Earth Angel (2 page)

She blinked. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t know. She would have to change some major plans for the night if she was to go to his house. And she would have to be nice to Miles. She could do that.

“What time?” she asked.

“Eight. Come for dinner.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed.

Looking at his charming smile and enticing body, she knew being nice was very dangerous. She’d been playing a dangerous game for a while, though. Surely she could handle this one.

“Lettice, of course you’ll come too,” she added, deciding not to be stupid. Besides, she would need the older woman’s help.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Lettice replied, smiling slyly.

Catherine smiled back. Her amusement faded
when she saw Miles’s narrowed eyes. A shiver of premonition ran down her spine.

She had a feeling she would pay for this—in ways she hadn’t imagined.

Dinner wasn’t what she’d thought it would be. It was worse.

Catherine had been braced for an intimate meal. To her own disgust, she had gone through her closet like a madwoman, tossing clothes everywhere and satisfied with none. She’d finally settled on a pale yellow sheath as the best of the worst. Her hair and makeup had gone through several retakes, until she realized exactly what she was doing. Getting pretty for Miles. It didn’t help to know it. And it had been especially deflating when she arrived at his house, only to discover he’d invited several other people, all business associates, including a lawyer whose wife kept giving Miles intimate smiles. The husband didn’t seem to notice, or else he didn’t care.

Catherine noticed. At each provocative look Mrs. Costmeyer sent Miles, an odd flash of jealousy swept through her.

Miles’s response to the woman was distant but polite, yet Catherine couldn’t tell whether he was uninterested or just putting up a front. Had he smiled intimately back when she wasn’t looking? Probably. Still, she would have thought she’d catch him at it at least once.

If she were honest, she couldn’t blame Mrs. Costmeyer for flirting with him. He looked terrific in his black sweater and trousers. The color was
normally more suited to Nordic types, but it only enhanced Miles’s dark looks.

Finally, dessert was served. Catherine took a couple of bites of the strawberry pie, drank her coffee, then patted her mouth with the linen napkin. She wanted nothing more than to get those boxes and get out fast. She’d love to kick Miles for not telling her about his other guests. All that anxiety for nothing. Maybe she’d kick him anyway. She couldn’t believe she’d changed some very important plans for this.

“Did you say something, dear?” Lettice asked, taking her sweet old time with her slice of pie.

“No,” Catherine said, smiling brightly. “Just enjoying the pie.”

Lettice’s gaze shifted to the Costmeyer woman, then back to Catherine in a meaningful expression. Catherine wished she knew what it meant. Maybe Lettice wanted the two of them to take the woman out and shoot her. Catherine smiled. It sounded lovely. And it would liven up dinner considerably.

Miles finished his pie and set down his napkin. “Please excuse Catherine and me for a few minutes. We have some business that can’t wait any longer. Grandmother, will you play host for me?”

“Certainly,” Lettice replied. She turned to one of the guests. “John, how is the market today?”

John Harland launched into what looked to be a long, detailed monologue. Lettice sat back in her chair, clearly settling in for the duration. Catherine rose, grateful to escape. Wall Street had already been dissected twice that night, along with the Hong Kong, London, and Toyko markets. As they
left the room, she tried to ignore Miles’s hand at the small of her back.

“I was ready to dig a tunnel out of there,” he said after closing the door behind them.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having guests?” she asked, stepping away from him. “I didn’t have to come to dinner. I could have just picked up Grandfather’s things.”

“Truthfully, I forgot about this. It’s a pay-back business dinner.” He shrugged. “One of those things where you owe a business associate a meal, even though there’s no business to discuss. I hate them, and I’m very grateful I had you to rescue me.”

“I understand completely,” she said in a dry tone, thinking of the smiling woman back in the dining room. “Still, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you. Which way to my grandfather’s things?”

He turned left. “I put them in the garage.”

He led her through the kitchen, past the catering people, and on into the attached garage. He turned on the light switch, revealing his cars.

Gas guzzlers, Catherine thought disdainfully as she passed a Corvette, a Mercedes, and a BMW. She had given up her own “Beemer” for a nice little two-door compact that got great mileage.

