Читать книгу A Lick and a Promise - Jo Leigh - Страница 11

DANIEL STOOD ON THE PATIO wondering what the hell he was doing there. Not the patio per se, but this situation, with Margot, grilling pizza. It was an experience that on the face of it shouldn’t be bizarre, but it was. She was…

He didn’t have a clue what or who she was. Different didn’t say nearly enough. He’d never met anyone like her. Not even close.

The way she spoke. It was like being in a Quentin Tarantino film, sans the violence. He had absolutely no idea what would come out of her mouth next, and he couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, that had happened to him. There was a rhythm to the conversations of his life, a logic. With her, there was nothing to hold on to.

“So, tell me more,” she said.

“More about what?”

“You. Brothers, sisters, parents, friends. The entire scoop, please, leave nothing out.”

He laughed. “It would put you to sleep, and you have to watch the grill.”

“Try me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then moved to the far end of her patio to look over the edge. It would have been utterly appropriate if there had been an endless chasm below, but instead it was just the street with packed-in cars on both sides. “Well, my parents live in Port Washington.”

“Ah, Long Island.”

“Yep. I was raised there. I have an older sister, Gretchen.”

“No brothers?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither. Go on.”

“My father’s an architect.”

“Do you work with him?”

“Nope. I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

Usually, if someone asked, he said he’d wanted to make it on his own. No one questioned that. It was an honest answer. But not a complete one. “I don’t get along all that well with my father.”

“Oh, bummer. Isn’t he happy you followed in his footsteps?”

Daniel nodded. “Sure. And don’t get me wrong, he’s a good man. We just don’t…” He shrugged.

“Talk?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your mom?”

“She talks.”

Margot smiled and it was like the sun moving from behind a cloud. She really was an extraordinary-looking woman. Lush, full, rounded. He kept wanting to touch her. Not that he would, but the urge was there. Her hair was incredibly shiny and thick, her skin glowed, and her eyes… When she looked at him it made his throat dry and his thoughts turn to mush. “Does she listen?”

“Who?”

Her soft laugh made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up. In a good way. “Your mother.”

“Sometimes. But mostly, she’s concerned with her… With herself.”

“I see.” Margot looked at him for a long moment, then she turned back to the grill. “These are done. Let’s take ’em to Anya’s.”

He got the boards, and she put the pizzas, which smelled incredible, on them. Then she led him through the apartment to the front door. He glanced at his jacket, still crumpled on the floor. There would be time for that later.

HE CHECKED HIS WATCH and frowned at the time. It was almost one in the morning. He had to be up at six for work. At least they’d reached the end of the extended dinner. They were at Rocco’s, whose place was just as unexpected as everything else had been over the long night.

The ex-boxer collected antiques. And he had one hell of an eye. They were seated in his living room, on elegant Louis XIV chaises. Across from Daniel on the smaller couch, Eric rested his head on Devon’s lap. Corrie sat cross-legged on the Persian rug with her back upright, as if she were standing at attention. It would have been impossible for him, but evidently her training as a dancer had been primarily about posture.

Anya was in the kitchen with Rocco making tea. And Margot… Margot sat inches away from Daniel, her back against a silk pillow, her legs up on the chaise, her bare feet nearly touching his thigh. She’d painted her nails a brilliant scarlet, and she had rings, one white, one blue, around two of her toes.

He kept his hands cupped around his brandy snifter but all he could think about was running his fingers down the enticing curve of her foot.

It was nuts. He wasn’t into feet. He knew some men were, but he’d never given them a thought.

He stole a look at Margot and was shocked to meet her very intense gaze. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

“It’s all right, you know,” she said, her voice very soft, meant only for him.

“What’s all right?” he whispered back.

“You can touch them.”

His mouth opened, but, again, nothing. No response. Not a clue what to say.

“They’re pretty rings,” she went on. “I got one of them at a flea market. The blue one was a gift.”

His gaze finally moved from hers only to stare at the exotic toe jewelry. An image flashed in his mind, very vivid. So vivid, he had to shift on the couch.

“What?” she asked, leaning a little forward.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Daniel. We know each other too well to hold back now.”

He looked at her again. At the teasing smile, the coy arch of her eyebrow. “I don’t know you at all.”

“I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

He raised the snifter to his lips and took a big sip. The heat slithered down his throat, expanding as it reached his chest. “Do you have rings anywhere else?” he asked.

She nodded.

He coughed. Turned away. Stared at an eighteenth-century highboy.

“Do you want to know where?”

Her voice snuck beneath his defenses, which weren’t many. He was too full, too drunk and too bewildered by the woman. He’d talked to the others tonight, but cursorily. Even when he wanted to, he couldn’t force his attention far away from Margot. Willing himself to be cool, to not let her know what she was doing to him, he sipped again at the brandy. But it was no use. He wanted to know about her other rings. Badly. He sighed. Then nodded.

