Her Silver Fox Read online

  “During his last fitting, he presented me an ultimatum. He wouldn’t have sex with me again unless I gave him a commitment.”

  “So are you going to put a ring on it?”

  Shoshana sat very still. The expected retort lodged in the back of her throat. Did he know what it felt like to have this painful longing while being fearful of actually doing something about it?

  “He’s making me want things. And I’m beginning to not feel guilty about wanting those things.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She never wanted a man’s love and attention with this such foolhardy desperation. Riddled with angst, she slid her manicured thumbnail between her teeth and bit down.

  “What’s wrong with wanting it all?”

  “Not possible,” Shoshana scoffed. “Everyone has to sacrifice something.”

  “Don’t give anything up. Let him choose to be with you and all the hundreds of things you have going on.” He leaned in close. “You need to understand that relationships are not obligations. They’re a luxury. You add them or let them go when they’re no longer working or serve a purpose.”

  “And that purpose?”

  “A little thing called happiness.” He sat down next to her then swiveled her chair around to face him. “Now ask yourself would Patrick Kelly be an added benefit?

  His words gave rise to tears. “Possibly,” she said, blinking them back.

  “The impossible problem becomes possible when the problem is only a tough decision waiting to be made.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

  “You like that quote?” Tyson sat back smiling, hands cradling his head. “I should put it on one of those black and white posters layered over a pastoral scene.”

  “Does your bag of quotes have anything about being obstacles? I have far too many obligations and duties to allow them to be neglected. For one the business--”

  Tyson waved his hand. “Haufman’s practically flies on autopilot. We both know if you wanted to indulge in a naughty nooner with your silver fox, the place isn’t going to come to a standstill.”

  Unable to challenge the truth of his argument, she threw another wrench in it.

  “What about my dad?”

  “You can’t choose your family but he can choose to accept their flaws in order to be with you. Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t make it easier for him.”

  “Easier?”

  “Now, now…don’t get your drawers in a bunch. Your father’s situation is a conundrum you haven’t faced. For months you’ve skirted the inevitable, and made so many excuses you’ve become blind to the obvious. You want to move forward with this man, give yourself some peace of mind.” He paused to scroll through his contacts. “Here’s the number to Mount Sinai Alzheimer’s Research Center.”

  “You have the contact in your cell?”

  “I’m your assistant. You pay me to stay several steps ahead.”

  Shoshana itched to take the phone from him but she kept her hands stubbornly folded in her lap. “I’m not seeing the correlation between Patrick and taking my father to some research facility.”

  “You have don’t have the same balance with your father that you do over your career. The center can connect you with resources and a support group. You need a community that understands what you’re going through.”

  Shoshana glanced at her cell. “I wouldn’t know how to ask a man out if I tried.”

  Tyson took her cell and handed her his. “How about we kill two birds with two phones? You call Mount Sinai and I’ll shoot the Silver Fox a G-rated invite.”

  ***

  Shoshana stood on the corner. Deaf to the rush hour traffic zipping around her, she stared at the entrance of NYfroyo. Patrick arrived on time, she a half hour earlier. She used the extra time to post up in a boutique across the street. Five minutes ago, she was politely given the boot by the shopkeeper who finally noticed her disinterest in linen and an unfailing fascination with the frozen yogurt bar.

  Dressing with confidence had not calmed her nerves and neither had arriving early. The extra minutes waiting and deliberating had only caused them to go haywire.

  Come on, girl, you can do this! It’s only a date. And all temptation had been removed with a late afternoon rendezvous and a crowded Midtown dessert parlor. Wiggling her fingers, she willed her feet to move.

  “Baby steps,” she chuckled, laughing at her slow progress. Out the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of herself in a storefront window. She might not feel confident at least she looked the part. One had to have self-esteem by the bucket load to pull off the body hugging ivory sweater dress she’d paired with a pair of brown thigh-high suede boots.

  Heart pounding, she waffled near the door. Her gaze skipped over the tangerine orange walls, lime green tables, and chairs. She took in messy faced tykes shoveling gummy bears down their throats, stroller moms commiserating in whispers, Wi-Fi thieves sipping on complimentary ice water and promptly dismissed them all. Her gaze was like a heat seeking missile and Patrick was the only thing of warmth in this citrus explosion.

  “Wow. You look amazing.”

  His smile was exactly as she remembered, instant and warm. He made her feel as though he’d never smiled at anyone before. Body throbbing, she pivoted to face him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the stroller moms staring at them. You can kick rocks ladies, this one’s mine she cheerfully mused, basking in Patrick’s adoration.

  “Hey,” she breathed, feeling like a prisoner held by his cool blue gaze, so like a gray wolf’s eyes, as it traveled over her. The raw, predatory desire in their depths triggered an incessant pulsing below her waist.

  “Hungry?” he asked looking sinfully handsome in a pair of black jeans and matching V-neck sweater. Waning sunlight poured through the window illuminating the light and dark strands in his hair, his splendid bone structure. And for a split second, she imagined having babies with him. Lots and lots of babies.

  “I’m famished,” she gushed.

