Not Quite an Angel (Harlequin Superromance No. 595)

by Bobby Hutchinson

  God knows he could attest to that.

  “Honest and moral,” she mimicked in a nasty voice. “Aren’t there rules about having sex with a person you’re supposed to be investigating?”

  His hands clenched into fists and it was all he could do to keep from hitting her. He stood up and buzzed for Janice, pinning Violet with a look that at least kept her from saying another word. “Ms. Temple isn’t satisfied with the work we’ve done for her,” he said when Janice appeared at the door. “Please make out a check for her entire deposit, plus interest, and bring it to me to sign.”

  Violet huffed and tossed her head. “I’ll make certain you people don’t ever get any more security work from Delilah, you can bet your bottom dollar on that,” she snapped, heading for the door. “And you can bet I’m going to hire someone who can keep his fly done up to find out what’s really going on with your dear little Sameh Smith.”

  Adam wasn’t conscious of having moved until he was between Violet and the door. He blocked it with his body, towering over her. She took several hasty steps back into the room, cowed by his barely concealed ferocity.

  His voice was quiet and deadly. “You’ve heard of slander, haven’t you, Violet? I figure there’s grounds for a charge here, unless you back off fast. If I hear of one more unfounded accusation against Sameh Smith, I assure you this firm will take action against you on her behalf.”

  Violet’s jowls quivered, and her mouth opened and shut several times before any words came out. “Don’t you—how dare you threaten me?”

  The tight smile he gave her looked more like a snarl. “No threat, Violet. I never make threats.” He waited a long moment. “Just promises,” he added, his voice almost a whisper.

  She’d scuttled out the door then, breathing as if she were about to have a stroke.

  He’d found Bernie and told him what he’d done. Bernie, of course, was overjoyed. “Glad you’ve come to your senses,” he said with a wide grin, giving Adam a hearty thump on the shoulder.

  But Adam knew he hadn’t come to his senses at all. If anything, he’d lost them, and Sameh was to blame. He thought of her constantly. Time after time, he went over everything he knew about her in endless detail, trying to analyze and make sense of the things she’d said.

  Was she really a mental case? Or… He never managed to get past that or, because the alternative—believing Sameh was everything she claimed to be—was unthinkable.

  And the whole time his logic wrestled with the question of who Sameh was and where she came from, the fact that he’d acted like a total bastard the last time he was with her gnawed at his conscience. In the small hours of the night, he’d examined his relationships with women and squirmed, unable to deny that there might be some truth to what Sameh had said—that he used sex to avoid a lot of other things in his life. He’d tried to remember one single woman, except his mother, with whom he’d had a meaningful relationship that excluded sex, and failed.

  He told himself he was furious with Sameh for bringing out emotions and feelings he’d spent a lifetime concealing. He tried to convince himself he was well rid of her, but even as he did so, he knew he was lying to himself all over again.

  From the first moment he’d set eyes on Bernie’s photos of her, he’d wanted her in his arms, in his bed, and that resolve hadn’t changed one bit, except to grow even stronger as he got to know her.

  He’d never known failure with a woman he desired. It bothered him more than he could bear to admit that he was failing with Sameh. Her appearance here in the office today had seemed like a reprieve. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to try to seduce her on the floor of the bathroom.

  Like he’d told her, he was willing to go along with whatever conditions she imposed if that’s what it took to go on seeing her. She wanted to be friends, they’d be friends, he told himself with grim determination.

  Anyway, he’d read somewhere that friends ended up in bed together with amazing regularity.

  “IT’S NICE THAT you’re growing up, boss,” Janice said, smacking a file he’d asked for down on his desk the morning after Sameh and Frances had visited the office.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He and the rest of the security force at Blue Knights had worked half the night providing security for some of Hollywood’s most visible stars, always a hair-raising endeavor. Adam had only had three hours’ sleep at best, but for some reason he felt good this morning—too good to let even Janice’s barbed remarks get under his skin.

