I'm No Angel (21 page)

“The security of Holt's home isn't something I feel comfortable discussing, Countess, but I will
promise to talk with Holt when I see him about that piece of jewelry you're interested in.”

“You know, dahling, if he doesn't have it on display, perhaps Holt will take us up to his safe and let us take a peek. What do you think, Tommy? Wouldn't that be—” Frederike's frown deepened as she looked at Tom. “I'm sorry. I suppose you wouldn't want to see Holt's safe, and I suppose Holt wouldn't want you anywhere near it since your dad—”

“Unfortunately,” Angel said, interrupting Frederike's spiel, “Tom will be out of town the night of the gala. I had so hoped he'd be able to attend, but he had a prior engagement.”

Obviously that was the pronouncement she'd gotten from Holt, Tom thought. He wasn't to be admitted to Palazzo Paradiso come hell or high water. Taking advantage of Holt's obvious lack of security may be his best way to get in, he decided. He might even have to try going through the window again.

“You have a lot of beautiful things in here,” Angel said, obviously trying to change the subject. She slipped her arm through Tom's, offering him a smile that said, “I'm sorry.”

“Nearly everything you see in here—except for the hats, of course—came from friends. Little gifts, you know, for a kindness here and a kindness there.” Frederike walked across the room and picked up a broad-brimmed zebra-skin hat. “This came from a lovely little boutique that used to be on Worth Avenue.”

“The one where my mother worked?” Angel asked.

“That's right, dahling. I believe I was with Carlotta Hudson the day I bought it, and that was twenty-six, twenty-seven years ago.”

“Do you remember all the little details about every hat you own?” Angel asked.

“Of course I do. They're like husbands, you know. You remember every second of your first meeting, who was there, what you ate and drank. Even the music that was playing.” She smiled fondly at the zebra-skin hat. “It was a Friday morning when I first saw this lovely piece. Carlotta was looking at purses, something dainty, not the least bit my style, and your mother, Angel, was an absolute dream, placing the hats on my head in that special way she always had, tilting it just so, then standing back as I admired the look in the full-length mirror.”

Tom had no idea where Frederike's tale was going, but he listened intently, determined to relive the last years of his father's life through the eyes of other people who'd been in Palm Beach at the time.

“Was there music playing?” Tom asked.

Frederike smiled slyly. “If you think I don't remember, you're wrong, young man. It was a Beatles tune.” The Countess looked at Angel. “Your mother used to play their music all the time, much to the annoyance of her customers. But she was such a delight that we never said a word about her odd taste.”

“She still likes the Beatles,” Angel said.

“Your mother liked this hat, too. She went on and on about how stunning it was. It was a one-of-a-kind, the only way I will ever buy a hat, and I
believe I only wore it once.” Frederike handed the hat to Angel. “Please, give it to your mother. A little gift from an old acquaintance.”

“I couldn't possibly take this, Frederike.”

“Nonsense. You've given me the pleasure of your company this afternoon and I'm giving you a gift in return. It's a tradition among my friends.”

Frederike scurried across the room and pointed at a hat strewn with fake fruit. “This was a gift from Bunny Endicott, a little something to thank me for the chocolates I'd had sent to her from Belgium after she had her breasts enhanced.”

“It's a lovely hat,” Angel said.

“Oh, no, not the hat.” Frederike lifted it off the marble statuette of a naked Greek or Roman god. “Bunny gave me the statue. It's not my taste, of course, but it is the most perfect hat stand.” Frederike put a finger to her lips. “Please don't tell anyone in town what I've done with Bunny's gift. If word gets out that I use works of art like this as hat stands, my friends might stop giving me gifts, and I'd absolutely hate that.”

“Speaking of statuettes,” Dagger said, his eyes narrowed at Tom, “isn't that what your father stole from Holt Hudson?”

“Allegedly stole.”

“Oh, but he did steal it, Tommy,” Frederike said. “I remember your father talking about it at a party once. It was after your mother died, of course, and he'd been drinking too much and rumor had it that he was borrowing money from everyone in town and—”

“Please, Frederike,” Angel interrupted. “I don't really think Tom needs or wants to hear—”

“But I do, Angel,” Tom said, putting his hand on her arm. “I want to hear every word of what Frederike has to say.”

“I don't mean to hurt your feelings by saying all of this, Tommy, but there was no doubt in my mind at all that your father took that statue. At the time I believe it was worth three or four million, which was quite a lot of money twenty-six years ago. Heavens, if it was sold today, a person could probably get ten times that much for it. And the night of the party your father said if that statue belonged to him, he wouldn't keep it hidden away. He'd either charge admission for people to see it or he'd sell the thing and buy something worthwhile.”

“Sounds pretty incriminating to me,” Dagger said.

“Maybe it does,” Tom said angrily, “but that doesn't explain why the statue was never found.”

“You mean it's not hidden somewhere at Mere Belle?” Dagger asked, a sneer on his ugly face.

