Inked by an Angel (7 page)

Michael couldn’t help but grin with some self-satisfaction. Poor Uriel. He’d walked out of the meeting looking like a deer caught in the headlights with that truly daunting assignment in hand. But, the softer side of him hoped for Bethany and Steven’s lovematch. He hoped with all of his heart that Uri could pull it off.

As he helped Gabriel stack up the chairs and put the meeting room back in order, he mulled over his own troubles with his current assignment. Who was he to question Uri’s capabilities when he couldn’t get it together, and he’d been on Love Detail for hundreds of years? Maybe he needed to recycle back to basic training and start over again with halos and wings. He sighed heavily.

“What is it, Brother?” Gabe asked.

“My people, they are still not cooperating. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, your party worked out well. And I liked Jedediah and Kyle. They will make a superb match.”

“Maybe. But at this rate, I wouldn’t count on it. Besides, Miss Kyle is still engaged to that Charles guy. And she’s been very distracted at work. I can’t get her to talk to me about much of anything.” He kicked the leg of a chair. “And Jed, well he’s just a grump all the time. It’s not a wonder Kyle doesn’t want anything to do with him.
I
can barely stand him sometimes.”

“Hmmm.”

Michael rubbed the sweat from his bald head and pulled a bandana from his back pocket to slip on. He waited for Gabe to say more. “Well? ‘
Hmmm’
is all you can say?”

Gabe smiled, grinned actually. “Don’t you see, Michael? This is good. Very, very good. You are doing well.”

Something shifted and fluttered in Michael’s stomach. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Gabe led him to a bench in the lobby where they could sit. “Has Kyle made any wedding plans that you know of? Set a date? Is she looking at bridal magazines during her lunch break? Anything?”

Michael furrowed his brow. “No. Why?”

“Really, Michael. For an angel, you are still as clueless as a man sometimes. Those are good signs. If she was excited about getting married, those are things she should be doing. Most brides would. This should give you hope. And as for Jedediah, well, a grumpy man is sometimes a lovelorn one. Even if he doesn’t admit it.”

He let this sink in for a few moments. Could it be? Was it possible?

At Michael’s slack-jawed expression, Gabe stood. “Yes, Michael, my brother. I think you might be onto something. But I think it’s time for you to beef up your game plan. What have you done other than throw that party and offer them ample time to be together at the studio?”

“Uh . . . well . . .”

“Not enough!”

Michael jumped. He wasn’t used to Gabe taking this kind of zealous tone. “So, what are you saying, Gabriel? That I should
intervene
even more than I already have? You know Father frowns upon our over-involvement in the human’s free will.”

“No, of course I’m not suggesting you do anything to take away their choice in the matter. Just a little nudge in the right direction.” He smiled that half-smile that said he was forming a plan. “But haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘
The end justifies the means
?’”

Something just wasn’t right. Kyle glanced up from her computer screen. Noble was bent over his current customer, stoic and broody as always. Kierstan had breezed in moments before, a whirlwind of sexual confidence. She was currently planted at the front desk, flirting with an attentive male audience. All was normal with those two.

A loud
thud
sounded from Jed’s office as his door slammed and something fell. Other than his being even more of a cantankerous curmudgeon than usual these past few days, he was about status quo.

She went back to her work and turned up the little radio on her desk as Lady Gaga came on. And then, it hit her. It was Michael that was different.

She looked up at him. He was smiling and chatting with someone at the front desk who’d stopped in to ask about a tattoo. He looked innocent enough. But she stared back down at the computer screen.
Sweet Mother of the Living Lamb!

What was he up to now?

The ‘Accounts’ file was somehow back in place, right where it should’ve been. She clicked and it opened. Everything was in order, just like she’d left it.

Curious, she opened another file on the computer called ‘Taxes.’ There, neatly typed in was everything she’d need to file Michael’s taxes for this year. And
she
hadn’t done it.

She opened the file cabinet next to her desk. Everything was neatly filed. Every receipt was accounted for with meticulous precision; every expenditure had been accounted for and logged correctly.

It was a whole new Michael and it was very, very scary. Where was the landmine?

She waited until his customer left before clearing her throat and calling him. “Uh, Michael? Can you come over here for a quick minute?”

“Yeah, sure, Miz O’Neill.” He ambled over, his thick footfalls heavy on the tile floor. “What’s up? You finding everything you need?”

She looked down then back up into his earnest face. “Oh, yes, Michael. I’m finding everything just fine.”

He smiled sweetly. “That’s really good. I’ve been trying harder.”

“I, uh —”

Jed stormed out of his office and over to grab something from the front desk. Kierstan had said something that apparently agitated him more because he shot her a seriously nasty
Go to Hell
look before returning to his office.

Kyle watched, wondering what had made him so utterly miserable.