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “Well, you seem to have given up Barbie dolls for real women, if Sameh’s any indication. She’s a breath of fresh air after the bimbos you usually attract. She’s vegetarian, you know.”

  “I guessed.”

  “Well, I am, too.”

  He hadn’t guessed. He’d never really had many actual conversations with Janice. He’d been trying to figure out where to take Sameh for dinner that night. “Where do you vegetarian types eat, anyhow?”

  Janice gave him a rundown on every health food restaurant in California. “Sameh’s going to be good for you, Adam. If you cut flesh out of your diet, you’ll stop being so aggressive. Did you know that?”

  He looked at her in mock amazement. “Me, aggressive?”

  “Yup, you, aggressive.” She gave him one of her looks, but there wasn’t as much punch to it as usual. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking of resigning. Sameh picked up on it when we were talking, God knows how. We’re both secretaries at the moment, and we were discussing how it’s not very satisfying as a long-term career choice.”

  Adam gaped at her. Janice, resign? This was serious. This could be a calamity. Janice was the reason the office ran as well as it did. She had more organizational skills in her little finger than he and Bernie had put together and she knew more than either of them about the files. Alarm bells jangled as he ran through a mental list of things that might induce her to stay, starting off with more money, but before he could start begging, she added, “Sameh came up with a neat idea.”

  Adam knew a little about Sameh’s ideas. He just hoped to God it didn’t have anything to do with witchcraft or sorcery.

  “She asked why I didn’t get my investigator’s license. She said I’d be good at it, and y’know, I think she’s right. In spite of all this equality stuff, it just never occurred to me that I could be a partner in the business instead of a secretary.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Adam, either, and he’d bet it had never crossed Bernie’s mind. It was a disturbing concept, Janice as a partner, but it was also a relief to know that she wasn’t going to walk out on them.

  “Guess I was too close to the problem, huh, boss? Anyhow, I’m going to register for some classes at night school. Criminology, sociology, psychology, that sort of thing. I’m really grateful to Sameh for coming up with this.”

  Sociology. Psychology. Adam hadn’t taken any such courses, and he knew damn well Bernie hadn’t. Maybe they’d better register for a couple themselves, or their future female partner would outsmart both of them.

  FRIDAY NIGHT, HE TOOK Sameh to I Love Juicy, a vegetarian restaurant on Melrose Avenue in Hollywood. Janice had recommended it highly it seemed she ate there often.

  Sameh’s hand was better. She’d replaced his bandage with a wide yellow one. She wore snug jeans that affected his blood pressure, and a soft purple top that turned her eyes sapphire and skimmed her breasts like a promise. The food was unfamiliar, but once he got through the puzzle of ordering, it tasted all right. God alone knew what was in it, though.

  Sameh chattered on about Kate and Corey, about the book that Delilah was writing and about a boy she’d met while jogging that morning. “His name’s Troy, he’s only fourteen,” she confided over dessert—huge slabs of apple pie. Here at least Adam was on familiar food ground. “He was going through garbage cans, looking for something to eat.” Her blue eyes were troubled. “It’s a terrible thing for children to be that hungry,” she said.

&
nbsp; Alarm bells jangled in Adam’s head as she described how she’d taken Troy back with her to Delilah’s house, sneaked him into the kitchen and fed him breakfast before Violet came in and caught them. Violet had had a fit, ordered Troy off the premises and given Sameh a tongue-lashing.

  “Violet’s an unevolved soul. I’m afraid I told her so this time. Of course, I also went straight to Delilah and told her what I’d done, and she was more understanding.”

  Adam had never dreamed there’d be a situation in which he sympathized with Violet. He put his fork down. “Sameh, I hate to say this, but Violet’s right this time. You have to be more careful. These kids aren’t always what they seem to be,” he began, and then stopped at the outraged look on Sameh’s face.

  “He was a child, Adam. Children are the only hope for the future, and this boy doesn’t even have a home.”

