Phaze Fantasies Volume 4

by Vivien Dean

  "In celebration of our nuptials, we have put together a party of sorts. Mathilde was quite generous in making a cake."

  For the first time since walking into the room, he'd seen his faithful friend standing on the side against the wall. He smiled and she smiled back, and he knew that she'd loved how he increased the household.

  They'd even brought some plants in, and rearranged the furniture. Mathilde had always had freedom to do what she wished and it was a happy room in the French country look she liked so much. They all put in a lot of effort into their party.

  "Sir, how would you have us address you?” Grant asked.

  No one had ever called him anything but Martin or Doc before. It was a strange thing to realize that he also never thought of being a father figure before this. Xavier was so much older when he'd brought him home, he never imagined the boy would call him anything but Doc. Some of Kat's—their—children were small though. He'd not time to think about things like names up until now so he was wholly unprepared and he took a few minutes to think about it.

  "Doc, Martin, Dad, Father. Whatever you like. You can all call me what you wish, I wouldn't want any of you using a name you were uncomfortable with."

  Kat's eyes widened and she smiled softly. A smile he hadn't seen before.

  She hugged Nat and put him down. “You may all have some cake and milk."

  The younger ones who had reached their limit if sitting still ran off to the table that was beautifully decorated with linens and the cake. Kat had even placed flowers in bouquets. She'd apparently found his carefully concealed greenhouses he'd kept, waiting for the orchids. He chuckled, knowing now that the Scorpicos Orchid grew in caves.

  Mathilde stopped them from grabbing handfuls and running by threatening them with gruel in the morning with no butter and honey.

  "Martin, would you like to cut the cake with Kat?"

  It was a peculiar day to be reminded of these old traditions. Some things shouldn't have been forgotten; they added a sense of meaning and depth, where it could have been clinical and embarrassing. It made a poignant counterpoint.

  "I will if he doesn't also take up the old tradition of smashing the cake into the bride's face.” Kat looked at him, studying him to see if he was capable of such silliness. A few days ago maybe not...

  He stilled his face.

  Mathilde handed the knife to Kat for the first cut and she sliced the cake just so, leaving the decorations equally distributed for the children, he was sure. Then she picked up a piece between two fingers and offered it to him, holding it in front of his lips so he wouldn't get mussed. Which was very thoughtful of her.

  He bit off the edge and chewed. It was his favorite cake of Mathilde's. Lemon with a lemon curd filling. Tangy and sweet.

  Kat smiled and he took the piece from her hand. A shadow of worry crossed her face but she smiled and opened her mouth, right in time for him to palm the icing into her cheek. Her eyes shot fire.

  The children were shocked, and the room became eerily quiet until Kat started to laugh. Not a polite chuckle, but a deep belly laugh. When they heard her, they all started to laugh too, the little one slapping his knee as if it were the best joke he'd ever seen.

  Kat scooped the cake from her face and smashed the remnants into Martin's face. Which is what he expected.

  "I was trying so hard to be proper. To show the children how to live in a house like this."

  "And I needed to show them that I could have some fun. I think we made a good start."

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out her saint medallion, put his arm around her waist, and kissed her.

  Railroad Standard Time

  by Philippa Grey-Gerou

  Also by Philippa Grey-Gerou

  The Black River

  Passion Aggressive (with Emery Sanborne)

  Dani Whitehall didn't even notice the guy until she ran into him.

  Literally.

  It was the long way to go to get from her subway to the office, but she preferred making her way through the dirty, meandering hallways and institutional stairwells up from the platform until finally she came out in the amber gold light of the main concourse of Grand Central Station. Every time she stepped from the dinginess into that splendor, she smiled a little. It had become a ritual for her, a reminder of all that was good and wonderful in a city like New York.

  So when she bumped into him just before that moment, she was a little ticked.

  "Hey, watch it!"

  It was a weird sensation, not like when you bounce off someone and move on. There was a give to it, like putty or pudding, that seemed to try to cling to her even as she backed away.

