Her hand tucked in the crook of Brian’s arm, Angela felt a bit like a princess out of a fairy tale. She glided with him down the wide, graceful staircase that ended in a brightly lit atrium outside the large ballroom. A few partygoers, all decked out in their best holiday finery, were gathered at the doorway. In the center of the group stood a tall, athletic-looking man wearing a white tuxedo with tails, a bright red cummerbund and a red top hat. Laughter and Christmas carols wafted from inside the room.
They reached the bottom of the stairs where Brian came to a stop. When she looked up at him, he was watching her so seriously that she had to ask, “Are you okay?”
While they had been training Jasper yesterday, he had told her that his sight had reduced to such a degree that he felt as though he were looking through a straw. At the time, she had expected him to be more dejected, but he’d been matter-of-fact, just as he’d been any time his sight loss came up. The one exception had been that day in his kitchen. He’d been in her prayers since then asking, among other things, that he find his way toward God where he’d also find comfort.
“Great,” he said, returning her attention to the present. “Plus, the prettiest woman here is with me.”
“You can’t know that.” She felt her cheeks heat. “We haven’t been inside yet.”
“I know that,” he insisted.
“Thank you.” She wished his thinking she was pretty wasn’t so important to her. “You clean up pretty well, yourself.”
That was an understatement. His black tux made him look as though he’d stepped off the cover of GQ. She was proud to be with him.
What a heady thing this was. Brian’s attention and care to detail had begun with the gorgeous wrist corsage he’d given her when he had picked her up. She had resolved she wouldn’t get carried away. This was business, since he had used his sight loss as the reason for her to accompany him. Just business.
She caught a whiff of the roses in the corsage, their crimson color nearly the same shade as the cranberry pashmina she had splurged on to give her plain black silk dress some holiday flair. Carried away? Oh, but she was. A Cinderella at the ball, expecting the clock to strike midnight at any moment.
“Shall we do this?” He squeezed her hand and winked at her.
“We’ve come this far,” she murmured.
He laughed, his tension gone, at least for the moment, and led her toward the group gathered in front of the ballroom door.
“Brian, it’s great to see you,” said the man in the white tuxedo, his French-Canadian accent filled with pleasure. “One of the joys of retirement, no? You can be here with a pretty woman on a Friday night instead of preparing for the big game.” He shook Brian’s hand, then let it go, taking Angela’s and smoothly continuing, “You, lovely lady, can do so much better than this man.”
Brian reclaimed Angela’s hand and introduced the man as Oliver Kamenski, then added, “Don’t let the accent fool you. Ollie is—”
“Charming,” Oliver said while Brian said, “Dangerous.”
Angela laughed. “I can see you’re both right.”
“A diplomat,” Oliver said. “And a pretty one.” He slapped Brian on the back, pointing them toward the expansive ball room. “I will talk to you later, my friend, after you have opened your checkbook and spent all your money.”
In contrast to the bright atrium, the lights of the ballroom were turned down to enhance the decorations, which were tasteful and lush. Items up for auction were expertly illuminated. A jazz quartet in one corner provided live music, loud enough to add to the festive flair, soft enough that people didn’t have to shout over the music.
“This is as dark as a tomb,” Brian grumbled next to her.
She squeezed his hand. “Actually, it’s beautiful. It looks like a Victorian Christmas.” Looking around, she softly said, “A gorgeous blonde is making a beeline toward us.”
“Brian,” the woman called, her smile as bright as her voice. “Oliver said I’d just missed you, so I had to come looking.” She kissed him on the cheek, then offered her hand to Angela. “I’m Thea Kamenski. Did this lug tell you that he’s the first person we met when we arrived in town?”
“He didn’t,” Angela admitted.
“This is Angela,” Brian said.
“It was right after he bought that wonderful house of his and the only furniture was a sixty-inch big-screen TV. We all camped out on the floor in sleeping bags and had a grand time. It’s nice to see Brian dating again.” Her gaze lit on someone coming toward them, then she gave Angela air kisses on each cheek. “There’s Larry and his wife. I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk later.”
Angela looked back at Brian, Thea’s statement echoing between them. Dating again?
As if discerning her thoughts, he said, “I suppose it would be very bad form right now to tell you I’d been engaged until a few months ago.”
If they had been romantically involved, he was right. But, since this was business…Except, she finally acknowledged, it didn’t feel like business. She hadn’t had butterflies like these in forever. And no date had ever been more attentive than Brian was being right now. Worse, she had no idea what to say to put herself and him at ease.
“Anyway, it’s over.” He handed her the program he’d been given when they came into the ballroom. “You can help me decide what to bid on.”
