Chapter 4 #2
Staring at her, Devlin doubted it. A month ago he’d been intent on getting Angela into his bed, but lately he wasn’t sure she was worth the effort.
He hadn’t noticed before, or if he had, it hadn’t bothered him, how hard and calculating her beautiful blue eyes were.
She was gorgeous, but so predictable. Utterly, boringly predictable.
“You’ve been very patient with me,” she went on. Her fingers walked higher up his leg. “I can’t tell you how I appreciate that.” Her hand inched ever upward. She murmured throatily, “Would you like to come to my place after dinner?”
Her place. Here it was, the invitation he’d been angling for.
Now that she’d given it, why did the idea generate nothing but a faint boredom?
Perhaps because he knew that to Angela he would merely be one more man in a procession of lovers who could gratify either her vanity, her pocketbook, or her social ambitions.
So what? he asked himself. It was a familiar game, and given her beauty, one he should have enjoyed. Yet he found himself wishing, for a brief, unguarded moment, that something else existed. That somewhere there was a woman who wanted the man he was and not the facade he presented.
Devlin nearly laughed aloud, amused at a belief he hadn’t held in over a decade, not since he was young and extremely na?ve about women and life.
As for Angela, he realized, it hadn’t been a matter of patience.
He’d simply lost interest. “Another time, sweetheart. I’ve got work waiting at the office.
” Her astounded expression made it hard not to laugh.
Clearly chagrined, she punished him by remaining silent until the check arrived. Devlin counted it a blessing.
Though it had only been an excuse, Devlin decided to stop by the office after dropping Angela off.
He figured he might as well salvage something from the evening.
As he walked down the hallway, he noticed a faint gleam of light shining from beneath the door to the CG rather, she looked amused and a little disgusted. “Nice try, but I’m not giving up the case.”
“No one expects you to. That’s not why I told you.
I thought you should know the kind of client we’re dealing with.
Just as a precaution, that’s all. But then—” he flipped a page leisurely “—you and Sabatino seem to have an understanding. Almost like you know each other. A kind of rapport, I guess you’d call it.
” Smiling blandly, he raised his gaze to meet hers.
Her face had paled. “Funny how that kind of thing happens, isn’t it? Especially with two strangers.”
Her eyes were like green chips of ice, standing out against the pallor of her skin. Her voice was as hard as her eyes. “I’m his lawyer. That’s as far as our ‘understanding’ goes.”
He cocked his head, considering her. “Sabatino would like it to be more than that.”
“All this on the basis of a few meetings?” She grabbed at the hair falling in her face and tucked it back. “Get real. He just wants us to save his butt.”
“Sure he does.” Shutting his book, Devlin caught her gaze and held it.
Her eyes were still hard, and even warier.
“But he wants more than that.” A pulse throbbed at her throat.
Devlin realized he wanted to taste her there, too, to feel her heartbeat against his mouth, to run his lips over that soft, gleaming skin.
Wanted it so much that it took him a moment to remember his strategy, to remember why he’d started this line of talk.
“Sabatino wants you.”
Fear flashed in her eyes before she lowered her gaze. Raw fear, more than the moment called for to Devlin’s way of thinking. Enough fear to send her running?
“Assuming you’re right,” she said, her voice tight, “that’s my problem, isn’t it? If you think Franco’s little games will make me roll over and give you this case, you’re wrong.”
Franco? Franco’s little games, she’d said. Like she had more than a passing acquaintance with those games. Or with the man. “You know him, don’t you?” Devlin asked softly.
Her expression shut down, lights off. “I know his type. And I know what you’re trying to do. Forget it. I don’t scare that easily.”
But she was scared. Devlin sensed it, felt it in the tension pervading the room. Hell, he could almost smell it. Why? Why was she so frightened, yet so determined to continue with the case? “What makes you think I want you off the case?”
“Nothing except the little fact that you don’t want to share the glory if we win. I know what you want.”
He smiled at her, slow and easy. “Do you?” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her mouth.
Her eyes widened, then she looked away and began collecting her papers. He was reminded of how flustered she’d been when she’d dropped her lingerie and he’d helped her gather it up.
“It’s late,” she said. “I’m going home.”
He waited until she finished, then rose and went to the door with her.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he turned out the light and shut the door behind them.
“Walking you to your car.”
She strode down the hall, halting at the elevator. Facing him, her chin lifted arrogantly, she said, “I’m a big girl, Sinclair. I can get to my car by myself.”
Hands in his pockets, he relaxed, his shoulder against the wall. “You can also get mugged.”
“I know self-defense. Besides, I moved my car to the lighted lot attached to the building. The security guard will watch out for me.”
“Humor me. It’s my Southern upbringing.”
She threw up her hand. “Have it your way,” she said, and stalked inside the elevator when the doors opened.
I intend to, he thought, following her in.