Revenge for Hire (The Get Even Agency) (23 page)

Cassidy crossed over to lie on the bed beside her, took Avery’s
hand and pulled it to her chest in a comforting hold.

“Or maybe love is when the thought that you’ll never see him
again hurts so badly that you’d do almost anything to ease that hurt despite
the fact he’s an arrogant, lying jerk.”

“You could see him again,” Cassidy suggested softly.

“It would never work. Besides, he’s sleeping with Mandy.” Her
voice broke. “How could he do that after telling me he loved me?” She twisted
her head to look at Cassidy. “I know it’s insane but this crazy, hopeful part
of me believed him when he said he loved me.” A tear trickled out of the corner
of her eye. “I’m such a fool. I wanted his words to be true.”

Cassidy squeezed her hand. “How do you know they’re not?”

Avery snorted. “Hello, you just told me that he’s spending his
nights with Blow-up Barbie.”

“Do you think it’s possible he figured out Mandy had something
to do with all this?”

“Anything’s possible,” Avery admitted. “He’s an intelligent man,
and she didn’t come across as the brightest star in the sky.”

“Maybe you should give him the chance to choose for himself who
he wants to be with.”

Avery frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Look.” Cassidy rolled onto her side. “You’ve been miserable
since we left New York. You love him, and there’s a chance he loves you, too. Why
aren’t you in New York fighting for him if he’s what you want?”

“I’m TGEA. A relationship would never work.”

“Hello.” Cassidy snapped her fingers in front of Avery’s face. “Listen
to what you just said. We are TGEA, The Get Even Agency. We can do anything we
set our minds to, can have anything we want. If you want a relationship with
Jude, what’s to stop you other than yourself?”

“And what would I tell him I do for a living? We’re not exactly
the Girl Scouts.”

“Tell him the truth.”

“That I’ve been known to get paid to seduce a man back to a
hotel room?”

“Well, maybe not that truth.”

“That I got paid to rip his life apart?”

“Maybe not that truth either.”

“Face it, Cass. None of us can ever tell any man what we do for
a living. To do so would be risking the agency, risking our lives. No man is
worth that risk.”

“Fine. Go to him. If he’s discovered that you weren’t really
sent by a temp agency, tell him our temp agency sent you. Holly will cover for
you, and at least then you’ll know.”

“What will I know?”

“Whether or not he’s worth the risk.”

“I’ve already told you—”

“I know what you told me with your mouth. However, I was
listening to what your eyes were saying.” Cassidy gave a small smile. “There’s
nothing in our agreement that says we can’t decide a guy deserves a second
chance, you know.”

A second chance. She snorted at the enormity of what her going
to Jude would mean.

Fear gripped her that had nothing to do with the risks to TGEA.
Very simply, the thought that Jude would tell her he couldn’t love a woman who
would do such atrocious things to him on purpose terrified.

That he might say he couldn’t love a woman who would bail on
him when his world crumbled around him.

That he might say he’d only used her for sex because she was
unlovable.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fought the demons clawing at her
insides.

Would Jude give her a second chance?

Because when he found out that she was behind the collapse of
his life, he wasn’t going to be happy.

Nor did she feel right going to him while his chips were down.

* * *

Jude kissed the center of Mandy’s palm. She shivered, moaned,
begged him to kiss her more as she arched back against the soft leather sofa.

Damn it. When was she going to tell him what he wanted to know?
He’d been kissing her behind for two weeks. She tossed out just enough for him
to know she knew what he wanted to know. He also knew she was behind what
happened to him on what he’d dubbed Black Friday. Not the thirteenth but damn
close enough.

“I got a call from Hustled magazine today,” he whispered
against her wrist, paying close attention to how her pulse sped up at his words.
“They want me to work for them.”

“Are you planning to take them up on the offer?”

“Sooner or later I have to go back to work.”

“You could come back to Playhouse.”

Jude snorted, then suckled against her pounding pulse. “Simon
would never allow it. Not after I sold secrets to Hustled.”

Mandy wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her
 
barely covered breasts against his chest. “I’ll
talk to him. Tell him you didn’t do it.”

“He’ll never believe you.”

