Angel Be Good (2 page)

"You'll succeed. All he needs is a little
help reinterpreting the events in his life. As a reporter, you have
a lot of experience measuring facts and reaching an unbiased
conclusion."

"And if I refuse to help?"

Leonard flapped his fluffy white wings,
hovering lightly over the clouds. "We can only appeal to your sense
of honor. Any young woman who would throw herself in front of
another human to protect that person, at the cost of her own life .
. . We know how giving you are, my dear, and only ask for a few
hours of your time. Please?"

~~~~

Chapter One

Nathaniel Danvers snorted, the sound
awakening him from a deep sleep. He pulled himself upright at his
desk, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. It had been a peculiar
dream—a dream of his parents warning him to mend his ways. Pretty
screwy, since his father was the one who'd been his example.

Nat stretched, then looked out the window of
his penthouse office, down below at the mass of pitiful humanity
hurrying home. And for what? Some stuffed turkey and gifts they had
no use for. Ridiculous.

Mend his ways? It must have been the rum
punch his secretary had brought him from the office Christmas
party. Rum always gave him indigestion. Plus, he'd never fallen
asleep at his desk before.

Mend his ways? There was nothing he liked
more than being CEO of Danvers and Son. Of course, there was no
longer a son, his father having long ago kicked the bucket. But
Danvers and Son was a household name. One that stood for high
earnings, fiscal strength. A company that would let no one and
nothing get in its way. Danvers and Son was the leading department
store chain in sixteen states and three countries. And it had all
begun here.

Mend his ways? Total bull.

Nat pulled out a stack of pink slips and
continued his task of informing his employees which of them
wouldn't be coming back after the first of the year layoffs. This
was a practice he heartily endorsed. He tried to do it at least
annually, and if not that, then every other year. It kept the
workers on their toes. It kept the operation running smoothly.
There were no slackers at Danvers and Son. And though there
weren't, he couldn't allow them to become lazy . . . they'd soon
return to their old screw-off ways if he did.

There. He'd completed the first grouping,
the ones from accounting. Now for the credit department. Just as he
pushed the stack to the side, he heard a crash in his outer
office.

He jerked up, then checked the time. Half
past ten. His secretary had long since left for the day. He heard
someone curse. A female someone. Damn. Had one of the
word-processing pool drunk too much at the party and decided to see
if she could weasel the boss into a promotion? He'd soon set her
straight.

Marching to the door, he was surprised when
it flew open. No one, absolutely no one, ever entered his office
without first knocking. It was a firm rule every employee knew
could not and would not be ignored. That tore it. The typist was
outta here.

As he opened his mouth to say just that, in
walked the most incredible woman he'd ever seen in his life. If
he'd ever dreamed up the perfect woman, her features couldn't have
matched the perfection of face and form of this creature. Her hair
was the color of onyx. Her eyes the color of night. And her breasts
were—

"Hiya, Nat ol' boy!"

Okay, so her language wasn't perfect. That
could be fixed. He loosened his collar. What had gotten into him?
He was a money-making machine, dammit, and women didn't enter into
the picture. "What are you doing in my office?"

"I came to see you." She smiled. Damn. She
even had incredible dimples.

"I think you'd better leave. Call my
secretary on Monday and set up an appointment." An appointment he'd
never keep. It didn't matter how luscious she was; as soon as he
learned her name, he would consider adding it to those on his pink
slips.

"Ah, Nat." She fluttered her lashes and
deepened her voice. "I won't be around come Monday." She leaned
against the door frame, a positive slither of red glittery fabric.
Skimpy red glittery fabric. Skimpy enough to make his pulse race.
"Let's talk now."

Her voice was husky. Bedroom husky. He'd
never been affected by a woman like this before and he wasn't going
to start now. Perfection or no perfection, she had to go.

"Leave."

She sauntered close to him and then yanked
him by his lapels, right up next to her lips. He could feel her hot
breath on his face and it did things to him. Boy, did it do
things.

"Listen up, Nat. We can do this the easy way
or we can do it the hard way. Your choice."

