“It’s a wonder I didn’t wilt right on that dance floor,” she said out loud as she stared at herself moving her body to the beat of his rhythm. Undeniably, they made a striking couple. She didn’t remember ever having met a man and wanted him on sight…until that night. She longed to see him again but had no intention of calling the escort service and asking how to reach him. For all she knew, he’d used an assumed name.
Felicia returned to New York Saturday around noon. While walking through the terminal at La Guardia Airport, she bought a copy of the Brooklyn Press for the purpose of reading that paper’s society column written by Reese Hall, her rival.
“Your fangs are showing, girl,” she said out loud when she read the first paragraph of Reese’s column. Finding herself the subject of the gossip columnist’s acid pen surprised Felicia, for she rarely rated mention. But Ashton had piqued Reese’s interest and her speculation as to why the handsome stranger was in the company of Felicia Parker annoyed Felicia. She knew that Reese wouldn’t stop digging until she discovered Ashton’s identity. God forbid she should learn that he’s a professional escort!
At home, she found the red light blinking on her answering machine. The phone rang, startling her. “Hello, this is Felicia.”
“I would ask how it’s going,” her brother’s deep masculine voice said, “but from what I saw of you on TV this morning, I expect you’re feeling no pain.”
“Hi, Miles,” she said, sat down and kicked off her shoes. “You saw that on the local station?”
“No, ma’am. I saw it on ABC. Who’s the guy? He makes quite a figure.”
Being questioned by Miles was tantamount to an interrogation by a prosecuting attorney. A professor of law, Miles had a habit of carrying his profession over to his personal relations, at least with respect to her.
“I’m not sure you want to know who he is,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to put your avowed liberalism to the test.”
“If he isn’t an alcoholic or a crackhead and didn’t vote Republican, I can probably handle it.”
“You don’t ask for much,” she said while she decided how little to tell him. “I met him last night.”
“You’re joking! The two of you danced as if you’d done nothing but that for the last decade, and the way you looked at each other suggested something that’s not my business.” But that wouldn’t stop him. “Where did the two of you go after the gala?”
“I’ll fix him,” she said to herself. To Miles, she said, “To my room.”
“What?” he yelled. “Didn’t you just tell me you met that man last night?”
She buffed her nails on her skirt. “Uh-huh. I sure did.”
“Stop playing with me, Felicia. You didn’t…That’s not like you. I mean, you wouldn’t be that foolish.”
“No, but I can dream, can’t I? He took me to my room and left me at the door. I’ve been kicking myself ever since.”
“Oh, come now. I admit he could win a prize in a room full of men, but—”
It had gone far enough. She interrupted him. “He’s more than what you saw. I’ve waited a long time to react to a man as I did to him, but I’ll probably never see him again. That’s life.”
“I’m sorry, sis. I’ve been there, so I know how you feel. You’re doing a column on that gala, I presume.”
“Yes. I haven’t seen the paper, yet. Reese Hall wrote a piece on it, too, but a good quarter of her story was about me and my date. She can bet I wouldn’t give her that much coverage.”
“I don’t want to read it. Reese is too bitchy for my taste.”
“It’s not too bad, except she doesn’t seem to think I deserve a date with that kind of man. I didn’t see her. Maybe she got her information from the television. I wouldn’t put it past her. By the way, why weren’t you at the gala?”
“Have you forgotten how I hate those things? Nothing bores me quicker that small talk with strangers.”
“I know. Talk to you later.” She hung up and wondered why she hadn’t told her brother that she’d used an escort service. She pondered, too, the awful emptiness that she’d never felt before. He couldn’t call her, because the service rules probably forbade it and wouldn’t give him her number. How she wanted to talk with him, to see him again, to assure herself that what he sparked in her wasn’t real and would quickly pass!
Ashton had hardly settled in his chair when problems forced his thoughts away from Felicia. He had once faced the possibility of bankruptcy, and the lesson he learned from it was the importance of diversification, of owning more than one product and different kinds of products. Underwood Enterprises had bounced back from the brink of financial disaster when its flagship company, Dream, a cosmetics company, produced a popular, fast-selling, makeup for very dark women. Within a year, the company catapulted him into the ranks of multimillionaire. He and his two brothers added to their holdings a riding school that catered to the rich and an intracity sightseeing bus line. A few weeks back, he began negotiations to acquire a family of newspapers. Although it was of no relevance then, he wondered now if he wanted to own the Skate newspapers, in as much as Felicia’s column appeared in one of the papers. He shrugged it off; the chance of his seeing that woman again was practically nil.
He knew that Felicia didn’t connect him to the owner of Dream, for he was known in business circles as John Underwood. Ashton was his middle name. With an M.B.A. from Harvard, his management skills had made him a wealthy man, and he felt secure in his ability to oversee a group of unrelated companies, although his brothers served as managers of all but Dream. That one was his baby. He pulled himself out of his musings and answered the phone.
“Underwood speaking.”
“This is Damon. I just got some news that you won’t like. That is if it’s true. A client told one of my escorts that Barber-Smith is planning to take over Dream.”
“What? Who was this client?”
