Angel in Disguise (21 page)

On the basketball court, she’d always been considered
an aggressive player. She could handle taller, stronger opponents and didn’t let anyone mess with her mind, but at home she’d taken what her family dished out and come back for more. Of course, on the court, being loved hadn’t mattered.

Pete’s directions were excellent and she made it to his house without one false turn. It was an impressive abode for a self-proclaimed beach bum, not quite as elaborate as some of his neighbors’ homes, but all of the residents of Malibu Colony lived very well.

He must have been watching, for he came out as soon as she arrived and helped her gather her shopping bags, plastic-covered dress and tote bag. Checking her out, he seemed to notice everything from the way the strap of her cinnamon top slipped off one shoulder to the way the matching skirt swished above her knees.

“Wow!” he said, grinning from ear to ear, sending her confidence soaring.

The entry decor was nautical navy and white with a polished oak captain’s wheel mounted on the wall and a big brass bell set into a plastered alcove. She wouldn’t have been surprised to hear herself piped aboard.

“My dad and I built this place for a retired navy admiral,” Pete explained.

“You built it?” she repeated, noticing the fine workmanship.

Pride shone in his face, the kind that came from hard work fulfilled.

“It’s beautiful, Pete,” she said, happy he had this tangible proof of his talent and skill.

“Well, you might not think so once you see the living room.” He stepped aside, hanging her dress in the entry closet.

The living room took her breath away. Obviously, entertaining the neighbors wasn’t a priority unless they came to work out.

“I love it!” she exclaimed.

“You do?” Pete’s brow puckered above his lopsided grin.

“It’s every jock’s dream come true. Who wouldn’t like a workout room like this?”

He rolled his eyes. “I can think of one or two.”

“Well, I want to try everything.” Working up a little sweat was exactly what she needed before tonight.

“Later,” he said, leading her to another door.

It opened onto an attached garage. Inside, Old Red sat on the far side, taking second place to a sleek, black sports car convertible with the top down. Its polished surface gleamed under the ceiling lights, a contrast with the lush black leather interior. If she knew her cars, she’d have known the name, for even she recognized it as an expensive car.

“What have you got there, Maguire?”

“A Corvette. Like it?” he asked, wearing the happy smile of a kid with a new toy. “Got it today.”

“It’s terrific!” She opened a door and ran her hand over the seats. “But what about Old Red? How does she feel about this?”

He glanced at the pickup on the other side of the garage. “It was her idea, actually.”

“I’m glad you didn’t trade her in.”

“Trade in Old Red?” he repeated, feigning horror. “Why, I’d sooner trade in my mom!”

“I take it Old Red isn’t the jealous type?”

“Red knows where she stands with me,” he said, giving the old pickup a loving nod, “but she’s sensitive. She didn’t want to risk anybody looking down on us tonight.”

Was he serious? “Pete, tell me you didn’t buy this car to take me to a party.”

He looked away. “Of course not. I was thinking of Red. She gets her feelings hurt when people judge her by her exterior.”

Red wasn’t the only one.

“Besides, Red’s not really what you’d call a party ride. She’s more your basic helping-out-when-shecan vehicle. She’s happy to stay here tonight, knowing we’ll take her for a spin tomorrow.”

He was such a good man, and he gave her the most remarkable feeling of safe harbor and peace. She couldn’t help reaching up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “There’s nobody like you, Pete Maguire.”

He loved the feel of her hand, and loved what she said, but he wasn’t so sure he liked how close to the surface her emotions seemed to be. The inevitable stress of tonight had to be taking its toll. Wouldn’t it be better if he could lighten things up?

Backing away, he walked around the car doing his imitation of the John Travolta strut that always made Meggy laugh. “You’re not the only one who’s been shopping, you know.” He looked over his shoulder to see if he’d made her smile.

He had.

“In fact, I shopped so much, my credit-card company called to ask if the card had been stolen.”

“That was nice of them.”

“I thought so. They wondered why a guy who seldom uses his Gold Card for anything but sun-screen, bought himself a tux.”

“You bought one? Planning a life-style change, Mr. Maguire? Going to wear that tux a lot?”

