TouchBack (BWWM, Billionaire, Sports, Pregnancy) (4 page)

8.

              Stockard stared up at the run down row house. Veronica lived there. He hadn't called. He didn't want to give her a chance to give him the brush off.

              He was in Queens at 7 am on a Sunday morning. But not a very nice part of Queens. There was graffiti and a group of young men loitering in front of the corner bodega. He had parked his car slightly down the block, not wanting to tip her off.

              One of the first rules of war was to take your enemy by surprise whenever possible.

              He grinned and pressed the buzzer for apartment 3. The top floor. Of course she lived on the top floor of a walk up.

             
Why should anything about this be easy?

              "Who is it?"

              "It's Stockard Manning. I'm looking for Veronica."

              Silence.

              "Hold on."

              About five minutes passed before Veronica's face appeared through the glass window beside the door. Her eyes were wide as she pulled open the door.

              "Hey."

              "What are you doing here Stockard?"

              "I wanted to see you."

              She rolled her eyes at him.

              "What for?"

              He grinned at her.

              "I like seeing you."

              "Stockard… this isn't going to work. So why pretend?"

              "Who says?"

              "Because you are who you are and I'm just… me."

              "So?"

              "So you can date any woman in New York City. What do you want with me?"

              "I told you. I like you."

              She sighed heavily. Her exasperation was palpable.

              "You took off on me, remember?"

              "The whole thing was a mistake."

              "It didn't feel like a mistake to me."

              She stepped outside onto the stoop, wrapping her cardigan around her.

              "Look, I know what you did. I really appreciate it. You're a good guy. But I don't owe you anything."

              "I know. How about breakfast?"

              "I have to get changed."

              He glanced down at her legs and smiled. Polka dot pajamas. How cute.

              "I can wait."

*********

              Veronica tried to ignore the crowd of people forming outside the diner. Stockard seemed blissfully unaware of the crowd as they stared in at their booth in the window of the diner.

              "Should we switch seats?"

              "What for?"

              She shook her head at him while someone snapped a picture. They didn't get a lot of celebrities in this neighborhood. She was starting to get a little worried that they wouldn't be able to leave.

              More people were pulling out their camera phones.

              Great.

              She could tell her friends and family it was just an interview. Unfortunately Stockard was staring at her like he was on a date. A very, very good date.

              He looked besotted to be honest.

              The warm looks he was giving her were making her feel hot and cold all over.

              If she was honest with herself, he was making her as nervous as heck. And judging from the cat calls they were getting, everyone else was noticing too.

              "What's wrong?"

              "I, uh, this is very- you do realize we are going to be in the tabloids tomorrow right?"

              He shrugged.

              "You'll get used to it."

              She narrowed her eyes at him.

              "Oh I will, will I?"

              "Uh huh."

              "So you've decided we are going to be a thing."

              "Uh huh."

              "Do I have any say in the matter?"

              His eyes dropped to her mouth. His lips parted slightly. His hooded eyes were so intense, she felt like he was kissing her.

              "What are you- oh!"

              His eyes dipped lower, skimming over her body. She could feel his gaze on her as it brushed over her breasts. Then he was staring
through
the table at her- between her- oh my goodness!

              The man licked his lips. He actually licked them like a cartoon wolf getting ready to eat a chicken!

              "Stockard…"

              His eyes snapped back to her face. He looked completely innocent. Never mind that she felt like a limp rag. He'd completely distracted her from what she had been going to say.

              What had she been saying anyway?

              "Can I take your order?"

              "Veronica?"

              "Oh- I'll have the omelette. Greek."

              The waitress nodded and turned to Stockard.

              "The same. And a coffee. I assume you have good strong coffee?"

              "We do."

              "Great, thanks."

              He leaned his cheek on his fist and let his eyes slide over her again. For the rest of the meal he did this periodically, until she was quivering with desire. He knew what he was doing to her too. They'd talked a little, but she couldn't be sure what exactly they'd said. It literally could have been anything.

              The man had put a spell on her.

              He dispersed the crowd outside the diner with a friendly wave and a 'see you later' as they left. She would have wondered how he did that exactly

              She walked him in a daze, with Stockard talking to her in a low voice about all the things he'd like to do to her. Her pulse was racing by the time they got to her place.

              There was no use fighting it now.

              She wanted him.

              Badly.

              She stood on her front stoop staring at his gorgeous, arrogant face. He brushed her hair back and ran a thumb over her cheek. Then he grinned at her.

              "See you on Tuesday."

              "What?"

              "I said, I will see you on Tuesday. For dinner."

              He kissed her lips softly. She leaned into the kiss, whimpering with frustrated desire. Then he put his hand on her shoulders and lifted his lips from hers. He stared down at her for a second and then stepped away, pulling back too soon.

