I'm No Angel (19 page)

“Oh, my.” Frederike's ultra-high heels clicked on the marble floors as she sauntered toward Angel. “Isn't it fortunate that I should find you here, too? Of course, why wouldn't I find you here? It's all over town that the two of you are an item.”

“Is it?” Tom asked, when Angel appeared to have lost her voice.

“I believe it was Morganna who told CoCo Rox-borough, and naturally CoCo called me, and I dare say there are so many others we'll have to notify so Miss Devlin can be added to all of our guest lists.”

“You know I'm not the partying type,” Angel said.

“Nonsense. Now that you're moving up in the world, it's imperative that you be seen in all the right places.”

Frederike flitted toward Tom and whispered, “I promise not to breathe a word to Miss Devlin about the woman you were with last night.” She winked. “That will remain our little secret.”

“Thank you, Countess.”

“Now…I can only stay a moment, dahlings, and then I must dash off. So many people to see today, so many things to do.”

Frederike wandered toward the piano, looking about the empty room. “You know, Tommy, I have the best decorator in all of Palm Beach at my service whenever I need him. Since it's obvious you're in desperate need of a mansion makeover, I'd be happy to give him a call and put the two of you in touch with each other.”

“Thanks for the offer, but—”

“It's no bother, Tommy. In fact, I'll give him a call as soon as I get home and have him get in touch with you.”

Just what he needed.

“Was that the reason you dropped by?” Tom asked.

“Of course it isn't. I'd assumed you'd already had Mere Belle decorated and landscaped, but I should have realized that some people move faster than others.” She gave both dogs kisses on their little black snouts. “Actually, the reason I stopped by is to invite you to Cosette and Celine's birthday party tomorrow afternoon at four. You will come, of course?”

“Cosette and Celine?” Tom questioned. “Your daughters?”

“No, you silly man.” Frederike looked down at the dogs in her arms. “My
papillons,
or, as I prefer to call them, my little butterflies.”

“I'm not sure I'll be able—”

“Nonsense, Tommy. It'll just be a couple of hours.” Frederike turned her attention on Angel. “You must come, too, Miss Devlin. It's at four o'clock, at Mirasol, of course.”

“I have to be in court tomorrow afternoon,” Angel explained.

“I quite understand, dear. If you must be late, Cosette and Celine will understand. And I'm sure Tommy won't mind if you meet him there.”

Tom was on the verge of bursting into laughter. A birthday party for two spoiled dogs, thrown by a woman whose dead husband was on ice until
the social season was over, had to be worth attending.

“I'll be there,” Tom said. “I can't speak for Miss Devlin, however.”

“I'll be there, too,” Angel answered. “With bells on.”

“Oh, no, please don't wear bells,” Frederike said. “Their ringing is so terribly hard on my butterflies' ears.”

She nuzzled first one dog and then the other, then looked at her diamond-crusted watch. “Goodness, it's getting terribly late and I've so much to do. The florists will be coming at two tomorrow but I still have to pick out the cake and gifts for my little ones.”

“Cake?” Angel asked.

“A lovely little confection of chopped liver and all the other tasty treats that Celine, Cosette, and all of their friends, love.”

“There'll be other dogs there?” Tom asked.

“Oh, yes. Seven have RSVP'd already, and they'll be dressed in their prettiest frocks. And just so you know,” Frederike whispered, “Cosette and Celine absolutely love the Swarovski crystal collars they sell at Ma Petite Bow-Wow. Cosette favors seashell pink; Celine absolutely adores any shade of purple.”

“What about you, Frederike?” Tom said. “What do you adore?”

She patted Tom's cheek. “Handsome young men.”

“S
o…” Jed Devlin said, sitting in an over-stuffed easy chair in the cluttered living room, his beady and questioning eyes staring at Tom across the big square coffee table. “What do you do for a living?”

“This isn't the inquisition, Dad.” Angel set a bottle of Budweiser on the coffee table in front of her father and shoved another cool bottle into Tom's hand. “Tom's a friend. Nothing more.”

Jed's eyes narrowed. “Since when is it illegal for a man to ask another man what he does for a living?”

“It's not illegal as long as you remember that this is just a friendship thing. Tom and I
aren't
engaged.”

“I should hope the hell not,” Jed barked. “You just met.”

This wasn't going all that well, Tom realized, as he took a swallow of his beer. God, how he wanted to get out of the place, take Angel home, and make love to her.