He gave the car’s tire a loving kick. “I didn’t want to go to one of those rental places. I needed a tux that screamed quality. I don’t want to give your parents any reason to look down on you. One snobby salesperson acted like I had no taste when I said I wanted a baby blue tux to match my eyes.”

Sunny’s heart sank. Her mother would have a field day, making fun of the blue tux, especially if it came with a ruffled shirt.

He tweaked her nose. “Just kidding, Keegan. You looked like you could use a laugh.”

She hung her head, embarrassed that she’d thought the worst. “I’m sorry. My timing’s off.”

“Don’t worry about it. I might have gotten a blue tux if they sold them on Rodeo Drive.”

Rodeo Drive? That was pretty pricey shopping. “Is that where you got that interesting tie you wore on
Dream Date?
”

He grinned. “Blame that on Meggy. Me, I go first class. Got my hair cut in Beverly Hills, too. Pardon me—not cut, ‘styled.”’

“Looks good.” Not only the hair, but the whole man. A white mesh T-shirt draped over his tanned, wide shoulders. Denim cutoffs exposed beautifully
muscled calves. It was going to be a shame, covering that body with a tux.

“I got chummy with the woman who did my hair,” he said. “I told her I was hanging out with the rich and famous, and asked her what she thought I needed to fit in.”

“You didn’t.” She was proud of him just as he was. He could wear swim trunks and flip-flops, and she’d hang on his arm.

“The woman suggested gold cuff links, a money clip and a Rolex. I got ’em all.” He flashed the watch at her.

It was an extravagant gesture for a man who couldn’t be impressed with such things, judging by the old truck he loved.

“I told her I was going for the suave look, and she talked me into a manicure.” He held out his hands for her inspection. “What do you think? Do these look like sissy hands, or what?”

She smiled, as she was supposed to, but it touched her, knowing how hard he’d tried to please. She laced her fingers through his and said, “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

Dropping the joking, his eyes swept her face as if he searched for assurance she was okay. She looked at his handsome face—the steady blue eyes under long black lashes, the straight nose and strong jawline, the little scars here and there—and she saw a man who’d never let her down, who’d always try to be there. Pete was so easy to love.

She loved him. Her heart swelled, recognizing the truth.

“I’m glad you called me,” he said, drawing her close.

She lifted her mouth, wanting his kiss, wanting it more now that she realized she’d always want him. He lowered his head, his lips coming to her slowly, too slowly. Impatient, she rose and met him in a kiss that he deepened immediately as if he were as hungry for this as she was. She clung to his shoulders, loving the feel of his arms wrapped around her.

When he broke the kiss, their ragged breathing filled the silence. He stroked her face with a fingertip and whispered, “I think I’ve fallen for you, Sunny.”

She nodded, emotion stifling words, but she kissed his fingertip as it stroked her mouth and let her eyes say she felt the same way.

He sighed, rocking them side to side. “You could sure do a whole lot better than me, Sunny girl.”

She shook her head against his shoulder, denying the claim.

“Man, I can’t even pick a more romantic spot to love you than a garage. There’s this beautiful beach not fifty feet away, and we’re here.”

“This is a very romantic spot,” she murmured contentedly.

He looked at the floor. “Hon, we’re standing on an oil drip. We can do better.”

She didn’t see how, but she let him lead her back into the house where he stopped in his tracks. Gesturing toward the fitness equipment-filled living room, he said with disgust, “I want a place to sit down and hold you, and what have I got? A rowing machine or a weight bench. This has got to change!”

“Don’t I see a chaise on the deck?”

He nodded, a gleam in his eye. “Think it will hold two?”

She would be surprised if it didn’t.

Chapter Thirteen

T
here was a butterfly reunion going on in Sunny’s stomach, and her hands shook as she put diamond studs in her ears. When she’d tried this dress on in the shop, it had seemed like such a good idea, but could she really drum up the jazz to wear it?

She turned to mirrored closet doors for one last look. Her hair was styled full and sexy. Her makeup made her look prettier than she was. And the dress… Strapless and dripping with sequins the coppery color of her hair, it clung to her curves like a living flame. Sam and Eleanor’s formerly pliable daughter would show plenty of backbone tonight.

Stepping onto the balcony, she called, “Pete?”

