Another uniformed man—definitely lacking a stripper’s physique—approached them. “You’ll both have to come downtown with—”
“Downtown?” Margo blinked when they started toward the front entrance. “Are we under arrest? I thought this was just part of the show.”
“Not hardly,” the officer said, shaking his head.
Margo glanced at her sister, who was being politely but firmly escorted to the door by a pair of uniformed officers.
With a sigh, the apparently legitimate police officer gripped Margo and Jared by the elbows and escorted them through the door. “Outside with both of you.”
“Suits me. I seem to have worked up a little sweat.” Jared shot Margo a lethal smile—one that rivaled the wattage of the parking lot lights.
“Yeah, I’ll say.” Margo’s gaze dipped to the open vee of his unbuttoned shirt. If he expected her to act like she didn’t know him, then she would treat him the same way any other patron at the Studfinder might—as a side of meat. Prime, of course.
Swaying slightly when the officer stepped from between them and released her arm, Margo clutched Jared’s muscular forearm for support. He was, without a doubt, the most well-constructed male she’d ever encountered. Of course, he always had been. Despite his incredible physique, she still had trouble believing he’d chosen exotic dancing as his career. Not Jared Carson. Even so, she remembered that he’d studied Broadway jazz in college. Apparently, he’d found a use for that talent.
The chilly evening air was like a bucket of ice water on her rum-blurred senses. She squinted, looking around for Steph in the parking lot menagerie. Suspicion nudged its way into the foggy, semidrunken fringes of her mind.
“Are you really arresting me?” Margo asked, her mouth dry and sticky.
“Not unless you give me a good reason.” The policeman pushed his hat back on his head, then nodded toward her companion. “The dogs are going in.”
Dogs? Drugs. Maybe there was another angle to this story after all. She fished through her purse until she found her wayward pencil and opened her steno pad to make a few notes. “What reason do you have for believing there are drugs at the Studfinder, Officer?”
The man released an exasperated sigh. “A reporter. I should’ve known.” He shook his head and aimed his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re all going downtown until we finish searching the place, then there may be some questions. That’s all I know.”
Margo shot Jared a questioning look, but he was staring beyond her. His expression intense, a muscle twitching in his jaw, just the way she remembered. When his gaze met hers, a mask dropped neatly into place and another dark curl fell across his forehead. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. A stage smile, but why now?
More important…why for her?
Still, his grin waged a full-scale attack against her composure and almost won. Why couldn’t he be a little less handsome and a lot less memorable?
“I’m sure you’ll be out so fast you’ll hardly have time to read the graffiti in your cell,” the policeman said in a mocking tone. “We usually don’t hold you yuppies long.”
Pencil poised in midair, Margo swallowed hard. “Cell?”
“Just kidding. Lighten up.”
“Hey, Margo, you got the cute one. Way to go, sis.”
Groaning as her sister was escorted away, Margo rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Mom’s going to kill me when she hears about this.”
The policeman chuckled. “She looks old enough to drink.”
Shaking her head in self-loathing, Margo released a sigh of surrender. “Arrest me, Officer. Let’s get this over with.”
Chuckling again, he led her and Jared to a car, passing two women singing “I Am Woman” at the top of their lungs.
They were being dragged down to the police station, and there was more to this than a night of exotic dancing. She could use this situation to her advantage.
Margo tried to stay close to the door as the car rolled out of the parking lot, though knowing Jared sat mere inches away made it difficult to concentrate. Until she found out exactly what was going on, it might be better if she maintained a safe distance.
She turned her attention to scratching a few more notes about the atmosphere, the way it felt to be incarcerated in the back of a squad car, though not under arrest…
And trying to ignore the heat of Jared’s gaze as he sat staring at her through the darkness.
Heaven, help me.
Not a moment too soon, the officer parked behind the police station. They climbed out of the car and went through the rear entrance. In better times, Margo had used the front entrance. She was mortified, though she reminded herself they weren’t being arrested. It could be worse. Much worse.
