“I, um, don’t know what you’re talking about,” Angela replied defiantly.
Lauren just looked amused. “Bullshit. You just think nobody noticed you arguing with Mr. Dark and Dangerous when we were at our second stop of the night. What’s his name, Angie? Did you know he was going to be there tonight? And is he the reason you’ve been so out of it all evening?”
Angela’s lips tightened into a hard, mutinous line. “Back off, Lauren. I’m not talking about it. Ever.”
But Lauren was a long, long way from being deterred. “He’s the one, isn’t he? The fucker who broke your heart three – no, it’s almost four years ago now, isn’t it? The one who broke
you
, Angie. Tell us his name. And, more importantly, why he’s suddenly showing up in your life again.”
“He’s
not
in my life again,” snarled Angela, her anger a blazing hot force to be reckoned with. “At least not that way. And his name isn’t important.
He’s
not important.”
Lauren gave a careless shrug. “Sure didn’t look that way to me. Jules – you should have seen this guy. Tall – even taller than Ian – and built like a tank. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes. He reminded me of the devil – a really well built, really good looking devil.”
Angela’s mouth was trembling now. “He
is
the devil,” she whispered brokenly. “And he’s trying to lure me back into hell.”
As the twins stared at her in mingled shock and horror, Angela gave herself a little shake and struggled to regain her composure. She pointed a warning finger at Lauren.
“And the subject is now officially closed.
Closed
,” she emphasized when Lauren started to speak. “If you try talking about it again, I’ll call a taxi and go stay at a hotel. I mean it, Lauren. You need to butt out, okay?”
Angela’s voice was so filled with repressed rage that Lauren for once didn’t dare argue back and merely nodded. The remainder of the drive back home was passed in uncomfortable silence, save for the occasional drunken hiccup that escaped Julia’s mouth despite her best efforts to suppress them.
As soon as the limo pulled up in front of their building, Angela wasted little time in exiting and then briskly climbing the two sets of stairs to her flat. She barely even mumbled a good night to Julia and her fiancé Nathan, who’d been waiting at the curb for their arrival. Fortunately Lauren had been enlisted to help guide her very tipsy twin inside her own flat, giving Angela a few precious minutes to make herself scarce and hopefully escape more of Lauren’s prying.
But despite getting undressed, throwing on some ratty old PJ’s, and diving under the covers in record time, Angela couldn’t completely avoid the doggedly stubborn Lauren. Never one to let a closed door deter her, Lauren ignored it to poke her head inside Angela’s bedroom.
“Hide all you want to, Angie,” she called out. “But I’m on to you now. More importantly, I know what that devil looks like and I won’t stop until I figure out who he is. Then the fun is really going to begin. Sweet dreams now.”
But Angela had neither dreams nor nightmares as she fell – surprisingly quickly – into a deep sleep. Maybe it was all the booze she’d consumed, or maybe there was some other underlying reason, but it was one of the most restful sleeps she’d had in years.
***
When, right on schedule, Cara poked her beaming, perky little head inside the doorway on Monday morning, Angela refused to let her resolve weaken, no matter how adorable the younger woman looked. She’d been far too lax with Cara recently, she realized, and needed to lay the law down on a few things.
“Cara, could you close the door and have a seat, please?” asked Angela in her most businesslike tone. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Her admin assistant’s big eyes grew even wider, and Angela was secretly pleased to see a hint of fear in their depths. She wasn’t planning on yelling at Cara, but the girl definitely needed to realize how displeased Angela was with her at present.
“O – okay,” murmured Cara uncertainly, even as she shut the door and perched nervously on one of the guest chairs. “Is, um, something wrong?”
“Depends on your answer, I suppose.” Angela lounged back slightly in her chair, tapping her pen on the surface of the desk.
Cara clasped her hands in her lap in obvious agitation. “Answer to what? Did I do something wrong? What is it? Whatever it is, I’m so sorry! I’ll do whatever I have to in order to fix it. I -”
Angela held up a hand to stop the babbling. “Just answer me truthfully. Have you been giving Nick Manning information about me? Specifically, what my personal appointments are and where he might be likely to run into me?”
