An Angel for Emily Read online

  “Like you?” she hissed. “You’re wanted by the FBI and you have, or, I guess, had an ex-wife who was trying to kill you.”

  “Neither of those things were caused by me.”

  “That’s true, isn’t it? You’re just an angel. An angel who interferes in my life until I have no life.”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what? From whom? What I want to know is who’s going to protect me from you!” With that Emily turned and started to walk away from him.

  He caught up with her. “Where are you going?”

  “To the dance floor.”

  “No you’re not,” he said as he caught her arm in a firm hold. “I can’t let you go out there in this state. There’s no telling what you’ll do out of sheer defiance.”

  “ ‘In this state?’ ” she quoted. “Are you calling me hysterical?”

  “I’m saying you’re different tonight. I don’t know if it’s the dress or the rubies but I think you want to do something bad. Or maybe not bad, just…”

  “Naughty?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

  “Yes, that’s the word.”

  “I do want to do something…something outrageous. This is my one and only night to be Cinderella and I want to dance at the ball. Is that so difficult to understand?”

  “Of course not. All right then, let’s go. I believe I can—”

  “Don’t do me any favors. I can find my own dance partners.” But when Emily tried to move, he blocked her way onto the dance floor. “Would you please move?”

  “No, I will not. I don’t know what’s come over you tonight but I think you should change your thoughts. Maybe this party is overwhelming you.” Abruptly, he stopped and stared at her. “Emily, you look like you’re about to cry. Should we go home?”

  Truthfully, Emily’s tears were of rage. This could be her one and only chance to dress like this, to attend a party like this and he was not going to take it from her. She glared up at him. “You don’t mind if I go to the rest room, do you? Or is that too exciting for boring little me?”

  “No, of course not,” Michael said and he had that universal look that men have when they have no idea what they’ve said or done that’s wrong. “I’ll wait here for you,” he said, giving her a weak smile.

  Once in the rest room, Emily tried to calm herself. Did everything have to be a disappointment? She’d loved Donald, only to find out that he wanted her for something other than what she thought. She had come very close to falling in love with Michael, but she knew he wasn’t hers and never would be. And now she kept thinking, after he left, what was she going to do?

  “You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” said an older woman sitting beside Emily at the long marble-topped dressing table. She looked as though she’d been to a thousand parties like this and now found sitting in the ladies’ room more interesting.

  All Emily could do was nod as she reapplied lipstick. She was afraid that if she said anything, she might burst into tears. Her night of adventure was being taken from her. What was she going to tell Gidrah? That she left the party an hour after they arrived?

  “Is that big hunk scowling outside yours?” the woman asked.

  “Want him?” Emily snapped back, making the woman smile.

  “That bad, huh?”

  More than anything in the world, right now Emily wanted another woman to talk to. “He’s jealous,” she said, instantly falling into that camaraderie women often share when they will tell a stranger their most intimate secrets. “He put me at a table in the back and won’t let me dance with anyone or even to talk to anyone else. Except to some ancient old man who wants to tell me of all his good deeds.”

  “You ought to get away from him. I had a boyfriend like that once and he wanted to lock me in an ivory tower.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Got away from him long enough to interest another man. With your face and figure you could get any man you want.” She took a pair of glasses from her handbag then leaned forward to look at the rubies around Emily’s neck. “And, honey, with those things you should be able to get the attention of any man in the room.”

  “Really?” Emily asked, feeling a bit better. “Who’s the contractor who builds for Wentworth and Mortman?” Emily knew she’d hit pay dirt when the woman drew in her breath sharply.

  “You do like to start at the top, don’t you? He’s David Graham.”

  As Emily touched up her lipstick again, she tried to sound nonchalant. “Tell me, are any of those three married?”

  The woman looked at Emily with new interest, seeming to appraise her. “Look, honey, let me give you some advice. If you’re going after any of the Lethal Three you ought to know something about them.”

  Leaning forward eagerly, Emily said, “I have all the time in the world and I’d love to hear everything.”

  Smiling in a way that let Emily know that the delight of the woman’s life was gossip, she opened her mouth to speak, then had to wait while another woman came in, used the rest room, washed her hands, checked her makeup, then left.

  “All right, there are three of them and each is unique, or at least different from each other. One is a wolf, one is a nice guy and the third is shy, never married. Keeps to himself. But all three are sharks when it comes to making money.”

  The woman took a deep breath, glad for the eager audience Emily gave her. “The shy one doesn’t say much but when he talks people listen. He loves money, has every penny he ever made. He’ll love those stones you’re wearing. No one knows much about him—could be gay for all any woman knows about him.

  “The nice man is a real barracuda. Smiles as he’s foreclosing on widows and orphans. After a meeting with him you leave smiling and it’s hours later that you realize he’s taken everything you own. He’s had three wives and is looking for number four. But I warn you that there are hundreds of applicants to be number four even though the first three wives got not a dime out of him.

  “The wolf has never married either. Instead he leads women on, makes them think he’s about to propose then one day he doesn’t call. No reason and no guilt. He’s a cold bastard. I’ve heard that two women have committed suicide after being dumped by him.”

  The woman lowered her voice as she heard laughter just outside the door. “The three men are always together. The women they date—if they do—change and if a woman so much as breathes a word of complaint because she has to share her breakfast table with the other two, she’s likely to find a dear Jane letter the next day—if she even hears from the bastard ever again, that is.”

  Abruptly, the woman stopped, checked her makeup and looked as though she were about to leave.

  “But which man is which?” Emily asked.

  Standing, the woman smoothed her skirt which was a gorgeous opalescent white satin. “I can’t give away all my secrets and that one’s for you to find out.”

  “Are you trying to win one of these men?” Emily asked, thinking that a woman her age wouldn’t have a chance.

  But the woman didn’t seem to think that Emily’s question was an impossibility. “No. I got a new husband last year. He’s eighty-two so I think I’ll wait this one out. Where’d you get those blood drops? Inherited?”

  “Uh, yes,” Emily lied. But then she did receive them indirectly from a person long deceased.

  “Well then, go for Wentworth. He likes people to think his father plays polo.”

  “He doesn’t?”

  “It’s a secret but his father buys and sells slums. Those stones will impress him.”

  Light was coming back into Emily’s eyes. A few weeks ago she’d thought of herself as nothing but a boring little librarian but now that there was a chance for a bit of an adventure, she wanted it. Maybe Michael was right and this dress and the rubies had transformed her. “But what about…?” she said, nodding toward the door.

  The woman opened her purse, took out a vial of pills then shook out three. “