“Come on, love. We both know you’d never sell secrets.” She laughed
against his lips. “Your honor would never let you.”

Interesting that Mandy would believe in his honor and Simon had
been so quick to doubt. Then again, Mandy knew the truth. “Which means someone else
at Playhouse did.”

“Now there’s the beauty of it,” she smiled. “It doesn’t mean
that at all. Just that it looks like someone, you, sold secrets.”

No actual secrets were sold? Did she realize what she’d just
admitted?

“Doesn’t matter.” He kissed her as if he loved her, as if he
were kissing an angel. An angel before he realized she hailed from hell. “He’d
never have me back, and I’d never work for Simon after he failed to believe in
my so-called honor.”

Mandy’s eyes grew big with excitement. “Let’s get married. Then
Daddy will forgive you, beg you to come back to the magazine, and you’ll have
the perfect excuse to accept.”

Not in a million years.

Now there was the beauty of it, his mind mimicked her earlier
words. He didn’t have to marry Mandy, but if she thought he was going to it
might give him the opportunity to nail her behind to the wall and a certain
temp’s right along with it.

“Why would you want that?” he asked, cautiously. “I thought you
liked heading up Playhouse.”

“I do, but we could run the magazine together. You and me,
husband and wife, business partners.” She wiggled against him. “It would be
perfect, love.”

Perfect.

He forced a grin to his face and stared lazily into her eyes. “What’s
in it for me?”

“Me.” She giggled, wiggling more. “A job. Your life back.”

His life back. If he regained his job, his reputation, his
pride, his money, he wouldn’t say his life was back. His life had disappeared
with an angel who wasn’t really so divine.

She had to have been working for the devil he held. Which meant
she’d knowingly used him, set him up, slept with him to gain access to his
apartment to steal the documents—unless she’d stolen them the night he’d had
his allergic reaction. Had she fed him the shrimp dip intentionally? Hell,
she’d almost killed him. His angel was a devil in disguise.

Yet he ached for her. For revenge he kept telling himself, but,
regardless, he ached.

“That thought turns you on, doesn’t it?” Mandy ground her hips against
his jeans. “No need to answer, I can tell.”

“Why wouldn’t I be turned on? I have a beautiful woman in my
arms who’s wealthy, connected, and just proposed to me.” All of which made him
want to puke, but he knew Mandy would only see what she wanted to see on his
face. He’d play his cards right, the only cards he had to play, and he’d find the
truth and Angela.

Then he’d have his vengeance against both the women who’d
screwed him over.

Mandy clasped her hands together. “Your answer is yes?”

He smiled indulgently at her, wondering if this would be what
pushed her into slipping to say something more useful. “We’ll go to Tiffany’s
tomorrow to pick out your ring.”

“Oh,” she squealed with delight. She pulled away, jumped from
the sofa. “This calls for a celebration.” She spun around in delight. “We’ll go
out to Conrad’s and…”

She kept babbling but Jude phased it out. He didn’t want to
listen to who hung out at Conrad’s and who would be wearing what designer gown
and who would—

“What did you just say?” he interrupted her non-stop chatter.

She giggled, rolled her eyes “Men! I said it would give me a
chance to wear my latest Claire Davis.”

Claire Davis. The designer of the gown Angel wore to the
Yamaguchi’s party.

“Didn’t you say her gowns were one of a kind?”

Mandy held a gown up to her. “Oh yes. No two Claire Davis gowns
are exactly alike so there’s never a worry about showing up at a party and
someone else wearing the same gown.”

“She’s that exclusive then?”

Mandy laughed at his fashion ignorance. “She’s to die for and almost
impossible to hire. I’ve got two Claire Davis’s and am on the waiting list for
a third.”

A waiting list? To buy a dress? Jude liked to look nice, but
that was ridiculous. However, for tracking down the owner of a particular green
dress it sounded promising.

“It’s a fair bet this Claire Davis would know who she’s sold
her gowns to?” he asked the question cautiously, hoping Mandy didn’t catch on
to why he asked.

“Absolutely. She keeps meticulous records on all her gowns,
including a photo inventory.” Mandy sighed, in mock sympathy. “There are so
many imposters that she has to help protect her reputation.”

She kept a photo inventory of her creations? Jackpot.

