Earth Angel (3 page)

Taking a last deep breath and clutching one sheet to her, she raced across the open lighted space to the eight-foot-high fence. The barbed wire surrounding the top was not a deterrent. It was a help. She clambered up the fence as best she could and hooked one end of the sheet to the barbs, then leaped down and climbed up to hook the other end. The sheet unfurled in all its glory.

She raced back to her hiding spot and grabbed another sheet. After checking the grounds again, she repeated the process until there were four sheets lined up on the fence, their declarations visible to every car on the freeway.

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief when she reached her car and slipped inside. She started the little Sunbird and took off. When she was safe on one of the back streets of South Philadelphia, she grinned.

Earth Angel had struck. And right on time for rush hour.

“Dammit! Who the hell is this Earth Angel?”

Byrne Wagner pounded his meaty hands on the wood table in Wagner Corporation’s conference room to emphasize his question. Miles winced at the heavy blows, surprised Byrne hadn’t marred the finish.

Catherine, who was seated across the table from Miles, shrugged. “Who knows? The press is clamoring for an answer to those signs, Uncle Byrne. Ted Koppel’s called twice.”

Out of all the Wagner directors called in for the emergency meeting, Miles thought, only she was calm. The rest were red faced with anger and nearly sweating with anxiety.

Byrne’s face turned even darker. “We’re not answering the press on a nut who hangs a bunch of bedsheets on our refinery plant’s fence!”

Catherine smiled sweetly. “Can I quote you on that when I tell them ‘No comment’?”

“You won’t say a damn word, girl!”

Her smile never faltered. “I suggest somebody
say something. Otherwise we’ll be accused of stonewalling in every major city newspaper.”

“Catherine’s right,” Miles said. She stared at him, her eyes wide. He grinned, enjoying her astonishment at his agreeing with her. “That sign was pretty specific in its accusation,” he went on, looking around the conference table. “The swifter and smoother our response, the less credence we’ll give to the Earth Angel, whoever the nut actually is.”

His gaze returned to Catherine. He admired her cool response to the crisis, even as he admired the way her wraparound blouse draped across her perfect breasts. How he would love to undo those buttons at the waist slowly and sensually, allowing the material to fall open … or feel it rip apart under his hands in a frenzy of lust.

That was the problem with Catherine, he thought. Both scenarios appealed mightily. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time for it. Besides, she’d been upset with him last night and he wasn’t certain why. Was it that kiss? He could still taste the sweetness of her mouth, unique and made for him. He had a feeling that that was only part of her anger, though. At least this Earth Angel business gave him an opportunity to find out.

Miles grimaced at the thought of that environmental crazy. He had been dragged out of bed at six that morning by a frantic phone call from Byrne, insisting he attend this emergency meeting. By virtue of Philadelphia National’s financial entanglements with Wagner Oil, he had a seat on the board of directors. Sometime during the night, Byrne told him, someone had hung a homemade sign on their fence. A very big sign that declared to
every car on 95:
WARNING
!
WAGNER OIL IS KILLING YOU BY DUMPING TOXIC WASTES INTO YOUR DRINKING WATER
.
STOP BUYING WAGNER OIL AND STOP KILLING YOURSELF TODAY
!

Byrne was in a panic, and so was everyone else. Miles had to admit it wasn’t the best way to start a morning. Nut or not, if this wasn’t handled exactly right, it could explode in Wagner’s corporate face.

“I don’t see why we have to answer this outrageous allegation,” Byrne said stubbornly.

“Because this company is responsible for the worst oil spill the world has ever seen,” Catherine said.

“That just makes us an easy target,” her father, Gerald, replied. “It’s a ridiculous accusation, Catherine. I just saw a report on TV that the Delaware River is healthier than it’s ever been. So how can we be polluting it?”

Miles raised his eyebrows at Gerald’s lack of support for his own daughter. Catherine wasn’t just the cool one, she was the only one making sense. The corporation needed to respond.

The door burst open, and one of the vice presidents rushed in. “The EPA just called! It’s going to test the Delaware and Schukyll rivers around the plant for violations!”

Everyone groaned.

