Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (75 page)

Angela sobered, amazed. She saw that she’d hurt his feelings, and she hadn’t meant to do that at all. He thought she was making fun of him, comparing him to Philip and finding him wanting.

“Brett, wait a minute . . .”

“Excuse me,” he said, standing abruptly. “I need more cigarettes.” He vanished down the aisle, heading for the machine they’d passed on the way in.

Great. Now he was going to have a nicotine fit. If he cared so much what she thought, why had he pulled away from her both times they’d gotten close? It didn’t make sense.

The coffee arrived while he was gone, and Angela gloomily contemplated the effects of caffeine on the liver while downing her first cup. Between law school, the anonymous threats, and Devlin’s unpredictable behavior, she was going to need a transplant soon.

Devlin returned and sat across from her in silence, smoking furiously.

“Those things aren’t good for you,” Angela said gently,

“I’ll die in my way and you die in yours,” he responded curtly.

His comment reminded Angela of her current situation. “My way may happen soon,” she said, before she thought about it.

Devlin’s attitude changed instantly. “Hey,” he replied, his voice full of concern, “nothing’s going to happen to you. I’m going to make sure of that.” His tanned hand covered her white one on the table.

Angela smiled weakly. “Why do I always believe you when you say something like that?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

The waitress brought their food and Angela pushed her french fries around on her plate.

“I thought you were hungry,” Devlin said, watching her.

“I seem to have lost my appetite.”

He picked up her hamburger and put it in her other hand. “Come on. Eat. I don’t want to be responsible for your starvation.”

Angela took a bite. “Why would you be responsible?”

He tilted his head. “I know it upsets you when I get ticked off like that.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because I can’t help it. Hearing that I lack Cronin’s finesse doesn’t exactly make my day.”

Angela’s hamburger landed on her plate. She leveled a forefinger at him angrily. “That is not what I said. I was trying to pay you a compliment and you turned it into an insult.”

His mouth fell open. “A compliment!”

“Yes. I was saying that you don’t need to talk, that just the way you look at a woman is . . .”

He eyed her, waiting.

“Eloquent,” she concluded, chickening out. She had meant to say “sexy” but lost her nerve.

“Hmm,” he responded, not quite sure what to make of her statement.

“And you’re a jerk if you think otherwise!” she added, flinging her napkin at him and standing up.

Devlin jumped up too, putting his hand on her arm. They were frozen like that, wedged in the narrow aisle, when a gray haired lady who’d been sitting in the booth across from them rose and confronted them, blocking the light with her bulk.

“I’ve been watching you two since you came in, and I have a piece of advice to give you based on sixty years of experience.”

Devlin and Angela stared at her, stunned into silence.

She patted Devlin’s shoulder. “You’d better decide, right quick, whether you’re going to kill each other or get married.” Then she winked and waddled off toward the cashier, chuckling madly.

Devlin cleared his throat. Angela couldn’t look at him.

“Your breakfast, or whatever it is, is getting cold,” he finally said in a subdued voice.

Angela took her seat again, mortified. This was wonderful. Now she was making a spectacle of herself in restaurants. She ate her hamburger in silence. Devlin made short work of his sandwich and they rose to go. He left a tip and paid the bill without a word.

The sun was rising as they left the diner. The sky blazed with color, and a mounted policeman trotted by at a leisurely pace, cantering his horse. It was a scene that in a former time might have graced the cover of
The Saturday Evening Post
.

“That horse is beautiful,” Angela said, turning her head to follow its progress.

“Looks like a sorrel mare,” Devlin commented. “I’ll bet she’s wondering what she’s doing on the streets of New York.”

“My uncle paid forty thousand dollars for a horse,” Angela stated. “He has it stabled up in Connecticut.”

Devlin stopped short, whistling. “No kidding?”

“No kidding. It’s an Arabian stallion with impeccable bloodlines.”

“For forty grand I’d want winged Pegasus. With Perseus on his back.”

“I wish I could ride,” Angela said wistfully.

Devlin looked at her. “You can’t?”

“There was never anyone to teach me. Can you ride?”

“Sure. You grow up on a farm, you learn to ride a horse. Nothing fancy, no English saddle or anything like that, but I can get the animal to take me where I want to go.”

“My uncle always wanted me to get one of the grooms to teach me, but I don’t really know them that well, and it seemed an imposition. ...”

“I’ll teach you,” Devlin said.

Angela stopped walking. “You will?”

“Why not? You have only two classes today. We can go up to the stable this afternoon for your first lesson.”

“Oh, Brett, do you mean it?”

Devlin had to turn away to hide his reaction to her childlike eagerness. At moments like this he realized how truly lonely she was.

“Of course I mean it. Just grab some sleep before school and we’ll leave from there. How long a drive is it to this place in Connecticut?”

“About an hour.”

“That’s no problem. But look, can we dispense with the limousine? It makes me feel like Rudolph Valentino.”

Angela giggled. “All right, but you’ll have to hire a car.”

“That’s fine with me. I’ll get something more suited to my station in life.” He paused. “How would you feel about a little red wagon?”

“Don’t talk about yourself that way. You have an important job.”

Devlin looked at her.

“Making people feel safe and secure is important. Providing protection for those who need it is important,” she stated.

He closed his eyes for several seconds, and when he opened them he blinked rapidly, shaking his head. He raised his hand to hail a passing cab.

“Angela,” he said, “you are too much.”