  He took a deep breath and started again. “What I mean is, a situation like that could be dangerous. Kids like Troy are often on drugs. He might not have had any qualms about pulling a knife on you, or walking off with Delilah’s stereo.”

  She shook her head. “He wasn’t like that. He was just a hungry and confused little boy.”

  He frowned at her. “You still shouldn’t have taken him home. There’s no way of telling whether he’s just a kid down on his luck or whether he’ll come back with a gang and trash the house.”

  “Of course there is. I checked him out thoroughly.” Her chin tilted assertively. “I’m not a fool, Adam. Before I came, I was given intensive grounding in detecting and dealing with the violence and turbulence your society is undergoing. I wouldn’t put Delilah at risk in any way. Troy’s a good boy, and now I don’t even know where to find him. He ran off down the alley after Violet hollered at him.”

  Thank God for small blessings, Adam thought as he paid the bill.

  They went to a movie, a newly released romantic comedy in which the heroine’s mother happened to be psychic. Sameh loved it. Was he becoming paranoid, Adam wondered, or was he really being bombarded by elements straight out of the twilight zone?

  When they came out of the theater, night had fallen, but the air was hot and dry. Adam took Sameh’s hand and they strolled down the neon-lit boulevard in search of somewhere to have a cool drink. They turned a corner, and Sameh bumped headlong into a woman wearing high-cut shorts, low-cut halter and five-inch heels. The small purse she was carrying slid across the sidewalk, flying open and scattering condoms, makeup and some small change in a wide arc. A prostitute. A thousand emotions skittered through Adam’s mind as she cursed at Sameh, crouching down to snatch up her belongings.

  Sameh wrenched her hand from Adam’s grasp and knelt too, collecting lipsticks and condoms, clumsier than ever with her bandaged hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m accident prone,” she apologized in a contrite tone. “I was talking to Adam and didn’t even see you. There, I think we’ve got all of it,” she said, scooping the collection she held into the woman’s handbag. The two of them rose to their feet, the hooker giving Adam the once-over and staring at Sameh with a suspicious frown on her heavily made-up face. “We were just going to have a cold drink. Would you like one, too? It’s awfully hot tonight.”

  Adam’s stomach contracted.

  The woman licked her lips and grinned. “I get it,” she drawled. “You wanna party, right?”

  “Get lost,” Adam snarled at her, tugging on Sameh’s hand.

  Sameh ignored him. “No party, thank you,” she said to the woman. She was as polite as she might have been refusing a box of Girl Scout cookies. “I just thought maybe you were thirsty.”

  The hooker was staring at Sameh.

  “Let’s go, Sameh.” Adam had hold of Sameh’s arm now, and he tugged on it, trying to hurry her on down the street.

  But Sameh slipped from his grasp again, walking back toward the other woman, reaching out and touching her arm, smiling into her eyes. “Maybe we’ll meet again sometime. I hope so,” she said in a soft voice. She took the woman’s hand and held it against her cheek for a long moment in a strange, intimate gesture.

  When they walked away, Adam could feel the prostitute’s eyes boring into his back the whole way down the street. When he finally had them seated in a small café, Adam drank half his mugful of beer before he felt able to say anything coherent. “What the hell were you doing, buddying up to a hooker that way?” he finally managed to blurt out.

  Sameh shrugged and sipped her lemonade. “She’s a person, a human being, another woman. I knocked into her. Why shouldn’t I be polite to her?”

  Adam’s hands were trembling, and he clutched the glass so Sameh wouldn’t see. “Look, take my word for it, she’s not the type of woman you want as a personal friend, that’s why the hell not.”

  Sameh frowned at him, tipping her head to the side and studying him with an intensity that unnerved him. It took an immense effort of will to meet her questioning gaze. As he’d learned to do long before, he slammed shut all the gates to his memories, to his past and, as always, took refuge in sexuality.

  He reached across and ran a finger lightly down her cheek, allowing his thumb to slowly, sensually, trace the voluptuous curves of her mouth, filling his mind with the way it felt to cover those moist, full lips with his own. Her eyes widened, and for one intoxicating moment, he felt the sexual tension between them crackle and snap like a live electrical wire.