In the bright squad room light, she couldn’t help noticing that the other women from the Studfinder looked quite ordinary. They looked like…mothers.
“I want to call my attorney,” she said quietly, the rum’s numbing effect abandoning her.
“I already did that,” Steph said from across the room.
“There you are.” Margo breathed a sigh of relief. “You and your bright ideas about how to do my job. Thanks a lot.”
Steph flashed her a sheepish grin as Margo slumped into a chair beside her. With difficulty, she ignored Jared’s eyes on her from across the room. None of this made sense. The Jared she’d once known and loved would never have put on the show she’d witnessed this evening. And what a show. Her face heated at the memory of his bare skin rippling beneath the flashing lights.
With a sigh, she planted her chin in her hands and peeked at Steph from the corner of her eye, grateful her family had never met Jared in person. “You called Warren, then?”
Steph nodded. “Yeah, but he’s out of town.”
“Of course he’s out of town.” Margo straightened and allowed her head to hit the wall with a soft thud. “The perfect finale to a perfect day.”
“I wish Nick…”
Margo smiled sadly when her sister left her comment unfinished. If Nick were alive, he’d have had them out of here by now. “I know. Me, too.”
“They’re sending a new junior partner to spring us.”
“Oh, that figures.” Margo sighed again, physically, mentally, and emotionally drained.
“Who’s in charge here?” a feminine voice demanded from the doorway.
Glancing up at the redheaded woman, Margo noted she was well-dressed and built like Marilyn Monroe.
“I am.” The officer at the desk looked up at the newcomer. “May I help you, ma’am?”
The woman grimaced slightly, then smiled. “I’m Raquel Eastwood from Riley and Gray—I mean, Warren Grayson’s office.”
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here.” Steph stood and grabbed the woman’s hands in both her own. “Can you get us out of here?”
“Done.”
The woman’s smile took Margo aback, and there was something about her eyes…“So we’re free to go?” Margo asked, rising to stand beside Steph.
Ms. Eastwood nodded and snapped her fingers. “You bet. I have a couple of forms to sign, then we’re out of here.”
“There were others,” Margo began, her gaze inexorably drawn to Jared’s slouched figure against the other wall. His expression was so intense it stole her breath. She needed to talk to him, to learn why he was here and why he’d been at the Studfinder. Somehow, she sensed he wouldn’t welcome her questions now, and she needed a hot bath and a couple of aspirin. Maybe more than a couple.
But there was a story here—more of one than she’d originally thought. Jared knew something.
Frowning, she dragged her gaze from Jared to ask the attorney something, but Ms. Eastwood was staring at Jared, too. Of course she was. Jared was the kind of man any woman would ogle, and he wasn’t Margo’s anymore. She had no right to feel jealous. But she did.
“I guess you’ve all had enough excitement for one night,” Jared said with a chuckle, gaining Margo’s immedia
te attention. The expression in his eyes was no longer intense, nor was it for her alone. Again, the mask was in place.
What was his game? Narrowing her eyes, she reminded herself that no one else here knew who he was. He’d shushed her back at the Studfinder. For now she would play along. However, she reserved the right to collect payment later for keeping his secret.
“Excitement?” Her voice dripped sarcasm, and she mentally patted herself on the back when his eyebrow arched ever so slightly. “The only exciting thing that happened this evening was watching you parade around in front of a bunch of screaming women. Half-naked. More than half.”
“I’ll say,” Steph said.
Ms. Eastwood shook her head slowly, her gaze riveted to Jared. “Another surprise.” She cast a sidelong glance at Margo.
After Margo and Steph finished answering a few questions about the Studfinder and signing some papers, the attorney offered to drive them home. They walked by Jared, who stood and flashed them his stage smile again. “Nice meeting you, ladies.”
“Very nice.” Steph giggled.
“Shake it, don’t break it, man,” Ms. Eastwood said in a sultry tone.
