Five
Unconsciously Angela started to lean toward Bryce. Then she realized what she was doing, and she jerked her hand away, blushing. She could not imagine why she had acted the way she did. She was too honest to pretend to herself that there had been nothing sexually teasing in her touch. She didn’t know why heat had risen in her when she took Bryce’s hand or why she had felt impelled to stroke his palm. But she had seen the reaction in his eyes, had felt it in herself, and she knew that she was playing with fire. The other night should have taught her something, she knew; she was not naive or stupid. She had invited Bryce to dinner because of the upwelling of guilt and embarrassment in her for the way she had treated him when she was younger, not for any ulterior sexual motive. Surely not. Her motives had been perfectly innocent, even when she picked up his hand to read. Hadn’t they?
She wondered what Bryce thought of her. She had sensed that he had been about to kiss her. She supposed she could not blame him if he had thought that she wanted him to. Perhaps he had even assumed that that had been the reason for her invitation. She sneaked a look at him.
He didn’t appear angry. He had drawn back and was watching her without expression. Perhaps she was wrong and he had not meant to kiss her at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I’m sure you must think it’s foolish. It’s just something fun to do at parties and things, anyway.”
“Of course.”
Angela felt terribly self-conscious. She looked down at her hands and searched her mind for something to talk about, something that had absolutely nothing to do with sex.
Finally Bryce spoke, and she sagged a little with relief. “Tell me something.”
“All right.”
“Precisely why did you see fit to play those jokes on me fifteen years ago?”
“Oh.” Angela could feel the heat of embarrassment rising in her face again. This was not a subject she relished talking about, either. “Well…” She drew a deep breath and let it out. “Frankly, I resented you.”
Bryce’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Are you joking?”
“No. Why would I?”
“But why would you have resented me? You had everything. A beautiful home, great parents, money, looks.”
“Looks!” Angela chuckled. “I wore braces and had wild red hair that stuck out in all directions and I was chubby.”
“The potential was there—the smile, the eyes.”
“Perhaps. But I definitely felt like a perfect mess.” She shrugged. “I resented you because my parents liked you. You were like them. You understood them, and they understood you. I was such a disappointment to them, and I knew it. I couldn’t be like them, and yet I felt so bad and guilty because I couldn’t. So I took my feelings out on you. That’s why I tormented you.”
Bryce stared at her blankly. “Why? I don’t understand. You weren’t a disappointment to your parents. How could you have thought they liked me better than you? You’re their daughter. They love you.”
“Oh, I know they love me,” Angela said with a grimace. “And we get along pretty well now, since I’ve made a success of my business and I can talk to them about things like profit margins and sales figures and all. But I was never like them. I think my mother looked at me the same way that mother duck must have looked at the ugly duckling—where did this kid come from? How can she be mine? What am I going to do with her?”
Bryce smiled fractionally. “I think all parents feel that way sometimes.”
“Not sometimes. Always. I was a changeling in that family. My sister was just like Mom and Dad. She learned numbers almost as soon as she learned words. I don’t mean just knew the names of the numbers… she understood the concept. She could do addition and subtraction before she started school. I was never even in the advanced math class. Jenny was the model student. She listened in class, did her homework, finished her tests before anyone else. I was a straggler, a daydreamer, a talker. All I was really interested in was recess and summer.”
Bryce chuckled. “Your daydreaming paid off well for you.”
“I know. I can look back on it and see that, but it doesn’t change how I felt at the time. Stupid and weird, a cuckoo in the nest.”
“And you felt I was trying to take your place.”
Angela nodded. “It was childish. But there you were, talking their language, understanding them, shining for them. And there I was, the kid who never thought in clear, straight lines, who never came up with the practical solution to anything. I was the kind who’d make up these crazy, convoluted inventions that would take twice as long to do something than if you just did it normally.”
“I wasn’t really trying to take your place, you know,” Bryce said softly when she paused. “I was just trying to make one of my own.”
“It is childish to continue holding a grudge.” Angela smiled at him. Strangely enough, she felt something almost like friendship toward Bryce at the moment. Even though they had been on opposite sides of it, they had shared an experience. And he was being very understanding, even compassionate, about it, something she never would have dreamed of the man who had always seemed to her to have the emotions of a rock.
She stuck out her hand toward him. “Shall we forgive and forget?”
“Kiss and make up?” he agreed, smiling and reaching out to shake her hand.
The sexual connotation of his words struck them both, and the moment turned awkward again. Bryce’s eyes went involuntarily to Angela’s mouth. Their hands dropped to their sides without ever touching. Bryce cleared his throat and looked away.
Fortunately their food came soon, and they were able to bridge the uncomfortable moment by starting on their dishes. Eileen had outdone herself. She sent out first an appetizer of stuffed mushrooms, followed by a salad of all the latest trendy greens and, finally, the main course of pasta and vegetables tossed with a tangy, zesty sauce. It was accompanied by a loaf of hot whole wheat bread and a pot of sweet homemade butter.
