A Fortune's Children's Wedding (9 page)

Her back felt stiff from her erect position, her muscles were beginning to ache from the tension of sitting forward and still. She forgot why she'd refrained from leaning back in the booth, and did it, immediately coming into contact with his arm. It felt warm and solid and she settled against him, slouching a little. Relaxing.

“I wouldn't let you weave and stagger.” Flynt closed
his hand around her shoulder, and his fingers began to knead lightly. “I would've carried you out.”

“A real gentleman.” She shivered as his hand glided to the nape of her neck.

“Thank you.” He leaned in closer, his lips almost skimming the top of her head.

Her hair smelled clean and fresh and shone like black silk. It felt sleek as silk as it brushed against his hand. The soft, feminine feel of her sent excitement skyrocketing through him.

Who was he kidding? Flynt believed in self-honesty. He was most definitely coming on to her.

Unable to resist, he lifted his other hand to her cheek, cupping the soft skin with his palm.

Angelica closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, letting the warmth envelop her. Her heart began to pound, her skin felt as if it were on fire. And while her every nerve was operating on a hypersensitivity level, her brain—at least the area in charge of her willpower and judgment—seemed to have shut down completely.

Her body took over, thinking for her. Making the decisions for her. Doing what it wanted. Otherwise, she never would've given in to the urge to lay her hand on his chest, an unmistakable sign of encouragement.

She would've pushed him away, instead of sitting here in sensual darkness, her eyes closed, enjoying the exquisite torture of waiting for his next move.

She didn't have to wait long. She felt his warm breath on her face, and a hushed whimper escaped from her throat as his mouth touched hers lightly, softly, in a tentative, almost chaste kiss.

It was so sweet, so wonderful. But it wasn't enough.
He brushed her lips with his, gently, back and forth. And it still wasn't enough for her.

Angelica spread her fingers over the smooth cotton of his shirt. Beneath it, she could feel the heat rising from his skin. Slowly she slid her fingers along his chest, pausing to stroke the hard column of his neck, his strong jawline, before curving her hand around his cheek.

“Angelica.” He moaned her name.

The deep raspy sound shot through her, liquefying into urgent need. On wild bold impulse, she touched the tip of her tongue to his lips.

He needed no further invitation. Flynt opened his mouth over hers, and he kissed her hotly, hungrily, the way he had wanted to from the first moment he'd seen her. He buried one hand in her hair while his other cupped her face, anchoring her to him.

But Angelica was making no attempt to escape. The fingers of her other hand had found their way to his waist and she held on, clinging to him.

His tongue penetrated her mouth and met hers, and she welcomed it, rubbing and teasing, retreating a little, then luring him back. She felt his tongue playing with hers, exploring her mouth, and she loved it, the seductive stroking, the slow glide over her teeth.

Angelica shuddered with pleasure.

Suddenly, fiercely, aching with need, she pressed against him, seeking the pressure of his chest to soothe the throbbing of her tight, tingling nipples. She wanted to be closer to him, wanted it so badly she was almost delirious with it.

A whispery moan escaped from her lips as he angled
his mouth over hers, exerting his possession and deepening the intimacy of their kiss.

And then a shrill staccato beep shattered the sensual clouds surrounding them.

T
he beep sounded again and again, sharp and insistent.

Flynt reluctantly lifted his mouth from Angelica's.

Her eyes flew open and stared into his. His pupils were dilated with arousal, only a rim of light blue encircled the black spheres. Angelica's gaze dropped to his mouth that was moist from kissing her, lingering on the tantalizing sensuality of his full lower lip.

And then she realized where they were and what they were doing. “Oh!” She frantically tried to disentangle herself from his arms.

Flynt showed no inclination to release her, and she gave up, turning her attention instead to fumbling with the clasp of her purse where her beeper shrilly sounded.

“Arrange to have your mother beep you shortly after introductions were made?” Flynt drawled, watching Angelica snatch the beeper from her purse.

“No! It's not my mother!” Which was true; it was Mara whom she'd arranged to beep her.

The phone number of the apartment they shared was displayed on the tiny screen. Angelica pressed the button to silence the beeper.

“This is the number of my service, which means it's a patient-related emergency call,” she lied, pulling away from him. She shrank against the wall, as far from him as she could get. Which wasn't very far, given the dimensions of the booth.

Angelica knew he was watching her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She was flushed and flustered, stunned not only by her total loss of control but also by the overpowering flood of desire raging through her. The sharp, sensual ache in her belly was almost painful in its intensity, and her breasts felt swollen and ultrasensitive.

Her mind reeled. How had it happened? His mouth had hardly touched hers when she'd quite unexpectedly caught fire. And in a public place! It was unbelievable.

Angelica flinched. She wasn't the type to sensually ignite anytime or anywhere. Her high school award of Class Ice Queen had been entirely deserved; the year-book prediction for her to achieve the status of “oldest living virgin” had turned out to be accurate.

