“I live in Albuquerque.”
“Ah! Vhat can I get you?”
She perused the delicious-looking pastries. “How about a honey cinnamon pecan scone.”
“Goot choice!” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Cheese Danishes are our best, but my wife makes those, and she hasn’t felt well lately. Scones are our next-best recipe.”
Angelique smiled at him. “In that case, I’ll take two. And a coffee.”
His chest puffed out as he served up the scones and rang up her total. She pulled a bill out of her wallet and put a generous tip in the tip jar.
Mr. Ostergaard’s equally portly wife appeared, wandering in from the back kitchens. And just like that, Angelique’s heart twisted like a pretzel. Mrs. Ostergaard wore a light-pink terrycloth head wrap with a dainty dark-pink breast cancer ribbon embroidered on one side. The exact same head wrap Angelique’s oncologist had given her in a hot-pink gift bag during the initial consultation. Really? A gift bag? With a pink sparkly bow and everything. That day she’d vowed never to wear the hateful color again. Thankfully, Angelique never had to use the thoughtful gift.
But Mrs. Ostergaard did. The wrap covered most of her balding head, leaving only a remnant of unhealthy skin visible at the bottom. But it was enough for Angelique to know that Mrs. O had breast cancer and was getting treatment for it.
“Allo,” Mrs. Ostergaard greeted her.
Angelique smiled and reached for a wad of napkins before settling into a chair.
She took a bite, and the buttery scone melted on her tongue the same way her mother’s Italian desserts did.
She looked up and found the Ostergaards staring at her expectantly. Angelique stopped mid-chew.
“Um . . . it’s really good,” she said around a mouthful of cinnamon, honey, and pecan. Swallowing, she said it again. “The most delicious scone I’ve ever tasted.”
At the compliment, they both let out the breath they’d been holding. Angelique almost laughed. She had to introduce the Ostergaards to the Barbettas, because they were four ethnic peas in a pod.
“I should bring my parents by.” Real smart, Barbetta. Her parents didn’t know the details or the repercussions of her work in Red River either, and if they found out, they’d probably try to ground her. “You’d like them.” Way more than you’d like me if you knew why I’m here. “Although, my mom might try to mutiny and take control of your kitchen.”
The Ostergaards blinked at her, expressions blank, bodies frozen in place.
She shrugged. “You know how pushy New York Italians can be.”
“Ah!” They both threw their hands up in understanding. Angelique’s simple phrase explained an entire culture with just one sentence. They busied themselves with straightening tables and chairs that were already perfectly aligned. “Then ve’ll get along just fine.” Mrs. Ostergaard grabbed a broom and started sweeping the spotless floor.
The strand of bells jingled as the door swung open. Angelique looked up and nearly choked on a bite of scone. Her coffee tilted off balance, and some of it splattered onto the spotless floor.
“Hi, Angelique,” Gabriel said. His tall frame perfectly filled out the Ralph Lauren slacks she’d given him last Christmas. The first two buttons of his tailored dress shirt were unbuttoned in an attempt to look elegantly casual—which he pulled off like a champ—and the sleeves were cuffed up just below his elbows. “You’re looking well.”
“Oof!” Mrs. Ostergaard scurried over with some paper towels. “Let me clean this up, and I’ll bring you another cup.”
“No need, Mrs. Ostergaard.” Angelique stared at Gabriel.
Mrs. Ostergaard swiped at the liquid with a cleaning rag.
“Vhat can I get you, sir?” Mr. Ostergaard asked Gabriel.
“Nothing, thanks,” Gabriel said.
The silence grew thick as Mrs. Ostergaard finished cleaning up the mess and disappeared into the back room.
Angelique clutched the marble tabletop with her free hand, her knuckles turning a sick shade of white. “What? You missed your weekly quota of doling out misery, so you came all the way to Red River to find me?” Angelique offered a fraudulent smile to her ex-fiancé. “Really, Gabriel, you should find another hobby. Your attachment to ruining my life is getting a little weird.”
