Jeopardy (2 page)

She nodded. “Where did he say they were going next? I can’t remember.”

“They’re going to Rome. And he mentioned that you didn’t seem quite with it when you talked.” All at once she understood, and a smile touched her lips. “Ah, okay, now I know what you’re doing here. My big brother asked you to drop by and check up on me.”

“If I was in the neighborhood ...”

She arched her delicate brow, her skepticism clear. “Uh-huh. And DiFrenza’s was in your neighborhood?”

“I needed a tie.”

She had no idea where he shopped, but she knew it wasn’t DiFrenza’s. His style was strictly western, and DiFrenza’s was Boston traditional along with international high fashion. “I don’t see a package.”

“I didn’t find anything I liked.”

“I apologize. I’ll have to have a talk with my buyer of men’s wear.”

“Instead of doing that, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

His voice was soft, low-pitched. She wondered why she felt he had given her an order.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

His gaze didn’t waver from her. She sighed. “Look, I don’t know what time it was in Athens when Nico called, but here in Boston it was midnight and I was almost asleep.”

“Since when have you ever gone to bed before midnight?”

“How do you know what time I go to bed?”

A casual shrug sent the golden-brown material of his western-cut jacket shifting across his broad shoulders. “It’s a guess. Your social life seems too active for you to be getting much rest.”

If she didn’t know better, she would think he had been keeping track of her. It was an interesting thought, but one in which she put absolutely no credence. “Well, you’re right. I don't often get to bed before midnight. But in this case, the trip had left me tired and with a bad case of jet lag. And when Nico called, he got a disoriented conversation from someone who badly needed sleep. Simple as that.”

“Uh-huh. And did you get any sleep last night?” Something darted across her mind and then was gone. Troubled, she rubbed at her forehead. She’d had a dream last night—a bad dream—but this morning she hadn’t been able to remember what it had been about. “Yes, I slept. Some.” “Must have been one hell of a trip.”

He rose and was around the desk before she had time to prepare herself. His nearness was as exciting as it seemed dangerous.

He picked up the wastebasket and fished out four candy wrappers. “Breakfast and lunch?” “Candy is an excellent source of energy.”

“So is a balanced meal and a good night’s rest.” He set the wastebasket down and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The brooding intensity of his gaze had her spine tingling. Amarillo was not a womanizer, she knew, but Caitlin had once told her that women used the word
fatal
when speaking of him. Angelica had long understood how a woman could lose herself and her heart to him. Yet from what she had heard and seen, he never lost anything but Interest where a woman was concerned.

“Come have lunch with me.”

His astonishing request yanked her from her contemplation. She was sure few of his invitations were turned down. If the circumstances were right, she might . . .
No.
Besides, these definitely weren’t the right circumstances. He was here only because he was doing a favor for Nico, and she loathed the idea of being Amarillo’s charity case.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She waved a hand toward her desk. “I have too much work to do here, plus the charity ball at SwanSea is just around the comer. Since Caitlin is out of the country. I’m chairing the event.”

As she spoke, Amarillo studied her carefully. Her dark brown hair shone with health and vibrancy, her skin glowed with its usual luminosity, her brown eyes still held that incredible velvet texture that could melt a man at fifty paces. She appeared perfectly normal. Nico must have reached her at a bad time, he concluded. Other than a mild case of exhaustion, Amarillo couldn’t detect anything that might be bothering her.

Unlike he—who was bothered just by looking at her.

“I read the writeup in the paper last week about the ball and your part in it. Nice picture, by the way.”

She grimaced. She did not enjoy her picture appearing in the papers, though she realized she differed from most people In that respect. “Thanks. Anyway, as soon as I can get things under control here, I’ll be driving up to SwanSea.”

Why did he feel so disappointed that there was nothing wrong? Amarillo wondered, glancing restlessly around the office. The clutter made a perfect setting for her. Silks and satins. High-heeled shoes and pearls. Warm, feminine, mind-destroy-ingly sexy. “How long do you think it will take to wind things up?”

“Not long now that I’m back. I’ve nearly cleared my desk as it is.”

“You have a unique way of working.”

