Her mother laughed lightly. “Well, welcome to the human race, dear.”
Angela carefully avoided going in to work early Monday morning, just as she had kept herself away from the office all weekend. When she did get there, she went straight to her own office and sat down at her desk, but she was sure to leave the door to her office invitingly open. It was difficult to make herself work. The blue screen of her computer remained embarrassingly blank, and the yellow pad on the desk before her was covered with scribbles and drawings and not a single constructive idea.
She wondered where Bryce was—in Kelly’s office or the general accounting room or perhaps holed up in some cubbyhole of his own, poring through books of green-barred computer printouts. Doubtless he wasn’t having any problems concentrating on his work.
She was staring at her computer screen, mesmerized by the blinking cursor light, when a tap at her door brought her to with a start. Whirling her chair around to face the door, she cracked her shin against a drawer corner and let out a yelp. Rubbing her leg, she looked at the man standing in the doorway, a brown paper sack in his hand. It was Bryce, of course. She cursed under her breath as she offered him a bright smile.
“Hi. Sorry. I’m always knocking into things.” She rose to her feet, motioning him to come in.
He closed the door and walked over to her desk. They stood for a moment, looking at each other awkwardly, the expanse of her desk between them. Bryce proffered the sack to her.
“Care for some lunch? It’s hardly the quality of the other night’s meal, but I thought we might, uh, share a sandwich and talk.”
“Sure.” Angela tried to quell the sudden, rapid beating of her heart inside her chest. “I didn’t even realize it was lunchtime yet.”
“It’s only eleven-thirty. I eat early. I usually get to work a little after seven.”
Angela made a face as she began to clear off space on her desk. “Needless to say, I don’t get here that early. But since I didn’t have any breakfast, I can probably eat.”
She laid out the sandwiches, chips and drinks, talking in a fast, nervous way and all the while thinking that she was acting like an idiot. It wasn’t as if she’d never been around Bryce. After all, they’d spent the whole evening together Friday, and she had talked and laughed with him like an old friend. Yet here she was acting as nervous as a schoolgirl on a first date. Somehow the intervening weekend—or perhaps it was the thoughts she’d been having over that time—had made her feel awkward with him.
“How have you been doing with the books?” she asked brightly, biting into the deli sandwich even though she suddenly felt not at all hungry.
Bryce shrugged. “I can see why the IRS is suspicious. Your sales were up quite a bit last year, yet your profits were down.”
“Yes, but there’s a reason for that. We tried to explain it to the IRS,” Angela said, putting down her sandwich. “We hired two more people. They’re involved in the CD-Rom games. It’s a growing area for us. And we bought some equipment, a different software system for our shipping.”
“Yeah, I know. Kelly told me. Still, there’s something that feels hinky about the numbers.”
“What do you mean?” Angela’s brows knotted.
“I’m not sure. There’s just something wrong. I haven’t put my finger on it yet.”
“You mean, like some kind of error that we’re missing?”
Bryce shook his head. “I don’t think so. Your numbers justify, and they shouldn’t if there’s an error. But the software system and the employees don’t add up to enough to account for the drop.”
“There are probably more expenses than those.”
“I’ll check through them all.” He hesitated, then went on, “I’m sure what the Feds are thinking is that your company cooked up some of those expenses to cut down on taxes.”
He looked at her. Angela gazed back at him blankly for a moment. Then she realized the question that was hovering behind his statement.
“Are you asking me if we did?” she asked, her temper rising.
“It’s not unheard of. And if you did, you need to tell me. There’s no point in my going through this if, in fact, you all have played with the figures. I doubt you’ll be able to get it past the IRS agents.”
“How can you think that?” Angela cried, jumping to her feet. “How can you believe that we would have cooked our books?”
His words cut her to the quick. She thought about the way she had been mooning over him all weekend, thinking that there was something brewing between them—and all the while he’d been thinking that she was a crook!
“Calm down. I didn’t say you had,” Bryce reminded her coolly. “I asked you. I want to make sure before I get any further into it.”
“But to even ask implies that you think I’m capable of it.”
“A lot of people don’t regard an attempt to defraud the IRS in quite the same light as real thievery,” Bryce explained wryly. “Most people spend their time trying to avoid paying more tax.”
“Legally. But not by fraud. Not by making up a whole bunch of expenses that didn’t exist.” She stalked over to the window, then whirled and glared at him. “If nothing else, why would we be so stupid as to hire you to find what’s wrong if we knew that it was because we’d cheated on our taxes? Why waste the money?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to throw off suspicion. It’s something that is possible.” He stood up, his face lined with exasperation. “Stop reacting so emotionally. I didn’t say you had done it. But I have to explore all the possibilities. I’ve found that it doesn’t pay in this business to assume anything. Nor is it advisable to trust someone simply because you know them.”
“Is that the way you live your life?” Angela asked, aghast. “Never trusting anyone? I’d hate to be you.”
“Of course I trust certain people. Your parents, for instance. But I don’t jump in right away with my trust. I have to know a person well. I take my time and make sure that they’re worthy of trust.”
“But sometimes…can’t you just tell? Don’t you ever simply feel that this person or that is good or special? Don’t you ever like someone for no reason?”