“For all I know, the damned statue could still be in Holt Hudson's safe. For all I know, my dad might have had some incriminating evidence against Holt Hudson and Holt shot my dad to keep him from talking. For all I know, everything Holt told the police was a lie.”

“You know,” Angel said, gripping Tom's arm, “maybe we should go back down to the party.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Frederike said. “I believe it's long past time to open presents.”

And, Tom thought, it was long past time for him to make another attempt to break into Palazzo Paradiso and find out what the hell had really happened that night.

“I
'm sorry, Tom,” Angel said, sitting on top of a blanket she and Tom had taken down to the beach, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs as the stars started appearing in the sky. “I spent a good hour this morning badgering and nagging Holt, but obviously my powers of persuasion aren't quite as good as you seem to think they are.”

Tom stood at the edge of the surf, the lapping waves and foam rolling again and again over his feet. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You did all you could do to get me in to see Holt.”

“It's not just that,” Angel said, holding her cassette player in her hand. “It's everything Holt said on the tape about what happened that night. It's everything Frederike said that confirms Holt's story. I wanted so much for your father to be innocent—”

“He was. I listened to that tape and I swear, Angel, that story Holt told is word for word what he said in the past. It's well rehearsed. Scripted so he
doesn't leave out any little detail.” Tom turned. He smiled. “Stephania Allardyce believed my dad was innocent. I know he's innocent, too, and you, sweetheart, are going to help me prove it.”

“I'm what?”

Tom walked toward her, his bare feet sinking slightly in the soft white sand. He had a grin on his face that made Angel a tad uncomfortable. “I said you're going to help me prove my dad's innocence.”

“And how do you expect me to do that when everything, and I mean
everything
, proves his guilt?”

“You're going to help me break into Holt's place.”

Angel shook her head adamantly. “No, I'm not.”

“I have it all planned. We'll wait until after the gala because I don't want anything to screw up your evening.”

“That's awfully kind of you, but as I said, Tom, I'm
not
helping you break into the place.”

“Your dad told me that you know all the ins and outs of any security system,” Tom went on, apparently oblivious to the fact that she'd flat out told him she would not break into Holt's place. “Your poor dad. It makes him mad that you don't use your knowledge of security systems and choose instead to work for the obnoxious rich snobs of Palm Beach.”

“I know a lot of stuff, Tom. I can even crack combination locks if I put my mind to it, but I'm not about to use that knowledge for criminal reasons.”

Tom strolled toward her, his body looking fabulous in a pair of baggy swim trunks that slung low on his hips. The muscles heaved in his chest as he got close, and then he dropped down in the sand in front of her.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Tom said, clutching the bottom of the T-shirt he'd loaned her to wear, “do you think Holt might still have
The Embrace
in his safe?”

“I seriously doubt it.”

“But if he did, and if you and I found it there, wouldn't that be proof that my dad didn't steal it?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then let's break into Holt's place, break into his safe, and take a peek.”

“You're out of your mind.”

Tom drew the shirt over the top of her head. “I've never been more sane or more sure of what I wanted to do in my entire life.”

“If we got caught we'd go to jail. My life would be screwed. Your life would be screwed.”

“But what if we didn't get caught? What if we got into the safe, found
The Embrace
, and then confronted Holt with what we suspect?”

“What is it that you suspect him of doing?”

Tom put his hands on her shoulders and laid her back in the sand. He kissed one nipple. Then the other.

“The only thing I suspect him of doing is lying. I don't have any proof. I just have a feeling deep down in my gut.”

“Breaking and entering isn't going to get you anything, Tom. And if you do it, you'll lose me.”

He kissed her belly. Licked her belly button. “Would I?”

“I'd refuse to see you again. Ever.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, his warm, callused palms whispered over her bare skin, along her sides, over her thighs. He parted her legs. Smiled wickedly. Slipped a finger inside her.

“Would you really give all of this up?” Tom asked, sliding a second finger inside her.

“You want to know the God's honest truth?” Angel said, slapping her hands against his chest and trying to push him away. “I'd hate you.”

Tom heaved a heavy sigh. He slid over her, resting his body easily on top of hers. “I don't want to lose you, Angel.”

She threaded her fingers into his dark silky hair. “And I don't want to give you up. But I will.” She felt tears threaten, but she held them back. “I spent seven years living with a man I couldn't trust. I won't do that again.”

Tom drew a thumb lightly over her lips, then cradled her face in his hands. “Finding out the truth is important to me, Angel.”

“More important than me?”

“Yeah, it's important. I can't begin to tell you how much I need to know the truth. But I'm falling in love with you, Angel. I'm not going to risk losing you when I've lost so many other people in my life.”

“You aren't just saying that to make me change my mind, are you?”

He kissed her tenderly. “When are you ever going to put all of your trust in me?”

“I want to trust you, Tom. I want to know that
the feelings I have for you go beyond lust and are really love. But I'm still unsure of things.”