  “Then allow me to feed you.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided them past a monster-size bar filled with limitless confections. Her mouth was watering but it didn’t have anything to do with the endless variety of fresh and candied toppings. He was so close she could feel his body heat, smell that panty-dropping cologne of his.

  “Behave, behave,” she chanted under her breath as he sidled away to retrieve a couple of dessert tubs and soufflé cups for sampling. She had no control over her gaze stalking him. His quarter-bouncing ass deserved equal admiration as the rest of him. Before he caught her checking him out, she approached the self-serve dispensers.

  “Before you got here, I checked out the place,” he confessed as he handed her a thumb-sized cup and a polka dotted container.

  “Why two containers?”

  “You use the yocups to taste every single flavor at least twice.”

  “I doubt that’s protocol,” she giggled.

  “No. I won’t tell if you don’t.” With a wink, he left her to fend for herself.

  Minutes later, they rendezvoused at the toppings bar. She peeked in his cup. He eyed hers back.

  “White chocolate and peanut butter?”

  “Same?” They looked in each other’s cups again.

  His eyes met hers and held for several bottom-lip-biting seconds.

  “Guess we’re two peas in a pod,” he drawled, his voice sticky sweet like warm honey. It clung to her while he paid for their desserts, rode her when she followed him to a pair of high-back stools facing the window, and lingered long after she’d taken her seat.

  “I can’t remember the last time I've been to the East Village.” She glanced out the window and admired the tree lined streets. “Have you ever been here before?

  “No.”

  “Do you live near here?”

  “No.”

  “Then why choose this place. There's a froyo place a block from—”

  His conspiratorial smile said everything.

&nb
sp; “There’s more than just 9th and 35th,” she said, remembering their conversation at the ballpark.

  He peeked at her through a lush spray of black lashes.

  “—and the text messages—”

  The gears in her brain whirred.

  “—soliciting my opinion about upcoming movie releases—”

  She connected more dots.

  “—best cocktails at Murphy’s—”

  Slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.

  “—frozen yogurt or custard—”

  As if on cue, he spooned froyo in his mouth.

  “—you were leaving me crumbs—”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call them crumbs,” he balked. “More like, suggestions.”

  Indignant, she stabbed her spoon in her yogurt.

  “If you wanted to go on a date, all you had to do was ask.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “Tried that, remember.”

  “And you were so sure this gamble of yours would pay off?”

  “Of course, I had an ace up my sleeve.”

  She swiveled to face him. “I’m all ears.”

  “Sex.”

  “Sex?” Shoshana was surprised her voice sounded so even. The one-syllable word lit an internal fire that slowly liquefied her insides.

  “You like it when I give it to you. Every time I look in your eyes you practically beg me for it.”

  “Shhh! There’s a toddler at the next table.”

  Heading her warning, he leaned in but continued to lay it on hot and heavy, “I want to be what you need. From day one, I loved your body and all its curves. You give me all sort of nasty ideas, but I vowed to be good boy, keep my eyes on the end game.”

  Rendered speechless and heat clawing at her insides she recalled how his body, every rock solid hard inch of it, felt against her, moved over her, buried deep inside her. If he kept it up, she just might peak on command. An embarrassing, moist heat was already making her thighs slick.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “You already know my answer to that.” His tone was nonchalant, but he was staring at her with sobering gravity.

  “And all this time I’ve been saying no,” she said with effort her voice taut with emotion.

  “To me, it’s felt like forever.”

  “You gave me your ultimatum a week and a half ago.”

  “An eternity,” he groused.

  “I guess I should ask the hard questions.”

  “Do I have any pets?” he ventured.

  “No.”

  “Do I want kids?’

  “Do you?”

  “I like kids never thought about having any of my own. I imagined myself as the sexy uncle who sends awesome birthday cards and only sees his nieces and nephews every other Christmas.” He looked thoughtful. “What about you?”

  “Never gave ‘em a thought.”

  His expression was dubious. “I bet you say that to every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”

  Her shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. “Stinky diapers. Puberty. College tuition. My life is filled with enough terror and pain.”

  “You keep wooing me like this, I might skip the prenup.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said with a straight face.

  He grinned. “First time I actually meant it.”

  Oblivious to the customers who came and went, empty froyo cups long discarded, yet loathe to part ways they talked about the most trivial things including Family Feud, toddler beauty pageants, and BYOB painting classes.

  “Let me get this straight. You get hammered while painting a bowl of fruit but go home with what looks like a portrait of Phyllis Diller.”

  “Pretty much.” Chuckling, she plopped her chin in her palm. “We need to give it a go.”

  An hour ago she’d passed the awkward stage. After her second serving of yogurt, her libido had cooled enough she’d stopped visualizing him naked. And in the interim, she’d regained some of her usual aplomb and started swapping him one-liners.

  “Is that a date?”

  “Is that a yes?” she teased.

  “The answer isn’t yes anymore, it’s when?”

  If she were an angst-riddled teenager, she would’ve bit down on her bottom lip. Instead, she was a premenopausal grown woman with baggage and a day job. So she couldn’t simply be in the moment—appreciate her good fortune, their dynamic chemistry, and easy rapport—she had to somehow allow her anxiety get the best of her.