Looking over the top of the bottle, he saw Jed glaring at him. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to think about Angel and sex right this minute.

Angel's dad grabbed a handful of chips and popped a few into his mouth, then washed them down with beer. “So, Tom…” Jed said again, “what do you do for a living?”

Tom smiled his best I-really-don't-want-to-be-meeting-the-parents smile. “I used to wrestle alligators.”

Jed scooted to the edge of the chair and leaned his elbows on his wide-spread knees. “Like that guy on TV?”

“Kind of, only he's Australian and I never had a TV show.”

“You want to be a TV star?”

“The thought's never crossed my mind.”

“Let me get this straight,” Jed said. “You said you
used
to wrestle alligators,”

“He charmed snakes, too, Dad,” Angel added, as if she felt that could help Tom's cause. “He and his grandfather had a gator farm in the Everglades.”

Jed frowned. “You know, everything I keep hearing is in the past tense. Mind telling me what you do now?”

“A little landscaping. A little interior decorating.”

Jed scratched his head. “You don't make the jobs sound all that stable.”

“What does it matter, Dad?” Angel tried coming to Tom's rescue again. “He's just a friend.”

“Like I said, Angel,” Jed continued, “this is just a man-to-man chat. And Tom can ignore any questions he's uncomfortable with.”

“If you'd like me to be brutally honest, Jed,” Tom said, wanting to get the interrogation over as quickly as possible, “I can sum up my life story in less than a minute or two.”

“I'm not all that concerned with your life story. In fact, I've just got a couple of questions.”

“Such as?”

“Have you ever been in jail?”

“No,” Tom answered. “Have you?”

“A couple of times. Once for beating the crap out of Angel's last husband.”

“Did Angel tell you I punched Dagger out this morning and threw him into the water?”

“No, as a matter of fact, she didn't.” Jed took a swallow of beer and grinned. “I might decide to like you after all.”

“Dad.” Angel's jaw had tightened. “Would you lighten up a bit?”

“I've only got a couple more questions,” Jed told his daughter, then faced Tom again. “I've always believed in setting money aside for a rainy day. Do you sock money away for the future?”

Tom took a swallow of beer. “My savings account isn't hurting.”

“Well, it can't be all that big if all you've ever done is wrestle alligators and worked construction.”

“It's big enough.”

“You get paid weekly, monthly, or what?”

“I don't get a paycheck at all.”

Jed threw his hands up in the air. “Then how the hell do you expect to take care of my daughter?”

“I take care of myself, Dad,” Angel growled. “I
have for a long time and you know darn good and well I don't like the idea of a man taking care of me.”

Jed looked deep into Tom's eyes and shook his head. “I sent her to some fancy school in England where she was supposed to learn how to be a genteel young woman and she comes back to me tattooed, wearing a stiletto, and—”

“That was a long time ago, Dad.”

Tom liked this guy. He was a lot like Pop. A lot like the kind of dad he would have loved. Most of all, he liked him because he cared so damn much for his daughter.

“You know what, Jed, let's stop beating around the bush. If you want to know my financial status, all you've got to do is ask.”

“All right, do you own a home?”

“Four of them. One in Palm Beach, one in Monte Carlo, one in Paris, and one in Milan.”

Jed frowned. “You aren't one of those jet-setting Palm Beach types, are you?”

“I'm just a guy who grew up in the Everglades, wrestled alligators and charmed snakes for a living, and then had the good fortune of inheriting a few dollars.”

“How many is a few?”

“At last count, around seven hundred and seventy-two…million. That doesn't include the four homes, my Jeep, or the eighty-foot yacht I bought for my grandfather.”

Jed coughed. Then he took a swallow of beer. “In other words, you're worth somewhere in the neighborhood of a billion dollars?”

“Yeah, that's about right.”

Jed's eyes narrowed again. “I hope you don't think you're good enough for my daughter just because you have all that money.”

“Dad!”

Jed ignored his daughter's aggravated appeal. Tom just grinned.

“You don't play polo, do you?” Jed asked.

“Nope.”

“Do you attend tea parties?”

“I hate tea,” Tom said.

“You like basketball?” Jed asked.

“As long as the Lakers are losing.”

At last Jed grinned. He reached across the scuffed coffee table and shook Tom's hand. “Welcome to the family.”

“Angel, darling.”

