The Bovine Connection (33 page)

Angelica looked at Michael and took a deep breath. It was too late, she was in love.

A
ngelica struggled to open her eyes. The room was blurry. She felt dizzy as she tried to move her head and rise from the bed. Angelica sighed as she managed to slightly open her eyes. She sat up on one elbow and continued to push herself upright. The room began to spin and she wondered if she’d been drugged. Angelica felt her heart race as panic seized her entire body. She slowly lifted her legs from her bed while making out just enough of her surroundings and recognizing her cream duvet. Angelica, slightly wobbling back and forth as she planted her feet firmly on the floor. She looked up and saw a figure standing in front of her. Her head was heavy, trying to drop forward. Angelica managed to hold it up just enough to see a man with a black crew cut and a black suit glaring blankly at her. Reluctantly, she extended her hand out toward him, causing her to sway back and forth, and then collapse back onto the bed into a sedated sleep.

“Angelica, wake up! Can you hear me? Angelica, wake up!” Angelica opened her eyes to see Michael leaning over her. Her head felt as heavy as the kettlebell she used at the gym. “Michael, yes, I’m awake,” she whispered. “How long have I been asleep?” Angelica glanced over and saw the time was twelve twenty-two.

Her bedroom was lit up by the morning sun. “I can’t believe how tired I was… felt as if I had been drugged.”

Angelica peered up at Michael, “Did you just wake?”

“No, I have been awake for a while. I decided to let you sleep in, so I headed out to the corner café for coffee and a newspaper. I brought you a few things back. Hope you like éclairs. The lady in line behind me said they were the best in town.” Michael gazed tenderly into Angelica’s eyes as he stroked her pink cheek.

“You had me worried… wasn’t sure if you were breathing for a minute there.”

Angelica slowly got up from the bed to reveal the curves of her nude body. She gracefully raised her hand to her head to sooth a slight headache thumping at her temporal lobe.

Angelica noticed her clothes from the night before scattered about the floor. “Maybe it was the wine and Scotch,” she thought aloud, applying more pressure to her temple.

“You should eat something. I’ll go start your coffee,” Michael announced, as he bent over and picked up her bright pink lace panties and pink sweat pants. “And you really shouldn’t wear these around me.” He winked, teasingly, as he tossed them onto the bed. Angelica smiled and nodded as she walked to the bathroom. “I better shower. I have a meeting this afternoon. Oh, I almost forgot… when is your flight to New York?”

“It’s at four o’clock.” Michael appeared disappointed.

“Michael, I don’t want you to leave.” Angelica pursed her lips as she pouted.

“Do you have time to grab lunch?” Michael asked.

“Yes, perfect… we’ll have lunch before you leave… I know a great place!” Angelica smiled before she turned to step into the bathroom.

“You’re like a little girl sometimes… It’s cute. Who would have guessed you were such a softy?”

Angelica looked back to meet Michael’s eyes and grinned sheepishly, forgetting her headache for a moment. “Last night was nice,” she mused, before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Nice? Just nice?” Michael murmured as he tilted his head and scratched it.

M
ichael opened the restaurant door and allowed Angelica to step in first. With the lunchtime rush well underway at La Bistro in D.C., the trendy hotspot was busy with professionals.

Still fighting a slight headache, the clinking of glass was annoying her… Determined to enjoy her time with Michael, she tried to ignore the subtle thump in her head and smiled graciously.

La Bistro was known for its sophisticated cuisine, with black tablecloths, brown and terracotta brick walls, and an open ceiling exposing the beams and piping, painted black. The atmosphere provided a perfect setting to bring Angelica back into the swing of things.

Michael handed his small duffle bag to the woman at the hostess stand. “Do you mind holding this for me?” he asked. The woman smiled and took the bag, placing it out of sight behind the stand.

Angelica watched as a curious thought occurred to her. “Is that all you’re taking to New York?” Angelica asked, as they were being lead to a table close to the bar.

“Heavens no, I have clothes at my loft in Midtown.” Michael chuckled just as the server approached in a white apron to announce the specials for the day.

“Manhattan?” Angelica uttered, surprised.

“Hello, my name is Winton and I will be serving you today. Have you dined with us before?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Michael looked up at the server and smiled politely, oblivious to Angelica staring at him curiously. “Winston?” he asked inquisitively. “No, I have not.”

“It’s Winton,” the server said politely..

Michael nodded. “Interesting name.” He smiled and then looked at Angelica.

Angelica managed a smile as she peeled her eyes from the side of Michael’s head and glared up at the server, still digesting Michael’s revelation.

“Yes, quite frequently,” she replied business-like.

“Well, I’m sure you will not be disappointed sir… Our specials today are duck burger with thyme aioli and Boursin cheese. I would personally recommend the herb and Dijon roasted chicken with lemon chicken stock reduction, garlic spinach and potato puree. And last… but not least, if you are in the mood for fish, we have a delicious pan-roasted lemon sole with champagne citrus puree and roasted fingerling potatoes… my favorite.”

