Her Silver Fox Page 23

  With an exasperated sigh, he raked his hand over his mouth. “I’m beginning to believe any time I say something that hits a nerve you think it’s a line or utter bullshit.”

  Her shoulder lifted in the merest of shrugs. “Men are my bread and butter, and I’ve heard it all. You’d be surprised how charming octogenarians can be.”

  “I’m not like your other customers,” he bit back.

  “How not?” she replied with equal fervor. Why couldn’t he let a dead dog lie?

  He stood very still for a moment, his gaze hungrily surveying her. “Have you slept with all of them?”

  Cheeks hot with embarrassment, she muttered, “No. You’re my first.”

  “Your first?”

  “And last,” she groused. Refusing to entertain him any further, she beat it over to the bar to retrieve his suit. She spied a gray car coat and grabbed that as well. When she turned about, he stood towering over her. A smile playing along his lips, his demeanor appeared greatly improved from a second ago.

  “Are you gloating?” she asked, shoving his jacket at him.

  “I’m trying very hard…” The corners of his mouth trembled. “Not to…”

  “Stop! You look constipated.”

  “Appreciate it,” he gushed in obvious relief.

  Still smarting from embarrassment and not wanting to take it out on him with a solid punch to his kisser, Shoshana headed for the exit. Mid-step, his hand shot out, stopping her.

  He studied her for a moment, the teasing mockery erased from his sinfully handsome features. “Since you won’t stay, allow me one last concession.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she whispered when she ought to be telling him no, when she should have pulled her arm free and got the hell out of there, especially when his touch shouldn’t feel this good.

  “Allow me to drive you home.”

  The request took her by surprise. So much so, she didn’t have a ready response. He appeared willing to wait as he quietly slipped into his coat. The thought of remaining in his company–if only a little while–sent a disturbing thrill flaring through her body. Still, she erred on the side of caution, “Only the ride and nothing more.”

  “On my best behavior the entire time,” he spoke softly, tone carefully neutral. And when he swept his arm toward the door, his smile remained steady, unsuspecting.

  It was only a car ride she mused. An innocuous, completely harmless, thirty minute trip from one borough to the next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The bleat of a car horn broke them apart.

  Panting, and slightly lucid, Shoshana sat back tongue tied while he put the sleek Maserati into gear. Cars—horns blaring—swerved around them, filling the hole they’d left in traffic. She glanced out the window and slumped, mortified. They hadn’t put much of a dent in their drive. They were still trapped in the Bronx with the on-ramp for the Macombs Dam Bridge firmly in the distance.

  A quick glance at the clock and she easily surmised they’d been in the car no more than ten minutes when they started pawing on each other. One minute they were trading notes on where to find the best oysters in the city, the next she’d draped herself over him like a car blanket. Groaning, she shut her eyes and slurped in a deep calming breath as if she were suffocating.

  “You okay?”

  When she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze was inexorably drawn to him. “Should I not be?” she asked, blood instantly stirring.

  What in the heck was wrong with me? She couldn’t look at him without wanting to jump his bones. Flummoxed, she turned her attention to the passing scenery.

  “You’re awfully quiet over there.”

  “Trying to come up with a solution.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “The problem,” she stressed, “is this thing between you and me.”

  “There wouldn’t be a problem if you face the truth.”

  “I never denied my attraction to you. I just can’t give you want you want.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  Shoshana pursed her lips. “I’m not going to argue semantics with you.”

  “Then let’s not argue. I don’t want this night to end on a sour note. Do you?”

  “No,” Shoshana mumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an opportunity to simply sit and enjoy herself. Tonight had been nice, a welcome respite from eternal deadlines, baffling payroll taxes, and even her father.

  “So Bunkie’s are the best?”

  “You’re patronizing me,” she grumbled.

  “I happen to like oysters.” He downshifted to enter Queensboro Bridge.

  “I like them as well,” she admitted. “Especially when they’re chargrilled.”

  “Then we should enjoy them together.”

  She turned to look at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  “You sound like that’s a bad thing.”

  Far from it considering the thought of them on a date just unleashed a jar of butterflies in her belly.

  “What about my rule to never date a customer?” she asked, rubbing her tummy.

  He thumped his thumb on the leather-covered steering wheel then snapped his fingers. “How about…I put a day and time out there and you agree to show up? We can even go Dutch so you don’t feel any pressure to put out.” He held up a finger. “Correction. I won’t feel any pressure to put out.”

  Chuckling, she reached out and tweaked his arm. “You know you want to give it up.”

  He peeked at her. “Badly. But I’m going to toe the line or you won’t respect me in the morning.”

  Shoshana swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. This beautiful, delicious man was more concerned about how she viewed him and not vice versa. She cleared her throat before biting out, “If we ever need a marketing guru, you’re hired.”

  “Not the position I’m campaigning for.”

  His Maserati suddenly seemed cramped. The diamond-quilted tobacco colored leather closing in, suffocating, robbing her brain of oxygen. It helped explain her abrupt lack of rationale, this sudden questioning of her well-ordered life and craving for something altogether different.

