The Last Groom on Earth (7 page)

“A lot of people don’t regard an attempt to defraud the IRS in quite the same light as real thievery,” Bryce explained wryly. “Most people spend their time trying to avoid paying more tax.”

“Legally. But not by fraud. Not by making up a whole bunch of expenses that didn’t exist.” She stalked over to the window, then whirled and glared at him. “If nothing else, why would we be so stupid as to hire you to find what’s wrong if we knew that it was because we’d cheated on our taxes? Why waste the money?”

“I don’t know. Maybe to throw off suspicion. It’s something that is possible.” He stood up, his face lined with exasperation. “Stop reacting so emotionally. I didn’t say you had done it. But I have to explore all the possibilities. I’ve found that it doesn’t pay in this business to assume anything. Nor is it advisable to trust someone simply because you know them.”

“Is that the way you live your life?” Angela asked, aghast. “Never trusting anyone? I’d hate to be you.”

“Of course I trust certain people. Your parents, for instance. But I don’t jump in right away with my trust. I have to know a person well. I take my time and make sure that they’re worthy of trust.”

“But sometimes…can’t you just tell? Don’t you ever simply feel that this person or that is good or special? Don’t you ever like someone for no reason?”

“Sometimes,” he replied noncommittally. “But I don’t
count
on it until I know them a lot better.”

Angela groaned and plopped back down into her chair. “Honestly, Bryce, you’re so..
.practical!”

A faint smile curved his lips. “Not everyone would consider that a terrible feature.”

“It’s not terrible. It’s just that you’re so different from me.” There was a curiously forlorn feeling inside her as she said the words. All the thoughts she’d been having about Bryce this weekend had been foolish daydreaming. A relationship was out of the question. They could never get along. No doubt Bryce had been logical enough to figure that out; she was sure
he
hadn’t spent the past two days mooning over her. He, of course, had been down here at the office working.

“Well, we did not doctor our books.” Angela went on flatly. “We didn’t make up any expenses in order to save ourselves taxes. Does that satisfy you?”

“Yes. I’m glad.”

Angela picked her sandwich back up and bit into it, feeling rather disgruntled, and for a long time there was nothing but silence in the room.

“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the other night,” Bryce said finally. “It was very nice.”

“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Angela kept her voice light and cool. She wasn’t about to let him think that it had meant any more to her than a business entertainment, a little dinner and evening with her accountant.

“Don’t be like this, Angela. I didn’t really think that you were dishonest. But I would be remiss if I didn’t explore every possibility.”

“I’m aware of that. I just thought after we’d gone out the other night—oh, forget it.”

“No. I won’t.” Bryce set down his food and shoved it aside. He leaned over the desk, fixing Angela with his gaze. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget. I tried to all weekend, and it didn’t work.”

Angela felt suddenly as if there were a huge lump in her throat. She laid her sandwich aside. “What are you talking about?”

“You. Me. Last Friday night.” Bryce got up and came around the desk, reaching down to grasp Angela’s arms and pull her to her feet. “About the fact that I kept wanting to kiss you, and I didn’t. I spent the past two days cursing myself for being such a fool.”

“Did you?” Angela responded weakly. “So did I.”

Bryce grinned as his mouth came down to fasten on hers.

He kissed her slowly, gently, not in a hard, passionate rush as he had the first time, but as if he had all the time in the world and wanted to explore every aspect
of her. Finally, when Angela felt as if her knees might buckle at any second, he pulled his mouth from hers and began to press tiny kisses over her jaw and down her throat. Then, slowly, he brought his lips up the side of her neck, pausing here and there to taste her flesh.

Angela felt as if she were melting. His lips were velvety upon her skin and yet so hot she thought they must have seared her. “Bryce…”

“I like the way that sounds.” Bryce brushed her thick hair back from her face, his hand sinking into the silken, curling mass, and kissed her ear.

A shaky moan emitted from Angela’s lips. Bryce took her earlobe between his lips and nibbled at it, sending shivers of delight through her. Her abdomen blossomed with heat, and she sagged against him, not sure she could stand up without help.

His tongue was liks liquid fire as it traced the convolutions of her ear, then returned to tease and caress her earlobe. Bryce put his hands on her shoulders and slowly slid them down over her back and onto her hips. His hands caressed the firm curve of her buttocks, squeezing and releasing. He drew in a sharp breath, and his mouth moved back to hers, seizing it in a long, demanding kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth; his lips moved hungrily against hers.

Angela trembled. Her whole body seemed to have burst into flames at his kiss, like dry tinder to a match. Bryce’s hands slid over her hips and around to the sides, then moved back up, stopping only when he reached the undercurve of her breasts. His fingers burned through the cloth of her blouse, creating a tender ache in her breasts and loins. Slowly, still kissing her, Bryce cupped her breasts and moved his
thumbs in lazy circles around her nipples, the circles growing ever smaller until it was only the small buds themselves that he touched. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, softly rolling and squeezing. Heat flooded between Angela’s legs, throbbing and damp. It occurred to her that she was still fully dressed, as was he, yet he had made her so hungry and aching for him that she yearned to take him inside her right now.