“Down here.” At the bottom of the steps, Pete in his black tux looked as if he’d stepped out of a formal wear ad, only better, for models had the inevitable look of men who knew they were hunks, and Pete’s mind was clearly not on himself, but on the person beneath all those sequins.

Pete felt as if he’d been hit with a two-by-four. Sunny was always pretty, but tonight she was stunning. He watched her walk down the stairs, mesmerized, loving the way she moved in that incredible dress. Glowing from her shining hair to her sparkly hem, she took his breath away.

The dress shimmered as she moved, and was so tight, she couldn’t have walked if not for the slit up one thigh. As a certified leg man, he approved of that slit. “You look fantastic!” he said, wishing there were words to better say how he felt.

“So do you,” she said huskily.

If it were up to him, they’d forget about this shin-dig and enjoy the evening by themselves. This, however, was Sunny’s night, and he’d see that she was treated right.

They didn’t talk on the drive to the hotel. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, and part of the time her eyes were closed, perhaps in prayer.

He was praying himself. And worrying, and then praying again. It was kind of a stop-and-go thing. Would he measure up in the Keegans’ eyes? These days he had an impressive address and owned a hefty investment portfolio, but he was still a construction worker who’d never been east of the Mississippi.

Still, he was God’s child. That evened the scales.

Once he would have prayed, “God, if you’re there…” Now he knew God was, and he prayed that the Lord would help Sunny and her family begin a new relationship tonight.

He’d never been to the Crowne, but Bev next door had talked him through it so he wouldn’t miss
a beat. Good ole Bev, she hadn’t a pretentious bone in her body and came from humbler stock than him.

At the Crowne, his first test turned out to be giving the parking valet the keys to his new ’Vette. The kid looked like he’d been playing with Hot Wheels this time last year. Had Bev said to tip the guy now, later or both? Playing it safe, he slipped the kid a good-size bill. It must have been right because he got instant respect, though it shouldn’t take money for that.

The lobby looked like a movie set with marble everywhere and trees big enough to grow outdoors. Guests rode an escalator to the second floor, the men in black tuxes like his and the women in fancy gowns with jewels that were probably real. He touched his new Rolex and told himself money didn’t make people better.

They stood in a cluster waiting their turn on the escalator. Sunny had greeted several people, but not with her usual warmth, and she hadn’t flashed that big smile once since Malibu. Had her self-assurance slipped while he wallowed in his own insecurities?

He couldn’t have that. Leaning down as they boarded the escalator, he murmured, “You’re sure the best-looking woman here.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Well, you are.”

“With all these sequins, nobody would notice if I were pretty or plain.”

How could she say that? “That is a great dress, but it’s the woman that’s gorgeous. When you flash that smile of yours, you absolutely light up the world.”

She gave him a smile, but it was pitifully lame. “Pete Maguire, that’s pure Irish blarney.”

If she’d whipped that out in her teacher voice, he’d have been satisfied, but it didn’t come close to her usual sass.

“You want Irish? Well, then, Sunny, my love, you’re a darlin’ girl, a beautiful lass, and that
is
no blarney.”

There it was, the full-blown, Sunny-dazzle smile.

“Where did that come from?” she asked, the sparkle definitely back in her eyes.

“Me grandfather, Shamus Maguire, was a boxer, he was. Got knocked out in the ninth round of a fine boxin’ match, and never came to, God rest his soul.”

“Sorry about that,” she said, grinning shamelessly.

“Me own da’ said Shamus died happy because he loved to fight and did at the drop of a hat.”

“An inherited trait?”

“Well, lass, that’s what we’re about to find out.”

She’d put her money on Pete, Sunny thought, appreciating her Irish angel more than ever.

From the admiring looks he was attracting, she’d say The Face was being appreciated, as well. And why not? The mischievous gleam in his blue eyes, the jet-black hair and his classic good looks combined with a great body in formal wear made Pete a head-turner, all right. Best of all, he didn’t seem to care about himself, but concentrated on her.

She took his hand and led them through the crowded foyer. Hundreds of voices vied with a violin trio on a floral-bedecked balcony. It was a wonderful
turnout for her father. Through wide doorways to the ballroom she could see myriad lights dancing from elaborate chandeliers and candlelit tables. Behind the stage was a twelve-foot portrait of her father.