  His hands on her shoulders didn't help.

  "Sorry about that, miss,” he apologized with a sincerity that surprised her. “I didn't see you coming."

  That was when she noticed he was gorgeous.

  Not in a cover model, hunky beefcake kind of way. More like old Hollywood, with a square jaw, pale brown hair cut short enough to be neat, but long enough to hint at the curls beneath the hair gel, a neatly trimmed beard to match, and gray eyes that looked through her like ice. The black leather pants followed his shape nicely without outlining anything inappropriate, while the blue of his collarless shirt brought out the paleness of his eyes. And when he smiled...

  She hadn't seen teeth that white outside of a toothpaste commercial.

  "Yeah, well...” Realizing she was staring, Dani backed away. “Watch where you're going next time."

  "I will. Sorry."

  She skirted around him and headed onto the concourse.

  When she looked back, he was gone.

  * * * *

  She stopped at the front desk on her way in. “Any messages, Calle?"

  The receptionist for the Hermes Marketing Group grinned and offered her a pile of little pink slips. “You ask that like you expect I'm ever going to say no, Dani."

  "The day you do, I'll probably die from the shock.” She quickly sorted the messages by priority. If she waited until she got in her office, she'd never make the calls.

  "What time did you get out of here last night?"

  Still focused on the messages, Dani answered, “Almost eleven-thirty, I think."

  "So an early night for you.” Calle shook her head. “Honestly, honey, you're too young to be old. You should be going out at night, meeting men, having some fun while you can still enjoy it."

  The advice stung, even though it was probably true. “You speaking from experience?"

  "How do you think I found Simon?"

  "Well, when you find another one like Simon, send him my way. In the meantime, I'll be in my office, returning my calls."

  Calle just shook her head. “Let me know if you want me to order in lunch. Or dinner. Again."

  * * * *

  He was there again the next day.

  Dani paused in the hallway. He was standing in almost exactly the same spot as yesterday, still in the same leather pants, although this time the shirt was green.

  And he was watching her.

  Pulling her purse and computer bag closer on her shoulder, she skirted around him, not meeting that devastating smile but feeling the effect of it anyway.

  "Have a nice day!” There was laughter in his voice.

  She hurried on.

  * * * *

  "I ran into a man today,” she admitted to her friend, Holly, at lunch that afternoon, not looking up from where she poked a lifeless salad around a plastic take-out box. “Well, yesterday, actually."

  It was warm and clear. The sunshine filtered down through the tall buildings to shine on the low wall where the two of them sat eating—the city sounds a little brighter, a little more cheerful with the coming of summer.

  "Oh, yeah?” Holly looked doubtful.

  Dani got defensive. “I do meet men, you know."

  "No, you meet clients.” Holly slurped the last of her iced tea through the straw before setting it aside. “And you never talk about them in t
hat tone of voice."

  "What tone of voice?"

  "That one that says you've done something you don't think I'm going to like. So okay, spill. Who is this guy?"

  Dani set her box aside. “I don't know."

  "Danielle!"

  "It's not like that! He was just ... there. I didn't even see him until I ran into him.” She hesitated. “But he was there again today."

  Holly's eyebrows lowered to match her suddenly tight mouth. “What did you do?"

  "Nothing! I'm not stupid, you know!"

  "I know you aren't. I didn't mean it like that. Did you talk to the cops?"

  "No. I don't think he's dangerous or anything. It was probably just a coincidence. It's just..."

  "What?"

  She thought about her words carefully. “I don't think he's dangerous. But he's ... different, somehow. I don't know."

  "Good looking?"

  "Only if you think Cary Grant is gorgeous."

  "I do."

  "Then yeah.” Dani couldn't help smiling at the memory of the way leather and blue cotton shaped that man's figure.

  "You're smiling. That's new."

  "I smile all the time!"