Again, that soft, knowing chuckle. “Well, I have these,” she said.

He looked. He was constitutionally incapable of not looking. But all he saw were her hands. Long, beautiful hands with crimson nails. She did have rings. On each hand. One a pearl, the other a diamond. His chest sank with disappointment, which he realized was nuts. It’s just that she was so…exotic, he was expecting more. Different. Erotic.

Then she leaned forward even more. When she had his gaze locked, she licked her lower lip with the tip of her pink tongue. “The others will have to wait until we’re alone.”

“Others?”

She smiled, showing him her white teeth. “Two more. But I’m not going to tell you where. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

“Oh, God.”

Laughing, she leaned back against her pillow.

The next thing he knew, she’d swung her legs off the chaise and stood. “Well, kiddies. It’s late, and I have a disgustingly early call. Thank you all for a magnificent evening. I look forward to next Sunday’s soiree where I shall be making dessert.” She pointed to Corrie. “You’re appetizers.” Her red-tipped finger moved to Devon and Eric. “Main course.” Then she pointed at Daniel. “You’ll help me.”

She walked toward the kitchen. “I’m leaving,” she said to Anya and Rocco, who were just coming back to the living room. “I have to go. Thank you for everything.” She kissed both of them on the cheek. “Take care of each other.” Then she was at the front door. She waved her fingers. Closed the door behind her.

For the first time since he’d met her, Daniel got a full breath. He sagged against the chaise, still boggled by the night.

Corrie approached him. She patted his knee. “See? I told you it would be okay. I think it’s wonderful.”

“What?”

“You and Margot, of course.”

“What are you talking about?”

Across the way, Devon chuckled. “You’ll see.”

Daniel looked at the man. “See what? What’s going on?”

Eric yawned expansively, then sat up. “Nothing to worry about, Daniel old boy. Just relax. She’ll be gentle.”

Daniel stood up. Put the snifter on the table. “I don’t know what the hell you people are talking about. If it’s some kind of cult—”

Laughter cut him off. He didn’t realize he’d said anything funny.

“It’s not a cult,” Corrie said. “It’s just Margot. And she’s wonderful. Kind and caring. She just wants to help.”

“With what? I don’t need any help.”

Corrie’s gaze raked him from head to toe then back again. She smiled kindly, with just a hint of pity. “You’re so sweet,” she said.

“This is insane,” he said, bewildered by this wacko group he’d stumbled into. “All of you.”

“Yep, but we mean no harm. So don’t fret.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he said, heading to the door. “And I don’t think I’ll be available next Sunday. I’ve got a previous engagement.”

No one tried to change his mind, but they gave each other disturbingly knowing looks. He had to get out of there. Now. This was out of control. And he wanted no part of it.

MARGOT HAD TO GET TO SLEEP. Tomorrow, actually today, was really important, and she couldn’t screw it up. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Daniel.

She’d been bad. Naughty, naughty. But it had been so much fun teasing him. He blushed! It was completely adorable, and she couldn’t wait to make him do it again. And again.

She shifted under her comforter, punched her pillow into submission, but thoughts of Daniel just kept on coming. Halfway through dinner, she realized that teasing Daniel was way up there on her hit parade. Kind of like chocolate. Addictive, satisfying, good for the libido. She kept wanting more and more, until that silly little stunt on the couch. Could she have been more blatant?

Jeez, it was amazing she’d held herself back from ravishing the boy right there in front of God and everybody.

She just hoped she hadn’t scared him into moving back to Greenwich.

Nah. He’d liked it. She remembered his eyes, how they’d gleamed with interest. How they’d come back to her over and over again, no matter what else was going on in the room. That was truly something.

She knew she had an effect on men. Mostly, they were just confused by her, but from time to time she elicited real interest. Which pleased her so much that she’d always, always, make a judicious exit, before the thrill had a chance to dissipate. Always leave them wanting more was her motto. And yet with Daniel, she wasn’t so anxious to run off. Not that she could. She lived here. But it wouldn’t be that difficult to make herself scarce.

No. She didn’t want to do that. She wanted to experience the rush of last night all over again. It was exhilarating. Thrilling. Exciting in a way that hadn’t happened to her since… Since ever.

“Wow,” she whispered to the night. “Wow, wow.” Then she turned over again. She really needed to get to sleep. Now.

Reaching down to her bedside drawer, she pulled out her favorite toy. She had lots of yummy things to imagine tonight. Too many. How could she possibly choose just one?

But one did come to mind the moment she touched herself with her vibrator. Daniel. Naked. Investigating her rings. All of them.

