Sparks Fly (6 page)

Worse still, Angelina was hit between the eyes with a sick dose of guilt for betraying the woman who had hired her in good faith by kissing Will.

She wanted nothing more than to run out of the restaurant. At this point, fleeing the country wasn’t out of the question.

“You’re the Feng Shui consultant, aren’t you?”

Angelina mustered up all of her “I-am-a-seasoned-professional” reserves. She stood up to shake Susan’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

The stunning woman caught her totally unaware with a hug. “It is so incredibly fabulous to meet you in person. I just cannot believe what you’ve done with Will’s office. Believe me, I tried for years to get him to clean it up, but nothing worked. You’re a miracle worker. May we join you for dinner?”

Angelina noted Susan didn’t wait for an answer as she gracefully lowered herself into a nearby chair.

Susan seemed totally oblivious to any tension as she made herself comfortable. She ordered a salad and glass of wine from the hovering waiter, who practically fainted when she spoke to him.

Angelina desperately searched her brain trying to find a way out of this awful dinner. She sent a potent look across the table to Krista, silently imploring her to help think of an excuse to bolt. But Krista was clearly sitting back and enjoying the show.

And some show it was. As Susan talked on and on about meeting the Feng Shui Cupid in person, and all of the miraculous things she had done for her clients, Angelina could only wish that she’d taken more time with her appearance that morning.

Jeans and a t-shirt really weren’t cutting it. But the sad truth was that she could do a full makeover, top to bottom, and she still wouldn’t be anywhere near playing in Susan’s league.

If Susan was a Victoria Secret’s model, Angelina was one of the Fruit of the Loom gang.

* * *

“Now where was I?” Susan said many moons later. “Oh yes, Will and I were having such a good time at his house tonight when he invited me to have dinner with him.”

Will barely managed to keep from spewing his wine all over the table when he heard that flagrant misrepresentation of the few minutes they had spent in his house.

Susan immediately exclaimed, “Oh honey, are you all right?”

Honey?

“I’m fine.”

Susan explained, “It’s so hard to remember we’re not married anymore. Sometimes a honey or two just slips out, doesn’t it?” She gave Will a positively adoring look.

Will couldn’t believe his rotten luck. Here he was in a bistro he didn’t want to be in, having a dinner he didn’t want to eat, with a woman he didn’t want to be with, staring into the eyes of the woman he
did
want to be with.

Not to mention the fact that being around Angelina had the oddest effect on him, causing his usually razor sharp mind to turn to mush. He just couldn't stop staring at her.

Krista kicked him under the table. “Try not to be so obvious.”

Oh yeah, he had almost forgot. His ex had some crazy notion that they were going to get back together. How the heck was he going to make it clear that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in her anymore?

Most men—OK, pretty much every man alive—would have jumped at the chance to be with Susan. She was good looking and sweet. But she didn’t have even an ounce of what the woman beside her had—a magical, sensual allure.

If his brain kept this up, he would have to give up his company to write sappy love songs. He was glad for Krista’s advice, though, and made haste to act accordingly. There was no point in letting Susan know she had competition.

Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed his ex had scooted even closer to Angelina and was sketching something on a napkin. She beamed at him across the small table, looking like a kid in a candy store.

“Angelina is giving me a few tips right now. I’m drawing my floor plan for her. Isn’t it exciting?”

Will grunted noncommittally.

“Tell me again,” his ex-wife said, “where the love area of my house is and what I need to do. I can’t wait to get home and try this out.”

* * *

If Susan got any perkier – or nicer - Angelina was going to be sick. Of course, she supposed if she looked like Susan and had the world lining up to kiss her feet, she’d probably be annoyingly cheerful too.

Circling the
Love and Marriage
corner of Susan’s floor plan, Angelina gave the woman a few tips on displaying things in pairs, using red and pink, and hanging romantic art. A few minutes later when the waiter brought them their food, she forced down a couple of bites so that no one would see how out of sorts she was. Too bad her $20 salad suddenly tasted like it was entirely made of bitter lettuce leaves.