  "Not like this, you don't.” Holly crumpled up her lunch bag, took Dani's box, and deposited both in the nearby trash bin. “You've got a secret smile. Who knew?"

  "It's not like that,” Dani insisted again.

  "Well, maybe it should be.” Holly crossed her arms and looked down at Dani. “You don't think the guy's dangerous. You do think he's gorgeous.” She studied her for a moment. “Have you talked to him?"

  "Well, I told him to watch where he's going."

  "That's not what I meant. Life's too short, and you spend all your time in that damn office making up pretty lies to sell other people's dreams. If you're interested in this guy, then for God's sake, Dani, say hello to him. Go someplace safe for a drink. Take a chance."

  "And if he's a stalker?"

  "I didn't say take a stupid chance."

  "I don't know..."

  "Dani, you're twenty-eight years old. You deserve more than just a career. You want more than that, I know you do."

  "There just hasn't been time—"

  "Then make time.” Grabbing her hands, Holly pulled Dani to her feet. “And then if he doesn't work out, introduce him to me."

  * * * *

  She felt ridiculous. She'd spent so much extra time getting ready that morning, she nearly missed her train. But the time had paid off. The dark purple of her silk pant suit brought out the violet in her eyes, and her haphazard curls were pinned back in a neat twist, letting black ringlets fall around her forehead and ears. She'd gone all out on her makeup, from foundation to finishing powder, until her face was flawless, with extra attention paid to her mouth. It was the look she pulled together for client parties and major social galas, the opposite of how she preferred to go, with her hair loose and a minimum of makeup. It probably looked desperate and needy.

  It probably was.

  For a minute she panicked as she climbed the stairs, but he was there again, standing in the archway, watching back down the corridor. Maybe he was actually waiting for her?

  That smile seemed a little more purposeful today. But maybe Dani was just reading too much into it. That didn't stop her heart from speeding up. “Good morning,” he said, low and chocolate smooth.

  As tempting as it was to run, she stopped. “Good morning."

  He studied her openly, making her flush faintly. “You look nice today. Special meeting?"

  "No, not really.” Instantly she cursed herself for not having come up with a lie. “I mean, I was just..."

  The grin became a little too smug. “Well, I hope he's worth it. Personally, I like the natural look better."

  Her hand went up to her hair as her face flushed, embarrassment making her drop her head.

  "Hey, don't worry about it. I know how it is. You have to look one way for work, even though you'd rather just be in jeans and bare feet. I'm sure whoever you're meeting will be impressed."

  Apparently not, but she didn't say anything. “Are you here every day?"

  "For a while.” He shrugged. “All part of the job."

  "Oh, so you work for MetroNorth?"

  "If you like."

  "I haven't seen you here before."

  "I've seen you."

  That startled her. “Really?"

  "You're difficult to miss."

  She was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with his attention. “You're just saying that, aren't you?"

  "Hardly.” Then he began reeling off a litany of her life that left her blood cold. “Your name is Danielle Whitehall, you're twenty-eight years old, a graduate of Columbia University with an MBA in marketing from Wharton. You were the youngest person ever to make partner at the prestigious Flentroy Jones Agency, two years after graduation, which you turned down to join Hermes Marketing Group, a new agency specializing in Internet startups, where you are now Senior Vice President in charge of new markets. You have a lovely home in Jackson Heights, but you don't even have time for a pet, let alone a boyfriend. You're a Taurus, your favorite color is purple and your favorite food is Italian. Did I miss anything?"

  Horrified, she could only whisper, “I hate Italian."

  "Really?” He looked genuinely surprised, then shrugged. “Okay, I confess I guessed on those last. But Italian's usually a safe bet. So what do you like?"

  "How do you know all that?” She ignored the question, fear and a sense of violation slowly choking her.

  His face fell, regret steeling his features. “I'm sorry, Dani. It's just my job, that's all."

  She backed away from him, stopping him with a hand up before he could take a step. “I don't know who you are or what your job is, but you just stay away from me."