He gulped. His father had warned him about
women like her. Women who would use their sexuality to get the best
of a man. Nat wasn't about to be bested. His father had said, "Use
them before they use you." If she wanted to play with the big boys,
then it was her loss.

Grabbing her arms, he yanked her even closer
for a bruising kiss. A deep body twisting, arms entangling, breasts
heaving kind of kiss. And it felt damn good. Just about perfect, in
fact. He pulled back.

It took her a moment to get her bearings,
but eventually she opened her eyes. He smiled. At least she was
warned. She opened up those luscious lips and shrieked,
"Leonard!"

Good Lord! Had she brought witnesses? He
released her and jerked his gaze to the doorway. No one
entered.

She bellowed, "What now, Leonard?"

Nat could have sworn he heard the tinkling
of bells and then his office door slammed shut. The dead bolt
turned into the locked position. What the hell?

His gaze shot back to her. "Leonard says
that now you'll have to listen. You can't leave."

Heading directly to the door, he reached it
and twisted the dead bolt. It wouldn't turn. He threw his back into
it. Nothing. The inferior excuse for a master lock wouldn't
budge.

She smiled at him. A superior knowing little
smile and he was tempted to kiss her again just to wipe it off her
smug little face.

He took a step in her direction. As if she
knew his intention, she held up a hand. "Stop. I have information
you need to hear."

"Inside information?" Maybe this was the
reason for the secrecy and the bolted door. Probably done by radio
control. His security chief, Curtis, had once shown him stuff like
that.

"You could say that."

"Why didn't you say so?" She obviously
wasn't the typist he'd first thought her to be. Maybe this was a
set-up to lure him into doing something less than ethical. He'd be
extremely careful.

He pointed to the marble conference table in
the corner of his office. It was a piece he was particularly proud
of, shipped to him directly from Italy. It had cost a bundle. He
smiled to himself, pleased with what money could buy. "Have a
seat."

She nodded and took a seat. "Thank you,
Nat."

"You have me at a disadvantage." Taking
another chair, he said, "You know my name, what's yours?"

She twisted around in her seat. "Can I tell
him, Leonard?"

Was she wearing a hidden microphone? Was
their conversation being taped? Leonard could obviously hear their
every word.

"I'm Daphne."

"Daphne . . . what's your last name?"

"Just Daphne." She smiled, showing even
white teeth.

"Okay, so Leonard's taping us. Why doesn't
he join us?"

She cocked her head to one side. "You can't
see him. If it makes you feel any better, he's sitting on the chair
behind your desk."

"What?" Nat turned to look behind him. No
one was there. "Stop these adolescent tricks, Daphne and Leonard.
I'm not buying. If you don't want to play fair, tell me your
business and get out of here. I have work to do."

"On Christmas Eve?" Daphne seemed
surprised.

"On every eve." She'd managed to push his
buttons. Christmas irritated the living hell out of him. "What's so
darn special about Christmas Eve? Holidays are just an excuse to
pay my employees for not coming to work. That's not something I
care to celebrate."

"Wow, Leonard. He's a tougher case than you
led me to believe." She raised her brows and looked toward Nat's
desk as if hearing an answer.

The broad was loony tunes. He should toss
her out on her can. Oh well, there had to be some price for beauty
like hers. Too bad it had to be loose screws.

"Okay. I'll try that." She looked back at
him.

Nat got up. Walking as nonchalantly as
possible toward the bar behind his desk, he made the motions of
mixing himself a drink. Surreptitiously, he punched the silent
alarm, notifying security he had a problem. Someone would be here
within minutes. "Care for a drink?"

"Sure. Bourbon. Straight up." She scrunched
her ski slope nose. "Shut up, Leonard. I want a drink, I'm having
one."

Nat fished out his bottle of Jack Daniels
and poured her a double. Maybe it would slow her down when security
arrived.

Returning with their drinks, he placed them
carefully on the matching chrome coasters that fit in so well with
his color scheme of gray, black and a few tiny drips of blood red.
