unbearable. Oh, I could change the way I do it…at least for a while, but—”

He interrupted her. “You mean, if you were starting a family?”

“Yes. I’d work at home, but at the appropriate time I’d be back on the beat.”

“If you had a family, would you still regard yourself as a journalist first?”

He was fishing for answers without asking a direct question, but she wouldn’t be clever about it. She wanted him to know precisely where she stood, because after tonight, they would either go forward or split permanently.

“If I had a family, I would see myself first as a child of God, as I do now, and then as a wife, mother, journalist, sister, friend and colleague, in that order.”

“Did you enjoy the attention of those publicity-seekers tonight?”

She attempted to move out of his arms, but he wouldn’t release her. “That couldn’t be a serious question. If I did, I’d be guilty of extremely bad manners. I was annoyed, because I knew what your reaction would be. I would have been displeased if I’d been alone.”

“All right. It wasn’t a fair question.” He got out of the car, walked around and opened the door for her with his key.

“You left the lock on so I couldn’t get out,” she said. As they waited for the elevator, she told him, “Be careful how you leave me tonight.”