Angela didn’t understand him, but saw from his expression that it was better not to ask what he meant. She slipped into the backseat of the cab beside him, holding her books on her lap.

“We’d better not run this morning, we just ate,” she said.

He nodded silently.

“Maybe we could go out running tonight?” she asked hopefully.

“Horseback riding is exercise,” Devlin commented dryly. “You won’t die if you miss one run.”

“I guess not,” Angela said, disappointed.

Devlin relented. “We’ll see how you feel tonight, after the lesson.”

“Okay.”

The cab dropped them at the brownstone and they walked reluctantly up the steps. Neither one of them really wanted to go back inside, each for quite different reasons.

Angela left Devlin in the front hall. “My class is at ten. I’ll set my alarm and call you. Try to get some sleep.”

“I will.”

“And thanks again for your help. I don’t think I would have finished in time without you.”

“You’re welcome again.”

Angela bit her lip, and Devlin sensed that she wanted to say something else. He waited.

“I appreciate the offer of the lessons,” she finally said, “and I want you to know that I won’t misinterpret your intentions. You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to get. . . involved . . . with me, and I accept that, but we can still be friends, can’t we?”

Devlin put his fist against her chin and prodded gently. “I am your friend, Angela. Believe it.”

She smiled and he felt the warmth of the sun. “I do,” she said.

He turned and walked down the hall to his room.

Angela went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Josie whirled from the refrigerator, where she was washing the shelves.

Angela glanced at the clock. “You’re here very early.”

Josie nodded sourly. “That I am, young lady. Just in time to catch you coming home at daybreak from a night out running around town with that boy.”

“He’s hardly a boy.”

“He is to me. I’m old enough to be mother to both of you, and don’t change the subject. Where were you?”

“I had work due this morning and I forgot to research one part of the argument. It had to be done last night, and of course Devlin went with me.”

“Of course.”

“Well, what did you expect? He’s supposed to be my bodyguard. He could hardly let me go alone.”

“And what about that little scene in the hall just now?”

“You were spying!”

“I was not. But I could hear the tone of his voice and that told me enough. He uses that tone only with you.”

“What tone?”

“Low, intimate. He’s brisk and distant with everyone else.”

Angela thought about that. Was Josie right? If so, maybe there was hope...

Josie interrupted her thoughts by putting both hands on Angela’s shoulders and turning Angela to face her.

“Angela, listen to me. What happens to you when this assignment is over for him and he leaves?”

“I go on, I guess.”

“Without him?”

“If I have to.”

“What does that mean? Has he given you any indication that there might be something beyond his employment here, something for the future?”

Angela shook her head. “No, but. . .”

“But what? No is no!”

“It’s the way he acts, Josie, nothing I can put my finger on. But I always get the sense that he would like to say more, do more, but something is holding him back.”

“Like a wife and kids in the suburbs?” Josie said sarcastically.

“Come on, Josie, you know him well enough to know that’s ridiculous.”

Josie didn’t deny it. “What then? Give me an example of what you mean.”

Angela shrugged. “He seems to be jealous of Philip.”

“Hmm. Speaking of Philip, how does he figure into this?”

“He doesn’t. We’re not married, we’re not even engaged.”

“So what are you going to do? Just let things with Philip drift along?”

“I promised that I would give that Halloween party for him here, and I’m not going to back out on that now. After that I’ll talk to him.”

“Talk to him! What are you going to say? Angela, tell me the truth. Are you in love with Brett Devlin?”

Angela faced her unflinchingly. “Yes.”

“And what have you told him?”

“I’ve told him that I want to be friends.”

“Friends!” Josie sighed heavily. “Give me strength.”

“It’s the only thing I can do right now. He’s pulled back from . . . what I want . . . and at first I got mad, but I see now that you can’t pressure a man like him. He’s independent, strong. He goes his own way. I can’t control him, I can only try to make him love me back. And I will.”

This speech, delivered in a trembling but determined voice, broke Josie’s heart. She hugged the younger woman and said, “Baby, be careful. That guy is a lady killer. I’ve seen those quiet types before— they leave a lasting impression. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Angela pulled back and searched Josie’s face.

“You like him, Josie.”

“I like him fine, but I’m not giving him my heart to hold in his hand.”

Angela nodded. “I’ll remember what you’ve said. But I have to go to bed. I’m asleep on my feet.”

“All right,” Josie said, releasing Angela. “You go on up now.”

Angela walked to the doorway and paused on the threshold, half turning back to the room. Without looking at Josie she said, “Please don’t say anything to him, Josie. Please. I know you’re used to taking care of me, but I’m all grown up now. You have to let me handle this. Okay?”

Josie pressed her lips together. “Okay.”

Angela flashed her a radiant smile. “Thanks.”

Josie went back to her cleaning as Angela went up the stairs.

* * * *

Devlin waited until Josie went out to do the shopping. Watching her departure from the window, he noted that she had her cart with her and guessed she would be gone for at least an hour. He didn’t require much time.

He checked Angela’s room and found her sleeping. As he closed the door behind him he inserted a plastic filament in the lock to jam it, so that if she woke up she wouldn’t be able to get out of her room. If necessary he would tell her that the lock had broken, but he guessed that she would sleep until her alarm woke her.

He took his tools and gained entry to Patria’s study with practiced ease. He carefully retraced the path he’d heard Angela take and searched the desk drawers for a hidden control. He found it at the back of the middle drawer, a button partially concealed by the contours of the wood. When he pressed it, he looked up in amazement.