That didn’t sound quite like a man who was glad that his engagement was broken, which left her wondering about the nameless fiancée. She had no time to dwell on that, however, since a distinguished-looking man was greeting Brian. She missed his name in the introduction, but gathered that he was the president of the National Milk Association. He and Brian chatted a moment before they all moved on.
They traded pleasantries with numerous people from the entire spectrum of Denver’s elite—wealthy businessmen, professional athletes, a hometown entertainer and elected officials, including a U.S. senator. As they wandered around the room, Brian kept hold of her hand, introducing her as though she was important to him. His generous inclusion of her made it too easy to imagine she wasn’t simply visiting his life, she was part of it.
He passed right over the sports memorabilia display, but not before she caught a glimpse of his donation to the cause, an autographed football and helmet in a display case. After Brian told her he wanted to find a piece of glass art for his grandmother, Angela began pointing those out for him. By the time they had completed the circle and been guided toward the seating for the banquet, he had written down bids for several pieces. Included in his bids was a large vase that contained exquisite glass flowers imbedded within the design. Another item was a glass poodle prancing through a cobalt-blue paperweight. Each object was worth thousands of dollars.
They had just sat down when Angela looked up to see Andrew Brogg advancing on them with a photographer in tow.
“Mind if we get a photo?” he asked, motioning for the photographer to take the picture before they could respond.
“You remember Andrew Brogg,” Angela said, since the man hadn’t stayed in one spot long enough for Brian to focus on him.
“He remembers me,” Andrew said tightly. The hostility in his tone made Angela look more closely at him.
“Nice to see you, too,” Brian said with a slight nod.
She had been around Brian enough to recognize his game face—the mask he wore when being in control was everything to him.
Andrew pulled out the chair next to Brian and sat down. “Anything for the record?”
“Oliver Kamenski has put on a great event and I hope he raises a lot of money,” Brian said.
Andrew leaned closer. “I was talking about the charges of assault that Tommy Manderoll filed against you. Anything to say about that?”
The only sign of tension in Brian was an imperceptible tightening of his fingers around hers. The venom in Andrew’s tone had Angela baffled. He acted as though Brian had somehow personally offended him, though neither of them had given her a bit of indication they were acquainted. Clearly, they were.
When Andrew looked at her, she realized that hostility was also directed at her. “Now why would an ex-boyfriend of yours be tangled up with your new boyfriend? It’s one of those stories that ought to be on the front page of a tabloid.”
“That’s where you usually find the lies.” Brian’s tone, like his expression, was bland.
Angela waved a hand. “That whole thing of interviewing me for a feature about Guardian Paws—”
“There will still be a feature.” Andrew looked at Angela, then back at Brian, nodding as though he’d figured out something. “You know, I just keep connecting the dots. Here’s your new boyfriend, the one who evaded rumors for years about supplying steroids to his teammates. And then, there’s that kid who was arrested a few weeks back for peddling drugs before it was all hushed up and swept under the rug. What was his name?”
Angela had the feeling Andrew knew, but he was clearly enjoying his little drama.
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah. Ivan Fletcher, the kid who spends all his time at the Beanstalk Gang. Now, I can’t help but wonder if he had anything to do with the vandalizing of your place last week. Any comment about that?” His sharp gaze returned to her. “And then there’s your ex-boyfriend, and if there ever was a junkie he surely is.”
Angela felt ice replace the blood in her veins and her lips go numb at the mention of Tommy. Andrew was right. Tommy was a junkie, but how could Andrew have known that?
“I think you’re done here,” Brian softly said, steel lacing his voice.
“Not quite.” Andrew’s gaze hardened, pinning her in her chair until he looked back at Brian. “Did you know Angela and I had dinner a couple of weeks ago? A nice one, too. Of course, my pockets aren’t as deep as yours.”
Stung by the accusation, Angela said, “You know that was a business meeting—”
“Do I?” He shrugged, then stood. “I don’t usually ask the subjects I’m interviewing to dinner. And you told me that you weren’t dating Ramsey, but here you are, holding hands.”
When she would have pulled hers away, Brian’s grip tightened.
“Like I said, you’re done here,” Brian said.
“And if I’m not, you’ll take care of me the same way you handled Tommy Manderoll?” Andrew stood and carefully slid the chair back under the table. “I have to hand it to you, Angela. You must be something to have Ramsey and Manderoll both fawning over you.” When Brian surged from his chair, Andrew grinned and stepped back. “No need for the caveman act. I’m going.”
A thousand thoughts churned in Angela’s head as Brian sat back down, once more taking her hand as if to reassure them both. Andrew knew Brian and, for some reason, clearly hated him. And she’d been a pawn to get closer to Brian. She had no doubt that Andrew was working on a feature, but instead of appearing in the Family Living section of the paper, he was aiming for something bigger.
