Nobody's Angel (14 page)

With a few calls they located Headley's latest hangout at a country-western club on the north side. After paying a ransom to retrieve the car from the parking garage, Adrian eased into rush hour traffic and turned north.

“Stupid urban assault vehicles,” he muttered as a Rover nearly took off their fender while changing lanes. “Their drivers need the monsters to protect them from their own incompetence.” He slammed the VW's brakes as another SUV ran the red light in front of him.

“Well, we can all hope that driving like that, they'll eventually turn the top-heavy things over and be obliterated. My personal preference is for a dash-mounted laser gun that will disintegrate them without littering.”

Adrian cocked one eyebrow but didn't remove his gaze from the road. “Bloodthirsty sort, are we?” She'd removed her jacket, and the top button of her tailored silk shirt had come undone. With her miniskirt riding more than halfway up her thigh, she looked better than sin, Ben and Jerry's cherry-cream-cheese ice cream, and pure gold all wrapped in one.

“Only when tired,” she admitted, tucking her shoeless feet under her. “I don't miss this traffic at all. From now on I'll always live close to where I work.”

“Even if you have to live in slums?” he asked in disbelief.

She shrugged. “What's more dangerous, a slum or this traffic?”

He grunted in acknowledgment. “You're not what I thought you were.”

“You thought I was a thief and a cheat and an embezzler.”

“I thought you were a rich bitch who wouldn't give up her lifestyle at the cost of others. I still can't figure out what the hell you are. Why haven't you called the cops or knocked me over the head and taken the keys and got the hell out of here?”

She'd like the answer to that question herself. Crossing her arms, she glared out the windshield. “I ought to, but Tony's treated you worse than me, so maybe I feel like I owe you.” Or maybe she'd developed a fascination with raven-haired men with rings in their ears. Or her hormones had riddled her brains with holes. Anything was possible.

He turned the wrong way down a one-way alley, cut through a parking lot, and emerged a few blocks from their destination. “One of these days this town will learn to build cross streets.” He downshifted and parked without acknowledging her response.

So he didn't like accepting help from a woman. Big deal. She didn't have to live with him. Slipping on her shoes, she opened the car door without waiting for him, and took off across the parking lot. Adrian was beside her within a few steps. He loomed over her, every bit the protective male as he took her elbow and steered her toward the corner.

“I intend to pay back every penny,” he said abruptly as he held the restaurant door for her. “And you can have free legal advice for the rest of your life.”

Faith flashed him a look of disbelief, then almost laughed out loud at the fierce look of determination on his face. He really,
really
didn't like taking help from a woman.

They brought Headley a barbecue sandwich along with sandwiches for themselves and slid into the booth across from him as the DJ spun an old song about taking a job and shoving it. Peanut shells crunched beneath their heels, and Faith observed the empty stage with professional interest. It was wider and more crowd accessible than the one she used. She could walk out in the audience when she sang—

“Joining us anytime this evening?” Adrian asked wryly, shoving a beer into her hand.

She popped back into the moment and smiled sheepishly at the old man across the table. “Hi, Headley. How you doing?”

“Bored with retirement. Bored with city life. Watcha doin’ exciting?”

It was apparent the old reporter had already drank his supper, but he held his beer well. Interest was bright in his eyes as he looked from Adrian to Faith. Headley had befriended her after she'd brought him the pages from Tony's ledger, but she hadn't tried to keep in touch with him any more than with anyone else here since she'd left.

“Adrian here thinks he was framed and that I can help him out of it. Heard any rumors that might be relevant?” Faith said, putting down the sandwich and sipping her beer. After the hot barbecue, she could use it.

Headley raised his shaggy gray eyebrows and bit into his sandwich before answering. He took his time thinking about it, then shook his head as he finished chewing. “Can't say that I have. Tony's plane crashing was a nine-day wonder a few years back. There was some speculation at the time, people wondering if he could be as innocent as he claimed, or if he'd taken the money and run, but that's about the last of it. You've probably heard all that before.”

She'd left before she heard that, but she could imagine the way tongues wagged.

“The prosecutor would have gone after Faith to get the money back if he'd had any evidence against Tony,” Adrian interjected. “So that was gossip and nothing else. If you've not heard more, then they must consider the case closed.”

The bar was dark and about half full. The canned music provided just enough background noise to prevent anyone from hearing them, not that anyone was close enough to hear, Faith observed.

She tried to still her tapping toe and realized both men were looking at her again. She sighed in exasperation. “Look, I don't know the law, I don't know the case, and what little I do know—Tony—is dead. What do you want from me?”

She knew the instant the gleam appeared in Adrian's eye that she'd said the wrong thing. His half-lidded gaze dropped
to her breasts, and she wanted to kick him under the table. He had no right to look at her like that. She'd done nothing to encourage him—except look at him the same way. Sticking out her bottom lip, she blew an annoying strand of hair from her face and glared at him. “One word out of you, Adrian Raphael, and I'll teach you that trick I told you about.”

He grinned in blatant male admiration. She was used to Artie's adolescent looks of longing and the catcalls from a drunken audience. She wasn't used to a predatory gleam in a handsome man's eyes. In business suits, she aspired toward mousy, so men seldom looked at her twice. Her stage persona wasn't her, and she considered the looks she drew there as impersonal. There was nothing impersonal about the heat of Adrian's gaze.

“I'll let you teach that trick to the district attorney when we find the evidence.” Smooth and seductive, his voice rumbled close to her ear.

“Not to put a crimp in your style, Quinn,” Headley interrupted, “but you might want to talk to the D.A.”

Adrian scowled. “You realize Tony insisted I use the ‘Quinn’ on letterhead instead of ‘Raphael’ because it sounds less ethnic?”