“Kate Smallens. She’s Smith’s mistress, and he’s promised to give the company to her.”
“Yeah? Over my dead body! That’s all I need right now. Just as I’m about to clinch that deal with Skate newspapers, I get this. Not to worry, though. I’ll handle it.”
“Sure thing,” Damon said. “Did you speak with Cade today? He told me he’s going to Houston to a big conference and that he’s giving a workshop. How about that?”
“He’s working it, all right. I’ll call him.” He hung up and called Cade, the middle of the three brothers.
“Underwood speaking.”
“Hey, brother,” Ashton said, “get it through your head that I’m Underwood. Damon said you’re going to Houston. What’s your lecture about?”
“Ashton! What’s up, brother?”
“Just checking on you.”
“Right! I need that. After all, I’ve just learned how to get along without diapers. Thanks for your concern. China’s churning out new chips. It’s all about the competition, and believe me there’s plenty of it. Who was that honey you were with last night? Man, she’s a knockout, and when she looked at you, she definitely liked what she saw. Way to go!”
Ashton didn’t want his brother’s hopes raised. Ever since his disappointment about Teddy’s mother, both of his brothers had hoped he would find a woman who suited him. He wouldn’t mind their meddling, if they weren’t so transparent with it.
“Nothing there, Cade. All I know about that woman is her name and occupation.”
The sound of his brother’s laughter always amazed him; if you didn’t know Cade was amused, you wouldn’t guess it from his laugh. “Get busy and do some research then. I have a feeling that you don’t want to pass that one up, Ashton. At least not until you’ve sampled the goodies.”
Ashton shifted in his chair, uneasy with that level of talk about Felicia Parker. But why? He and his brothers always joshed each other about women. “Listen to who’s talking,” he said, aware of the lameness of his response.
“Whoa. Like that, is it?” Cade said. “Forgive my
loose tongue. You’d better get to work on it.”
Ashton closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. From their childhood onward, Cade had been able to read him correctly, and to interpret his moods and manners with ease. First his parents and then their grandfather, who raised them, would ask Cade, “What’s wrong with Ashton?” and he would invariably give him the correct answer. Yet it was to Damon that he felt closest. But then, everyone seemed to feel close to Damon. He reflected upon Cade’s astuteness about people, thinking that that talent made him successful in everything he undertook.
“Aren’t you going to pursue this relationship?” Cade asked him. “I sure as hell would.”
Ashton explained to Cade how he happened to meet Felicia. “If I’ve got a problem, I can thank our brother. But I don’t think this merits discussion. It’s history.”
“That’s not the way I read it. How’s Teddy?”
“Growing and getting clever. He’s begun to match wits with Eartha, and he has her thoroughly charmed.”
“Like father, like son,” Cade said. “Damon told me about Dream, and I figure we’re in for a rocky ride. It wouldn’t hurt to have a nice soft and supple cushion to relax on. A warm, sweet woman can make the flu seem like a treasure, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get it, all right.”
“I hope I’ll have some good news for Underwood Systems when I get back from Houston. Our software business is primed to take off. Incidentally, are you going down home this weekend? I’d promised Granddad I’d see him, but this conference came up and I can’t afford not to take advantage of the opportunity to hold a workshop and spread the name Underwood.”
“You’re right. I’ll call him, and if possible I’ll be there at least Sunday.”
“Thanks, I don’t like to disappoint him. See you in about a week.”
“Neither do I. Good luck in Houston.”
Ashton hung up and pondered his moves. On Monday morning he would increase his shares of Dream, and he would encourage Cade and Damon to do the same. A good financial blow would serve Smith right for cheating on his wife and discussing his affairs with his mistress. He had a stockholder’s meeting coming up, and he’d better be well prepared.
In the ten months that Dream had been listed on the New York Stock Exchange, its value had more than doubled, but with such growth came the risk of parasitic takeovers. Ashton stuffed a few papers into his briefcase, locked his desk and headed home. It was a perfect day for a stroll with Teddy in Riverside Park.
Tuesday morning came at last, and Felicia arrived at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel for Dream’s stockholder’s meeting, her first. She had purchased the stock four months earlier on a tip that it was a high flier, and her investment had nearly doubled in value. If the meeting became interesting with feathers flying and tempers heated, she might get something for her column. She took the elevator to the hotel’s grand ballroom, presented her credentials and found a seat on the second row aisle.
At precisely nine-thirty, the tall, nattily dressed man stepped up to the podium, and her belly did a complete somersault. It couldn’t be! What an incredible similarity! Ashton Underwood was not chief executive officer of Dream or of anything else. He was a good-looking charmer who made a living escorting unattached, lonely women.
“Good morning,” that unmistakable voice said. “I’m John Underwood, CEO of Underwood Enterprises and Chief Operating Officer of Dream.”
Her bottom lip dropped and she could feel her eyes increasing in size. But before she could restore her balance, his gaze, roaming the audience, settled on her, and although his eyebrows shot up, he kept his aplomb in tact. Hmm. So Ashton Underwood led a double life. She took out her writing pad and pen and noted that fact.