Cheating on her was one thing, but she drew the line at him disturbing her date with a hot buttered scone. He should be thankful she wasn’t on a date with Ben and Jerry. She may have actually gotten violent.
“And how did you find me here, anyway?”
“I was passing through town on my way to the cabin.” He slid both hands into his pants pockets. Smooth. GQ. Simulated like a lifelike robot. “We rented it for you, so I know the address. I saw your car parked out front. Not a lot of places open this early in a town like this. The streets must roll up at dark.” He gave the inside of the bakery a repugnant once-over. “It wasn’t hard to find you.”
“Don’t you have something better to do, like marry my pregnant legal assistant?” She took a deliberate bite of scone and closed her eyes in appreciation, savoring the taste. “Mmm, this is so good. Really. You should try one.” She transformed her expression into granite. “Then get out.”
“Come on, Ang.” Gabriel’s voice sounded vulnerable. He was so good at that, making himself look the wounded party. Garnering sympathy with that good-guy demeanor, glad-handing the partners and associates at office parties and PR events. He never showed the real Gabriel to anyone. She’d seen glimpses of it. The false facade, the artificial persona he created to rise high in social circles and climb the corporate ladder. Only she had seen how shallow he really was. It was all about him, even down to how their new house should be decorated—sterile chrome with black and red contemporary furniture imported from Denmark, even though he knew she hated the ultramodern look. Besides, what kind of a man cared so much about interior decorating?
Maybe he was gay. It would serve the Cheerleader right. Angelique took another vicious bite of scone. Unfortunately, he wasn’t gay. Just narcissistic enough to insist that even the style of furniture conform to his tastes.
“I need a few minutes of your time. Something’s come up at the firm.”
“They couldn’t have sent someone else, Gabriel? You had to come here?”
She purposefully left him standing, but he pulled out the chair across from her anyway. He graced the seat with a casual side-slouch. One arm slung over the back of the metal chair, he’d perfected the move, thinking it made him look confidently in charge.
Dammit, it did.
Well, two could play the game. Angelique puckered her lips—because that had been the part of her body that Gabriel complimented the most—and took a slow drink of coffee. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and wrapped those very same shiny lips around a piece of scone. And this time she did moan. Out loud. She slowly chewed and swallowed the delectable morsel. When she opened her eyes again, Gabriel’s lips had parted, and his gaze was anchored firmly to her mouth.
“You should try one of these. They melt in your mouth,” she said, ignoring his disconcerted look. He didn’t respond. His eyes didn’t leave her lips. “What’s this about, Gabriel? Did you come here in person to tell me it’s twins? Because that would be so like you.”
Gabriel turned a little red and cleared his throat.
“Angelique.” He looked away. “I’m not here to rehash the past. It’s not personal, it’s business.”
“Why does that not surprise me? Of course you didn’t drive all the way up here to apologize or to check on my well-being.” Because he didn’t care about what she’d gone through. He’d only thought of how her illness had affected him. Angelique drank more coffee. “So what do you want?” She wiped her hands on the napkin, then tapped her nails against the table.
Gabriel shifted in his chair and looked a little less comfortable. Angelique’s skin prickled. The same feeling came over her in the courtroom when the prosecution was about to produce a surprise piece of e
vidence that would look bad for her client.
“Is there someplace we can talk privately?” Gabriel asked. “It’s in your best interest, Ang.”
A red flag the size of Alaska flew high and bright. “As a matter of fact, there’s not, so you might as well spit it out.” No way was she bringing him to her cabin.
Another worried look flickered across Gabriel’s normally composed countenance. He cleared his throat again. “A few inconsistencies have come to my attention.” He paused, letting her absorb his words.
“And?”
“I thought you might be able to shed some light,” he said.
“I might be able to, if I knew what the hell you’re talking about. How about you just tell me what you came here to say?”
“Certain client files have gone missing,” Gabriel said.
Ah. And the firm thinks the woman scorned is responsible.
She smirked. “Seriously, Gabriel? You think I’d stoop that low because of you?”