After Bryce’s first tentative bite, his eyebrows rose in appreciative surprise. “Why, this is delicious!”
“What did you think?” Angela asked indignantly. “That I’d take you someplace with bad food?”
“No. I just—well, I never imagined a vegetarian dish could taste this good.”
Angela made a face at him. “Philistine.”
“Sorry. I suppose I am.” He smoothed the pale butter over the dark bread and took a bite. “Mmm. But you and Eileen have made a believer of me. I think the bread is even better than the pasta. What do you call this dish, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I imagine it’s one of Eileen’s spur-of-the-moment concoctions. Maybe she’ll name it Bryce’s Rotini after you.”
“Or perhaps the King of Pentacles’ Rotini.”
Angela chuckled. “Could be.”
It was strange, she thought, but she was actually enjoying Bryce Richards’s company. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad, after all Maybe all these years she had let her own insecurity influence her against him. Maybe one could be a number-juggler and still be all right. After all, her sister, Jenny, was a fun person once you got her off mathematical equations.
“Tell me something,” she said, leaning forward. “What do you like to do? In your spare time, I mean.”
Bryce looked at her as if she had spoken in a foreign language. “What do you mean?”
“I mean your spare time. Your activities. Hobbies. Whatever.”
“Oh. Well, actually, the last few years I haven’t had a lot of spare time. I’ve been busy getting the business off the ground.”
“And now? I presume it’s flying now.”
“Yes. But I still work a lot.”
“So all you do is work?”
“No.” Bryce looked offended. “I, uh, I go to dinners, parties, things like that.”
“With clients?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t count. Something you do for fun.”
“I work out sometimes at the club.
And I run.”
Angela rolled her eyes expressively.
“The opera.” Bryce looked pleased with himself. “I went to the opera two weeks ago.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Of course. It was very…” He paused for a long moment, then grinned. “Boring, actually. I would have fallen asleep if they hadn’t been singing so loud.”
Angela chuckled.
“But I’m not completely inert socially,” he protested. “I do date. I’ve been to movies and…that sort of thing.”
“What was the last movie you saw?”
“Uh, actually, I—”
“That’s what I thought. You need to loosen up. All work and no play and all that stuff.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m afraid I’m not the type.”
“To enjoy himself? Nonsense. Everyone should have something fun to do, an avocation that takes them away from work. Something light, with no redeeming value. That’s what keeps you young and healthy.”
“I thought it was food like this that did that.”
“That, too. But you have to nourish your spirit, as well. Did you know that laughter actually induces healthy responses in your body?” She brightened. “Hey! Why don’t we go to a club? There’s a nice jazz bar not too far from here.”
“I have work to do,” Bryce replied automatically.
Angela grimaced. “It’s Friday night. And it’s almost ten o’clock. Nobody stays in their office till ten on a Friday.”
“They do when they have a client who’s in severe trouble.”
“For Heaven’s sake.” Angela waved away his remark. “Your client releases you from your obligation tonight. Trust me, the problem will still be there tomorrow.”
“That kind of attitude is what’s gotten you into trouble.”
“Don’t be such an old poop. Come on, I insist.” Angela jumped up and reached over to take his hand and pull him out of his chair.
Bryce found he couldn’t keep from smiling back at Angela and standing up. He supposed he should insist on returning to the office and getting the work done, but he found himself reluctant to bring the evening to a close. He didn’t really want to return to the office and work by himself. Besides, there was something very pleasantmore than pleasant, actually—about having her hand in his, pulling him along.
They walked through the empty restaurant to the front counter, where Eileen, through with her job, was sitting with Max, chatting. She turned and smiled expansively. “Did you enjoy your meal?”
“It was wonderful.” Angela rhapsodized about the food for a few minutes while Eileen and Max beamed. “You’re absolutely the best.”
There was a small argument over who would pay their bill as both Bryce and Angela pulled out their credit cards. Eventually Angela won, insisting that she had asked him to come and that she had the better business excuse to take it off her taxes.
“You should understand that,” she told him dryly.
“I do. I’m glad you remember to take the deductions.”
“Honestly, Bryce, I’m not an idiot.” Angela glared at him.
He grinned. “Just teasing.”
“Isn’t she sweet?” Eileen said to Bryce while Angela was busy paying the check.
Angela, listening to her, chuckled. “Don’t try to get that past Bryce. He knew me when I was twelve. I used to play mean tricks on him.”
“That doesn’t count. All teenage girls play mean tricks, especially on boys.”
“Especially Angela,” Bryce added.
Angela responded with a grimace.