Angel's mom, Sarah, had sat quietly through the entire exchange, doing nothing more than staring at Tom. The moment she spoke, all eyes turned toward her.

“What is it, Mom?” Angel asked softly.

Sarah turned toward Tom. “Are you the one who plays the piano?” she asked in a voice so much like Angel's.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Would you play something for me?” Sarah asked, a faraway look in her eyes.

Tom stood and walked to the old black upright standing in a far corner of the room, the top littered with a myriad of picture frames and family photos.

“It's not exactly a Steinway,” Angel said, “and it hasn't been played in a long time.”

“I keep it tuned,” Jed said, “just in case we ever have grandchildren who want to play. Sarah gave birth to quadruplets, but not a one of them was interested in tickling the ivories.”

Tom sat on the bench, pulling Angel down beside him. He opened the lid and put his fingers on the keys. “Do you have a favorite?” he asked, looking back at Sarah.

She frowned, as if trying to recall a tune, a title, and then she smiled. “‘Yesterday.'” A tear slid down her cheek. “I didn't have any troubles then.”

Jed moved to his wife's side on the sofa. He held her close and kissed away her tear.

Tom kissed a tear from Angel's cheek too, and felt a lump settle in his throat when she smiled softly at him. This was the closest he'd ever come to being part of a real family, one with a mom and dad. Not that he didn't love Pop, but it felt special here. Like he belonged.

And he wanted to do something special for Sarah.

Tom closed his eyes, hearing Paul McCartney sing the words he'd written long ago. Heard a string orchestra filling an outdoor auditorium with the sweet strains of the song. He'd played it before, but it seemed to have more meaning tonight, and when his fingers floated over the keys, he gave it his all.

Angel's fingers curled around his thigh as he played, and then from the corner of his eye he saw Jed hold out his hand to his wife. She took it cautiously, then Jed pulled Sarah into his arms and danced with her, barely moving from where
they stood, but holding her, kissing her cheek.

When the song ended, when Tom folded down the cover, Sarah walked toward him slowly and touched his shoulder. “Do you dance as well as you play?”

Tom smiled. “I don't trip over my feet.”

“Yes, Mom,” Angel said, tucking her arm through Tom's, “he dances just as well as he plays.”

Sarah pressed a soft, cold palm to his cheek. “Will you dance with me at the ball?”

Tom took Sarah's hand and squeezed it. “Except for dancing with Angel, I can't think of anything I'd rather do.”

 

“Are you sure you don't want to go back to my place?” Tom said, leaning against his Jeep parked at the curb in front of the Devlin home. “I picked up strawberries and whipped cream and—”

“I've got a lot to do tomorrow and I really do need a good night's sleep.” Angel leaned forward and kissed him. “Unfortunately, I don't sleep all that well when I'm with you.”

Tom's eyebrow rose. “Unfortunately?”

“That was a poor choice of words.”

“Damn right.”

Angel swept her fingers through Tom's hair when he pulled her against him. “Tonight must have been really awful for you. My dad's not exactly Mr. Warmth and Charm and I really didn't expect him to give you the fifth degree.”

“It could have been worse.”

“How?”

“He could have told me he liked the Lakers and I would have walked out the door.”

Angel laughed. “You've got more couth than that.”

“Just wait until you get to know me better.”

“You did a rather nice job charming my mom, too. Of course, part of me has to wonder if you did that on purpose.”

“Charming people comes easily.”

“You haven't been able to charm Holt Hudson.”

“That's going to be your job. Now that I need to dance with your mom at the gala, you're going to have to get me into Palazzo Paradiso that night.”

Angel sighed heavily. “This could be disastrous, Tom. You know darn good and well he's not going to want to see you.”

“Maybe not,” Tom said, kissing her softly, “but I'm sure you can wear down his defenses.”

“One little screwup and all my plans for the gala and the charity auction could go up in smoke. I've put so much effort into this, not for me, but to raise money for research. People are expecting it, so I can't let everything fall apart.”

“Then wait until after the gala to talk to him.”

Angel laughed. “If you'd said that yesterday or the day before I would have said sure, why not. But everything's changed since my mom asked you to dance with her. You've got to be there.”

“Do you really think she'll remember?”

“I don't know. But even if she doesn't, I'd love
to see the two of you dance together. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think the evening would be nearly as special to me if you didn't sweep me around the ballroom at least once or twice.”