At the mention of a takeover, her antenna shot up. Was he in trouble? She hoped not. Without asking herself why, she silently prayed that the stockholders would stand with him. And with their investment having doubled in so short a time, they voted to retain the management that was working well for them. From the murmurs she heard at the end of the meeting, she understood that many of the stockholders would buy more stock in support of the CEO, and she would do the same.
“The meeting is adjourned,” echoed in her mind while she remained seated trying to digest what had taken place, but especially getting herself attuned to this different Ashton Underwood. After thanking them for their support, he remained at the podium, and she realized that he was staring in her direction, waiting for her move.
“This is my chance,” she told herself, “maybe my only chance, and I do not intend to blow it.” Many of those present went up to the podium to speak with him and to shake his hand, and he wanted to speak with her, she saw, for he glanced her way from time to time. At last she saw an opportunity, walked up to him and extended her hand for a handshake. She hadn’t planned what she would say, so she went with the woman rather than the reporter.
“Good morning, Mr. Underwood. Have we ever met?” She was leaving it to him, since he was the one at a disadvantage, and she could tell from his reaction that she’d said the right thing, for he almost smiled.
“Yes, we have. Last Saturday night, to be exact. How are you, Ms. Parker?”
“Relieved. I thought I might be hallucinating. I spent the last three days thinking about you and what an intriguing man you are. I wanted to phone you, but I confess I didn’t have the guts to call that agency and get your number. Are you leading a double life?”
“I was on Saturday night, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t put that in your column.”
“So you know who I am.”
“Yes, and I knew from the beginning. I just wasn’t prepared for the shock you gave me in that red ball gown, though I confess that, dressed as you are now, the effect isn’t much different. Saturday night is the only time I’ve ever worked as an escort.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Asking a reporter not to print something is an enormous request. How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
His eyes seemed to plead with her, and nobody had to tell her that pleading was not a part of his character.
“My younger brother owns Capitol Gentlemen. He knew who you were, and although he runs a legitimate business, he decided that he didn’t trust any of the men who work for him to escort you. He called me, frantically, asking for a favor. I am not in the habit of saying no to my brothers when they ask me to do something for them. After meeting you, I wished I had said no.”
“I want to meet your baby brother. If he convinces me that you were helping him out, nothing about your exploits of last Saturday will go in my column.”
Both of his eyebrows shot up and his skepticism was as obvious to her as his hand. “Do you mean that? Seriously? He’s in school, so I doubt he’ll have time to come up here, but if you’re willing, we can go to Alexandria tomorrow. The trip’s on me.”
She thought about it for a long minute, mindful of her policy of avoiding obligating herself to a man. “I don’t know. I like to pay my own way and foot my own bills. That way, I don’t have to take ‘what for’ from any man.”
Fire seemed to shoot from his olive-brown eyes, and there was no mistaking it: she had insulted him. “Haven’t you ever met a decent man?” he asked her.
How was she to answer that question truthfully? It had been years since she’d given any man an opportunity to show her whether he was or wasn’t decent. She resisted the temptation to shrug, lest he gain the impression that she didn’t care what he thought.
She looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t know,” in what she figured was as honest an answer as she could give.
She realized that her answer took him aback, for she could see him softening until, finally, a grin warmed his face, exposing his natural charisma and turning him into the Ashton Underwood with whom she had spent a fairy-tale evening.
“I’m trustworthy,” he said. “How about taking the nine o’clock shuttle down to Washington tomorrow morning? It’s a short taxi ride fro
m the airport to Alexandria. And so that you won’t think I’m playing games with you, suppose you phone his office and make an appointment for ten-thirty. His first class on Wednesdays is at one-thirty. Give him any reason you like.”
“No,” she said on an impulse. “You make the call, and you pay for the trip.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Why the change of heart?”
“I want to know who you really are.”
His gaze didn’t waver. So intense was it that goose pimples popped up on her arms. “Does it matter?” he asked at last.
You want this man, girl, so you had better start it right. “Yes, it matters.”
After a long silence during which he continued to look at her, he said, “If you’ll give me your address, I’ll have a car at your place tomorrow morning at seven.” She gave him her address, but not her phone number. If he wanted that, he’d have to ask for it. “You don’t live far from me. I’m on Riverside Drive at Seventy-fourth Street.”
He stared down at her until she began to fidget. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. Are we going to continue this formality? My friends call me Ashton. Mind if I call you Felicia?”
“No, I don’t mind. I was going to ask you how you happened to be Ashton on a Saturday and John on a Tuesday.”
That breath-robbing smile again. “My name is John Ashton Underwood, but my brothers and my granddad call me Ashton. Our mother started that, because our dad was also named John. They’ve been gone since I was seven, lost when a ferryboat on which they were passengers sank off Hong Kong. My paternal grandfather raised us.”
“I’m sorry. Mine are gone, too, but I have my older brother, a law professor at George Washington University.”
“Really? I’m sure my brother Damon knows him.” He looked at his watch, exposing the hairs on the back of his wrist and bringing her attention to the long lean fingers that had sent shivers down the naked flesh that her ball gown exposed.
Just the Man She Needs Page 2