  She leaned back in the car’s leather buttery seats, hoping the smooth ride would calm her nerves. Five blocks later she gave up more on edge and feeling like she was hanging over a precipice, a yawning chasm of fear and frustration. At least they’d crossed into Manhattan. A few more traffic lights, she’d be able to escape into the guaranteed safety of the factory.

  Feeling as if an invisible tether were pulling her, her eyes were drawn to him. And once again she was struck by her body’s unsettling reaction to him. Common sense railed at her to put distance between them, and yet more than that she wanted to simply crawl in his lap. With him, there was no need to put out any fires. She didn’t have to stroke ruffled feathers. And she didn’t have to walk on eggshells. Around him she could just be.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he peeked at her.

  “You’re awfully quiet over there. Mulling things over?”

  Doing just that, she drummed her fingers on the armrest.

  “Are you going to spill it or just continue to torture me?” He asked pulling alongside the curb and then shifting the car into park.

  He was tempting, but she decided to stick to her guns. “I’ll call you in about a week for your next fitting.”

  “At least that wasn’t ‘no’.”

  She was relieved when he opened his car door and climbed out. She didn’t think she could withstand another onslaught to her nearly diminished defenses. Fortunately, she managed to compose herself by the time he opened her door. She stepped out of the car and reveled in the cool night air since it wasn’t permeated by his intoxicating scent. On slightly wobbly legs, she stepped away reclaiming her personal space.

  “I’d take that from you but I have a feeling you’d refuse. Give me your keys?” When she resisted, he pointed at the suit and messenger bag in her arms. “Your hands look a little ful
l.”

  She pivoted slightly. “Right pocket.”

  In quick order, he fished in her pocket. Keys in one hand, the other settled at the base of her spine. She took a deep breath. His touch on such a vulnerable spot was like a jolt to her system.

  “Front door service, how charming,” she wisecracked out of nervousness.

  “I’m on the campaign trail.” His smile grew. “Can’t rest solely on the popular vote. I want to make it a sweep.”

  Her chest twisted tightly but she didn’t dare ask for clarification. He was hitting homers and each dinger over the fence was making her melt from the outside in. Still, when they reached they reached the end of the line and his hand fell away, she felt like a snuffed candle. Bereft, she watched him unlock then open the door.

  For several awkward moments, they stared at each other as if waiting for the other to say something.

  “I better call it a night,” she threw out finally finding her tongue. Before she could take a step, his arm shot out, his hand catching the door above her head and blocking her planned escape. She saw it coming but she was powerless to prevent it. Reeling on the inside, immobile on the outside she didn’t budge a whit, when he slid his free hand around the base of her neck. The warm touch of his fingers was unsettling. Her lips parted slightly on a gasp, and instinctively she licked her lips in anticipation.

  With a slight tug, he pulled her against him. But instead of kissing her mouth, he placed his lips in the hollow of her throat.

  “You don’t play fair,” she moaned. She had thought herself prepared but she wasn’t ready for this unexpected move. Heat traveled downward and united with the throb between her legs.

  “All’s fair…” he exhaled warm, tingling breath in her ear. “You know the rest…”

  Her mouth opened under his. She’d yearned for this kiss ever since the last. Groaning, she melted at the resolute stroke of his tongue over hers, reminding her of sex--the hot and sweaty kind. And considering how much she desired him, she toyed with the thought that he might actually make her orgasm.

  She expected to have her socks rocked by a run-of-the-mill kiss, not this knee-weakening tenderness. This kiss was devoid of blind lust and hollow passion. His mouth weaved an enchantment that punched a hole in her fragile common sense. Her breath quickened and her body relaxed against him. She slipped her arms around his wide shoulders. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair.

  “Good night.”

  Somewhat dazed, she felt her limbs loosen as he untangled himself.

  “I’ll call you.”

  She was quiet for a bit and then croaked out, “What…why?” she asked her gaze following him as he headed to his car.

  Hand raised he waved, keeping her in the dark. What did he mean he’d call? Had she missed something? As far as she was concerned nothing had changed between. Or maybe it had.

  “I’m burning up.”

  Shoshana jumped. She believed herself alone but found her solitude breached by one of her night custodians, Ruthie Weismeir. About armpit height, she stood just inside the door, fanning herself with the evening Post.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  The other woman lifted a plump shoulder. “Only saw the tail end. Ay-yay-yay! If I were thirty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

  “He…I…we… that kiss wasn’t anything.”

  “Gay avek…get out of here! You’ve mistaken me for a putz,” Ruthie sniffed. “That looked like something to me.”

  “I’m going to call it a night,” Shoshana said, throwing in the towel. It was no use to go around and around with Ruthie. More stubborn than a dog with a soup bone, it would take an act of Congress to change the other woman’s mind.

  “Give your father a hug for me,” Ruthie said as she pulled a rag from her cleaning smock.

  A twinge of panic assailing her, Shoshana glanced at the ceiling. “Why? Did something happen?”

  Ruthie shrugged. “He seemed in good spirits. I caught him traipsing through here about thirty minutes ago.”

  Shoshana felt her heart thrumming in her chest. “Coming or going?”

  “Coming in. I called to him but didn’t seem to hear me. He went upstairs straight away.”