Several boxes sat on a shelf. Miles hoisted one down and set it on the hood of the BMW. Catherine had originally thought just to put them in her car and go home before opening them. Now she couldn’t resist. She whipped open the tucked-in flaps.

The first thing that stared up at her was a picture of her and her grandfather taken when she was twelve.

“Oh,” she said, swallowing back a rush of emotions. “Oh.”

At the sound of her voice, Miles turned around from getting another box. She was gazing at something inside the carton, and to his horror, a single tear rolled off her cheek.

“Catherine.” He put his arm around her in awkward comfort, not quite knowing what else to do. She sniffled. He got out his handkerchief and put it over her nose.

“Blow,” he ordered.

“You blow.” She pushed the handkerchief away, then swiped at her tears. “Really, Miles, it was just a sniffle. You didn’t have to shove the handkerchief in my face.” She paused. “You’re being kind, and I’m snapping. I’m sorry.”

“I understand. Allan was my friend too.”

She smiled slightly, and he sensed she was softening to him a little. That pleased him. He was all too aware of her body close to his. It was as if the air pressure between them changed with each subtle shift and movement. Perfume swirled through his senses, mesmerizing him.

The strong urge to claim her, coupled with an overwhelming need to protect, surged through him. How Catherine provoked that response in him, he didn’t know. He only knew that she did.

“I’m okay now,” she said, and her firm voice shored up his faltering control.

Reluctantly, he let his arm drop and stepped away. Her armor might be back in place, but that didn’t stop what he was feeling. He stared at her in frustration, wondering if she’d ever stop punishing him.

“I only asked you once to go to bed with me,” he muttered.

She stiffened, not looking at him. “My wedding was three weeks away at the time,” she replied in a cold voice.

He grabbed the second box and slammed it onto the hood of the car. “You weren’t married yet.”

“That didn’t mean I was fair game.” She yanked things out of the first box and slapped them onto the hood, half hoping she’d scratch the umblemished paint. “I had a commitment I wasn’t about to break.”

“It was dead in the water before it even got started. Anyone could see that.”

Catherine gave him a glare worthy of his grandmother. He realized he might have gone too far with that last remark.

“I never had any intention to be another notch on your belt,” she said, then added, “Or should we look lower?”

“Be my guest.”

“No thank you.”

He leaned against the car. “What’s the matter? Afraid to find out you’re attracted to me?”

She steadily met his challenging gaze. “I am not attracted to you.”

“Then let’s test that theory, shall we?”

He straightened and pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his before she could protest. He pried her lips open and thrust his tongue inside. At first she resisted as he searched the sweet interior, then her tongue mated with his in a way that sent his mind spinning. The soft wanting of her mouth rocked him. His blood pumped hot and heavy, surging like an unstoppable tidal wave. Her
body fitted perfectly to his, her breasts barely caressing his chest in a slow torture. His fingers tightened around her arms, bringing her closer. The kiss was fiery, filled with every long-suppressed fantasy about her …

She broke away abruptly. He blinked, then grinned.

“So much for your theory about attraction,” he said.

“And I was just thinking that you’ve been without a woman too long to kiss so heavy-handed,” she replied, turning back to the boxes.

He refused to be baited. “I don’t know, Catherine. My tonsils could tell a few tales about that kiss.”

Her cheeks pinkened, and she rummaged more diligently through the boxes.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “I’d be happy to find it again.”

“Why don’t you go see your friend in there, the smiling chimpanzee in heat …” Her voice trailed away, and she began to claw frantically around the items in the boxes. “It’s not here!”

“What’s not here?” he asked, watching as she literally tossed things onto the BMW’s hood.

“The codicil!” she exclaimed, then froze. “Never mind.”

He stared at her. “Codicil? What codicil? What are you talking about, Catherine?”

Her jaw squared stubbornly, then she made a face and sighed. “My grandfather’s codicil to his will.”

“Allan had a codicil?”

“Yes.”

“But why don’t the lawyers have it? The will was read months ago.”