Originally he'd thought of decorating the room in green, the color
of money, but had ultimately discarded the idea as ostentatious. He
took a sip of his rum sour, momentarily regretting the earlier
impulse to drink that punch. Now, he couldn't mix his liquors and
have the vodka he generally preferred. And tonight his stomach
would screech out a reminder why vodka was his choice.

Feeling a bit calmer, he decided to play
along while Curtis made his way up the elevator. "Let's get down to
business."

"All right." Daphne picked up her glass and
drained it in one gulp. "This whiskey's far out. Mind if I get the
bottle?"

"Help yourself." Far out? She must have
overdosed on Brady Bunch repeats. This was going to be easier than
foreclosing on a mortgage.

Watching her as she minced her way to the
bar, he had to admire the curve of her legs. The way straps encased
her ankles over mile-high heels was rather intriguing as well. It
made him think naughty thoughts about straps and ropes and . .
.

Careful, he warned himself. He had a crazy
on his hands. He couldn't go on thinking about her as a desirable
woman.

As she returned with the bottle and took her
chair again, he breathed in her enticing fragrance. Baby powder and
incense. Maybe that explained her attractiveness. The combination
of innocence and raw sex appeal.

After she drank another slug, equally as
large as the first, she settled back in her chair. He thought he
could hear her purr.

It made him ache.

"Leonard says to tell you that the dream you
had about your parents was true. They did come to warn you."

Lucky guess. It had to be a lucky guess.
Unless somehow the rum punch had been drugged? Prickles of fear
crept up and down his spine. What was taking Curtis so long? He
should have been here by now.

Playing for time, he said, "Go on."

"Well, if you don't change your ways, then
you'll never make it to heaven and your mom wants you to be happy.
So, the Heavenly Council sent me."

The Heavenly Council was right on one count.
She could certainly make him happy. "So, what do you want me to do?
Sell you shares in the company for one quarter the value?"

"Of course not. I want you to learn a little
human kindness. To believe in something you can't see, feel, taste
or hear. Like Leonard over there."

"Daphne, pet, you seem to mean well.
However," he held up one finger, "If I can't see it, taste it, feel
it or hear it, I see no reason to believe it exists."

"Oh, my." She grimaced. "Darn it, Leonard.
Now you have me saying it!" She ran her hand through those breast
-length curls of hers, every move she made more provocative than
the last, and incredibly she seemed totally unconscious of the
effect it had on him. Good. It was the only advantage he had until
security got their lousy-good-for-nothing butts down here. Maybe he
should buzz again.

When Daphne got up and went over to his
desk, apparently arguing with her imaginary playmate, Nat grabbed
the conference table phone to dial security directly. The line was
dead. Now stabs of fear jabbed his spine. He was in serious
trouble. This woman wasn't only crazy, she must be some sort of
electronics expert to boot.

That didn't make sense. Not in that dress.
Obviously this Leonard fellow was in control of surveillance around
here. Nat's gaze shot around his office, looking for a hidden
camera. At first glance he didn't see anything. Then his gaze
narrowed. The fern in the corner. Was that something glittery?

Looking for something with which to smash
it, hoping to even the odds just a little, he saw the heavy metal
paperweight sitting on the window sill near the door. Just the
ticket. Daphne was still deep in discussion with her alter ego.

What kind of game were they playing? Did
they believe for one moment he'd swallow her story about an
invisible man? Perhaps it was some sales gimmick. But he wasn't in
the market.

Grabbing the chance, he dashed over and
snatched up the paperweight then sprinted to the fern. Throwing
back fronds, he was ready to strike. His arm slashed down, only to
stop inches from a chunk of broken glass. Hell. Where was the
camera?

"Good heavens, Nat! Don't hurt the
plant!"

"What?" He turned to look at Daphne. What
did she think he planned to do? Beat it into submission? "Where's
the hidden camera?"

She rolled her eyes, then headed back to the
conference table and grabbed her bourbon. For a second, he thought
she would guzzle it directly from the bottle, but she shrugged and
poured more into the shot glass. "Don't say one word, Leonard. Not
one word."