Angelique Rising (8 page)

             
"Darn," she complained to Johnson, "everyone always leaves out the silent 'e' in 'Reising'." She'd toyed with the idea of outright changing her name to 'Rising' but given her rather atypical origins, she thought that might be a bit supercilious. Johnson got her license fixed without even having to go back and stand in line. (Johnson didn't just have "friends," Johnson had friends in the Department of Motor Vehicles and it doesn't get any better than that.)

             
Through the two weeks they dated, Wyatt struggled mightily to keep his hands off Angelique. He'd known from his investigator that her birthday was in two weeks and somehow waiting and bedding a twenty year old sounded light years better than bedding a nineteen year old, a teenager, given the fact that he was twenty-nine. But damn, sometimes the things she said to him didn't sound like any teenager, they sounded mature, wise even, but then he'd have to explain to her what an app was. Totally incongruous. Inconsistent.

             
Exasperating and fascinating.

             
But he could not stop himself from kissing her. At first she was stiff, surprised, but underneath Wyatt could feel the
willing
in her. She improved from stiff to fumbling. And a few nights before her birthday she suddenly let loose and it was all Wyatt could do not to take her on his kitchen countertop.

             
Angelique had been studying him while he'd attended the culinary duty of preparing a lobster salad for them. She'd felt his power and had fought to resist it, but
I like him
had finally inwardly exulted.

             
Sometimes he's difficult, cold, dictatorial, and then he's warm and funny with an easy familiarity. I almost want to show him my secrets. Even when he's scolding me, which is a lot, there's always an element of affection in his voice. His eyes seem to pour a strange safe, protective aura over me, I'm so loopy when I'm with him. So free, which is crazy because he's too possessive, he makes me uncomfortable but then, shoot, I don't want to be anywhere else. I'm thinking I don't have a hope here.

             
The magnetism between Wyatt and Angelique confounded her.

             
She lunged at him in overheated irrational eagerness. Her heartbeat pounded as she took him off guard, her lips fastening on his, he recovered, and he was
there,
the tip of his tongue touching
hers. She felt his arms wrap around her, his fingers digging into her flesh. An electric thrill surged through her, she was tingling, this was so
right!
It was Wyatt who broke it off, breathless, his face crinkling into a smile, warm and appreciative.

             
"If I'd known you could kiss like that," he smiled ruefully, "I'd have kidnapped you off the Gala floor and had you exhausted in my bed before midnight."

             
"I should hope so."

             
"Not until you're twenty, Angelique, it will ease my conscience some." Like he expected applause. His tone was earnest and soft as he pulled her to him in reassurance.

             
"That's too long."

             
"It's three days."

             
"But I'll be in Las Vegas! Will you at least come to my birthday party cruise tomorrow night? I'm taking the
Sunflower
down the river a bit and back. I'll introduce you to Robert, my boyfriend, he's coming."

             
That of course was designed to get a rise out of him, but Wyatt's investigator had been pretty thorough and he knew she had no boyfriend.

             
"I'd be interested to meet him," he said, caressing her face lightly with his fingers.

             
"Okay, he's not actually my boyfriend. He's my former dance partner. He wants to be a movie star so he moved to Los Angeles and got a role in a big movie that's coming out. But he's back visiting his family and he's coming to my party. He," she teased in inscrutable mischief, "is a good kisser too."

             
She got the rise she'd been angling for.

             
"I'll come," he said lured by her appeasement.

             
He already knew he loved her.

Chapter Four

             
Wyatt jumped down onto Angelique's houseboat the last to arrive, just as the dock line was untied and the boat began its soft chugging journey out onto the great empty river. The boat was fairly large as houseboats went and Wyatt saw dozens of partygoers standing about on its decks laughing, smiling (and to a certain extent groping) amidst the glittering party lights that ran all along the boat's railing and high above along the boat's roof. The night air was damp, almost sultry, as the last scent of springtime floated on the breeze and iridescent dragonflies hovered about swaying party lanterns. Wyatt looked up and saw a silhouette in the pilothouse, a tiny room above the second floor, then he went in search of Angelique. He did not have to look however, as she was right inside the door, anxiously waiting for him worried that he had, quite literally, missed the boat.

             
"There
you are," she said in relief, her face alabaster caught in a shaft of moonlight. "I got your cases of wine for the party. Thank you. But I
did
say no presents."

             
Wyatt's mouth twitched in a mock apologetic smile as he glanced about the living room at her guests, all ardently downing his wine.

             
"What makes you think
that's
my birthday present?" he said, holding his hand out to her in a sweet, affectionate gesture. "You look stunning by the way."

             
Before she could respond a man materialized behind her instantly snaking his arm around her waist with the proprietary air of ownership. She startled.
Robert
Wyatt understood at once. The man, Wyatt saw, looked totally L.A., had the about-to-be-movie-star-sure-of-himself easy confidence of mega Hollywood success written all over him. He was young, in his very early twenties, with the kind of onscreen face that made girls swoon, halfway between pretty and rugged. Robert was tall and thin but not weak looking, solid. Wyatt's eyes fastened on Robert's arm around a slightly squirming Angelique.