Angela knew immediately – from both the way Cara’s mouth dropped open in shock and how her eyes grew even rounder – that she’d found her culprit. There really hadn’t been any other suspects so far as she was concerned, because no one else besides herself and Cara would have known about some of the appointments.
Cara’s full bottom lip began to quiver and there was a sheen of tears in her big eyes. “I – I’m sorry, Angela,” she stammered. “I know it was wrong to tell him. But – well, he’s so charming and has this way of getting you to tell him things without even being aware you’re doing it. And, well, it was
sooo
romantic, I thought – how the two of you had been together once and then how he’d stupidly let you go and how he’s trying to get you back again. And, well, you know me – I’m a sucker for a good love story, a hopeless romantic, and -”
Angela held up her hand again, thinking that Cara talked even faster when she was agitated. “Okay, enough. I get the picture. And, yes, unfortunately I’m all too aware of just how persuasive Nick can be when he turns the charm on full force. I’m guessing a babe in the woods like you never stood a chance against a wolf like him. But I want you to promise me now that you aren’t going to tell him even one more thing. Do we understand each other?”
Cara nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, I promise, Angela! And, honestly, I didn’t mean any harm, I really didn’t. I guess – well it’s hard to imagine anyone not wanting to be with someone like Nick. He’s
sooo
gorgeous and sophisticated and dreamy. I thought – well, I thought I was helping you. I figured you’d had a lover’s spat or something when you knew each other before, and that you were still mad at him over whatever happened to break you up.”
“Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it,” replied Angela dryly. “And while I appreciate your concern for me, it ends now, okay? Including all of your not so subtle attempts to get me to eat. Though I had that one figured out quite some time ago.”
“Oops.” Cara giggled. “Busted, guilty as charged! But at least that seems to be working. You really do look great, Angela, so much healthier. And if I promise not to shove cupcakes under your nose, will you promise to keep on eating more?”
Angela regarded her overeager young assistant dubiously, though Cara reminded her so much of a loveable, cuddly puppy right now that it was impossible not to offer up a faint smile. “All right, I’ll try. And you don’t have to stop completely. I’m particularly fond of that crumb cake you bring in sometimes.”
“Isn’t that the best?” gushed Cara. “I get it at this bakery a couple of blocks from here. And you should see the other stuff they make. Do you like lemon bars? Or blackout cake? And their peanut butter -”
“Just the crumb cake,” interrupted Angela. “And once in a while, not twice a day. Now, as long as we’re on the same page about this issue, let’s get to work, hmm? And if that wily bastard Nick stops by, tell him the two of you have been made. The information leak stops now. Are we perfectly clear?”
Cara nodded. “As glass. I promise not to tell him about any more of your plans. Uh, oh.”
Angela frowned at the note of concern in her assistant’s voice. “What now?”
Cara worried her bottom lip, her eyes holding a decidedly guilty expression. “I, um, may have shared details about one other appointment with him. But don’t worry. I really, really doubt he’d just show up
there.
”
Angela sighed. “Go on, tell me. What appointment did you tell him about?”
“Not so much an appointment, really. But I may have, ah, mentioned the date and location of your friend’s wedding this Saturday.”
Angela shook her head in disbelief. “Really, Cara? Why in the world would you have told him something like that? God, that’s all I’d need – Nick deciding to crash Julia’s wedding just so he can mess with my head for a few more minutes.”
“Relax,” replied Cara, her voice sounding a hell of a lot more confident than Angela felt at the moment. “I mean, all of the other places he showed up at were around San Francisco. What are the chances Nick would actually drive all the way to Pebble Beach just to see you for a few minutes?”
“Well, you’re looking mighty pleased with yourself this afternoon. What’s her name?”
Dante Sabattini gave Nick a very satisfied smile as he lifted his glass of red wine. “You know me too well, my friend. And her name is one you’ve heard me mention enough times over these past couple of years to drive you crazy.”