“Sometimes,” he replied noncommittally. “But I don’t count on it until I know them a lot better.”
Angela groaned and plopped back down into her chair. “Honestly, Bryce, you’re so...practical!”
A faint smile curved his lips. “Not everyone would consider that a terrible feature.”
“It’s not terrible. It’s just that you’re so different from me.” There was a curiously forlorn feeling inside her as she said the words. All the thoughts she’d been having about Bryce this weekend had been foolish daydreaming. A relationship was out of the question. They could never get along. No doubt Bryce had been logical enough to figure that out; she was sure he hadn’t spent the past two days mooning over her. He, of course, had been down here at the office working.
“Well, we did not doctor our books.” Angela went on flatly. “We didn’t make up any expenses in order to save ourselves taxes. Does that satisfy you?”
“Yes. I’m glad.”
Angela picked her sandwich back up and bit into it, feeling rather disgruntled, and for a long time there was nothing but silence in the room.
“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the other night,” Bryce said finally. “It was very nice.”
“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Angela kept her voice light and cool. She wasn’t about to let him think that it had meant any more to her than a business entertainment, a little dinner and evening with her accountant.
“Don’t be like this, Angela. I didn’t really think that you were dishonest. But I would be remiss if I didn’t explore every possibility.”
“I’m aware of that. I just thought after we’d gone out the other night—oh, forget it.”
“No. I won’t.” Bryce set down his food and shoved it aside. He leaned over the desk, fixing Angela with his gaze. “It’s not something I’m lik
ely to forget. I tried to all weekend, and it didn’t work.”
Angela felt suddenly as if there were a huge lump in her throat. She laid her sandwich aside. “What are you talking about?”
“You. Me. Last Friday night.” Bryce got up and came around the desk, reaching down to grasp Angela’s arms and pull her to her feet. “About the fact that I kept wanting to kiss you, and I didn’t. I spent the past two days cursing myself for being such a fool.”
“Did you?” Angela responded weakly. “So did I.”
Bryce grinned as his mouth came down to fasten on hers.
He kissed her slowly, gently, not in a hard, passionate rush as he had the first time, but as if he had all the time in the world and wanted to explore every aspect of her. Finally, when Angela felt as if her knees might buckle at any second, he pulled his mouth from hers and began to press tiny kisses over her jaw and down her throat. Then, slowly, he brought his lips up the side of her neck, pausing here and there to taste her flesh.
Angela felt as if she were melting. His lips were velvety upon her skin and yet so hot she thought they must have seared her. “Bryce…”
“I like the way that sounds.” Bryce brushed her thick hair back from her face, his hand sinking into the silken, curling mass, and kissed her ear.
A shaky moan emitted from Angela’s lips. Bryce took her earlobe between his lips and nibbled at it, sending shivers of delight through her. Her abdomen blossomed with heat, and she sagged against him, not sure she could stand up without help.
His tongue was liks liquid fire as it traced the convolutions of her ear, then returned to tease and caress her earlobe. Bryce put his hands on her shoulders and slowly slid them down over her back and onto her hips. His hands caressed the firm curve of her buttocks, squeezing and releasing. He drew in a sharp breath, and his mouth moved back to hers, seizing it in a long, demanding kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth; his lips moved hungrily against hers.
Angela trembled. Her whole body seemed to have burst into flames at his kiss, like dry tinder to a match. Bryce’s hands slid over her hips and around to the sides, then moved back up, stopping only when he reached the undercurve of her breasts. His fingers burned through the cloth of her blouse, creating a tender ache in her breasts and loins. Slowly, still kissing her, Bryce cupped her breasts and moved his thumbs in lazy circles around her nipples, the circles growing ever smaller until it was only the small buds themselves that he touched. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, softly rolling and squeezing. Heat flooded between Angela’s legs, throbbing and damp. It occurred to her that she was still fully dressed, as was he, yet he had made her so hungry and aching for him that she yearned to take him inside her right now.
“Oh, Angela!” Bryce pulled back, sucking in air. His face was flushed and heavy with sensuality, his lips slightly parted. His eyes were dark and hungry.
Angela gazed back at him, unable to speak, surging with wild sensations and confused emotions.
“This is insane,” he breathed.
Angela nodded.
“We’re in the office, and it’s the middle of the day.”
“I know.” She smiled wryly, her sense of humor coming to her rescue, stiffening her trembling legs and allowing her to move away and sit down. “The door isn’t even locked.”
Bryce mumbled a short expletive and stalked away to the window. He stood for several minutes, staring out. Angela put her elbows on her desk and leaned her head on her hands, trying to recover her breath. Their first kiss that night in his room had not been an aberration, she realized, no matter how she had tried to convince herself that it was. In another moment, unlocked door or not, she would have been ready to slide to the floor and make love with him.
Thank God, she told herself, that Bryce had had enough presence of mind to stop. Her words echoed hollowly in her head. She knew, deep down, that they were a lie. She had not wanted him to stop at all.
“I want you,” Bryce said baldly.
Angela didn’t turn around. “But?”
“But what?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m asking—there was a ‘but’ in your voice.”