  "Dani—"

  "Leave me alone!” She turned and ran back down the hall and out the other entrance off the platform, not daring to risk shoving past him for fear he might grab her. Once on the street, she started yanking the pins from her hair, dropping them on the ground as she went. It didn't matter. Her tears were ruining her makeup, anyway.

  * * * *

  Dani didn't stop for her messages, leaving Calle looking startled in her wake as she stormed into her office and slammed the door. Fear had given way to blinding rage about two blocks before, and now her hand shook as she jerked open her desk drawer to dig through the clutter in search of a mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes raccooned from her mascara running, her hair a tousled mess. Steadying herself, she tried to repair the damage even as she punched the autodial on her phone.

  "The next time you have some good advice to make my life better, save it,” she snapped as soon as Holly picked up the phone.

  "Why, what happened?"

  "He turned out to be a scary stalker freak, that's what.” She scrubbed at her eyes. The mascara that had run so easily when she'd started tearing now stubbornly resisted her attempts to remove it.

  "Oh, my God, Dani, are you okay? What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

  "Worse. He violated me. He knew everything about me, Holly, everything. I think he's been spying on me."

  The other end of the line was quiet for a minute. “That's kind of romantic,” Holly finally offered.

  "Holly!"

  "What? It is!” She sounded completely unrepentant. “You said he wasn't creepy looking. If he looks that good, he can't be a stalker."

  "Did you see American Psycho?"

  "That was a movie. This is real life.” Holly was obviously thinking. “Maybe he's a spy. Maybe he thought you were hot, so he got your FBI file and found out all about you so he could hook up with you."

  "He is not a spy!” Giving up, Dani tossed her tissue in the trash. “And if he was trying to impress me, he went about it all wrong. Mr. Leather Pants can forget about it."

  "Wait, he knows all about you and you still don't even know his name? Come on, Dani, you can't give up now!"

  "Oh
, I so can. I'm not about to become another New York City freak show statistic, thank you very much."

  "Well, you're going to at least have to tell him."

  "No, I don't! Are you trying to get me killed? I tell him to leave me alone, and he'll snap, and start following me home until he can kill me on my front porch late one night."

  "Dani, you're exaggerating things. If he were that unstable, he would have set someone off by now."

  "Well, I'm not finding out."

  "You have to, or you'll be scared of him for the rest of your life. Come on, I'll go with you."

  Dani hesitated. Holly was probably right. She couldn't spend the next twenty years avoiding that particular hallway in Grand Central just because he might be there. And if she wasn't alone, he couldn't do anything. If he tried, Holly would get the transit cops on him so fast it wasn't even funny. “All right,” she finally relented. “But I'm taking a cab in tomorrow, and I'll meet you here. I'm not going to risk running into him on my own."

  "It's a deal. I'll meet you at eight forty-five tomorrow, okay? Don't worry, sweetie. We'll get this straightened out."

  "If you say so."

  She disconnected the call and stared at the phone. Holly had this ability to talk her into things she knew better than to do herself. It was probably why they were such good friends. But Dani couldn't help the sense of foreboding weighing down in the bottom of her stomach.

  "Dani?” A soft tap accompanied Calle's appearance at the door. “I'm sorry, but your ten o'clock is here. You all right?"

  "I'm fine, Calle, thanks.” She checked herself in the little hand mirror again. The perfection of this morning was gone, but the dark rims from her mascara now looked more like eyeliner than tear stains, and a quick powder would fix the damage to her foundation. “Tell them I'll be right out."

  * * * *

  Holly was waiting on the curb with two large coffees, the city breeze whipping her strawberry hair around her face. “You owe me lunch for this,” she insisted, handing Dani one of the cups after she finished paying the cabbie.

  "Hey, this was your idea, not mine."

  "Well, if he's as good looking as you say, I want to see this guy.” Her mouth quirked. “It might be worth dating a stalker if he's cute enough."