“I'm not going to rush you, Angel.”

“And you promise you won't break into Holt's place?”

Tom held her face close to his, his eyes full of a tenderness she'd never known before and doubted she'd ever find in another man. “I may not give up searching for the truth, but for you”—he shook his head, laughing lightly—“I promise I won't break into Holt's place. Ever.”

“And now that I've exacted that promise out of you,” Angel said, “I probably should do something very special for you.”

“Can I have anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

Tom traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. He delved a little farther, touching her teeth, and Angel parted her lips with a sigh. Tom's mouth closed over hers. His sweet, blessed tongue slipped into her mouth and made pretty music with hers.

And then she felt his erection. Throbbing. Hard. Thick and long.

She locked her legs around his waist and wrapped her fingers around his hot, solid-as-a-rock penis, and guided him inside her.

Tom moaned when she thrust her hips up and drove him deep within her core. “That's my gift to you, Tom.”

“Whenever I want?”

“All you have to do is say the magic words.”

“And what would those be?” he asked, taking charge, loving her, carrying her to the brink and
pushing her over the edge in not more than a few heartbeats.

She sighed against his mouth. Purred. “Just tell me you love me, Tom.”

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, and then he showed her just how much.

 

Angel curled up against Tom's chest, as she had nearly every night for the last couple of weeks. His left arm was tucked under her breasts, his right arm stuffed under her pillow. Her feet rested against his feet; their legs melded together almost as one.

She felt safe with him. Loved. And as she lay wide awake, her head spinning from a little too much wine and just the right amount of loving, she was pretty sure that tomorrow she'd be able to tell Tom that she loved him, too.

“Having troubles sleeping?” Tom's words were little more than a whisper against her ear.

“You dragged me to bed at seven o'clock and right now”—she looked at the clock beside her bed—“it's not even ten. I never go to bed so early.”

“You've been going to bed early every night for over a week now. It's the sleeping part that has come much later. We just got an earlier start tonight.”

“I really should get up and check my list of things to do for the gala, just to make sure I haven't forgotten anything.”

“You can check it in the morning.”

Tom pressed soft warm kisses down the curve
of her spine. His fingers swept over her breasts, teasing her nipples. How was it possible to go from being frightened of sex two weeks ago, to this? To wanting to be with Tom every minute of every day. Wanting to be held. Needing to be kissed.

The phone rang and Tom's arms tightened around her when she automatically reached for the phone.

“Let it ring,” Tom whispered against her back.

“I can't. It could be my dad. Something could be wrong with my mom.”

Tom chuckled. “Your mom's got a lot of years left. They might not be perfect years, but—”

“But nothing, Tom. I hate to listen to a phone ring.” She grabbed the phone, only to be greeted by Holt Hudson's assistant on the other end.

“Mr. Hudson would appreciate it if you could come by to see the reproductions he had made of the jewelry he'll be donating to the auction.”

“Would tomorrow morning be all right,” Angel said, “or perhaps later in the afternoon?”

“Mr. Hudson will be unavailable tomorrow. We realize it is late, but Mr. Hudson would prefer it if you come now.”

“Now?”

Tom frowned, shaking his head. Angel glared at him in return.

“Yes,” said Holt's assistant. “Please.”

“All right. I can be there in half an hour.”

“Thank you. You know the code for getting through the gate, and I will meet you at the door when you arrive.”

Angel rolled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. “I've got to take a shower,” she hollered back at Tom. “I'll be out in a minute.”

“I'll join you,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and reaching past her to turn on the shower.

“I don't have time to fool around right now. I've got to get to Holt's.”

“I'm not going to do anything to keep us from getting there on time.”

“There is no us where this is concerned, Tom,” she said, as they stepped into the shower.

“It's late. I've plied you with liquor all evening to make you relax, and I'm not about to let you drive yourself to Holt's when you're not a hundred percent sober.”

“I'll call a cab,” Angel said, sticking her head under the powerful spray.

“You'll do no such thing. You'll trust me to get you there safely, and you'll trust me to sit in the blasted car while you're inside talking to my godfather, the man I'd kill to see.”

“But you're
not
going to see him.”

“No, I'm not,” Tom said, smoothing a bar of soap over Angel's breasts. “I promised you I wouldn't break into his mansion. I promised I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the gala. And as far as I can tell, I haven't done anything to blow your trust.”

Angel grabbed the soap from Tom and lathered his chest. “All right. You can go with me. But you'll sit in the car and you won't, I repeat
won't,
go into Holt's even if the place catches on fire.”

A silly-assed grin touched Tom's face. “I might have to draw the line there.”

Angel frowned. “Promise me, Tom.”

He kissed her lips, the hollow beneath her ear, and took his merry sweet time kissing her breasts.

“I'm still waiting for your promise,” Angel murmured between her purrs and sighs.

“I promise to do anything I can to keep you happy.”

And before they left the shower, he made her very happy, indeed.