“Is there any truth to the accusation?” Sylvia asked. She was Byrne and Gerald’s younger sister.

Byrne took a swig out of the antacid bottle by his side, then said, “Of course not!”

“We better hope not,” Catherine said. “Has anybody checked this morning to make sure we’re not leaking crude or by-products?”

Dead silence answered her.

“Have we checked any morning in recent history?” she asked in the driest of tones.

“Well … of course we check the system,” Byrne sputtered.

Miles got a bad feeling as he watched the man glower like a frustrated bull about to charge. It was the same kind of feeling he always had right before the dollar took a nosedive on the foreign exchanges. It wasn’t hard to see why. Allan’s response to the oil spill had been swift and responsible, and because of that, the company hadn’t lost credibility with the public. Sure, it had lost money on the cleanup, but they’d regained the profit structure, and more, the next year. Byrne was about to bungle this one, though.

“We must begin more stringent measures,” Catherine said. “We need to turn the fleet toward double-hulled ships, stop strip-mining, explore other energy resources—”

Everyone groaned again. Miles had a vision of loans and more loans to finance the projects. Loans with
big
interest rates. Catherine was not only stunning, she was a banker’s dream.

“This company had better take a reality check,” she said, rising to her feet. “If there’s twenty years left of fossil fuels, we’ll be damn lucky.”

Voices shouted her down.

“We’re not here to talk about the future,” Byrne said. “We’re here to talk about how we’re
not
going to respond to some nut. All in favor?”

“Now, wait a minute,” Miles exclaimed, realizing Byrne was ramming a vote through.

“Aye!” most of the family called in loud, adamant voices.

“No!” Catherine snapped, her eyes blazing with anger.

She walked out.

Miles watched her go, her slim skirt tight against her hips and thighs. Nobody made an exit better than Catherine.

Catherine shut her office door and finally allowed herself to chuckle.

She’d never enjoyed herself more at a Wagner board meeting, although she had gotten angry at the end. She’d had this argument with them in the past, so their response wasn’t new. Neither was hers.

Earth Angel had certainly stirred them into a frenzy, though. That was a sight to behold, and well worth the risk of putting up that sign. Her uncle had been spitting nails. And well he should, she thought. He knew they were “leaking” toxic by-products into the Delaware, because they did it from midnight to two
A
.
M
. every night. The plant manager had been suspiciously absent from the meeting this morning, and she wished she hadn’t lost her temper before she’d been able to ask where he was. She would have loved to hear her uncle’s answer.

She sat down at her desk, empty as usual, thanks to her uncle. The less the board members knew, the better, was his theory. Most of them liked it that way too. At least Earth Angel had gotten one of them thinking. Bless Aunt Sylvia for questioning her brother. Catherine wondered if she might actually get her aunt’s support in the future. That would be a major miracle.

Reluctantly she acknowledged she had support already from a very unexpected source. She’d nearly fallen out of her chair when Miles had backed her up about the press. Why had he done it? He never did anything unless he had something to gain, so what did he expect to gain?

She didn’t know, and that worried her. Miles worried her in more ways than she cared to admit. Only by sheer willpower had she kept her composure while sitting across from him. She could still taste last night’s kiss, still feel the desire that had surged through her. Her gaze had kept wandering to him during the meeting, and she had to admit he looked good enough to make the cover of
GQ
.

Despite the argument swirling around, she’d been obsessed with wondering whether he wore a T-shirt under his white silk shirt. There had been a dark shadow on his chest, barely discernible but there. She had wanted desperately to unbutton the shirt and discover whether he had hair on his chest or not. Would it be silky or curly? She would have to run her palms across his flesh to find out …

She pushed away the dangerous thought. Miles’s support of her meant nothing. He simply knew it was more advantageous to talk to the press than avoid them. He wasn’t stupid.

Her office door swung open with a bang, and Miles himself strolled in like he owned the place. Her jaw dropped in astonishment.

“Since you barged into my office,” he said, grinning at her, “I felt it only fair to return the favor.”

“There isn’t any secretary here to try to stop you,” she commented, regaining her composure.

“True.” He shut the door behind him. “Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t rate.”