HE WAS A MORON. No doubt about it. Daniel wiped his face with his hand, cringing at the vision he saw in the mirror. He looked like hell, and today was not the day for it. He’d known about the presentation. Had worked for months getting his plans together, making sure he’d included everything the clients could possibly want, and what did he do the night before?

“Idiot,” he said to the man in the mirror. “Moron.”

Then he pushed his hair back with his fingers, straightened his shoulders and strode out of the bathroom. His boss, Edgar Kogen, was waiting impatiently by Daniel’s desk. “They’re here.”

Daniel nodded, wishing he’d had time for another cup of coffee before he had to do the dog-and-pony show. But he got his portfolio and followed Kogen into the conference room.

He had already prepared the room. There were easels covered with detail drawings which, along with what he had in his portfolio, would convince the attorneys from Bressler, Wendelken and Sherman that this new building would handle all their needs for years to come. He pasted a smile on his face, and launched into his spiel.

It took five hours, but by the end of it, the attorneys were sold. They shook hands, and Daniel caught Edgar’s approving nod as he gathered his drawings. This was a major, prestige deal, one worth millions. Daniel had been privy to the competition’s approach, seen sketches, which were damn good. But they were too modern, too forward thinking for the stodgy attorneys. Bressler et al were from the old school, like the company Daniel worked for. Like his father. They liked the status quo, and that’s just what Daniel had given them. So what if it wasn’t exciting, so what if he’d had to force himself to think like an old man when he’d drawn up the designs.

These men in their wool suits would be shocked if they knew what Daniel did in his spare time. That he created fantasies; futuristic buildings. His passion, one he kept close to the vest, was science fiction. He’d discovered Frank Frazetta years ago when he’d started hiding paperback fantasy books under his bed. Then it was H. R. Giger and hundreds of other visionary artists who blew away all the old concepts about what things could be. Whenever he was upset or bored he would take to his drawings, letting his imagination run wild. But that was all behind closed doors. What he did in the real world was design buildings that looked like other buildings. Old buildings.

He was alone in the conference room. His portfolio was zipped, the table littered with unused notepads, empty coffee cups, carafes half-full of ice water. He wondered why he didn’t feel more elated. It was a big deal, what he’d done. A raise wouldn’t be out of the question. His partnership was coming into focus. And yet, he couldn’t muster so much as a satisfied grin.

Tired, that’s all. He hadn’t slept well. Hardly at all. Tonight, after the gym, he’d crash early. By tomorrow he’d be himself again.

He went out, toward his office. The receptionist, Jill, smiled broadly and gave him two thumbs up. He answered her with a nod and felt guilty that it wasn’t more. She was a nice woman, and she was always there to assist whenever he needed her. But his mind was already back at the Chelsea apartment. Not on a good night’s sleep though. His jacket. He’d left it at Margot’s. He should get it after work. Simple, really. No big deal. She’d be tired, too. He wouldn’t stick around.

He wouldn’t even think about those other two rings or where they were hidden on that incredible body.

To: The Gang at Eve’s Apple

From: Margot

Sub: HOLY MOLY!

Dear Everybody,

I’m at work. Chaos reins and hellhounds abound, but I don’t care. I have to write this because I can’t stop thinking about it. Him. Daniel.

I mentioned we had a new guy move in to the building, right? Well, he came to the weekly dinner last night, and OMG!!! He’s GORGEOUS. Seriously. Heart stoppingly. I mean it. He’s beyond the beyond. Okay, so he’s clueless about what to wear or how to wear it, but the potential is there. I feel like Michelangelo when he saw the marble that would become David. All I have to do is strip away the parts that aren’t truly Daniel.

But even more important than his makeover possibilities, I liked him. Yeah, that way. There was this…thing between us. Sparks. Magic. Heat. I kept wanting to lick him all over. It was overwhelming. He talks. He has a sense of humor. He’s artistic. Well, he’s an architect, so I’m assuming there, but I think so. And he wanted…more. Me, I supposed. Which is…

Anyway. I’m hereby throwing my hat in the ring. (Maybe we should change that to throwing our panties into the ring.) Daniel is officially my Man To Do. I wish it could be more, but I have serious doubts.

He’s not Jewish. Which, as you know, isn’t a requirement, but Daniel is so not. He’s so conservative. But curious. I just hope he’s not overwhelmed by it all. I mean, I live in ethnic-alternate-lifestyle land. He comes from a world of white bread and mayo. I have the feeling his parents would expire on the spot if he should bring me to meet them. But, I digress. He’s a man to do. I’m just hoping he’s a man to do a LOT.

I need to get back to work. I’m doing onion rings, and I smell like I’ve been deep-fried. I’ll keep you posted.

Love and smooches,

Margot