Finally Susan patted her perfect lips with the napkin. “If you will all excuse me, I’m going to go powder my nose.”

After she had left, Krista leaned in to Angelina and said, “I thought people only said that kind of stuff in the movies.”

Angelina fought back the frantic giggle that was bubbling up in her throat.

“Krista,” Will said, “would you mind leaving Angelina and I alone for a minute?”

Her friend sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever you have to say to Angelina, you can say in front of me.”

Angelina turned to Krista with a smile, appreciating her show of solidarity, but the truth was she wanted to get the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible.

“It’s okay Kris. Would you mind getting the car from valet parking? I’ll be out really quickly.”

Krista reluctantly stood up. “I’m right outside,” she said, pointing her finger at Will, “so don’t try any funny stuff or I’ll sic your ex-wife on you.”

“What do you want now?” Angelina wasn’t wasting any time on pleasantries. Although she was nervous and guilty, she was also angry, which helped steel her nerves.

“Did Susan tell you why she hired you to work with me?”

So, Will must have finally figured out that Susan wanted to reconcile, Angelina thought with perverse satisfaction. She wanted to see him squirm, but she could never divulge her private conversation with Susan to him.

Trying to act detached and professional, she replied, “She is obviously concerned about you.”

She could tell Will had more questions about Susan’s motivations, but instead he switched tactics, reaching across the table for her hand.

“I want to apologize about what happened last night on the boat. About taking that call. And I need to explain about why I’m here with Susan.”

Angelina’s mouth turned into what might have resembled a smile if she hadn’t been about to shatter.

“That kiss was a mistake. A really big mistake. It won’t happen again. And you don't need to explain anything about you and Susan. I hope you'll be very happy together.”

And with that she swept out of the restaurant in as grand an exit as she could pull off, desperately hoping that Krista already had the car running, ready for a quick getaway.

* * *

“I thought the torture would never end.” Angelina said as she slid into Krista’s car.

“No kidding. That woman couldn’t get enough of you. She was practically sitting in your lap.

Your lover boy looked like he was going to punch her.”

“He’s
not
my lover boy.”

“So,” Krista said in a knowing voice, “now you’re bitter because she wants him back.”

“I am not,” Angelina protested, much too loudly.

“You are so falling for him.”

Angelina glared at her best friend. “I am not.”

Krista rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, now that I’ve given it some thought and have seen you two together again, I’ve decided it’s a good thing.”

Angelina snorted. “Name one way it could possibly be good.”

“How about four? One, he is so hot for you I was practically getting singed at the restaurant.”

“Stop making things up.”

“Shush, I’m not done yet. Two, he’s filthy, stinking rich.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hello! Am I done with my list yet? Let’s see, where was I? Three, according to you his kisses light you up like the Fourth of July. Are you ready for number four?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Too bad. Because number four is the incontestable fact that the two of you are perfect for each other.”

Angelina shook her head, refusing to believe it would ever work out between her and Will.

“Try this instead,” she said to Krista. “How about number one, his ex is perfect, number two, she’s gorgeous, and number three, she’s nice.”

“None of that matters,” Krista replied confidently.

“How can you say that? You saw her.”

Krista pulled up in front of Angelina’s house. “He doesn’t look at her like he looks at you.”

Angelina was afraid to hear anything else Krista had to say, so she got out of the car.

“Sparks, baby. They're flying.” Krista started to pull away and then hit the brakes, yelling out the window. “By the way, I’d go pick up the latest copy of
People
, if I were you.”

Angelina stood on the curb and watched Krista’s car round the corner, wondering about her friend's cryptic comment about the magazine. What could
People
magazine possibly have to do with the mess she had dug for herself?

She went inside her house, ignoring the mess in her living room again and went through the motions of getting ready for the bed. She hoped that once she crawled under the covers she would be able to dull the sight of Will and his vision-of-loveliness-ex wrapped in each other's arms.