His eyebrows arched. “What do you mean, you don’t rate?”

Catherine took a deep breath. “My work load with research and development has been drastically reduced to twiddling my thumbs all day. It’s tough for a secretary to take dictation on that.”

“I see.” He paused. “You know, if you hadn’t gone off on a tangent, you might have persuaded enough of the board to your side.”

“Is this Corporate Strategy 101?” she asked.

“You need the lessons.” He sat down in the cast-off barrel chair in front of her desk, then glanced around. “Nice office.”

She grimaced. “It’s a dump.”

He stared at her, his gaze seeming to probe through her. She tried to keep her own gaze from wandering. Whatever was under his shirt didn’t matter to her. But looking straight into his eyes was sending shock waves along her nerve endings. The feel of his mouth on hers haunted her. She blessed the desk that separated them. It was an effective barrier—enough to allow her some semblance of control over her whirling emotions.

She forced herself to speak. “Why are you here, Miles?”

“Because I want some straight answers about the EPA testing. Is there something to worry about?”

She tilted her head. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Byrne is drinking Maalox like it’s Perrier. I think there is something to worry about, and I think we’re all going to look like a horse’s
backside because he’s stonewalling the media instead of giving them a direct answer.”

“Then we’re going to look like a horse’s backside,” she agreed. She glanced at his shirtfront, but still couldn’t tell what was underneath. Maybe he wore a Bart Simpson T-shirt. It tickled her to think that possibly emblazoned on Miles Kitteridge’s chest was the legend, “Underachiever and proud of it.”

“Why is there a paper bag by your desk?” he asked abruptly.

She glanced at the grocery sack she used to recycle her wastepaper. “My version of paper basketball.”

“It’s empty.”

“I’m a lousy shot.”

“I see.” He paused, then dropped a major bomb. “Who do you think this Earth Angel is?”

She never moved. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised at the question. But he didn’t know, so she might as well enjoy herself. Smothering a grin, she shrugged casually. “Who knows? A nut, like you said.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I think it’s someone who works here.”

“Here?” Her voice squeaked.

He nodded. “Here at Wagner. Earth Angel might be a nut, but I have a feeling he or she is a knowledgeable nut.”

Catherine waved her hand in dismissal. She’d better get him looking in another direction. “Personally, I think it’s the Green Earthers,” she said, naming the international environmental group. It was the truth in a way, since she was a member.
“They watch Wagner all the time. We’ve been a target of theirs for years.”

“Maybe.” He was silent for a moment. “I also came to apologize for last night. What did I do?”

A million things, she thought. And all of them to her body. “You did nothing. Why are you apologizing?”

“Because you walked out.” He chuckled. “By the way, you did it with great discretion. I don’t think my guests even knew you were angry.”

“I wouldn’t care if they did.”

“I expect not. So are you going to give me a straight answer … or am I to assume the kiss was just too much for you?”

“I nearly swooned, Miles,” she said, grabbing onto the banter. “I just couldn’t be in the same room with you any longer. Otherwise I would have been shamelessly throwing myself at you. Happy now?”

“Thrilled to my toes.” He continued gazing at her, clearly waiting for the real answer.

The real answer was that their values were poles apart, and that would always hinder any friendliness between them. She knew Miles would never understand why the almighty dollar didn’t mean so much to her, and it wasn’t worth the effort to tell him.

She shrugged instead. “My grandfather’s things brought back a lot of memories. I was upset.”

He smiled. “That wasn’t it. You and Allan fought for years.”

“Maybe I was regretting them,” she said, scowling at him. “Not everyone is as coldhearted as you.”

“Then why don’t you try to warm me?”

She barely suppressed a gasp at the erotic images
his words and husky voice inspired. He had ruined her life once, though. She was not about to be tempted into ruining it again. Besides, his heart was a lost cause.

“Thank you, but no.” She rose from her chair. “I have to go, Miles, so could we end this now?”

He didn’t move. “I noticed that you didn’t bring up the missing codicil today. Why not?”

“Were you obsessed with the Twenty Questions game when you were a kid?” she asked, exasperated with him.