              Leaving her wanting more.

              Much, much more.

              And then he left.

9.

              Stockard hummed to himself while he chopped vegetables. In a little while he would be cooking for Veronica. They would eat, and then he would take her to bed. This time, he wasn't going to fall asleep after the first time. Maybe after the third…

              He grinned and chopped some fresh parsley.

              The doorbell rang.

              He turned to stare at the front door. He was half dressed and freshly showered. He'd sent a car to pick her up but he wasn't expecting her for a half an hour. Was Veronica here early?

              He debated about putting a shirt on and decided against it. He might as well give the woman what she wanted.

              Him.

              He opened the door and froze.

              It was the blond woman who'd renovated his apartment for him a couple of years ago. Barbara something. She was wearing a trench coat and what looked like 5 inch stilettos.

              "Hello Stockard."

              "This isn't really a good time Barbara."

              "Oh so you do remember my name after all."

              She brushed past him and took a look around the apartment. He sighed heavily and left the door open. He wanted to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

              "What do you want?"

              She tossed some tabloids onto the kitchen counter. The covers all had pictures of Veronica and him at the diner. One had a picture of him kissing her on her front stoop. He sighed.

              "So?"

              "I see you are dating.
During
the season. So, was all that just a line to get rid of me?"

              He shrugged.

              "Things have changed."

              "Great. So what are we having for dinner?"

              "Nothing."

              She smiled at him and unfastened her trench coat.

              "Okay, we can go straight for dessert."

              She pulled it open. She was wearing the most vulgar display of lingerie he'd seen in his life. Her body was slammin. But she left him absolutely cold.

              "Barbara, you have to leave. Now."

              He grabbed her arm and started to propel her toward the front door. As he tried to thrust her through it he saw her.

              Veronica was watching the whole thing.

              Her eyes were wide with surprise and- hurt.

              He'd hurt her.

              Damn it!

              "Veronica- wait!"

              She turned and ran down the hallway. She was in the elevator with the door closing before he could stop her. Her eyes were full of tears.

              "God damn it!"

              He could hear Barbara saying something behind him. He ignored her and headed for the stairs. Thirty flights. There was no way he could catch her- but he had to try. He'd get off on 15 and get the elevator the rest of the way down. It was his only chance.

              He took the stairs two at a time, barefoot. He was mentally timing how long the elevator would take to reach the lobby. He ran through the fire exit on whatever floor he happened to be on and pushed the button.

              "Come on come on come on!"

              He rode down, cursing the whole way. Once he was in the lobby he started running again.

              "Which way did she go?"

              The doorman pointed to the left.

              "Mr. Manning, you aren't wearing any shoes!"

              He ran past the doorman, shouting.

              "Call the police. There's a naked blond on the thirtieth floor. She's harassing me."

              Stockard ran down the street toward the subway station. He assumed that's where she went. The limo he'd sent had already departed.

              Running shirtless through the streets of lower Manhattan he was attracting a lot of stares. But he didn't care.

              He just wished she hadn't run off like that.

              He wished he had a phone.

              He ran down the stairs to the subway platform, jumping over the turnstile. He ran through the filthy station in his bare feet calling her name.

              But she was gone.

**********

              Veronica stared at her phone. She knew she didn't have long to pack.

              He was coming.

              Why he was bothering she had no idea. She'd caught him as the dog he was. It was too bad really. But at the same time she was relieved.

              Maybe he just didn't like to lose.

              He'd been texting her all day. Ever since she'd caught him with a half naked blond. Of course that was his type. Cheap, overly sexualized, easy.

              The woman had looked like a stripper. Or worse.

              Veronica tossed her clothes into a bag along with her lap top. She had gotten some great news just last night. The AP was giving her a shot as an international liaison. She'd already handed in her assignment and a letter of resignation.

              Her mind was made up. She was just going to leave a little ahead of schedule.

              She called the airport and asked if they could switch her flight. They could. Tonight at midnight she'd be on a plane to Paris.

              It was a great assignment. A guaranteed work visa in a beautiful city. And with all the labor disputes happening there, there was a lot to write about.

              It was a fresh start.

              Lord knows, she needed one.

              Her phone buzzed again. It was Stockard blathering on about how if she would only listen to him, he could explain.

              She snorted and looked around. She'd packed as much as she could. In a rare show of helpfulness, her roommate had agreed to box and ship the rest of her things to her. The books and family photos she kept on her dresser. Other than her clothes, that's all she had in this world.

              Her faith, her education and her two good feet.

              It was going to have to be enough.

              She zipped up her bag and walked out without a backward glance.