“All right. But we can’t rush into it. I—you’re Marina’s daughter.”
“What does that have to do with it?” Angela whipped around, her eyes flashing. “I am myself, not someone’s daughter, and it’s me you’re wanting to take to bed, so don’t start bringing other people into it.”
“I can’t help it. Your parents are very special to me. I respect them.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Angela retorted sarcastically. “Usually the issue is whether you’ll respect me in the morning, not my parents.”
“I would respect both of you,” Bryce replied stiffly, frowning. “But you have to see that this complicates the issue.”
“The issue?” Angela’s voice rose to a squeak. “Now I’m an issue?”
“Dammit, Angela, stop trying to start an argument. Believe me, I would love to throw caution to the winds at the moment, but someone has to be sensible. We have to consider the consequences.”
“You consider the consequences,” Angela said rudely and swung back around to face her desk. “And do it somewhere else. I have work to do.”
“Angela…”
“No. Go away.” Angela felt treacherous tears rising in her, and she had to swallow hard to keep control of her voice. “Don’t bother to tell me when you’ve resolved ‘the issue.’ I’m no longer interested.”
She heard Bryce sigh. He came toward her and stopped behind her, but she refused to look up. Finally, with a low, inarticulate growl, Bryce walked around her and out the door.
Angela kicked the back panel of her desk. It hurt her toes, but it made her feel so much better that she kicked it two more times. She folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head to rest on them and sat for several minutes, wishing that Bryce Richards had never come to town.
Seven
Angela straightened and took a step back from the mirror. The stiff, wide farthingale beneath her skirt knocked over a small vase as she moved. Muttering an oath, Angela righted the bottle. Elizabethan dresses were romantic, but she was beginning to discover that they were completely impractical. When Kelly had shown her this dress last week, she had immediately decided she would wear it to Tim’s costume party instead of the Maladora costume. Maladora might be sexy, but the slinky dress couldn’t compare to the way this one made her waist look tiny or the way the stiff lace collar rising behind her head framed her face delicately. She had not given a thought to how difficult it was to wear.’
Now she did. It had been a real struggle to get it on by herself, and it seemed as if everywhere she went the thick roll of material that made her skirts stand out stiffly to either side of her hips knocked into things. How had the women back then ever gotten around? Also, the brocade dress, along with the petticoats and farthingale, weighed her down, and the stiff collar, braced against her shoulders, was making her back ache.
Angela had considered not going to the party at all. She didn’t really want to. Ever since that scene with Bryce in her office, she had not felt much in the party mood. She had given up her idea of enticing Bryce into going to the party with her, and without him, it had lost much of its appeal. If it had been anyone but her longtime partner giving the party, she was sure she would have ducked out of it. But this was Tim’s big production every year, and he would be very hurt if she didn’t come. Besides, it would be decidedly unprofessional, since so many of the people they dealt with in their business would be there.
Angela turned first to one side and then the other, inspecting herself in the mirror. The heavy brocade gown was ivory colored and shot through with gold threads, subtly glittering. It was wasp-waisted in the Elizabethan style with a stiffened bodice that pushed her breasts up until they threatened to overflow the square-cut neckline. A long rope of fake pearls was twisted around her throat several times like a choker, then fell in a long loop
down to her skirts, as she had seen once in a picture of Elizabeth I. A stiffened lace collar rose from the neckline and up behind her head, framing her face. The final touch was an ivory snood, of the sort often worn by the doomed Mary, Queen of Scots, upon her head. In the back her thick red hair was gathered up into a golden net attached to the bottom of the cap, and in the front the snood came down in a point in the middle, touching the center of her forehead. Pearls lined the edge of the heart-shaped, stiffened front.
It was the effect she had desired—more, really. She looked foreign, mysterious, romantic. She wondered what Bryce would have thought of it if he had seen her in the costume. It had been him she had thought of when she saw the dress and decided she wanted it instead of the Maladora costume. But then, after the way they had parted in her office, she didn’t have the nerve to ask him again to go with her. Bryce might be attracted to her, but he did not want to be, and Angela was not about to make a fool of herself over him.
The doorbell rang, surprising Angela, and she sidled through the doorway, careful not to bump the farthingale into anything else. When she opened the door, she simply stood there for a moment, her jaw dropping open in shock. Bryce Richards stood before her.
But what a Bryce! It wasn’t the man she knew, but a dark-haired, silver-eyed gambler. He was dressed in black, with a white shirt underneath; ruffles cascaded down the front of the shirt and flowed from his wrists. A black string tie was fastened around the collar, and a black felt hat was on his head. He held a long, very thin cigar in one hand.
“You look like you just stepped off a riverboat!” Angela exclaimed. “Or maybe out of Gone With the Wind.”
Bryce smiled. “That was the idea. Dorothy told me it was the perfect costume for me.”
“Dorothy? Our receptionist?”
“Yes. I figured if she had made your costume, she must know something about them. So I asked her where to get one and what I should get. She thought a riverboat gambler would probably make me feel the least foolish. I guess she’s right. I feel enough of an idiot like this—I hate to think what I’d feel like dressed up like a knight.”
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