He glanced at his watch. What kind of hours did a fashion
designer keep?

And how was he going to get away from Mandy?

“Can you tell me how to get in touch with her?”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Her eyes widened, and she danced around, her man-made jugs
bouncing beneath the skimpy blouse she wore. “You’re going to ask her to design
my wedding dress, aren’t you? Oh my gosh! Jude that is so perfect. I’ll be the
envy of everyone.”

Huh?

“Yeah,” he agreed. “If she has that waiting list, I should go
ahead and contact her. Otherwise, we might have to wait months and months
before our big day.”

Or more like an eternity because that’s how long Mandy would
have to wait before he’d stand at the end of an aisle waiting for her.

“Good idea.” Mandy pulled the gown back to her and spun. “This
is so perfect. That agency was the best money I ever spent.”

That agency? Jude honed in on her words. “What agency would
that be?” he asked, purposely keeping his voice even.

Mandy’s expression clamped down, and he knew he had her. She’d
finally tripped up.

“The agency that helped me track down Claire Davis, of course.”

Of course. Jude grinned, knowing that he had something real to
go on. Finally.

Mandy rifled through the purse sitting on her dresser and handed
him a business card. “Here’s Claire’s information. I’m sure she’s booked for
months, but perhaps you could sweet talk her into designing my wedding gown?” She
kissed him, cramming her tongue into his mouth. In effort to distract from her
slip up?

Jude endured her kiss and managed not to vomit. Hopefully, he’d
soon be able to tell Mandy to kiss his pearly white cheeks. But not until he
knew what she knew.

And Claire Davis led him to where angels thrown out of heaven
resided so he could toss one particular crooked haloed specimen back to hell.

Chapter Nineteen

Avery leaned against the buttery soft leather limousine seat
and watched the city’s hustle and bustle on the ride from JFK airport to their
New York apartment. Cassidy, Courtney, and Randi sat next to her.

They’d taken on three new marks in the city. Randi planned to
handle two and Cassidy the other. Courtney declared she was attending some
raging warehouse party one of her Hollywood friends told her about.

Really they were there to support her. She knew it. They knew
it. It’s why she loved them.

She did love them. Love being an emotion inside her that meant
she’d sacrifice her life and own happiness in return for their safety and
happiness, individually or together. The wonderful thing was they loved her,
too.

Which was why they were here.

To make sure she followed her heart.

To Jude.

Because at some point during that crazy week she’d fallen in
love with him. Not lust. Not infatuation. Love.

Sure, the idea that a part of her happiness lay in Jude’s
happiness scared her. Avery didn’t want to rely on anyone. Relying on others
meant losing control. But she’d learned to rely on the TGEA girls, and she
trusted them explicitly.

That trust had never been betrayed and gave her confidence.

She loved Jude enough to offer him her heart, to give him the
opportunity to love her in return if he so chose.

It was insane. Probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done,
but here she was in New York planning to see him.

She hadn’t worked out the details on how yet, but Randi
restored his account, removed all evidence of monetary transfers. They’d been
in touch with several media contacts. One of which planned to run a television
interview with Jude, allowing him to reveal his side of the story, to restore
his reputation.

Her biggest hang-up was figuring out how to be honest with Jude
without taking a chance of Randi, Courtney, and Cassidy being hurt. Risking her
own heart and life was one thing, risking the girls’ was another altogether.

“You’re doing it again,” Cassidy warned, holding Payback Puss
in her lap. The cat had a travel carrier, but hated it. The moment they’d
gotten into the limo, Cassidy had taken the cat out of the pet holder.

Avery looked from Cassidy and Randi who sat across from her to
Courtney who sat next to her. “What?”

“Thinking too hard.”

As if sensing the need within Avery, they locked hands in their
special hand shake. “All for one, and one for all.”

Payback Puss meowed.

Avery smiled at her family. Regardless of what happened with
Jude, they would stand behind her.

Randi’s cell beeped.

“That’s Claire Davis’ ring,” she said, pulling the phone from
where it was clipped to the inside of her waistband. Randi had a different ring
programmed for each person who had her number. She pressed a button on the side
of her phone to up the volume so they could all hear, then answered, “Hey girl,
what’s up?”

