“Why is that?” I asked, giving her cheek a kiss.
“I think I’ve been a dirty little secret a number of times.”
I really didn’t like the sound of that. It made me feel like she hadn’t always been treated with respect. The model who was the eye candy for some guy with a small dick and money.
“If anyone ever called you that, I hope you punched them in the gut.”
She gave me a slight smile. “That’s a story for another time.”
I laughed. “Remind me to circle back to that.” I opened the door for her. “Remember to stick as close to the truth as possible. We met on an app in October. Keep it simple. This is like a trial run for how we’re going to do with the powers that be.”
“Jesus, Michael, no pressure.” She gave me a look of reprimand.
“Oh, and my brother thinks you’re probably a psychopath who will murder me if we split up, so don’t be offended if he’s rude to you.”
“How delightful.”
We went into the elevator. “Show me your dress,” I said, curious what was under that coat.
She raised a single eyebrow. “This is not the time for naughtiness.”
“I just want to see it.” I reached out and undid the top button. Her scarf was still covering whatever that would have revealed. “Please.”
For a second I thought she was going to ignore me, but then she undid the coat and peeled her scarf off. She handed it to me to hold. Then she opened her coat, revealing a disappointingly conservative gray dress. Zero cleavage. I lowered my gaze and realized that below the thin black belt around her waist, the skirt went way below her knees. And had a killer slit on both sides. It was subtle, but it still made me want to slide my hand under it during dinner.
“Do you approve?” she asked as the elevator doors opened.
I nodded. “You look like you could be a teacher by day, a dominatrix by night.”
That made her laugh. “That is not the look I was going for. I wanted conservative, but figure flattering.”
“My mind went in different directions.”
“Obviously.”
I knocked on my parents’ apartment door. It opened a few seconds later and it was my father. He was a big, blustering kind of guy. He still maintained some Irish jovialness, but he was the third generation of an immigrant family that had made serious money in tenements and running liquor and speakeasies back in the twenties. Not exactly the most moral backdrop for acquiring wealth but starting with my grandfather, the family had distanced themselves from those rough beginnings and now my father was a retired investment banker who was heavily involved in various philanthropic endeavors.
“Hey, Dad.” I stuck my hand out because we were the family that shook hands and skipped the hugs. “This is Felicia Hobbs, my girlfriend. Felicia, this is Bud Kincaid. Real name Michael Edward, but Bud to everyone who matters.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, offering her small hand.
He took it and drew her into the apartment with his free hand on her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, too. So you’re a Brit, are you? What brought you to New York?”
“Initially, I was modeling here. Then I stayed because I just love the city.”
“Dad, let us get inside before you grill her.” I stepped inside behind Felicia and closed the door.
He totally ignored me. “A model, huh? Well, that’s not hard to imagine. You’re a beautiful woman, Felicia.”
I had not expected my father to say that. He wasn’t known for being a big flirt. But he was staring at Felicia in appreciation that went way beyond a casual compliment. Fantastic. I knew she was hot but I didn’t need my dad to know that too.
“Let me take your coat,” I said, giving my dad a glare as I stepped behind Felicia.
He shrugged like he had no idea what I was trying to convey.
My mother appeared right as I took Felicia’s coat off and opened the closet to hang it up.
“What a lovely dress,” she said. “Prada?”