Nick sighed. “Please tell me you are not still obsessed with nailing that actress who’s got your balls in a vise.”
Dante winked suggestively. “Nope. Because I’ve already nailed her. Multiple times. And that’s just for starters. I’m happy to say this is the start of a beautiful and lasting relationship.”
“Great. I’m very happy for you and – what’s her name again? Keely? Krista?”
Dante shook his head. “Come on, Nick. How many times over the past year and a half have you heard me talking about her? It’s Katie. Gorgeous, sexy, Katie who can do things with that mouth of hers that are probably still illegal in some countries.”
“Sorry. And, yes, it’s all coming back to me now. I’m not sure how I could ever forget the name of a woman who had you jacking off like a twelve year old boy over the new swimsuit edition of
Sports Illustrated.
”
Dante’s dark olive skin flushed in embarrassment. “Hey, I never did that. And wait until you meet her in person, Nick. You’ll be trying to figure out how to make a move on her yourself without pissing me off in the process.”
“No.” Nick toyed with his grilled swordfish, his usually robust appetite off today. “First of all, I never, ever poach on another man’s woman. Second, your Katie isn’t really my type. I prefer my women to be all natural, and from what I can tell not much about yours is real – dyed hair, fake tits, veneers.”
Dante stared across the table in appalled disbelief. “And how the hell can you tell any of that? You’ve seen her in person like, what – once? Twice? And both of those times were from a distance.”
Nick swallowed a mouthful of fish, rice, and grilled vegetables, washing it all down with a healthy swallow of wine. “What can I say, my lovestruck friend? I’ve got certain – talents where women are concerned, can pick out the real thing from a poor substitute with just a glance.”
“Hah!” smirked Dante. “Big surprise, considering how many women you’ve banged over the years.”
“You’re kidding, right?” asked Nick, chuckling. “Let’s not start comparing numbers, Dan, because that might just be one category where you passed me up a long time ago. Especially considering the fact that I’ve been living like a damned monk this past year and a half.”
“Well, whose fault is that?” declared Dante. “You could have fresh pussy every night of the week if you want. And you’ve been off your game for way longer than eighteen months, my man. You haven’t been your old self since – well, since before you were with Angela.”
Nick’s hand froze halfway to his mouth with another forkful of his lunch. Quietly, he set the fork down. “You might be right, Dan,” he admitted soberly. “I never even realized it when we were together, but she got under my skin in a way nobody else has ever been able to do. I’m not sure why I never saw that clearly until she came back into my life.”
Dante snorted, his own healthy appetite not in the least affected as he swallowed a heaping forkful of seafood linguine. “You never realized it the first time because you were way too busy being an asshole,” he declared. “You treated Angela like shit back then, took advantage of how young she was and how she was willing to do fucking anything for you. And, hey, I know exactly what you’re going to say next – you laid out the rules, told her what to expect, and nobody twisted her arm to get her to agree. It still doesn’t excuse the fact that you didn’t treat her right. Especially when you broke things off. You were cold, Nick. Ice cold.”
Nick scowled, ignoring his food but finishing off his wine and then motioning to the waiter for a refill. He seldom drank more than a glass at lunch, and oftentimes didn’t have any alcohol during his midday meal, but he allowed himself the indulgence today. He’d been in a rotten mood since he’d woken up – hell, most of the week – and Dante’s rather blunt criticism wasn’t helping to make things better.
“You know, Dan,” he drawled, using the abbreviated form of Dante’s name as most of his close friends did. “You aren’t exactly a shining example of how to treat a lady, either. Rumor has it that your middle initial really stands for Player instead of Pietro.”
Dante grinned. “Hey, I’m the first to admit I’ve gotten around. A lot. But whether it’s for a month or a night, I’ve always treated my ladies like royalty. That’s why they all still love me, why I have to block so many phone numbers, de-friend so many of them on Facebook. You, on the other hand,” he shook his head in disapproval, “usually treat women with less regard than you do a bottle of good Bordeaux. And you treated Angela even worse – like a six-pack of cheap malt liquor.”