In the following years, her incredulous nursing school classmates had repeatedly asked her, “What are you saving it for?” They'd been alternately astonished, scornful and intrigued by her chastity.

She wasn't saving anything for some nebulous future Mr. Right, Angelica had informed them; she was saving
herself
from the misery and uncertainty of all those Mr. Wrongs brought into a woman's life.

But not into hers! She had long relished her freedom from the emotional turmoils of romance.

And now this. Angelica was appalled. A virgin ice queen did
not
make out in a booth in the middle of Swank's Martini Lounge.

Angelica choked back the lump rising in her throat. She was scared. Those few ardent moments with Flynt had given her a glimpse of something she hadn't experienced before, of exciting pleasure that tempted with seductive allure.

She didn't need to remind herself how dangerous
that
was. She'd watched her mother succumb to passion all her life and decided early on that it wasn't worth the risks. Why invest time and energy in loving a man who wouldn't return her love, who would hurt and leave her? Possibly with a child!

Romina had made that choice, time after time, but Angelica swore she never would. Her plans for her own life had included getting an education and a good-paying job that she liked, having her own place to live and friends to enjoy. She was proud that she'd achieved it all.

And now this!

Angelica stared at Flynt in round-eyed horror. There was absolutely no place in her wonderfully controlled, ordered life for a man. Not even a sexy, successful, intelligent one like Flynt Corrigan.

Especially
not him because he'd proven himself to be the take-charge, dominant type. The quintessential alpha male. She'd seen alphas in action; they barged into a
woman's life and messed it up, fully expecting the woman not to mind.

Well, Angelica minded. She minded very much.

“Angelica,” Flynt took her hand and carried it to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “I think we—”

“Don't!” She ripped her hand away, nearly knocking over the martini glass and the beer bottle. Flynt caught them both, his quick reflexes preventing a double spill.

“Let me out.” Her voice was breathless and husky, nothing like her normal, commanding tone. No wonder he didn't budge.

Angelica ran a nervous hand through her hair, tousling it even more than it already was. “Please!” She cringed at the plea in her voice. Had his alpha maleness already reduced her to a wimp?

She tried to rally, to stick with her escape scheme. “I can't wait. I have to answer this page immediately. There is a phone in the lobby I—”

“No need to go there. Here, use mine.” Flynt reached into the pocket of his tan sport coat and removed a small cell phone. “Unless making a phone call wasn't part of the plan because there is no emergency? You intended to go the lobby, walk straight out the door and not return?”

Oh, yes, that had been the plan. Not that she would admit to it now. She glared at the too-conveniently available cell phone. “I'm going to answer this emergency call right now,” she said frigidly.

“Go ahead. Romina will be surprised to hear from you, but I have every confidence you'll manage to fake something credible.”

“It's not Mama,” Angelica insisted. At least that much was true. Stubbornly, she punched in her own phone number.

Mara answered on the first ring.

“This is Angelica Carroll returning the page,” she said in her best professional tones.

There was an infinitesimal pause. “Oh, I get it now! You have an audience, and we have to pretend there really is a patient about to deliver,” Mara said jovially.

“Yes.” Angelica cast a covert glance at Flynt.

He raised his brows, letting her know he'd seen her sneak that look at him. She turned her back to him, as much as the booth would allow.

“Okay, let's pretend something really dramatic. I've got it—a woman is having triplets!” Mara was enthused. “Of course, we'd never deliver triplets since they're in the high-risk obstetricians' domain, but Brandon Fortune won't know that.”

“The mother is in labor with triplets? I'll be there right away,” Angelica exclaimed with credible urgency.

Mara laughed. “Rascal and I will be here waiting for you, Angel.”

Rascal was their gray-striped tabby who found new ways to live up to his name every day. And then it occurred to Angelica that Mara wasn't even supposed to be home tonight. They'd agreed on the bogus page, which could be made from anywhere, since there was no need for a return call.

“What about TJ?” Angelica heard herself blurt out.

Flynt chuckled softly. Angelica groaned. Clearly, she had lost all impulse control tonight. That chocolate mar
tini had packed a too-potent wallop! She vowed never to order another one.

“I broke my date with TJ after I talked to your mom about the search and seizure this afternoon,” said Mara. “There's no way I wanted to see him tonight after his part in that.” She sounded sad.

Poor Mara. Angelica hated to hear her normal optimism quelled. After all, she'd spent hours listening to the other girl's hopeful dreams, which all included love and romance. Despite her mother's terrible marriage to an abusive alcoholic, despite her five-year stint as Romina's foster daughter, Mara still believed in True Love.

Angelica figured that TJ Gibson just might be the answer to her best friend's prayers. Although he was a cop, TJ was a gentleman, well-raised by solid, kind parents, a definite beta rather than alpha male. Mara would be safe with him. Too bad she had talked to Romina, who distrusted all police and would automatically discourage anyone from dating somebody in law enforcement.

“It's really not his fault,” Angelica said, defending TJ, giving up the emergency ruse. What was the point, since Flynt had it all figured out?