“It would be perfectly understandable under the circumstances. You were under a lot of strain with your health—”
“Don’t you dare patronize me. And don’t ever blame my illness for your poor case management.”
“I just want the files back. No harm, no foul,” said Gabriel.
She studied him. “What makes you think I took them?”
“Ang, you were very angry when you moved out.”
“I had every right to be. What does me moving out of our condo have to do with missing case files?”
Gabriel ignored her comment. Denial was a beautiful thing for someone like him, who always seemed to seamlessly shift the blame to anyone but himself. Unbelievable. After all she’d been through, the way he’d cut her heart out with a dull knife and left her bleeding, he could still walk in here with no conscience and hack at her some more.
She swallowed. Beat down the dizzying effect of his painful accusations. Taking a long drink of coffee, she hoped the warm liquid would squelch the coldness in her stomach. It didn’t.
“Some company funds also went missing.” Gabriel didn’t meet her eyes.
Angelique would’ve laughed at the preposterous accusation if it hadn’t been so serious. He wasn’t just talking legal espionage, he was suggesting she embezzled money from the firm.
“And you think I took it?” Her voice rose a notch.
Mr. Ostergaard reappeared and stood behind the counter. “Is everything okay?”
Angelique pinched the bridge of her nose, then turned to the shop owner. His reddish-blond eyebrows bunched together, he gave her a worried look. “It’s fine, Mr. Ostergaard. We’re discussing business. Would you like us to leave?”
Mr. Ostergaard shot a distrusting scowl at Gabriel. “Nein. There’re no customers here. I’ll be in the back if you need me.” He gave Gabriel another scowl before leaving.
Angelique turned back to her ex-fiancé. “I’m not a partner yet. I don’t even have access to the company accounts. You know that.” Gabriel studied the floor tile like a textbook. And then she knew. “But you do, and it’s your case files and account funds that are missing.”
“You had access to my computer. I wasn’t home when you moved out.”
A lightbulb zinged to life, sending jolts through Angelique’s brain. She was the easiest person for Gabriel to blame because of the momentary lapse of control she’d displayed while moving. The television, the jacket, the briefcase. It wouldn’t be that hard to get the firm to make the jump from property destruction to embezzlement, and Gabriel would look like the victim.
What a pinhead.
“Tell me, Gabriel, does the firm know yet?” Because if they hadn’t discovered the missing funds yet, they soon would, and her instincts told her that Gabriel was desperate to do some damage control before the security breach came out and whispers started circulating around the firm about him, the Golden Boy.
His hesitation and inability to look her in the eye answered her question.
“Considering the state of mind I was in at the time, I probably would’ve thrown your computer against the wall, not stolen account numbers and access codes. Besides, I’m not the only one who’s had access to both your computer and the case files, Gabriel.”
Gabriel shrugged. “You’re the only one who had a motive.”
She let her stare burn through him for a quiet moment. “You were so charming at first. So good at wooing the partners.” Her tone turned a little whimsical as she remembered those early days when Gabriel had been brought into the firm.
He looked confused at the sudden change in subject and at her shift in tone.
“At a client dinner or cocktail party, you could have them reeled in within minutes with your charisma. I actually admired your way with people because you were so much smoother in social situations than me.” Her voice went hard again, each word so brittle, as though they could snap in two with just a twitch of her lips. “But people are like trees, Gabriel. If you’re with them long enough, they drop enough leaves to reveal their true self.” She leaned back in her chair and considered him. “I was planning to put our wedding plans on hold, but then my mom insisted I go in for a routine mammogram because of our family history, and that changed everything. All I could think of was surviving.”
Gabriel’s mouth opened and shut. Nothing came out. Obviously, he was still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Angelique had actually had second thoughts about him.
“By the time I found you with Ciara, I’d seen how little depth you really have.”
Gabriel’s stare turned to ice. “Cattiness is beneath you, Angelique.”