“I have a persistent gentleman here who would like to know who
I sold a particular green gown to and if I know who she might have loaned that
dress out to or if I sold it to someone possibly going by the name of Angela
Greene.”

“Holy
crapola
,” Randi said, holding
the phone away from her ear. “Did y’all catch that?”

All three women nodded. Avery bit into her lower lip. Jude was
at Claire’s? He was really looking for her? Why? For revenge or love?

“What should I tell Mr. Layman?” Claire asked.

Randi looked at Avery. “What do you want me to say?”

Avery took a deep breath. “Tell him the owner of the dress will
be at,” she named the twenty-four hour bagel shop where they’d shared
breakfast, “at eight tonight. If he wants to see her, be there.”

“Meeting on neutral ground?”

“Well,
at least there will be witnesses if he attempts to kill me.”

Courtney’s face darkened. “I’m packing. You want me on
stand-by?”

Avery rolled her eyes then stared at Courtney’s skin-tight
black leather pants and top. She didn’t even want to know where her gun was
hidden.

“No.” If wanted, Avery could take care of herself. Without a
gun. It wasn’t physical injury she feared, more the emotional onslaught Jude
had the power to deliver. “If he strangles me, it’s nothing I don’t deserve.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Courtney disagreed, looking
protective, while Randi finished her conversation with Claire.

She clicked the phone shut.

“Claire’s going to tell him. She said he refused to leave until
she gave him the name of the person who bought the dress, which is why she
called.”

“What did she tell him?”

“She put him off until she called. I told her to tell him the
truth. That she delivered the dress to Angela Greene at Playhouse Magazine on
the night of the Yamaguchi’s party.”

Avery nodded. “Fair enough. Is Jude going to the bagel place?”

Randi shrugged. “She’s going to tell him. My guess is he’ll be
there. Why wouldn’t he after all the trouble he’s gone to track you down?”

Nausea crept up the back of her throat. In a little over an
hour she’d see Jude and reveal her most personal secrets.

Jude pinched a piece of silver silk between his thumb and
forefinger. What was taking so long?

The tall thin woman who looked like she should be modeling
clothes rather than designing them stepped back into the open work room where
he’d confronted her about the green gown.

“You’re in luck.” She smiled, her crystal aquamarine eyes
staring at him curiously. “I was able to reach my client. She okayed my giving
her information to you.”

Jude tried not to act surprised, but he was. No way was it
going to be that easy.

“I sold the dress to Angela Greene and had it delivered to her
at this address,” she handed him a piece of paper with Playhouse magazine’s
address neatly written on it, “on the evening in question.”

Another dead-end. He’d known this was too easy.

“Wait, you spoke with her? The woman you delivered the dress
to?”

“Not directly,” the designer admitted, staring at him. “But she
was with the woman I spoke to.”

“We’re talking about the same woman? Tall, statuesque brunette
with amazing green eyes and a killer bod?”

Claire Davis gave him a patronizing look. “The woman I sold the
dress to has eyes that are a beautiful shade of green that perfectly matched
the dress I designed.”

The dress had perfectly matched Angel’s eyes.

His heart strummed to life like the engine of a race car, loud
and ready to race. “Tell me how to find her.”

“Pardon?” Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “I don’t reveal my
clients’ private information.”

“Name your price.” Jude pulled out his wallet and tossed a
stack of bills on a worktable. “I need to find her.”

“There’s no amount of money you could pay me that would cause
me to give you that information.” She narrowed her gaze. “Take your money. I
don’t want it. However, you’re in luck because the woman you’re searching for
plans to have bagels at eight.”

When she said the name of the bagel shop, Jude knew she really
had talked to someone who knew Angela, if not Angela herself.

“Bagels at eight, huh?” Finally, Mandy had given him useful
information and he might be getting somewhere. Might be? He was. Every fiber of
his being hummed with life. He’d see his Angel tonight. “Anything else?”

“No.” Claire’s lips clamped closed and he got the impression a
crow bar wouldn’t be able to pry them apart. Stubborn woman.

Jude nodded his appreciation and turned to leave.

“Take your money,” Claire said from behind him.

“Keep it.”