“Don't make excuses for him, Angel. TJ could've refused to go to the house, citing personal reasons or something.”

“Wouldn't that be like refusing to treat a patient? Think about his professional responsibility.” Angelica met Flynt's eyes. “I'll see you soon, and we'll talk about it some more.”

She handed Flynt his phone. “Thank you. And it wasn't my mother,” she added with a touch of defiance.

“No, it was your foster sister Mara Quinlan. You ar
ranged to have her page you to get you away on a false emergency.”

Angelica gaped at him. “How did you know her name? And that she'd been my foster sister?”

“Your mother mentioned both when she quizzed Officer TJ about that date tonight. As soon as I heard you ask about him, I put it together. I have an eidetic memory for names and facts, Angelica. An invaluable asset in my line of work.”

“I'm sure it is,” Angelica said coolly. “Well, now you know how much I don't want to be here. I've met Brandon Fortune and—”

“Where is Brandon, anyway?” A frown crossed Flynt's face. “He's been gone a long time.”

“Maybe you'd better check the men's room.”

“Maybe I'd better.”

Before Angelica realized what he was doing, Flynt had retrieved her keys from her purse. “Hey!” she protested. “Hand them over, right now!”

“Sorry.” His tone did not indicate the slightest remorse. To the contrary, he was undeniably taunting her.

He dropped the keys into the pocket of his trousers. “Unless I hang on to these, you'll be out of here the moment I'm out of sight. And you can't drive, Angelica. You're under the influence.”

“I only had one drink!”

“Which was strong and went straight to your head. I can cite factors like body weight and blood alcohol content, if you'd like.”

“I am in complete—” She broke off.

Why was she arguing, when her entire defense for her wanton behavior was the effects of her too-potent drink
that she'd drunk too fast? She felt her face begin to go scarlet again. Tonight she'd blushed enough to burst the capillaries in her cheeks!

“I—I probably shouldn't drive,” she admitted grudgingly.

“I figured you'd see it my way, after you'd thought things through.” Flynt was droll.

He knew how embarrassed she was by their little impromptu necking session! And he didn't appear the least bit embarrassed—or affected in any way at all. Angelica scowled. “May I use your phone to call myself a taxi?”

“I'll drive you home. Let me look for Brandon first. He's in no condition to drive, either, but fortunately, I drove the rental car here and I have the keys.” Flynt laid down several bills beside the check before sliding out of the booth.

“Let's go.” He reached for her hand, pulling her along after him.

“You are probably the most alpha, alpha male I've ever met,” Angelica accused, trailing behind him as far as the length of his arm would allow.

“I'm going to assume that's not a compliment.”

“You are so right. It's an insult,” she added, to make sure he knew it.

“In that case, ouch.” Not that Flynt appeared to be wounded in the slightest.

They reached the dimly lit lobby, which was crowded with patrons moving among the various rooms. There was a wide range of age groups, but customers in their twenties and thirties predominated.

“Wait here,” ordered Flynt. He strode off, presumably in the direction of the men's rest room.

Angelica chafed at having to obey his command. She sought an alternative, glancing at the two pay phones in the corner. Both of them were currently in use. Well, it didn't matter, anyway; Flynt would be back well before any cab she called could arrive.

But Brandon had been gone long enough…

She approached the hostess and asked about a man with a blond ponytail and deep tan, wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans. With three earrings in one earlobe, two in the other, and a thick gold chain with a jeweled medallion around his neck.

The hostess remembered Brandon quite well. He had mentioned that he was visiting from California and asked her to call him a taxi. When it arrived, he'd given her a twenty-dollar tip.

Flynt joined her at that moment. “He's not in the—”

“He called a cab,” Angelica cut in. “He's gone.”

Flynt muttered a curse. “I'm sorry, Angelica.”

“No need for you to apologize for Brandon. After all, I was ready to do the same thing and cut out on him.” She folded her arms in front of her chest to prevent him from taking her hand again.

Instead, Flynt placed his hand on the small of her back, to guide her from the premises. His touch felt hot as a brand on such a sensitive area, and Angelica picked up her pace in an attempt to get ahead of him. Out of touching range.

She didn't succeed. No matter how fast she walked, his long-legged stride easily matched her own. And he kept his big hand firmly resting on her back. Finally she gave up and slowed down. Her feet were killing her; her high-heeled sandals lacked the design and comfort of
track shoes, which were required if she were to even try to outrun Flynt Corrigan.

“You're upset,” Flynt observed. Their current leisurely pace was more conducive to conversation. “And rightfully so. Brandon shouldn't have—”

“I've already forgotten about it.” She cut him off.

It was true, her senses were too filled with Flynt to spare Brandon a thought. Which was upsetting, indeed. Imagine getting all shook up over a man, at the supposedly wise and mature age of twenty-six!

It was ridiculous;
she
was ridiculous!

“This evening has turned into a major inconvenience,” Angelica said crossly, steering her troublesome thoughts in another direction. Annoyance was definitely preferable to the dangers of romantic fantasy.