As soon as they made their decision, Michael looked at Angelica with a sneaky smile. “Should we have a glass of wine?”

Angelica grinned, thinking about her ambush on Chairman John Kaye. “With the day I have ahead of me… I probably should. Yes, I’ll have your house Pinot Grigio.”

“I’ll have the same,” Michael said, as he handed the server the menu.

“So you have a place in New York? That’s certainly more convenient to D.C. than Montana,” Angelica stated, her mouth pressed tight.

“Yes, you should come to New York.” Michael said over the muffled conversations in the background.

“Yes, maybe I should. Of course it will depend on the story as to when.” Angelica’s face softened as she raised her brow.

“When is the deadline?” Michael asked, half-jokingly.

“Oh, there’s no deadline for this story… it’s quite unique,” Angelica said, as the server sat down the thin wine glasses of Pinot Grigio.

Michael stared at Angelica and thought how exquisitely beautiful she looked in spite of everything she had been through.

“What? You have that look again,” she laughed nervously.

“You take my breath away, Angelica.” His eyes were intense. Angelica glanced down shyly.

“Breathe Angelica,” Michael said playfully. Angelica looked up and smiled sincerely. He had a way of making her feel pouty.

“Last night before dinner I mentioned that people don’t want to know the truth,” Michael set his glass down. “Well, at dinner you made a valid argument.” He looked her straight in the eyes.

“Yes, however, some of that was the alcohol talking. I tend to ramble after a few glasses.” Angelica grinned.

“Well, I think people should voice their opinion - even if that opinion differs from everyone else’s.” Michael lifted his glass and took a sip of his wine.

“Yes, I agree.” She thought for a moment. “I will admit however that my opinion has gotten me into a bit of trouble at a few dinner parties.”

“You’re a paradox!” Michael mused, while taking a bite of his Sole. “I understand how stubborn and closed-minded people can be, but it’s just ignorance and fear. Don’t let them take your spark and your desire to find out the truth -- no matter how unpalatable it might be for this insecure world we live in.”

Angelica lowered her chin as her eyes rose to his. “I’d felt lost for a long time, you know, wondering why my father left. Once I got to D.C., I shed all that baggage… Know what I mean? I focused on college and my career.”

“Yeah, I do,” Michael whispered, his eyes sincere.

“Now I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore – it feels as if I’m lost again… I dread the late hours of night… I don’t know where that came from, sorry… too deep.” Angelica rolled her eyes and glanced away, embarrassed. Michael frowned sympathetically.

Angelica took a breath and leaned back.

Michael glanced down and then back up to meet Angelica’s eyes. “So why did you become a journalist?”

Angelica thought for a moment. “Investigative journalism is like surfing. You rush in and catch the wave, and while riding it… you let go of your inhibitions to experience the excitement… and then you glide into the shallow waters. That is, if you’re lucky and get ahead of the wave. Then you rise up from the sand as the tide attempts to pull you back. You then sit patiently on the shore, and look for another wave to ride.” Angelica laughed. “One of my many dumb analogies. I guess the simple answer is – It’s exciting, never boring.” She gleamed.

Angelica noted Michael’s smile was different, his eyes indicated his desire for her. He looked as if he wanted to ravish her, and she felt that if no one were around, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

Michael took the black napkin from his lap and dabbed at the corners of his month. “So the implant – how are you feeling about that? That has to be one of the main reasons you have been questioning whether to continue with the story. I don’t know but if it were me, I’d seriously consider walking away after removing a thing like that from my arm.” Michael appeared worried. His forehead crinkled.

Angelica knew he was not so subtly trying to convince her to give the story up. “The implant only validates why I have to continue,” she said confidently.

Michael shook his head as Angelica moved forward and raised her elbows up to the table, while cupping her hands under her chin. “I’ve been contemplating how I am going to write this story. First, the cattle mutilations, and then some type of hybridization program… and now different groups of ETs and implant devices… the KGB and ‘The Tomb of the Visitor’… a whole group of crazies disappearing off a tour bus in the desert… and let’s not forget there’s some billionaire lunatic running around,… seriously… what the hell? Where does one even begin?” With a look of bewilderment, Angelica laughed and rubbed her fingers across her eyebrows before lowering her hands feeling a rush of anxiety.

“Do you want my observation?” Michael said dryly, rubbing his chin.

“Yes,” Angelica raised her eyebrows in surprise as if he were going to bring it all together, all at once.

“You shouldn’t do the story… It’s affecting you, maybe in an unhealthy way,” Michael’s lips closed into a flat line. He raised his eyes and observed her reaction.

Angelica felt disappointed. Her shoulders dropped. That was not what she wanted to hear.  Angelica gave up and changed the subject. “So, what type of business do you have in New York?”