She shrugged, determined not to be swayecLby the hint of humor she heard threading through his tone. Nothing changed the fact that he was there as a favor to Nico. “I suppose I do, but the main thing is I get results. I’m really sorry, Amarillo. Lunch is out of the question.”

“No problem. Well have dinner.”

Despite her intention to keep this sudden new attention of his in perspective, a spurt of excitement shot into her bloodstream. He wasn’t going to let the matter drop. She drew a deep breath and tried again. “It’s very nice of you to come check on me for Nico, but you don’t have to ask me out. As you can see for yourself, I’m fine.” “I’m glad to hear it, but I’m still asking.” He had no idea why he was being so persistent, he reflected with annoyance. He had meant only to drop by, stay a minute or two, then leave. Last night when Nico had called him, he had wanted to go to her immediately. The urge had puzzled him. Nico hadn’t sounded alarmed, just mildly concerned. Still, he reasoned, Nico trusted him to take care of everything while he and Caitlin were gone, and if that included keeping an eye on Nico’s kid sister, so be it. “If you come, I promise you chocolate.”

She laughed. “You sound like you’re bribing me.”

He didn’t even smile, because that was exactly what he was doing. Except, he knew very well she was no longer a young girl to be tempted by a treat. “Come directly from work to my place." He drew a pad and pen from his jacket, scribbled his address on it, then tore the top sheet from the pad and handed it to her. “Seven-thirty all right?” 

She gazed at the piece of paper in her hand. She had always been curious about Amarillo, his private life, where and how he lived, what he did in his spare time. But— “Wouldn’t it be easier to call Nico and tell him he overreacted, that I’m all right, simply overworked?”

“I’ll do that too.”

She shook her head, confused. “I don’t understand why you feel you need to take me to dinner.”

His lips twisted into a wry grin. “Maybe, Angelica, I don’t want to eat alone.”

“But I’m sure there’s someone, a woman, you would enjoy being with—”

“There is. You."

She gazed up at him, trying to decide what to do. All her instincts told her to remain firm. But how did she say no to this man? His jawline looked as if it had been sandblasted from granite; the golden color of his eyes drew, the secrets they seemed to guard enticed.

“Do you already have plans?” he asked. “Did you plan to eat at all?”

“Of course. Amarillo—”

“Give me a reason why not.”

“A reason?”

“Why not, Angelica?” he said, repeating the question. “Why not go to dinner with me?”

The shape and force of the words stirred the air around her. The power of the man overwhelmed her.

She wanted badly to go. One minute she was fighting the urge. The next she gave up with a light laugh. “I guess you’re right. Why not?” “Good,” he said softly. “I’ll see you at seven-thirty.” He bent and drew a computer printout from the wastebasket. “These may be the sales figures you were looking for. Try not to work too hard."

After he had gone, she gazed down at the sheet he had handed her. They were exactly what she had been looking for.

The phone rang. With a soft smile on her face, she walked to her desk to answer it. “Angelica DiFrenza.”

"Be a good girl and mind me. ”

She went motionless at the high-pitched, muffled voice. “Who is this?”

“Be a good girl and stay home, where you belong.”

She slammed the receiver into its cradle. Judith, her secretary, popped her head into the office. “Hi, I’m back from lunch. Is everything all right? That was a rather loud hangup.”

She ran her hand around the back of her neck and eyed the phone with the same distaste she would a snake. “Oh, it’s nothing. Some crank, that’s all. He called me last night too. I think he even said pretty much the same thing.”

And Nico had called immediately afterward, she remembered. Without realizing it, she must have sounded disturbed, and he had picked up on it.

“I don’t like the sound of a crank call. Is there someone we can notify? Make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

She shook her head. “No, no. It’s no big deal. It’s happened to me a time or two before. This guy will get tired of calling me soon. The others did.”

Two

Angelica slid out of her car, locked its door, then paused to survey her surroundings. The address Amarillo had given her was actually a large riverfront warehouse. Her interest heightened. And her nerves worsened.

She smoothed her hands down her slender leather skirt, straightened the matching jacket, and reflected with uncertainty that perhaps she should have changed. She often went on dates right from work, but then, this definitely was not a date—though she wasn’t entirely certain what it was.