Angelina had been tossing and turning for several hours. Her bed felt more like a torture rack with every passing minute. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I have bruises all over,” she muttered unhappily as she kicked off the sheets and sat up, sliding her feet onto the floor.

Unable to rein herself in, she sat down behind her computer. Krista’s comment about
People
magazine had put her brain on overdrive.

Feeling as if she were prying into a file marked “Private” she typed “Will Scott” into Google.

A few seconds later her screen was filled with listings for every kind of information imaginable—interviews, investor reports, gossip columns, and picture galleries.

Angelina’s head whirled. “He’s this famous?” She scrolled through endless links about Will and the multi-billion dollar company he owned.

She blew out a long breath. Suddenly she saw what a complete idiot she must have looked like to him, asking if he programmed computers for a living.

She was angry at herself and even angrier at Will for not letting her in on his little secret. Of course, she had to admit that if she kept up a little more with the news or current magazines, she would have recognized him immediately.

Against her better judgment, she clicked on the top link for a recent interview.
“I met Will
Scott, CEO of PTI, on a weekend after his morning run. As he walked up to me, hand outstretched, his
muscles glistening in sweat, I found myself faltering as an objective journalist. I promise you this, one
look in those blue eyes and the hardest soul would have been utterly lost too.”

Angelina snorted and looked for something more substantial. Finding a link for another interview, she read:
“Rarely in my twenty years as a financial writer have I met a CEO more charming
than Will Scott. Which begs the question: What is he hiding?”

Angelina nearly laughed out loud at the preposterous statement. Still unable to control her wayward curiosity, she clicked on a link titled,
“Will Scott: Fan Page and Photo Gallery.”

Staring her in the face were page after page of pictures of Will with women who all looked the same: Big breasts, long legs, blond hair, beautiful faces.

All of her old feelings of inadequacy bubbled to the surface. She was twenty-one again and had just been told, “Did you actually think I’d be serious with a girl like you?”

Feeling hollow inside, she got up without turning off the computer, walked like a zombie back to her bedroom, crawled under the covers, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Images of Will surrounded by a harem of supermodels danced through her head until daylight.

* * *

Will woke up early, went for a jog, then came home and reached into the refrigerator for some OJ. The digital clock on his microwave read 8 am and he decided it was late enough to call Angelina.

He picked up his phone, but before he could press the talk button, it rang. He checked the caller ID, hoping it was Angelina, but instead he was surprised to read his mother’s phone number on the small display.

“Mom?”

“Hi, honey. Did I call too early?”

“No, of course not. What’s wrong?”

“First, promise me you won’t get upset`.”

“Mom...” Will didn’t like the sound of this one bit.

“Well, I was doing a little painting.”

“At your easel?”

Joyce sighed. “No. I thought the window trim out front needed a touch up.”

Will tried not to panic. He had a tendency to be over-protective when it came to his mother, but he couldn’t help it. She was all the family he had.

“The ladder slipped and I had a teeny little fall.”

“Where are you? On the ground? Is anything broken?

“Honey, stop freaking out. Mary from next door heard the fall and drove me to the hospital.

It’s just a small fracture in my hip, so-”

“I’ll be there this afternoon. I'll call you back as soon as I've made the travel arrangements.”

Will immediately arranged for his pilot to be at the airport in thirty minutes. He would call Angelina once his mother’s situation was under control.

For the next several hours he was on the phone, either talking with the best doctors in the country about flying them out to the small hospital in New York, or dealing with urgent issues at PTI.

By the time he got to the hospital, he was exhausted and frustrated.

His mother was propped up in bed sketching when he walked in. She looked up from her drawing and held her arms out, overjoyed to see him.

“Come give me a hug!” Joyce held him tight for a moment. “Well if you aren’t just as gorgeous as ever.” Peering at him more closely, she added, “Definitely tired, though. Anything you want to talk about?”