“I thought I had told you. I’m a private equity investor.”

“Oh! I thought you were a photographer, for some reason. I thought that was why you traveled.” Angelica tilted her head. “You’re not the billionaire I am looking for, are you?” she asked jokingly, appearing slightly startled.

Michael responded quickly, through a laugh, “Hell no, no billionaire… wish I were one! Photography is a hobby,” he replied.

“Oh, I assumed with all the photos,” Angelica sensed the conversation had taken an awkward turn. “I jumped to that conclusion and underestimated you. Not that photography isn’t a great career. I should have asked. Well, that explains your house…” Angelica felt she was stumbling over her words, conscious of how rude and materialistic her comment must have sounded. “It’s just so lovely and…”

“Yes, thank you,” Michael said. “I’ve been quite fortunate in my career - to have made connections with some significant intellectual capital over the years. Okay, enough about business, let’s make the most of the time we have together,” Michael said as he grinned.

Angelica noticed his perfect white teeth and sexy smile, her favorite features of his. She shifted anxiously in her seat as she took a bite. She continued to watch his mouth as he took a sip of his wine. He was amazing… the perfect man, at least, in her eyes. There would never be a loss of desire for him. The sex was amazing… and great conversation, she thought. But she questioned how she had become so close to him while never asking what he did for a living. She wondered if she was losing her head too quickly with Michael. As she stared blankly at her wine glass, Michael noticed her worried expression, he sensed she was starting to pull back and interrupted her thought. “I know this must be difficult for you… It is for me, as well. We live very different lives. I have been known to take things for granted in the past; however, not this time.”

Angelica still appeared concerned so Michael moved his arms across the table and took Angelica’s hand. He rubbed softly at the creases in her wrist. “We just have to be careful not to ruin this amazing connection.”

Angelica leaned back hard in the chair and took her napkin from her lap to dab her lip.
“What did he mean by that?”
she wondered, inwardly irritated.

“Just enjoy the moments as they come. You know what I mean.” he sat back confidently. Angelica wasn’t sure what he meant, but she nodded anyway.

Michael continued softly… “Journalists are skeptical by nature, which is smart… While no one should just dive in head first, there are a lot of different variables here. If we open our hearts and move forward as if this is a very special, deep connection… that is evolving, we’ll stay in a healthy place. I see a future with us, Angelica.” Michael’s eyes were soft and sincere.

“Yes, I agree,” Angelica released the breath she was holding. She understood what Michael was trying to say, and she was getting a strong feeling that she had finally found her perfect man. He was handsome, intelligent, driven, and probably just a little bit crazy, she concluded.

“I’m going to miss you, Michael Anderson,” she said, straight-faced, with deep soulful eyes.

“I’m going to miss you, too, Angelica Bradley,” he said in a deep breath.

Angelica was relaxed after finishing her Pinot Grigio and taking the last bite of her lunch. Their presence together at the familiar bistro was utterly romantic, a sensation she had been without for far too long. There was no lack of passion between them, and a continual flow of deep conversation, but she knew from experience that too much passion could also cause big problems.

Outside La Bistro, Angelica stood with Michael at the valet stand while he waited for the cab to take him to the airport. Michael put his hand on the back of Angelica’s neck and pulled her in closer to him. She leaned in meekly and absorbed the intense desire exchanged between them as he softly kissed her forehead.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the world right at this moment.” Michael grinned and pressed his palm firmly around the back of her neck.

“Well, you are,” Angelica whispered.

Michael laughed and squeezed her tightly. “Just stay safe, baby,” he whispered as the cab pulled up to the curb.

The valet walked over and opened the passenger door, “Your cab, sir,” Michael tossed his duffle bag in first, then stepped in, and before closing the door said, “How could we ever get bored? Bistro’s, bovine blood, billionaires… and the next time we meet… breakfast in bed. Talk to you soon, beautiful.”

Angelica raised her hand and nodded before he shut the door. She was watching his cab drive off when her cell phone rang. Angelica saw Gail’s name on the caller ID. “Hey Gail?” Angelica was still watching Michael’s cab round the corner.

“You owe me big time, girlfriend. I got some information for you that is going to rock your world! I got a name for you! The billionaire’s name is Francis Giano. Apparently, the government is cutting back on space exploration… budget cuts… NASA’s shutting down space programs right and left. Strange, huh?”

“Yes, that is odd, considering the fact that the Ways and Means Committee would have a significant hand in these cutbacks,” Angelica interjected, listening intently as she walked on the sidewalk toward her townhouse.

“Now here’s where it gets interesting… The International Traffic and Arms Regulation prevents companies from exploiting in space. That is, everyone except for the billionaire, Francis Giano.”

“How did you find out who he was?” Angelica appeared perplexed.

“I did some digging. You and Carl aren’t the only ones with sources.”