Headley shrugged. “It's your name, don't knock it. The D.A.’ s office will have more facts than I do.”

Tearing his gaze from Faith, Adrian sipped his beer with an air of annoyance. “I won't give those bastards the time of day. They looked at the color of my skin, looked at the color of Tony's money, and decided the case there and then. I want my license back just so I can run this case through the court and show them up for the asses they are.”

“Your skin is brown,” Faith pointed out prosaically, buoyed by the alcohol she didn't usually consume. “If I remember rightly, the D.A. suns himself at the country club and is browner than you are.”

Headley chuckled.

Adrian scowled. “Did anyone tell you that you have a smart mouth, Miss Hope?”

“Did anyone tell you that you have a chip bigger than Everest on your shoulder, Mr. Raphael?” she replied sweetly. “Want me to knock it off?”

“Knocking it off is an excellent idea, children,” Headley remonstrated. “You can fight it out in bed, but have pity on an old man and put a lid on it in public.”

Reddening to her hairline, Faith sank back in the booth and wished she hadn't finished her beer. Adrian's maddening grin told her what he thought of Headley's idea.

“Miss Hope has some energy she needs to work off on the dance floor,” Adrian commented, sliding from the booth and hauling Faith after him. “You know where to reach me if you think of anything else that can help us.”

Headley nodded and did nothing as Adrian dragged Faith to the nearly empty dance floor.

“I don't want to dance with you,” she muttered as the DJ purposefully started a slow song, probably after some unseen male signal from Adrian. Despite her protest, her body lined up with his as if they were made to go together. A shiver shot up her spine from the point where his hand rested.

“Maybe you don't want to dance with me, but you're practically vibrating with the music.” He shifted her closer, spun her around in a tricky step, and moved them across the empty floor with expertise. “Either that, or with nervousness, and I can't imagine why you'd be nervous.”

She heard the self-mockery in that last. They both knew why she should be nervous about him. He was not only desperate and unpredictable, but they had another night ahead of them, and they were both starved for something they shouldn't have. She'd never dated much, had known only one man, but Adrian left her with no doubts as to her desirability in his eyes.

She had to remember who he was, what he wanted, instead of responding to his physical grace and those soul-dark eyes burrowing into her. Lots of men had wide shoulders, narrow hips, and taut abdomens. What the hell was she doing looking at his belly anyway?

She could feel it pressed against her, along with another
pressure she didn't want to acknowledge. She pushed away a step, and he let her. She missed the contact.

“I'm not nervous, just anxious,” she said tartly, hoping that would end any speculation on his part. “I need to get back to my shop.”

“Yeah, and I need to get my life back.”

Fortunately, the music changed to a faster beat. He danced a two-step just as easily, and now she couldn't avoid looking at his chest and all parts south. Biting her lip, she tried to focus on his face, but the taunting quirk of his mouth and the hungry look in his eyes didn't help matters. Through his gaze, she was aware every time her hair brushed her shoulders, knew how her blouse gaped slightly to reveal the curve of her breasts if she straightened, knew what happened when she moved her hips instinctively to the music.

By the time the music changed to another slow song, she was tingling in places she'd forgotten existed, and she nearly melted into his arms. Grateful for the crowd forming on the dance floor, she said nothing, just clung to the strong arms enfolding her while she pretended none of this was happening. She ought to pull away, but it had been so long.…

He smelled of the hotel soap he'd used to shower this morning. He hadn't shaved, and his beard stubble grated her cheek as he leaned down to her, but she hadn't felt a man's beard in ages, so she absorbed the texture without complaint. She had to stop this, knew she had to stop it, but a little voice in her head kept whispering it was just one more song.

The crowd formed into a line dance, and Faith saw how the other women laughed, flirting, trying to catch his attention, but Adrian's gaze never left her. She'd never had that kind of male attention before, and her insides contracted with the power of it. If he'd concentrated on his law practice as he focused on her, he must have been one hell of a lawyer. Tony had never looked at her that way. Ever.

One dance blurred into another, but she no longer noticed the music or the crowd building around them. Her world consisted of the muscled arms holding her, the desire in the gaze
of the man watching her, the way their bodies moved as if of one accord. She could dance like this forever.

Until they reached a frenzied beat that imitated the urges driving them, and the rocking, swinging, swaying motion of hips and torsos burst the bubble they'd hidden behind.

Muttering a curse, Adrian caught Faith's elbow and dragged her into the darkness behind towering speakers. Without a word of apology or explanation, he grabbed her waist, hauled her against him, and sucked all the breath from her lungs with just one kiss.

A kiss, a simple, mindless kiss. She'd never been kissed like this before. Her mind exploded, her hands grabbed his shoulders to prevent sliding to the floor, and her mouth fused irrevocably to his. She felt his muscles bunch beneath her hands, tasted the taut narrow line of his lips before they parted and his tongue seared a path to her soul. Not a kiss, then, but a conquering invasion and a claim of ownership against which she had no defenses. None. She drank the sharp tang of his beer-flavored breath and rejoiced as long, skillful fingers slid to cup her breasts.

Her gasp at the contact undid both of them.

Wordlessly, Adrian dragged her back to the booth where they'd left Headley. He was gone. He gestured for the waitress, who hurried over to assure them the bill had been paid.

Without explanation, he steered Faith out the door into the darkened street.

She'd played with fire and now she didn't know if she would go up in flames or internally combust. Adrian gave her no signal but merely opened the car door and all but flung her in. She slid into the seat and watched in silence as he started the car and would have peeled rubber from the tires as they left the lot, had the engine possessed that much power.