  As if she’d been burned, Sameh jerked her head back. “Friends, Adam, remember?” There was warning in her voice, but there was also a slight tremor.

  Reluctant now, he withdrew his hand. He gave her a lopsided, regretful smile and nodded. “Friends, Sameh.”

  Just as he’d hoped it would be, the issue of the prostitute was forgotten.

  SATURDAY HE TOOK HER to an amusement park and then out for dinner in Chinatown. And at the end of the day—a day in which he’d had more uncomplicated fun than he could ever remember having—he heard himself asking if she’d like to come with him on Sunday when he went to the nursing home for his weekly visit with Myles.

  Myles was an old friend, he explained, wondering all of a sudden if he’d taken leave of his senses, asking her to come with him. It wasn’t as though he’d never introduced any of his women to Myles, he rationalized. Over the years, it was inevitable that one female or another might be on hand when his old friend stopped by.

  Since Myles’s illness, though, Adam had always visited the rest home alone. But now he didn’t want to spend Sunday away from Sameh.

  HE STARTED HAVING second thoughts Sunday afternoon, however, when they walked through the wide front doors of the comfortable, rather shabby building where Myles lived. Visiting an old man with Alzheimer’s wasn’t anyone’s idea of a fun way to spend a day. Sameh didn’t even know Myles. It was crazy, bringing her here, but it was too late now to turn back.

  “Hi, Adam.” Vinnie Perkins, one of the nurses usually on duty when he came, smiled a greeting as they passed the reception area. She had dyed platinum hair, a road map of wrinkles and the kindest eyes in the world. Adam introduced Sameh, who was carrying the bouquet of flowers Adam brought every week.

  “I’ll get you a vase for those. I just tossed out last week’s bouquet. They were finished yesterday.” Myles had always loved flowers, although he paid little attention to them these days.

  “Thanks, Vinnie.” He extracted a single rose from the assortment and presented it to the nurse with a courtly bow. She took it and winked at Sameh.

  “He could charm the birds out of the trees, this young man of yours,” she confided, her eyes twinkling. “Half my nursing staff’s in love with him, but they’re all ten years older than I am, so you shouldn’t lose any sleep over it, dear.” Vinnie’s hearty laugh brought smiles from the residents playing poker at a table in the corner of the cheerful room.

  That air of relaxed friendliness and the eternal poker game in the lobby had convinced Adam that this particular facility was the one for Myles. He’d never regretted his decision; wha
t the place lacked in elegance it more than made up for in comfort, and the staff was unfailingly kind.

  “How’s he doing?” Adam asked the question every Sunday before he went up to Myles’s room.

  Vinnie sobered and shook her head. “Not too well, I’m afraid. It’s been a bad week for him. He’s not eating again, poor dear.”

  Adam cursed himself for bringing Sameh. On bad days, Myles could either be silent and catatonic, or insultingly vocal and inclined to violence. Either mode was hard for him to take, never mind dragging her into it. Taking Sameh’s hand, Adam led the way to the elevator, feeling his stomach sink as the first and second floors dinged past on the indicator.

  Myles was on the third floor, the one reserved for those with advanced cognitive impairment. A security guard was on duty here, a middle-aged, portly man with a kind face. The patients on this floor tended to wander and needed constant supervision.

  “Afternoon, Adam. Hot enough for ya?”

  “How’s it going, Jim? That leg any better this week?”

  Adam chatted with the guard for a while, again introducing Sameh and hiding the mounting anxiety that gnawed at his gut. At last there was nothing left to do but lead the way down the hall and knock on the familiar door. As he’d expected, there was no answer, so after a moment he opened it and led Sameh inside.

  “Hello, Myles. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

  Silence. It was going to be one of the days that Myles didn’t recognize him, Adam realized. Such days came with increasing frequency as the disease progressed.