“What news?” Then Holly examined Angela’s face more closely. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. I can’t believe it.” She hugged Angela impulsively. “Well good for you. He’s wonderful and God knows you deserve to be happy.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course,” Holly said casually, examining her fingernails, “I knew it all along.”
Angela laughed.
“But why is he concerned about what I think?” Holly asked.
Angela shrugged. “You’re my friend and your opinion is important to me. He’d never say so, but I suspect he wants you to approve of him.”
“I approve, I approve. But you know that Philip is going to be a different story.”
Angela nodded unhappily. “Holly, I don’t want to hurt him. But it would be wrong not to tell him now.”
“You’ve got my vote. Good luck.”
Holly walked Angela back to where Devlin was standing, waiting. Smiling impishly, Holly stood on tiptoe and kissed Devlin’s cheek.
He eyed Angela over the other girl’s head, shifting uncomfortably.
“I knew you’d get her in the end,” Holly said conspiratorially. “You devil, you.”
Devlin turned red for the second time that day.
“Have fun, you two,” she said airily, waving as she left. “And I know you will.”
“It’s a pity that she’s so introverted,” Devlin said to Angela, following Holly’s departing form with his eyes.
Angela tugged on his arm. “Come on. I’ve got to get to the library before noon or all the reference books on constructive eviction will be gone.”
Devlin strolled along with her, matching his long stride to her shorter one.
He didn’t even ask what constructive eviction was.
* * * *
Angela fiddled with her food all through dinner, dreading the encounter with Philip that was soon to come. Josie exchanged several significant glances with Devlin and finally said to him, “I trust you’re going to stay out of this tonight?”
“I’ll do whatever Angela wants,” he replied mildly.
“I think it would be best if you let me handle it alone,” Angela said.
“I’ll be right down the hall if he turns mean,” Devlin added.
“Why don’t you just vanish for the duration?” Josie advised him. “The last thing a rejected suitor needs is the victor hanging around to gloat.”
“I’m not gloating.”
“Oh, no?” Josie asked archly. “You look pretty smug to me.”
Devlin got up to cut some more meat from the roast on the counter and muttered to Josie in passing, “Why are you giving me a hard time?”
“I’m not giving you a hard time,” Josie replied, loud enough for Angela to hear. “I’m just trying to make sure Angela doesn’t get one.”
Devlin put down the knife and threw up his hands. “I’m out of it, all right? But if that guy does or says anything to upset Angela I’m not going to sit on my hands.”
Josie folded her arms and stared at him. Angela had told her about his fight with Philip. “Great. Maybe we’ll have another episode like the one that occasioned that broken vase. And I’m sure the vase looked better than Philip the next day,” Josie said.
“You sound like you’re feeling sorry for Philip,” Angela interjected.
“Don’t waste the emotion on that clown,” Devlin concluded darkly. He shoved back his chair and stalked from the room. Angela started to get up too, then changed her mind.
“Looks like I ruffled his feathers a bit,” Josie said, picking up Devlin’s plate and scraping it.
“Are you?” Angela persisted.
“Am I what?” Josie replied.
“Feeling sorry for Philip?”
Josie turned on the tap to rinse the plate. “In a way. He didn’t stand a chance from the minute that one showed up at the door.”
“What do you mean?”
Josie shrugged. “Brett’s a charmer, Angela. He doesn’t even have to try. He draws you without effort, like an elemental force.”
Angela stabbed a carrot with her fork. There was no arguing with that.
“And now you’re feeling guilty about all this, aren’t you?” Josie said.
Angela nodded unhappily. “I misled Philip. I know I did. I didn’t love him, and I just let things slide along because I was too gutless to make an issue out of it. But then when I met Brett...”
“You were sure you didn’t love Philip because you saw what the difference was.”
Angela smiled wistfully. “How come you know everything?”
Josie chuckled mirthlessly. “I wish that I did. But I have made quite a study of Angela Patria. I know that you could never hurt anyone’s feelings the way you’re about to hurt Philip’s without suffering for it.”
“I have to do it.”
“Of course you do. It would be worse for him in the long run if you let him continue to hope for something that will never happen.”
“It’s not just me, you know. He had high hopes about Uncle Frank’s business and his place in it. Nothing like marrying the boss’ daughter, or in this case, his niece.”
“I know that,” Josie said quietly.
“He thought he would have it all sewed up in one neat package.”
“Angela, you never cease to amaze me. I knew that you were aware of his motives but I didn’t think you had analyzed them so coldly.”
“I thought about all of it. That’s one of the reasons I found Brett so attractive. It was clear from the beginning he had no interest in Uncle Frank’s money.” She laughed suddenly. “Brett thinks the limousine is obscene.”
“Oh, that’s why you found Brett attractive, huh?” Josie said, teasing. “I thought it might have had something to do with those sultry eyes and that lady killer smile.”
“Those too,” Angela answered, and Josie chuckled knowingly.
“Are you done with that?” Josie said, nodding to Angela’s plate.
Angela stood. “I’m afraid so. I don’t have an appetite. I think I’ll feel better after I get this interview with Philip over with.” She stacked the dishes on the table and began to help Josie clear them away.