Margo couldn’t prevent herself from giggling along with Steph, though her reasons were far different from her sister’s. She’d only known one person who would’ve had the guts to say something like that to Jared Carson, and he was dead.
Jared’s eyes sparked and one corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Lawyers. Who needs ’em?” He turned his gaze on Margo. “Reporters, lawyers…and women.”
“Hey, watch it, buster.” Raquel placed one hand on her curvy hip. “Margo’s a reporter.”
“Anything for a story?” The expression on Jared’s face now could only be called a smirk.
Margo elevated her chin and took a deep breath, sensing this was part of his secretive role. “You bet.” She noted a wink of approval from Ms. Eastwood. Just how had Warren’s new partner known she was a reporter? Well, it didn’t really matter. This nightmare was almost over, except for dealing with Jared.
Later.
3
Nick stripped off his dress and infernal high heels the minute his apartment door closed behind him. Thank goodness he and Grayson had seen the wisdom of opening their offices in an old Victorian. The upstairs was a furnished apartment—the perfect place for the new junior partner to hang out for a while.
The perfect halfway house for a halfway angel.
He had no idea how Séamus had managed to create a position for Raquel Eastwood in the firm, but it was like magic. From the moment Raquel had walked through the door, everyone treated her as if she’d gone through a normal hiring process and they’d been expecting her. Amazing. Even Mrs. Brown, the old bat receptionist, hadn’t suspected a thing. This divine intervention stuff had its merits.
Raquel had a driver’s license, a Social Security card, a diploma hanging on her office wall, and she was a member of the bar. She was as real as anyone else walking down the street.
“Yeah, and she looks a lot like a streetwalker, for that matter,” Nick muttered.
Trying unsuccessfully to unhook his bra—aka torture band—he gave up and yanked it over his head. He used to be able to do it with one hand. Of course, it hadn’t been behind his back then.
He grimaced as his breasts were freed from the confining garment. It was bad enough being in a woman’s body, but why had Séamus felt compelled to make Nick so well-endowed? Raquel was at least a ten and a half. He glanced down at the lush breasts attached to his once flat, once hairy chest. Okay, maybe a twelve.
After pulling on an oversized T-shirt, he flopped into a chair in front of the television’s blank screen. “Séamus, I don’t know what got into you.”
“Oh, stop your bellyachin’, Nick.”
It was hard to get used to hearing voices in his head. Especially when that voice belonged to a former New York City cop who sounded far less than angelic. “I saw Margo,” Nick whispered on a sigh.
“Margo’s a good person, and she deserves better than you.”
Scowling upward, Nick scratched in a manner a lady wouldn’t be caught dead doing. But then…he was already dead, and he sure as hell wasn’t a lady.
“Where’d this body come from?” Nick asked. “Is this an Invasion of the Body Snatchers deal?”
“Don’t worry about it. The body’s owner lived and died in another time and place.”
“Okay. So how do I go about finding Margo a new husband?” He chewed a long, manicured nail. It was damned strange, trying to find his own wife another man.
“But you’re not a man anymore.”
“Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”
“And she’s already found the right man.”
“Already found him?” Nick rubbed his chin, still amazed at how smooth his skin was now. “When do I get to meet him?”
“You know exactly who he is.”
“No, I—” Realization smacked Nick between the eyes. Oh, he’d considered the possibility earlier in the evening but had denied it. Repeatedly. Even Séamus couldn’t be that cruel. Then again, what about this Raquel gig?
Nick swallowed hard, remembering all those years of lurking in Jared Carson’s shadow. All his life, Nick had struggled to stay one step ahead of Jared. And failed.
Until Margo.
“So I’m being punished.” Nick sighed, rubbing dried mascara from his eyes and pondering the merits of the entire pint of dark fudge ice cream lurking in the freezer.
“No, you’re being given the opportunity to fix your mistakes.” Séamus made a tsking sound in Nick’s head. “An opportunity most would welcome.”