  “Have a good night.” Shoshana flung over her shoulder. Riddled with guilt, she moved through the racks of suits purely by pure memory, her thoughts solely on her father and wondering what condition she’d find him. Stopping at the top of the stairs, she prayed for patience and most of all strength. With each erratic episode, she was beginning to feel more alienated and alone. Compound that with the feeling she was burning the candle at both ends, it was a wonder she could even get out of bed in the morning.

  Shouldering her burden, she opened the door to their shared apartment. She’d left Patrick’s suit draped over the railing outside along with any possibility of a future for them. Sure she was being pragmatic and more than a little self-defeatist but as long as her father was alive she would always come as a plus one.

  “Hey, Griffie,” she cooed at her little man perched on the arm of the living room sofa. Tail wagging in excitement he pushed his head in her hand when she reached to pet him. Beside him—entranced with the local nightly news—sat her father. Steeling herself, she scooped up the pup and took the seat next to him.

  She counted to ten, giving ample opportunity for any unexpected fireworks, and then ventured, “What do you want for dinner? I can—”

  “Just ate.” Sporting a satisfied grin, he rubbed his belly. “I ordered delivery from Junior’s. There’s a turkey Reuben and a slice of red velvet cake with your name on it in the fridge.”

  Relieved, Shoshana kicked off her heels and unbuttoned her jeans.

  Her father looked at her over a pair of reading glasses. At first glance, she failed to see the evening Post in his lap.

  “You’re not going to eat?” he asked.

  “I grabbed something after my last appointment.” Reminded of today’s angst-riddled rendezvous, she could feel heat seeping into her cheeks.

  Unsuspecting, her father suggested, “You can save it for lunch.”

  “Yeah…yeah, I’ll save it for lunch,” she absently said while thoughts of Patrick and his enthralling good night kiss assailed her mind. A glutton for punishment, she pulled her cell phone from her bag. She set it down then picked it up a second later when it chimed.

  Your corner of the world still in one piece?

  Repressing a smile yet powerless against the girlish excitement fluttering in her gut she commiserated over his text. If she answered him, she would be opening the door wider, digging a deeper hole for herself and subsequent disasters. Still, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t worked through a hundred scenarios where a relationship might work.

  Damn him for keeping his word, she raged yet feeling utterly defenseless against her perverse curiosity. And despite her sternest assertions against anything more than a brief fling and every practical warning from an otherwise rational mind, she typed a reply.

  Intact, no thanks to you

  He didn’t take as long to answer.

  We’ll do it again. Soon. Good night

  Shoshana set her phone aside. His bold assertion proved far more difficult. She lingered on his promise long into the night, cutting into her usual bedtime and it was the first thing she pondered upon waking. In seven words, he’d done the unthinkable: he made her think about the future and his place in it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Sexting again.”

  Shoshana pressed her cell to her breast. “Nooo, I am not.”

  “Then why…” his hand shot out, catching her off guard. “…are you protecting your phone?” Smiling like the cat that ate the canary, he stared down at her screen. A beat later, his expression flat lined.

  “Ohh, this is sad,” he beat his thumb against the screen, scrolling through her text messages. She reached to reclaim her phone. He jumped two chairs over.

  He held up her pho
ne and cleared his throat. Heart hammering, she went after him. He jumped two more chairs.

  “The rain is coming down hard now,” he said, voice dipping to a rich baritone.

  “Monsoon?” His octave range jumped to soprano. He slapped his thumb once, twice.

  “Froyo or frozen custard?” Baritone again.

  “Got me there. Never tried either.”

  Tyson raised his fist above his head then stuck out his tongue. He jerked his arm on an invisible rope. Body titled forward, he started to quake engulfed in violent tremors.

  Spying an opening, Shoshana attempted a rescue mission. Thwarted by a surprise fake to the left, she came up empty handed.

  “I’m going to make this a little more interesting.”

  “Don’t you da—”

  “Done!” Smile sugary sweet, he gave up her phone.

  “You’re fired,” she grumbled, then turned her attention to the damage.

  Unbothered by her hollow threat, Tyson ambled over to the espresso machine.

  “You should be thanking me,” he boasted.

  Shoshana sucked her teeth in disgust. “Reverse cowgirl or Viennese oyster,” she

  said, cheeks burning. Not sure she’d read the text correctly, she glanced at it again.

  “What the heck is a Viennese oyster?”

  “It’s where your partner ties your ankles and wrists together.”

  “But how do you…how is that possible?”

  “The legs are spread wide then tied.”

  She pictured herself open and vulnerable with Patrick and her mouth formed an O.

  “Told, you.” He had the smug look of a matchmaking mother who just sealed the deal. “Should be thanking me.”

  “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she retorted. She was about to say more but her cell chimed.

  “I’d like to do both with you but you know the terms,” she read aloud.

  Frowning, Tyson crossed his arms. “Terms? What does he mean by that?”

  “He’s not putting out again until he gets a commitment.”

  “He clam-jammed you?” Noting her blank stare, he rushed to explain, “It’s the female version of cock blocked.” He circumvented the conference table and sat beside her. “When did this happen and why?”