* * * *
Devlin lifted the key ring from Angela’s purse while she was getting changed to see Philip Cronin. He waited until Josie left and then pocketed the keys, taking them to his room.
The Bureau had supplied him with wax to make key impressions but he wasn’t sure he had enough to copy all of Angela’s keys. He was fairly certain that the key to the safety deposit box was on the ring; there hadn’t been a key in the safe, and Angela would have no reason to think anyone would be after it. He turned the keys over in his hands, trying to eliminate some of them. He would have to return the ring before Angela missed it, so taking them out to be duplicated wasn’t possible.
He identified her house keys and the keys for the limousine. There were a few small keys of the type that might be the one he was looking for, two of them numbered. One of them looked like the key she used for her locker at the law school and the other he didn’t recognize. That had to be it. He had only one chance to get into the box. He would have to ask for admittance, and if he goofed he would be remembered when he tried again.
He weighed the tiny key in his hand, his mind racing. This could be the end. He had come too far to ruin everything now. He had to keep a clear head and follow through on his mission. He put the tormenting thoughts about deceiving Angela out of his mind. He had room for only one goal: getting Frank Patria.
When it was all over Angela would understand.
She had to.
Several minutes later Devlin heard the doorbell ring to announce Cronin’s arrival, and he moved to put his door ajar. He wanted to hear this.
If Cronin gave Angela any trouble he was going to be very sorry.
* * * *
Angela stepped aside to let Philip walk past her, averting her face from his kiss. It landed on her cheek and he immediately turned her to
look at him, taking her by the shoulders and gazing into her eyes.
“Something is wrong,” he said. “What is it?”
“Philip, let’s go into the living room. There’s something I want to discuss with you and I think we should be comfortable.”
Philip followed her warily. He knew something was up, but he was playing her game, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He seated himself on one of the twin love seats facing the fireplace, never taking his eyes from Angela.
Angela looked at him, so handsome, his golden hair perfectly styled, his immaculate clothes ideally suited to his frame and tastes. Philip was good looking, intelligent, successful and quite a nice guy if you didn’t mind his touches of snobbery and social climbing. Was she really about to turn down this paragon in favor of that moody, taciturn, combustible individual who had come into her life as her bodyguard? Indeed she was, and she knew that it was the best decision she had ever made.
“Well. What is it?” Philip asked as Angela sat opposite him.
“Philip, I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Our relationship isn’t going anywhere. The other night just made me realize that it’s unfair of me to monopolize your time when I’m not ready to make the kind of commitment you want.”
Philip’s lips parted. For the first time Angela noticed the faint purple and saffron bruise at the corner of his mouth. He bore the tangible evidence of his last encounter with his rival.
“You mean it’s over?” he asked, stunned.
Angela nodded. “I think that would be best.”
Philip shook his head, as if to clear it. “Look, Angela, I know I pushed things a little too far the other night, and that scene with your bodyguard wasn’t very pleasant. . .” He stopped, his expression changing. “That’s it, isn’t it!” he exclaimed. “It’s that Devlin, that goon your uncle hired to follow you around. He’s the reason you’re making this speech.”
Angela didn’t deny it.
Philip rose to his feet, pacing. “Angela, you can’t be serious,” he said in an astonished tone. “That guy . . . he’s beef on the hoof, he’s a dimwitted fortune hunter, that’s what he is.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, of course you don’t think so. I’m sure he’s told you he loves you.”
“Yes, he has.”
“He loves your uncle’s money.”
“I think that accusation could be more fairly leveled at you, Philip,” Angela stated calmly.
Philip let that pass. He came to sit next to Angela, taking both of her hands in his.
“Angela, you’re making a mistake,” he said sincerely.
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
Philip released her hands. “I can’t believe you’ve fallen for his act,” he chided her in a patronizing voice.
“What act is that, Philip?”
“Oh, that strong silent bit, the macho bull that went out with John Wayne. Devlin’s material is just a little dated, don’t you think?”
“I’m sorry that you feel he’s giving a performance. Not everyone talks as much as you do, Philip. All men don’t articulate their feelings. It doesn’t mean they don’t have them.” She sounded just like Josie.
“But he doesn’t have to say too much in bed, does he?” Philip responded nastily. “I’m sure he’s very expressive there.”
Angela stood. “I think you’d better go.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Philip went on. “All this time you’ve been holding me at arm’s length, and that wooden Indian waltzes in here and tumbles you right into the sack.”
“That’s about enough out of you, Cronin,” Devlin announced from the hall. “Why don’t you get along home?”
Philip turned and faced him. “Ah, the man of the hour. Who are you tonight, Marshall Dillon or Dirty Harry?”
“Brett, I asked you to stay out of this,” Angela said desperately. Devlin’s appearance indicated that he was on a short fuse; it wouldn’t take much to instigate a repeat performance of Saturday’s debacle.
“I could hear him yelling at you,” Devlin replied. “You don’t have to take that from this fancy boy.”