Amarillo viewed this night as fulfilling some sort of commitment to Nico. In that light, perhaps she should simply look on this evening as a dinner with her brother’s best friend. A
casual
evening. Yeah, sure.

The rain that had fallen all afternoon had stopped, leaving the narrow blacktopped street slick, mirrored, and surrealistic. Angelica started toward the warehouse. Large windows lined its long side, but the only light she could see was a small yellow bulb over a door. She knocked several times, but there was no answer. Could she be at the wrong place?

Gingerly she stepped into the flower bed, worked her way to a window, and peered in. Large indistinct shapes loomed in the darkness. Startled, she jerked away. She
had
to be at the wrong place. She returned to the light and pulled the paper Amarillo had given her from her pocket.

“Hey, you!”

She spun and saw an elderly woman approaching. The woman was dressed in tan pants, an oversize red flannel shirt, and a brown felt hat pulled down tightly on her head.

“Is there something I can help you with?” the woman asked in a gruff voice. A long, thin cigarette dangled from her mouth, and she carried a brown paper bag filled with groceries.

Angelica held out a slip of paper. “I’m looking for the address written here."

The woman scanned it, then looked back at Angelica. “So you’ve come to see Rill, have you?”

“You know Amarillo?”

“Sure. He’s my landlord." She took a long draw from her cigarette, then nodded toward her grocery bag. “I had to go get some things to eat. Couldn’t stand his nagging anymore. He’s got a thing about regular meals. My own children couldn’t care less what I eat. Fat chance they’re going to get my money. They make pompous asses a fun crowd to hang around with.”

Angelica absorbed this. “Uh, does Amarillo lives here?”

“His place is in the back of the building.” The woman pointed toward the water. “My studio is here in front, facing town. But I don’t care what’s outside my window as long as I’ve got the space I need on the inside.”

Angelica thought of the huge shapes she had seen through the window. “Why is that?”

“I work here.” She put down her bag and held out her hand. “I’m Metta.”

Angelica took her hand as the name tripped something in her mind, but she couldn’t grasp what it was. Her memory was really slipping lately, she reflected ruefully. She hadn’t been able to recall last night’s dream either, but then, she reassured herself, most people didn’t remember their dreams. “I’m Angelica DiFrenza.”

The woman’s face magically cleared. "You’re Nico’s sister! Well, what do you know. And you're every bit as pretty as he said.”

“Thank you. You’ve very kind.”

Metta’s laugh sounded like a bark. “That’s certainly a new and novel opinion. Feel free to come around more.”

“She doesn’t give an invitation like that often,” Amarillo said to Angelica, coming up behind her. “In fact, almost never.”

Angelica turned. In the strange yellow light, his face seemed all angles and shadows, and his golden eyes appeared to glow.

“I was wondering what was keeping you,” he said softly, scrutinizing her every bit as closely as she was him.

She definitely should have changed, she thought. “I wasn’t sure I was at the right place. Metta saw me and—”

"You don’t have to say any more,” he said dryly. “I get the picture. Once Metta starts talking, it’s hard to get away.”

Scowling, Metta bent to pick up her groceries, but Amarillo beat her to the package, lifted it, and handed it to her. “I don’t know why I put up with you, Amarillo Smith. You’re lousy as a landlord. You’ve never once asked me for rent.”

He shrugged. “I keep forgetting.”

“Well, it’s a damned nuisance. Every month I have to track you down to give you the money.” “I’ve told you not to worry about it. ’’

Metta sent a glaring look at Angelica. “You can see the problem, can’t you? The boy doesn’t have a bit of business sense. And what’s more, if I didn’t water the flowers, they would die as sure as you’re standing there.”

“Who planted them?” Amarillo asked, countering her.

“So what if I did plant them? You look at them, don’t you?”

As far as Angelica could tell, Amarillo was totally unfazed by Metta’s fussing. In fact, both he and his tenant seemed to be enjoying themselves . . . immensely.

“Ummph. I’ve wasted enough time talking to you. I’ve got work to do." She inserted the key in her door, then paused to look over her shoulder. "By the way. Rill. I think you’ve finally got yourself a winner.”