A Lick and a Promise

“I make food look yummy. For magazines and television and at parties.”

“I’ve heard they use mashed potatoes instead of ice cream on TV.”

“Sometimes. Mashed potatoes don’t melt under the lights.”

He worked some more on the dough, this time making a perfect round. “How’d you get into food styling?”

She spread the sauce on the first pizza. “My parents owned a grocery store. Brooklyn’s answer to Zabar’s.”

“Gourmet stuff?”

“Mostly cheeses and specialty items. But my mother used to like to give samples to the customers, and I liked to make the displays pretty.”

“So it was a natural progression to doing the same thing professionally.”

“Exactamundo.”

He grinned. “Is there a lot of competition?”

“Lots. But I’m really, really good at it.”

“I imagine you are.”

Corrie walked into the kitchen. “Anya says her dinner is going to die an unnatural death if we don’t go up to her place in five.”

Margot frowned. “Okay. You guys go. Daniel and I will finish up the pizzas and bring them in ten.”

Corrie nodded, but her gaze stayed on Daniel. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Us. This. Margot.”

“It’s interesting. Not at all like Greenwich.”

“That’s a pretty big jump,” Margot said as she spread pepperoni. “Why Chelsea?”

“I was ready for a change. Something big.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Margot stopped. Looked him right in the eyes. “Not until I get what I want.”

Daniel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I see.”

She smiled. She still didn’t know why he’d moved to Chelsea, but she did know for certain why he’d moved to this building. To meet her, that’s why. To become an adventure. A challenge. He might have been ready for something big, but she had the feeling he had no idea just how big the change was going to be.

“Well, I’ll just see you two upstairs,” Corrie said. She touched Daniel on the upper arm. “Don’t be scared,” she said, her voice gentle and calming. “She won’t hurt you.”

Daniel put down the rolling pin. “I’m not so sure.”

Corrie laughed as she headed for the others.

Margot added the toppings to the first pizza, then stepped back. “Get creative, Daniel. Make this the best pizza you’ve ever had.”

He looked at her in that way of his, as if he was trying to see underneath her mask to the alien life-form underneath. “Well, that wouldn’t involve pineapple and ham.”

She leaned against the counter to watch him. And as she suspected, he went traditional. Tomato sauce, oregano, garlic, sausage and mozzarella. With all the fresh, tasty surprises she’d spread out before him, he’d gone for the white bread. The mayo. As she saw it, she had a duty to step in. To introduce this man to the cornucopia of treats all around him. He lived in New York, for heaven’s sake, the melting pot of the world, where one could get anything, anywhere, anytime. The hell with contact lenses, he needed to expand his frame of reference, to step out of the box he’d built around his life.

She had no idea about his architecture, but she’d be willing to bet her new job that it was as constricted and narrow as his pizza.

What she wasn’t sure about was if he was willing to truly open his eyes, but so far, she had a good feeling about it. Hell, he’d put up with her weirdness, and she’d caused more than one man to leave skid marks on their mad dash out of her life.

He stepped back, eyed his creation. Then he reached for the basil.

Her heart swelled as he tore it into bits and sprinkled it over the cheese.

When he was finished, he turned to her, his eager smile proud, yet a little unsure.

She nodded. “Very, very nice.”

“Fresh basil, huh?”

“One of nature’s incredible wonders,” she said, moving toward him. “And there’s more.”

His smile faltered the closer she got, but he stood his ground.

“There’s rosemary and marjoram. Dill and lemon-grass. All of them fragrant, some of them spicy. Meant to be tasted. Savored.”

He swallowed again, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d totally invaded his personal space. In fact, she was so near him she could smell the hint of his cologne, feel the heat of his breath on her cheek.

“You ready?” she asked.

“For what?” His voice was just above a whisper.

“Adventure. Excitement. Derring-do.”

He blinked again. It was incredibly endearing and she wanted to lick his chin like a cat. “Sure.”

“Okay then,” she said. “Let’s get those pizzas on the grill.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

She sighed with happiness, then turned to the counter again. “Thank you,” she whispered, to whoever was responsible.

He didn’t move at all as she took the laden boards and left the kitchen. Hopefully, he’d join her. He wouldn’t bolt, even though she’d left him the opportunity. She focused on her job, getting the food on the grill.

She didn’t even look up when she heard the sliding-glass door open. She simply smiled.

4

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

5

DANIEL THREW HIS JACKET on the back of the couch and walked straight to the kitchen. It was almost eight, and he’d thought he’d never get out of the office. Edgar had wanted to talk about the new building. And talk. All Daniel had wanted to do was go home.

Tired, that’s all. He pulled a beer out of the fridge, popped the top, but stopped short of drinking. He would just go up and get the jacket he’d left at Margot’s. No big deal. She was probably just as tired as he was, and like him, she would want to make it an early, easy night. He wouldn’t bother her. Except to get the jacket, of course. Just that.

He put the beer down on the counter and went toward the door. She might not even be home. She had that TV commercial and all, which probably kept her busy until late.

The whole way up the stairs he debated turning around. Until he actually knocked, he wasn’t completely sure he would. But then the door opened, and there was Margot, and she broke into a smile that made him feel like the king of the world.

“You’re just on time,” she said, stepping back so he could walk inside.

“For what?”

“Dinner.”

“Oh, no.” He watched as she shut the door, his gaze meandering down the silky orange tunic that covered her curves. It was tighter across her breasts, just enough for him to get a teasing image of their shape. “My jacket.”

“Is right over there,” she said, pointing to an ottoman at the far end of the room.

Things had changed since last night. There were big pillows on the floor next to the low teak coffee table. There was a big ceramic pitcher on the table with a raised picture of an Egyptian cat. There were two plates, two bowls, two napkins, both in gold rings, two wine-glasses. “You’re expecting someone.”

Margot came to his side. “Sit down. It’s almost ready.”

He turned to face her.

She smiled serenely, nodding twice. “On the pillow,” she said. Then she pointed to the cushion closest to the couch.

He didn’t understand, which, it seemed, was par for the course with Margot. He sat, awkwardly, trying to fold his legs underneath the table, his shoes getting in the way.

By the time he was settled, Margot had disappeared into the kitchen. He looked again at the table. She’d set it for two, but she couldn’t have known he was coming over. Could she?

She came back, her skirt flowing, her long hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that hung down her back. There was a flower, the same orange as her dress, behind her right ear. Her lips looked smooth and creamy, although he wasn’t sure if she had lipstick on, or if they were dewy from her tongue’s ministrations. His throat felt dry and he was glad to see the wine bottle in her hand.