  “My business and father are my top priorities. If you can’t accept that, then this won’t work.”

  He looked at her a moment and then sat back, gazing at her with what appeared to be bewilderment. “Feel good to get that out?”

  She nodded.

  Silence hung between them and then he exhaled in a long slow breath. “Call me a selfish bastard but I don’t like to share.”

  She’d factored planned for this response, still, it didn’t keep her emotions from swinging in a wide pendulum from hurt and embarrassment to anger. Not seeing any reason—more like unwilling—to continue their date she moved to stand. He served up a preemptive move wrapping his arm around the back of her stool. Eyes filled with an intensity she felt all the way down to her curling toes, he scooted toward her, trapping her between his hard thighs.

  “I don’t want a scene,” she asserted yet wishing the floor would swallow her whole.

  “And I don’t want you to leave until I’ve had my say.”

  As if unable to resist touching her, he moved his hand. Several fingers brushed her side and her body began to act on instinct. Instead of avoiding his touch, she leaned closer.

  He titled his head up and his expression stirred an alarming yearning. “I’ve always wondered how people find the one in a city of seven million people. Since meeting you, falling for you, I realize it’s possible. Call it fate or a miracle, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. You’re everything I’ve wanted and needed. I want to be there for you, the one you lean on. If I have to work my way up in your lines of priorities, I’m willing to do that as long as you don’t shut me out.”

  “Let’s go outside.”

  Hand in hers, he followed her out. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, she turned around, slid her arms through his, and pushed her hands beneath his sweater. The surge of emotion like the heat beneath her palms was devastating and her knees filled with champagne.

  When his arms braced her, her gaze lifted to meet his. The dizzying pace of the world buzzed around them but she felt like they’d come to a standstill inside their own cozy little bubble.

  “I’m gonna suck at this,” she murmured.

  “Suck or not, I’ll take you.”

  “I’ll take you home.” Balking she sidestepped his guiding hand, opting to stay behind while he walked to the curb and hailed a cab. “Home?” she huffed, crossing her arms. In his absence, she was suddenly feeling chilly. “Aren’t we going to your place to…um, consummate this?”

  “Not tonight, babe.” he said with a knowing glance that made her thighs quiver.

  A yellow town car rolled up and he stepped forward to open the door. Single-minded and intent on consummation, she hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d left her in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “The meter’s running.”

  Shoshana glanced up the block then down. His smile when she finally acknowledged him was quirked with amusement.

  “I’ll make it worth your wait,” he coaxed, thumping the car door.

  Eyes narrowed, she slowly walked toward the man who’d tantalized and enticed her into a relationship.

  “How worth it?” she asked, gaze running over his powerful frame.

  He smiled indulgently and spoke in a voice smooth as honey, “I’ll use my sizable talents to fulfill all your fantasies.”

  “And if one of my fantasies is you, naked in bed, for an entire weekend?”

  “Don’t you think you deserve more than a weekend?” He’d lowered his voice so onl
y she could hear. The illusion of privacy, like sheltering a dirty little secret, sent a wave of hunger through her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, trembling.

  He thumped the car door again.

  “I told you I was gonna suck at this,” she muttered, ducking her head she climbed in.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” Shoshana eyed her father’s short-sleeved polo and khakis. Both were rumpled, and her father never left the apartment unkempt.

  Her father glared at her over his reading glasses. “I can’t find my wallet,” he huffed. “You know I don’t go anywhere without it.”

  Just then, she noticed the odd angle of the dining room chairs, the papers scattered across the coffee table. The arm chairs pillows were mismatched. One of the sheer curtains drooped on the rod. Gryff sat beside him excitedly panting, fur all askew as if he’d been picked up several times. His wallet had to be missing. He’d torn the place apart.

  “It’s probably in the hall—”

  Her father slashed his hand through the air. “You don’t think I’ve looked everywhere?” His aggressive tone raised all kinds of red flags. Her father rarely raised his voice and never his hands.

  Her father suddenly stood up. He swung his head to and fro. “Son of a bitch,” he swore. “Where’d I put the frackin’ remote control?”

  Shoshana glanced at the armrest caddy. Featuring multiple pouches on either side, the gadget was a catch-all for his newspaper, Sudoku puzzles, and all three remote controls.

  “I’ll look for your wallet while you go get dressed,” she said, handing him the remote for the television.

  His expression relaxed. “I’m still not going anywhere until my wallet’s found.”

  I. am. not. going. to. verklempt. She silently chanted. It wouldn’t benefit either of them if she shut down as well. She inhaled then exhaled until the pounding in her head ceased.

  “Then sit before you plotz all over the place.”

  With an idea where his wallet might be, Shoshana padded down the hall. Along with buying the chair caddy, she’d installed a chalkboard mail and key organizer in the entry hall. She’d christened the latter as mission control. She used it to catch their house keys and cell phones, list emergency phone numbers and safeguard her father’s wallet. Getting him to use it had been fairly easy, remembering said place proved much more difficult.