             
I could take him easily
Wyatt's face flashed in ferocious unblinking stare that with masterful restraint he transformed into a level (and entirely illusory) friendly gaze.

             
"Oh," Angelique erupted obviously surprised by the arm. "Robert, this is Wyatt --I told you about him." Wyatt could see she was trying to angle her body away from Robert's grasp which tightened.

             
He may not be her boyfriend but he sure wants to be.

             
With a benign expression Wyatt knew doomed any introduction, he thrust his hand out to Robert. Robert responded with the big smile treatment but then frowned, realizing the trap too late. He had no choice, he disengaged his arm from around Angelique and shook Wyatt's hand. He turned to Angelique.

             
"Happy birthday, May-May," Robert said holding out the birthday present that had occupied his other hand. "Don't open it here [he gave her a naughty wink purely to pay Wyatt back for the handshake], put it away upstairs in your bedroom and open it later."

             
She hesitated. Angelique didn't want to leave Wyatt and Robert alone together though she couldn't really ascertain why not.

             
"Thank you, Robert, but doesn't anyone pay attention to my no-presents rule?"

             
"No," both men responded.

             
She tutted, took the present, and disappeared up the narrow staircase.

             
"Why do you call her May-May?" Wyatt asked, "Angelique is such a lovely name."

             
"Well, it's the only from-before thing she's got."

             
"From-before?"

             
Robert was gleeful, relishing the moment. Angelique hadn't
told
him.

             
"You don't know what happened to her? I'm surprised,
everyone
knows. You haven't noticed how she's a bit...
unusual?"

             
Wyatt hated having to concede that, no, there was obviously a large piece of information Angelique had not shared with him and his investigator had apparently missed, but Wyatt wanted that information even if he had to get it from Robert.

             
"Apparently not," he said, the cool edge in his voice revealing his irritation.

             
"She was in a car crash with her parents when she was eleven. They were killed and she woke up with no memory at all."

             
"What?"

             
"She has no memory of anything before the age of eleven. Except for one name: May-May. She figured it must have been her nickname so she started using it, but she also looked for it. She finally found it. It's the name of a character in a novel."

             
"What novel?"

             
Robert's face clouded.

             
"She won't say."

             
Wyatt tried to conceal a half-smile; apparently Robert wasn't quite the confidante of Angelique he tried to appear.

             
"So she doesn't remember her parents, her--"

             
"Nope. Nada. Life for May-May began when she woke up in a hospital. That's why she can be a bit
odd
at times. I'm surprised she never confided that to you," Robert said smugly.

             
"Don't be an asshole, Robert, wait'll your movie comes out, then you'll be entitled." It was Anthony, he had joined them.

             
"Ah, Anthony," Robert laughed, "you know I don't have asshole in me. Dork maybe."

             
"Did you bring it?" Wyatt asked.

             
"I sure did and it's gorgeous! She's gonna flip! I hid it upstairs in her closet."

             
"What are you two talking about?"

             
"Robert darling, this
dear
man had me design the most
fabulous
dress in the
universe
for May-May's birthday. It is ahh..." Anthony didn't seem to be able to finish his sentence, unable to find suitable words to adequately describe his creation. "The
beadwork
--"

             
"How thoughtful," Robert said in a voice that suggested anything but.

             
"When she runs it'll be the one thing she takes with her, you watch--"

             
Both Robert and Anthony froze. After a moment of silence, Robert spoke.

             
"Looks like I'm not the only dork here, Anthony."

             
"Sweet Jesus, I didn't mean it. It's just--"

             
"What do you mean 'when she runs'?" Wyatt interrupted.

             
"You said it Anthony, you explain it," Robert said, turning and leaving.

             
"Oh Jeez, Wyatt, me and my mouth. But that's what May-May --Angelique-- does. It's not her fault. You know she was a runaway for years, she told you. The way she survived was to book it whenever she wasn't sure of a situation, or it got in the least bit hinky --not understandable to her. And she still does it. She doesn't try and deal or sort a situation out, she just runs. Like she did at the Gala. And, well, sooner or later chances are that
you
are gonna be a situation."

             
Wyatt thought of her desperate escape from the hospital after she'd saved Cory, and her silent sunrise disappearance from his house.

             
He couldn't have that. She was his. He had to find a way to nail her down. Keep her. And keep anyone else
i.e. Robert
from ever taking her away from him. And from the look on Robert's face as he was so obviously scanning the stairs for her return he needed to do it immediately.

             
"So this is the guy who's making May-May's heart go pitter patter --
finally
,
"
Wyatt heard a velvety voice purr. He looked to his side and standing there was the other woman who had sung at his Gala.

             
"Leave him alone, Lexa," Anthony commanded, "he's not ready for
you
.
"