Philip’s jaw stuck out pugnaciously, and Angela’s heart sank. She had read once that some women took pleasure in having two men fight over them. It was nonsense to her; she felt ill.
“Please go, Philip,” she said. “Prolonging this with you two insulting each other isn’t going to change my mind.”
Philip measured Devlin, a long glance during which he was obviously weighing whether or not to take the other man on. To Angela’s immense relief he decided against it. He straightened the lapels of the jacket he hadn’t even removed and brushed past Angela, ignoring Devlin.
“I’m leaving,” he said shortly. “And I won’t be back. Don’t call me when you realize what a mess you’ve made of everything, Angela.” He yanked open the front door and slammed it behind him.
Angela’s knees were giving way as Devlin caught her. She leaned heavily on his strength, closing her eyes.
“That was awful,” she whispered. “That was truly awful.”
He massaged her back with the palms of his hands. “I know,” he said soothingly. “But it had to be done and it’s over now.”
“I hurt him,” Angela said. “That’s why he was so mean. He always reacts that way when he’s in pain.”
Devlin shook his head in wonderment. “You are amazing,” he said. “That guy was just insulting you royally and you’re concerned about his feelings.”
“It’s not easy to see your plans for the future shattered in a matter of minutes,” Angela replied.
“I guess he was really counting on marrying you,” Devlin replied. He continued to hold her, thinking about what she had just done. She was making major changes in her life for him, based on the assumption that he was a private detective. Would she regret those changes when she discovered who he really was?
“He’ll find somebody else,” Angela said. “He should have someone who really loves him.” She lifted her head and gazed into Devlin’s eyes. “The way I love you.” She shivered and buried her face against his chest.
“Are you cold?”
“No, I think it’s just a reaction.” She snuggled closer into his warmth. “I was all geared up for a fight, I guess.”
“I’d like to tear that loser limb from limb,” Devlin snarled, his body tensing.
“Don’t hate him,” Angela whispered. “I don’t. What happened was as much my fault as his.”
Devlin hugged her tighter. “Well, at least he was spared the awful truth about you.”
Angela drew back, examining him with narrowed eyes. “And what might that be?”
He shrugged. “If he ever lived with you he would have discovered that you’re a compulsive tooth brusher.”
Angela made an exasperated face.
“Don’t look at me like that. I see you dashing into the bathroom all the time to scrub those pearly whites. And I haven’t even mentioned that pounding rock music blaring through the house constantly.”
Angela knew that he was trying to jolly her out of the Philip Cronin doldrums and she loved him for it. “What’s wrong with my music?” she asked, humoring him.
“It all sounds the same.”
“And you sound like an old fogy. What music do you like?”
He grinned. “Willie Nelson.”
Angela was horrified. “Come on. That country western guitar-twanging opry house stuff?”
“Sure.”
She put her hands on her hips. “And you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that my music all sounds the same? Here’s a sample of yours.” Angela threw back her head, screwed up her face and wailed in a high-pitched whine:
Since my baby left me
I been cryin’ all the time
Hangin’ out at the truck stop
Drinkin’ cheap red wine …
Devlin stared at her for several seconds and then burst out laughing. “That’s
very good,” he said.
“Don’t they all sound like that?” Angela demanded.
“Not quite with those eloquent words.”
“I just made that up,” she replied, tossing her hair nonchalantly.
“I never would have guessed.”
They eyed each other, smiling.
“I’ll compromise,” Angela said. “Remind me later and I’ll play my Big Country album for you. The group is from Scotland. You should like that. The guitars sound like bagpipes.”
“That ought to be interesting,” Devlin said dryly.
“And I’ll listen to a Willie Nelson record,” she said grudgingly. “One. You pick it out for me.”
Devlin extended his hand and she shook it. He yanked her forward and pulled her into his arms.
“Let’s celebrate the truce,” he murmured, steering her toward the hall.
He took Angela back to his room and made slow, careful love to her, caressing every inch of her body with his hands and mouth. She clung to him afterward, keeping him with her. She ran her hands over his back, his hair, his smooth shoulders. She couldn’t stop touching him.
“I want to go back to Connecticut,” she said suddenly. “I want to ride Blossom again, and I want you to make love to me in that barn where we were interrupted the last time.”
“That’s what I like, a woman who knows what she wants.” He stirred slightly, moving to the side, and she murmured in protest.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, “just getting my cigarettes.” He fished the packet out of the pocket of his shirt, which was on the floor.
Angela’s gaze roamed the dimly lit room while he struck a match and inhaled the first deep drag. She noticed that the key was missing from his dresser drawer.
“Darling, why do you keep the top drawer of your dresser locked?” she asked.
Devlin stiffened, then forced himself to relax. “I keep my weapon and the ammunition for it in there. It seemed safer. I wouldn’t want anyone to come across it accidentally and get hurt.”
“But it’s only Josie and me here, Brett.”
He shrugged, as if the matter were of no consequence. “It’s just standard procedure with the agency, Angela. It’s part of my training.” He exhaled a stream of smoke, waiting to see if she would accept that explanation.
Men of Intrgue A Trilogy Page 63