“No. Take it. I won’t accept money for doing as my client asked.
It wouldn’t be right considering.”

“Considering?”

The woman’s expression closed down again. “She did me a favor
once. A favor that saved my life in many ways.”

A favor? He wanted to ask more, but Claire Davis wouldn’t tell
him more if he begged. No matter, he had what he came for.

If Angel didn’t show, he’d pay Miss Davis another visit.

* * *

Jude arrived at the bagel shop early. Way early. He wouldn’t
risk her coming and going prior to his arrival.

When he got there, he immediately spotted a woman with lush
silk spilling down her back. She couldn’t see him, not with her back to him, but
she sensed him standing there because she stiffened. He waited to see if she’d
turn to look at him.

He didn’t need her to turn to know it was Angela. His skin
prickled with excitement, and his gut twisted. He wouldn’t even try to describe
what the floppy organ in his chest did.

He took a step in her direction and had to reach out to steady
himself. Damn it. His legs wobbled like a newborn foal’s.

Anger surged through him. She’d left him, used him, destroyed
him. He knew it was true. He shouldn’t be so damned affected by her nearness.

When he stood a mere five feet behind her, Angel turned. Her
guilty eyes met his.

“Jude,” she whispered.

“So you do remember me.” He hadn’t meant to be sarcastic. Hell,
she looked so good. Just being close to her made him want to grab her and beg
her to never leave him again.

Right after he choked her for whatever role she played in all
this.

Three weeks of dealing with Mandy had been worth this moment.
 

Angel laughed nervously. Why was she nervous? Unless she had something
to be nervous about. Like helping Mandy set him up.

Which, of course, she had.

“It would be easier if I didn’t.”

“Easier in what way?” He slid into the booth, not bothering to
ask her permission. Before the night was over he was going to do a lot of
things. With or without permission.

She fiddled with the Styrofoam coffee cup in front of her. “Don’t
you want something to drink?”

To drink?

“No, damn it. I want to know why you disappeared out of my life
without a trace?”
Why you set me up for the worst fall of my life?

She winced. “Apparently not without a trace. You’re here.”

“Only because Mandy prattled on about Claire Davis, and it hit
me that—”

“Speaking of Mandy,” a fake smile curved her lips, “I hear
you’re an item again.”

“You hear,” he stopped. He’d been about to say wrong. “More
about me than I’ve heard about you,” he said instead.

“You’re sleeping with her.” It wasn’t a question, more a quiet
accusation.

“So what if I am?” he asked, his pride demanding salving even
if the truth was he hadn’t had sex with anyone since he’d been with the woman
sitting across from him. “You walked away without a word. Who or who I am not
sleeping with is no longer your business.”

Angel snorted, glanced away from him. “Fine.”

“
Fine?”he
pushed, liking that she
fought to contain her emotions. He knew she did. He could see the dam building
waiting to burst just beneath her surface.

“Fine that you are moving on with your life.”

“That’s what you wanted me to do?”

She stared at a spot on the table, then met his eyes. “I would
prefer you not to be having sex with another woman.”

An honest answer. Surprising. “You expected me to wait around
forever when you disappeared off the face of the earth without so much as an ‘it’s
been nice knowing you’?”

“It’s only been three weeks, Jude. I’d hardly classify that as
forever. But then, you are the man who breaks his own vows not to have sex
because you can’t keep your pants zipped.”

“I was drugged.”

“You can’t prove that.”

Jude blinked. He’d been referring to allergy medicine.
She
wasn’t
. “What did you do? Slip me some type of rape drug?”

“No.” But she bit the inside of her lip and wouldn’t meet his
eyes.

“You did,” he said, astounded by her guilty expression. “You
slipped me some type of Mickey and then you had sex with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “We didn’t have sex that night so get over
it. I didn’t rape you.”

“I remember having sex with you.”

“You remember dreams. You dreamed we had sex, but other than
while you were awake, I didn’t lay a hand on you.” She grimaced. “Well, my
hands, but nothing more. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I was sleeping next to you,” she reminded, sounding more and
more frustrated as she gripped the coffee cup. “Curled against you, but we
didn’t have sex. Not even when you repeatedly tried to seduce me did I give in.
Not after I’d drugged you with more antihistamines.”