Nick closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair. “I guess pride is something we aren’t allowed to have even after we die.”
“Depends.”
“Why him?” A shudder crawled through Nick from the top of his stylish, tousled hairdo to the tip of his perfect pedicure. “Jared Carson has always kicked my ass.” His new voice dripped sarcasm like battery acid. “Star in baseball, football, basketball, track and field, class president, and I’ll bet you already know who ran against him. Gee, thanks, Séamus. Thanks a lot.”
Bitterness tasted vile on his tongue. The ice cream would help. Nick kept his eyes closed, but that couldn’t block the memory of his father’s lectures. Fred Riley’s kid was never the best at anything. Sure, Nick had been close many times, but second place was never good enough for his old man. Especially not second to Jared…
“Winning isn’t everything. In fact, it really isn’t important at all in the big scheme of things.”
“Easy for you to say.” Nick opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, half expecting to find a certain angel’s ugly mug smirking from the plaster. “Besides, he’s a male stripper. Get a grip.”
“Think real hard, Nicholas. Does that ring true?”
“No.” Nick sat up straight, remembering football hero Jared from college. “Not a bit.”
“So use your brain, Red.”
“But if he isn’t a stripper, then—” Nick covered his face and sucked air between his fingers. “He’s a cop. I should’ve known. He’s a frigging cop. Why? Huh? Why not a nice stockbroker, a banker, or even another lawyer?”
“She tried that once.”
“You have to remind me every chance you get, don’t you?” Nick closed his eyes and groaned. “A cop who happens to have been a lifelong pain in my ass? Shouldn’t dying get me a reprieve from that guy? No way. I’ll find her someone else.”
“Nick—”
“You said this is my job.”
“What are we going to do with you?”
“Beats the he—” Nick bit the inside of his cheek. “Sorry. I can’t—I won’t—let Margo take up with a cop. Especially not that cop.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you do.”
“Are you forgetting I was one of New York’s finest?”
Nick slumped lower in his chair
.
“The guilt you’ve carried around about how you won Margo is only one of the reasons you’re here now.”
Nick stiffened—his gut twisted into a violent knot. “Séamus, is that why you picked Carson? To punish me?”
“I didn’t pick him. He’s Margo’s destiny. You interfered.”
“If it’s going to happen anyway, then why do I have to be around to witness it?”
“They need a catalyst. You and Jared were rivals. Besides, you know secrets that will explain the past.”
“Secrets? What secrets?”
“You must remember what your father—”
“No way, buster. We aren’t going there.” Nick punched the arm of his chair and clenched his teeth, determined to change the subject. “So I’m supposed to help her get over me? How sweet.” His voice grew hoarse and tears—tears?—pricked his eyelids. “This is perfect. Now I’m going to cry just like a woman, too. Thanks a lot, Séamus.”
“Crying might do you some good.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” Nick dabbed at his eyes with the hem of his T-shirt, visualizing himself with the chocolate ice cream and a spoon. “But I’m telling you right here and now, I can find Margo a better man.”
Séamus sighed in Nick’s head—not a pleasant experience by any means.
“Will you stop that?” Nick rubbed his temples with both thumbs. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Jared is the right ma—”
“Over my dead body.”
“No problem.”
Jared Carson stared at his reflection in the appropriately warped bathroom mirror. A neon sign flashed VACANCY outside the window, less than ten feet away. This hole away from home left a lot to be desired, but it served his purpose.
After popping two aspirin into his mouth, he washed them down with tepid tap water, then raked his fingers through his hair. Tonight had brought a few surprises. That drug raid, for starters. Why had the locals raided the Studfinder? How much did they know?
Bracing himself on the sink’s edge, he stared at his reflection as if the answers were hidden in the glass. Fat chance. He had to face the possibility of a leak. His cover seemed intact, though. So far. But if the local boys interfered again, Jared’s investigation would fall apart too soon. Way too soon.
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