“I’m curious, Gabriel, if I hadn’t caught you, which one of us would you have chosen? Me or her?” A thought popped into her head. A disgusting, repugnant thought, but one that seemed to fit Gabriel’s overinflated self-image and sense of entitlement.
His beady eyes—which used to remind her of expensive gray cashmere, but now looked like nothing more than two cold, empty chips of ice—darted away.
“Ah, you would’ve tried to keep both of us.”
“Your illness was tough on all of us.” Gabriel’s gaze flicked around the room, never quite meeting hers. “Everyone suffered.”
“Right.” She laughed, then gave her head a soft shake. “Thank you for saving me from making the biggest mistake of my life.”
Gabriel’s tone went callous. “The files and the money. That’s why I’m here.”
Snatching up her purse, she headed for the door. With a hand on the doorknob, she turned back. “I didn’t take either the files or the money. If you don’t believe me, press charges and battle it out with my attorney.” Her lips thinned into a predatory smile. Gabriel knew this was the kind of fight she lived for, and there was no one better at legal standoffs than her.
“Wait, Ang.” He switched his tone in a nanosecond, and the charisma was back. “We can talk this through like reasonable adults.”
“Really, Gabriel?” She couldn’t believe his absurdity. Well, actually she could. “This is the opposite of what we do. We defend people from unfounded accusations where there’s no evidence of guilt. I suggest you look closer to home, because I’m not the bad guy here. I think there’s someone in the firm who wants one of us to look like the culprit.”
Pulling the door open, she stepped onto the sidewalk and saw Blake two doors down trying to unlock his office door. Obviously stuck, a bundle of keys dangled from the lock, and he jiggled the doorknob. A loud click echoed around the deserted street as the key turned, and the door swung open just as he looked up at her. She stopped cold and stared at him and his slightly swollen nose. Their eyes locked, and his expression warmed. And then Gabriel followed her onto the sidewalk, ruining the moment.
Angelique saw an opportunity. That was her gift and one of the reasons she was a good trial lawyer. She could see the tiniest crack, the tiniest opportunity and capitalize on it fast before the witness, the judge, or the prosecution figured out what she was doing.
“Hi, sweetheart.” She smiled at Blake, whose expression went blank. Putting a sway in her hips, she walked to him. “You’re late. What took you so long?” She lowered her voice to a sensual purr.
Before Blake could expose her maneuver for what it was, she wrapped her arms around his neck, launched herself flush against him, and planted a red-hot kiss on his parted lips. He hesitated, but then his powerful arms circled her waist and he returned the kiss. With fervor. Her brain clouded over as she molded perfectly into his embrace, the warmth of his mouth making her lose focus on the world around them.
A throat cleared somewhere in the background.
Angelique sighed deep and dreamy as she broke the kiss and stared up at Blake. That was . . . that was . . . What exactly was it? Stupid? Irresponsible?
Hot.
Yes, yes, that was it. She licked her lips as he smiled down at her without loosening his grip.
“Uh, Angelique.” Gabriel’s stunned voice broke the spell Blake had just cast on her.
She plastered on a smile and turned back to her colleague, or ex-colleague. She wasn’t exactly sure yet. But most definitely an ex. Snuggling next to Blake, she snaked her arm around his waist and gently poked him in the back with one finger. She gave him a wide-eyed smile, and he got the hint, because a sculpted arm encircled her shoulder.
“Sweetheart.” She smiled up at Blake, and one of his eyebrows lifted. “This is Gabriel Marone.”
“Marone.” Blake looked down at her thoughtfully, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “That name rings a bell.”
Of course it did. Of all the names she could’ve used as an alias on her first visit to Blake’s office, why’d she have to pick one so lame? She blinked at him and kept the fake smile firmly in place. He made an odd sound when her fingernail stabbed into his back. Then she rubbed it affectionately. A silent plea.
“Must’ve been a patient from a long time ago.” He shook his head.
Gabriel sized him up like a prizefighter at a boxing match. He rarely let his shallow, selfish side show, but he wasn’t able to hide the territorial posture at the sight of Angelique with another man.
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