“Been like that all week. Don’t mind him,” Michael interrupted her pitying thoughts. “He hates having to do all his own books. His accountant up and quit on him.” He snapped his meaty fingers. “Just like that.”

She turned back to Michael. “Oh.” Her mind raced. Jed’s accountant quit?

“Poor guy.” He seemed to commiserate. “He can’t get a thing done and no other accountants will give him the time of day.” He scratched his bald head under his bandana. “Not sure why. Must have something to do with that audit he’s about to go through. Anyway, I told him he should ask you.”

Her eyes flew to his as her stomach seized up. “What! Me?”

He shrugged and pointed to the computer screen. “Well, Miz O’Neill, you’ve done a fine job here with my books. I don’t see why you couldn’t do the same with Jed’s.” He glanced over as Jed let loose a particularly unsavory curse from behind the closed door. “Plus, he needs you.”

“Oh, I doubt he
needs
me. He’ll find someone soon enough. There are plenty of CPA firms out there who would jump at the chance to take on this studio’s account.” She smiled reassuringly even though she may have been stretching the truth a bit. “He just needs to quit grumbling about it and make some calls. I could even ask my father if he’d like.”

Michael shook his head. “No. I’m pretty sure he’s already tried your dad’s firm. It was a no go.”

“A no go? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask him yourself.” The bell over the front door chimed and they both looked over. A new client walked in requesting Michael. “Hey, I gotta catch this one.” He started to walk away. “Listen, will you at least think about taking on Jed as a client? You’ve done a great job and you’re here a lot anyway.” He glanced over at Jed’s office door. “And how can you not help a man in need, Miz O’Neill? Listen to him.”

Slam!

“Oh, I don’t know.” But she was talking to herself.

She turned back to the files before her and tried to make sense of Michael’s turnabout. He’d become every accountant’s dream pretty much overnight. There wouldn’t be any reason for her to be here to straighten out his messes every night anymore. It was exactly what she’d been hoping for—a chance to spread out and grow her business now that she wouldn’t be so tied down. She looked up to where he sat, his large girth overflowing from the small stool as he chatted up his eager customer. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted to Jed’s slightly ajar office door. She could see him frowning over a pile of strewn papers, a pencil tightly clenched in his fist.

An unbidden feeling stole through her as she studied him. He was so foreign to her in so many ways, so extraordinarily different than her. And yet, she felt drawn to him. She couldn’t seem to help herself. But, as he pushed back his sleeves to reveal the colorful tattoos beneath, she was reminded just how far removed she was from his world.

Stupid.
She admonished herself for fantasizing about him. Again. Charles was her type, and she was his. And
he
never called her Muffet. There were more things in life then sex appeal, she decided with a reassuring nod.

She settled back into her desk and clicked open a new file.

After a couple more hours of watching Jed storm around the studio, Kierstan flirt with anything that had a penis, and Noble ignoring them both, Kyle had had enough. She finished up her account of the inventory and bid Michael a goodnight.

As she slid her key into the front door of her little condo, she could almost hear her Jacuzzi tub calling her name. She was also debating between indulging in a hot toddy or glass of wine before bed along with her favorite Jason Statham movie, because a girl was allowed a few guilty pleasures, after all.

The strains of Muzak and the fetid smell of some kind of beef dish permeated the air.

“Darling!” Charles materialized from the kitchen wearing her apron and a huge smile. He looked ridiculous and her immediate thought was that Jed wouldn’t be caught dead in an apron.

She set her briefcase down in the hall and pulled off her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. “What are you doing here, Charles? And
what
is that smell?”

He stepped back. “Aren’t you happy to see me, Sweetheart? I haven’t seen you in a few days and I have some good news. But if this is how you’re going to behave, I can just go.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired and I wasn’t expecting you to be here. I wish you would’ve called first.” She managed a tight smile and reached for him. “What’s for dinner?”

He gave her a weak hug. “Rump roast.”

She swallowed. “Mmmm.”

He steered her toward the kitchen. “How was your day, dear?”

She felt like June Cleaver.
My day was fine, Ward. And how was yours? Did the Beav get his report card?
“It was all right. Michael wants me to start doing Jed’s books, too. His accountant quit and apparently he’s being audited.”

Charles shot her a look. “Really?”

Her hackles rose immediately. “Yes, really. Why not? You don’t think I could handle that? I’ve done a good job with Michael. I’m ready to branch out, start taking on bigger clients and growing my business.” Had she just committed herself to accepting Michael’s idea just to spite Charles? Well, she also needed the business in the worst way. And with her family acting like she was some sort of pariah for leaving the firm and Charles treating her business like some kind of temporary hobby, it only made her more determined.

Charles pulled the roast from the oven and stirred something on the stove as she sat. “Can we talk about this later?”

She studied the tense line of his back. “No. Let’s talk about this now. Actually, what is there to talk about, exactly?”