She glared at him. “I know that, and I don’t know why the lawyers don’t have it. He must have put it aside or something, meaning to file it with his own people—”

“How do you even know there is one?” he asked dubiously.

“Because
your
grandmother’s seen it,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. My grandfather had a huge parcel of land in Utah he wanted preserved. He didn’t put it into trust. If I don’t find the codicil, it will be strip-mined.”

“Yes, I know,” Miles said, remembering the original plans from several years ago. “But Allan wanted that—”

“No, he didn’t,” Catherine said vehemently. “The family knows he wanted that land to become a preserve, but they refuse to do it because it wasn’t specified in the will. Wagner Oil wiped out an entire species of sea turtles in that Gulf of Mexico oil spill. Remember the headlines? Not to mention what it did to hundreds of miles of breeding beds and beaches. The destruction changed my grandfather. He never wanted to see such a thing happen again.”

“I remember the spill very well,” Miles said. “Allan insisted Wagner Oil pay for the entire cleanup. It cost the corporation tens of millions of dollars that year.”

She suddenly went very still, and he frowned at the abrupt chill in the air. “Catherine?”

“Thank you for reminding me, Miles. I had
forgotten.” She picked up the framed picture of her and her grandfather. “I’d forgotten a lot of things. And thank you for the dinner. It was delicious.”

She walked out of the garage.

Catherine watched for the slightest movement to indicate the guards making their rounds. They shouldn’t be, but her heart pounded fiercely with every passing second, and her fingers tightened around the bedsheets in a death grip.

She had decided not to do this that night … until Miles had reminded her of who and what she really was. Damn him, she thought. He had given her a kiss that shook her to her toes, then he’d calmly talked about millions of dollars in losses. She had thought for one moment of kindness that he had changed. Now she knew better. Miles Kitteridge would always care about the almighty dollar before anything else. He certainly hadn’t cared about a commitment she’d made to another man. He’d thought it a joke then, and he thought it now.

No integrity.

But she would never forget that night. It had turned her life into a shambles. At the time, she’d been engaged to a man she’d met at law school. After graduation they decided to open a legal aid office for the disadvantaged. Of course, they’d need her money to finance it, but it would be a partnership. He passed the bar exam the first time, but she flunked twice. The next exam was just three weeks before the wedding. The pressure had been tremendous, and not wanting to overstudy the night before the exam, she went to a friend’s party.

Miles had cornered her there. He had touched her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, keeping only a scant inch of air between them in a way that enticed her unbearably. Perhaps she’d always had a bit of a crush on him, and for a few minutes she’d enjoyed the idea that he was attracted to her too. And then he’d lightly kissed her and suggested they leave together. The worst part was, she had wanted to desperately. Somehow she’d resisted, somehow she had gotten away, though not with any finesse.

He had thrown her so completely, she’d gone into the bar exam with him looming in her mind, breaking her concentration. She’d had the worst score recorded in twenty years of testing. Her fiancé had called off the wedding, not wanting to be a “kept man,” even until the next test. The man had been obnoxiously noble.

Miles had ruined her nice, neatly planned life. She hadn’t bothered to try to pass the bar again, but had accepted her grandfather’s offer to work in the research and development department at Wagner Oil. A year ago she’d been granted a seat on the board of directors. And that had been when she really began taking charge of her life again. At last she had a cause worth fighting for. If only she could find that damn codicil.

She wished she’d never said a word about it to Miles. She had a pretty good idea that if he found it, it would stay hidden.

She shook off the distressing thought. If her family wouldn’t honor the codicil on their own, she’d just have to help them along. Tonight was the first in a series of missions to do just that.

And she’d better get started before she chickened out.

Finally satisfied that no guards were checking this area of the Wagner Oil refinery plant, she crept out of her hiding place, keeping to the dark shadows as much as possible. There weren’t many. Floodlights illuminated nearly every cranny of the plant inside the fence and at least two hundred feet on the outside. Cars zoomed noisily above her on the Route 95 freeway. Even at five in the morning, the road sounded busy. She just hoped nobody noticed her for the next few minutes.