Her drug-related conviction, Tommy’s intrusion into her life and the troubles with the Beanstalk Gang had undoubtedly provided Andrew with the dots he’d mentioned. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was trying to prove they were involved with drugs.
The whole thing made her head pound. The sweet butterflies that had been in her stomach earlier were now replaced with a swarm of wasps stinging the inside of her chest. Would she never be free of her past?
On that thought, she looked up and found Brian’s gaze on her.
“Brogg has been on my tail for months. Anything he said to rattle you was to get a rise out of me.”
Much as Angela appreciated that Brian was trying to reassure her, she was positive her conclusion was right. Given Andrew’s dislike of Brian and her own felonious past, why wouldn’t Andrew think they were selling drugs? The only thing she was positive about was that any involvement with her could only spell trouble for Brian’s work with the Beanstalk Gang.
She couldn’t do that to Brian.
She met his gaze once more, and he smiled. “I don’t believe a word of what he said about you, you know.”
“I know,” she somehow managed around the fear choking her. Remembering she’d felt like Cinderella when they had arrived, she knew the clock had struck midnight and the fairy tale was over. She had to make sure Brian wasn’t hurt by any connection with her.
The thought broke her heart. She loved this man. How could she have been so blind not to have recognized it until this minute? Not once in her whole life had the flood of emotion been as strong as it was now. She wanted a life with him. More, she wanted what was best for him, and that wasn’t her. A lifetime of images that would never be flashed in front of her, powerful in their loss.
Oh, God, she prayed. Help me be strong enough to do what’s right.
“Got any more nose candy for me?” Andrew asked Tommy right after their coffee was delivered. They were sitting side by side at the counter of a diner a few blocks away from the Beanstalk Gang offices.
The effects of the beating that Ramsey had supposedly given Tommy were still evident, a purple and green bruise running along the length of his jaw line. Tommy looked at him sideways. “You know we’re not gonna do that right here.”
Andrew nodded. “I know. I just need to know you’ve got it.” He hoped he’d placed the right inflection in his voice to sound needy, like he was worried about withdrawal.
Christmas carols played through the sound system, and silver garland had been hung on the wall across from them. Next to him, Tommy fidgeted, and when he looked at Andrew, his pupils were pinpoints. For the kind of information Andrew wanted, it would have been better if Tommy hadn’t been strung out—it would be easier to convince his editor that his information was accurate if his source was sober. But, on the other hand, since he was high, Andrew could play that to his advantage. The other time he’d met with Tommy, the man had been full of himself, bragging about his connections and his big plans. What Andrew wanted was for Tommy to implicate Ramsey. And now that Andrew knew Angela was their likely go-between, that was looking more positive by the minute.
Tommy took a sip of his coffee, his attention on the pie display behind the counter. “Yeah, I’ve got it.” When the waitress came back, he said, “I’d like a piece of that cherry pie. With ice cream.”
After she had served Tommy and moved away, Andrew cleared his throat. “That deal you were telling me you had going with Angela London—how’s that coming along?” So far, Andrew had only Tommy’s word that Angela was bankrolling some big deal that he had going. Tommy hadn’t been subtle about the deal—he was setting up a distribution network, and he had his eye on the Beanstalk Gang. Since Andrew was convinced Ramsey was using the place as a front, he figured Tommy was simply a small-time player who wanted to be something more. If it helped Andrew prove his case, he was happy to let Tommy think he was the one pulling the strings. If he could just get the man to give him some cold, hard facts, not just innuendo…
Tommy polished off the pie and took another sip of coffee before looking at Andrew. “You asking as a reporter or…”
He shrugged. “Just want to make sure I can depend on you for the stuff.” Andrew turned his gaze inward to make sure he wasn’t making eye contact with Tommy. In actual fact, Andrew had never used and never would. However, making Tommy think that he did was worth it if it nailed Ramsey. Plus, there was the matter of Angela London. He didn’t buy her woman-reformed act, convincing as she had tried to be.
“I saw her last night at a big shindig downtown,” Andrew added. “And she was on Brian Ramsey’s arm. She didn’t look much like a woman with business on her mind, if you know what I mean.”
Tommy was silent for a moment, then turned to Andrew with a gleam in his eye. “She’s just doing her thing. Working the rich crowd, just like she’s been doing for me for years. You should have seen her in action when we were doin’ Aspen a few years ago. She was something.”
“So Ramsey is an investor in your—”
“He’ll come around,” Tommy said. “Angela will make sure of it.” He swiveled on his stool so he was facing Andrew. “You’re not asking all these questions for a story, are you? You’re being on the up-and-up about wanting a reliable source for the stuff, right?”
Andrew nodded. “A reliable source. That’s exactly what I’ve wanted all along.”