He sighed and turned back to her. “Kyle . . .”

She tilted her head and folded her arms beneath her breasts. This had been the unspoken thing that had been brewing between them for months. Maybe he would finally have the guts to say it outright. “
Charles . . .”

The timer dinged on the rest of the meal. His shoulders wilted in defeat. “Can we at least wait until after we eat?” His eyes begged her to relent.

She looked him in the eye for several heartbeats. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” He seemed so relieved, she felt a little sorry for him.

He served their meal and poured her a glass of wine, obviously trying to be a gentleman.

He lifted his glass for a toast. “To us,” he said with a smile. “To the woman I want to be with for the rest of my life and the future mother of my children. And to me, the new Vice President of the O’Neill Accounting Firm.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Well”—he smiled after he’d sipped his wine— “Aren’t you going to say something? Congratulate me?”

“What happened? What about Brad?”

“Brad had to step down for medical reasons.” He thumped his chest. “The old ticker just can’t keep up any more.”

Oh no
. Her father’s successor and next in line to be President of the company was an old family friend. She knew he was older, but she hoped he would be okay. She studied Charles’s self-satisfied face. He looked pleased as punch and not at all concerned with Brad’s health. He was only concerned with his own move up the corporate ladder.

“Well, I’m very sorry to hear about that,” she commented as she picked up her fork and pushed her food around her plate.

“And?”

She glanced up. “But I’m glad that means you got a promotion. Congratulations, Charles. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

He smiled. “Thank you, sweetie. I had my secretary send Brad and his wife a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of Dom Perignon with my best regards today. I hope he received it all right.”

She watched him as he tucked into his meal, but he didn’t notice. Maybe he did care after all. Who was she to judge him for being happy for his windfall? It wasn’t his fault that Brad’s health had failed.

“That was nice of you.”

He shrugged and didn’t bring it up again. After dinner, he somehow talked her into bed, unaware that her emotional resistance was thin or she would’ve probably said no. Charles had never been a great lover. He’d never been horrible, just never great. Just sort of
eh.
She could usually pull out an orgasm. Maybe. But he’d never had a problem, so he was pretty confident in his lovemaking skills.

He rolled off of her with a satisfied sigh.

She stared at the ceiling, feeling vaguely unfulfilled. Visions of strong forearms and colorful tattoos danced in her head. She sighed and rolled over.

“You know”—Charles touched her in the dark—“eventually your father will have to retire as well. Then I’ll be appointed the President of the company.”

“Yes. We’ve always known that’s where things were headed. It’s what you’re meant for.” Even she heard the detachment in her voice.

“I want you there with me, Kyle.” His hand was still on her arm.

She tensed as a sense of unease began to eat at her. “Of course I’ll be there. What are you talking about?”

He rolled away from her and started to dress. “I think you know what I mean.”

She sat up, pulling the sheet to cover her breasts. “No, Charles. Tell me what you mean. Besides being your wife, what more do you want from me? Do you want me to work at the firm with you?”

He shoved his shirt into his pants as she flipped on the lamp. He squinted his eyes against the light and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. “That would be nice for now. This ridiculous excuse for a job you’ve got going now is embarrassing to the entire family. Surely you know that, Kyle.”

Her heart began to pound as frustration morphed to red-hot anger, racing through her veins like lava. “Really?”

His eyes flitted to the engagement ring on the bedside table then back to her face. He took a breath as he bent over and slid on his shoes. “Yes. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be harsh. We’ve all allowed you your time to go
find yourself
, but it’s been long enough. It’s time to come back to the firm where you belong. Then, after the wedding, you can focus on other things.”

Her hands started to tremble and furious tears pricked her eyes. “Other things?”

“Yes.” He seemed relieved that she was finally seeing reason. “Our home. Our marriage.” He sat on the bed and took her hand. “Hopefully, our children.”

Something inside of her snapped. She knew she wasn’t dead, but it was as if her life was flashing before her eyes—the life she had yet to live. The life she was running from. The life she was grieving. She had to act now or be a prisoner to her fate.

She pulled her hand from his grasp with great care. Using all of her will power, she stood, unashamed of her nakedness, and channeled the strongest person she knew.

With a trembling finger, she pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out.”

With a heavy heart, Kyle called Michael to tell him she wouldn’t be able to make it in to the studio the next evening.

“Is everything all right, Miz O’Neill?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She flinched when Jed barked out something in the background. “Yes, Michael. Everything is fine. I’m just not feeling well tonight and I can do what needs to be done here at home with what I’ve got. It’s really not important for me to be there every night anyway. I only come because you insist,” she reminded him.

He sighed. “Yes, I know. I’ve gotten spoiled having you so close by. It makes it pretty darn convenient for me. I’m sorry if I’ve taken you for granted.”