Undeterred, Eileen went on, “We never would have made it without Angie, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
Eileen nodded emphatically. “It’s true. We started on a shoestring. I mean, ‘undercapitalized’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Angela was just one of our customers, but when she heard that we were about to go under, she gave us the money we needed to set the restaurant up right. And not a word about income projections and security and all that stuff like the banks that turned us down.”
Angela laughed. “Don’t tell Bryce that. He’ll be on my case for such poor business practices.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m sure he understands the difference between a warm heart and stupidity.”
“Why, thank you.” Bryce nodded gravely at Eileen and shot Angela a so-there look.
“Anyway,” Angela went on, “it wasn’t just kindness. I’d eaten here, remember. I knew how well your business would do if it was given the chance to get off the ground.”
“Maybe so, but you were the only one willing to give us the chance.” Eileen beamed at Angela.
Angela gave her friend a hug, promising to call her soon, and they left. The night was balmy and they strolled in a leisurely manner to Angela’s car. It wasn’t until they reached the car and separated that Bryce realized that he had been holding Angela’s hand. A little unsettled, he slid into the low seat of the sports car and looked across at Angela. Somehow or other, around Angela he didn’t quite act like himself, and that bothered Bryce.
He didn’t like things that were unpredictable, and he knew that there was little predictability about Angela. He ought to avoid her like the plague. He should go back to the office right away, whether he actually did any work or not. Yet he found himself not saying a word as Angela pulled out into the street and headed away from the office.
Angela zoomed up to the first traffic signal and stopped. As they sat waiting for the light to change, she casually picked up the credit card receipt from the restaurant, which was sitting on top of her purse and stuck it into a pocket in the car door.
Bryce’s brow went up. “That’s where you put your business entertainment receipts?”
She nodded, then turned to look at him. “Why?” A tiny smile began to play on her lips. “I suppose you keep yours in a more orderly manner?”
“Of course,” Bryce replied as the light changed and Angela started driving again. “You should jot it down, along with the reason for the dinner. A small notebook is good for that, and you can keep it in the glove compartment of your car, or in your purse or briefcase. Stick the receipt in the back of the notebook, and take it out the next day at the office and put it in its file.”
Angela burst out laughing. “Oh, Bryce. I bet you keep your socks neatly rolled and lined up by color in your dresser drawer.” She laughed even harder when she saw his expression. “God, I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Close,” he admitted, then added in a goaded voice, “What’s wrong with a little order and precision? Why is it so good to be disorganized?”
“I don’t know. I don’t guess either one is good or bad. But I can’t see living that way. Don’t you get bored?”
“I don’t spend a lot of time looking into my sock drawer, so I don’t get bored by their order, no. In fact, I think that I would classify having to dig through my sock drawer every morning to find what I wanted to wear as boring.”
Angela cocked her head to one side, considering his words. “I never thought of it quite like that.”
“Plus, I’m able to take all my entertainment expenses that way. I don’t lose any.”
“Neither do I.” Angela pointed this out indignantly. “I always stick them right here, and every once in a while, I clean it out and take them up to Kelly.”
Bryce stifled a groan.
“What’s the matter with that? I don’t lose them, and I don’t have to waste that time writing them down. Kelly knows a lot more about it than I do.”
“Do all your employees use this sort of accounting method?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Kelly.” She looked at him suspiciously. “Why? Are you going to start making us fill out forms about our expenses?”
“It would probably help.”
“Bryce! I don’t want to have to do that. And I’m sure the people who work for us don’t want to, either. Besides, only the sales force and Tim and I ever have entert
ainment write-offs. It’s not that common. Oh, now look!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “I’ve missed the street where I meant to turn.”
She made a sharp right turn at the next corner and circled the block to pull into a parking lot beside a small, drab brick building. She turned and looked at him sternly. “No more business talk. People come here to have fun, not talk about receipts and write-offs and all that. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, an amused smile playing on his lips. Looking at her, he found he had no desire to talk about anything regarding business.
“Good.” Angela turned back and began to fluff and tweak her thick hair into place, using the rear-view mirror.
Bryce gazed at her idly, wondering how there could be something so alluring, so intimate and exciting about watching her perform such a simple task. When they got out of the car, Angela turned and looked at him critically, then insisted that he remove his suit coat and tie and leave them in the car.
“There,” she said, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up, “that looks much better.”
Taking his hand, Angela led him across the lot and into the old building. The entryway was dim, but Angela went confidently up the creaking wooden steps against the wall. The wail of a blues guitar grew louder as they moved upward, and at the top of the stairs, they stepped into a dark, cramped bar. A musician sat on a stool on a minuscule stage at the far end of the room, and there were more tables and chairs crammed into the rest of the room than Bryce would have thought possible. He suspected that the club was breaking a fire ordinance, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing how Angela would react to his saying something like that.
The Last Groom on Earth Page 6