“Oh, Angela!” Bryce pulled back, sucking in air. His face was flushed and heavy with sensuality, his lips slightly parted. His eyes were dark and hungry.

Angela gazed back at him, unable to speak, surging with wild sensations and confused emotions.

“This is insane,” he breathed.

Angela nodded.

“We’re in the office, and it’s the middle of the day.”

“I know.” She smiled wryly, her sense of humor coming to her rescue, stiffening her trembling legs and allowing her to move away and sit down. “The door isn’t even locked.”

Bryce mumbled a short expletive and stalked away to the window. He stood for several minutes, staring out. Angela put her elbows on her desk and leaned her head on her hands, trying to recover her breath. Their first kiss that night in his room had not been an aberration, she realized, no matter how she had tried to convince herself that it was. In another moment, unlocked door or not, she would have been ready to slide to the floor and make love with him.

Thank God, she told herself, that Bryce had had enough presence of mind to stop. Her words echoed hollowly in her head. She knew, deep down, that they were a lie. She had not wanted him to stop at all.

“I want you,” Bryce said baldly.

Angela didn’t turn around. “But?”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m asking—there was a ‘but’ in your voice.”

“All right. But we can’t rush into it. I—you’re Marina’s daughter.”

“What does that have to do with it?” Angela whipped around, her eyes flashing. “I am myself, not someone’s daughter, and it’s me you’re wanting to take to bed, so don’t start bringing other people into it.”

“I can’t help it. Your parents are very special to me. I respect them.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Angela retorted sarcastically. “Usually the issue is whether you’ll respect
me
in the morning, not my parents.”

“I would respect both of you,” Bryce replied stiffly, frowning. “But you have to see that this complicates the issue.”

“The
issue?”
Angela’s voice rose to a squeak. “Now I’m an issue?”

“Dammit, Angela, stop trying to start an argument. Believe me, I would love to throw caution to the winds at the moment, but someone has to be sensible. We have to consider the consequences.”

“You
consider the consequences,” Angela said rudely and swung back around to face her desk. “And do it somewhere else. I have work to do.”

“Angela…”

“No. Go away.” Angela felt treacherous tears rising in her, and she had to swallow hard to keep control of her voice. “Don’t bother to tell me when you’ve resolved ‘the issue.’ I’m no longer interested.”

She heard Bryce sigh. He came toward her and stopped behind her, but she refused to look up. Finally, with a low, inarticulate growl, Bryce walked around her and out the door.

Angela kicked the back panel of her desk. It hurt her toes, but it made her feel so much better that she kicked it two more times. She folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head to rest on them and sat for several minutes, wishing that Bryce Richards had never come to town.

A
ngela straightened and took a step back from the mirror. The stiff, wide farthingale beneath her skirt knocked over a small vase as she moved. Muttering an oath, Angela righted the bottle. Elizabethan dresses were romantic, but she was beginning to discover that they were completely impractical. When Kelly had shown her this dress last week, she had immediately decided she would wear it to Tim’s costume party instead of the Maladora costume. Maladora might be sexy, but the slinky dress couldn’t compare to the way this one made her waist look tiny or the way the stiff lace collar rising behind her head framed her face delicately. She had not given a thought to how difficult it was to wear.’

Now she did. It had been a real struggle to get it on by herself, and it seemed as if everywhere she went the thick roll of material that made her skirts stand out
stiffly to either side of her hips knocked into things.
How had the women back then ever gotten around?
Also, the brocade dress, along with the petticoats and farthingale, weighed her down, and the stiff collar, braced against her shoulders, was making her back ache.

Angela had considered not going to the party at all. She didn’t really want to. Ever since that scene with Bryce in her office, she had not felt much in the party mood. She had given up her idea of enticing Bryce into going to the party with her, and without him, it had lost much of its appeal. If it had been anyone but her longtime partner giving the party, she was sure she would have ducked out of it. But this was Tim’s big production every year, and he would be very hurt if she didn’t come. Besides, it would be decidedly unprofessional, since so many of the people they dealt with in their business would be there.

Angela turned first to one side and then the other, inspecting herself in the mirror. The heavy brocade gown was ivory colored and shot through with gold threads, subtly glittering. It was wasp-waisted in the Elizabethan style with a stiffened bodice that pushed her breasts up until they threatened to overflow the square-cut neckline. A long rope of fake pearls was twisted around her throat several times like a choker, then fell in a long loop down to her skirts, as she had seen once in a picture of Elizabeth I. A stiffened lace collar rose from the neckline and up behind her head, framing her face. The final touch was an ivory snood, of the sort often worn by the doomed Mary, Queen of Scots, upon her head. In the back her thick red hair was gathered up into a golden net attached to the bottom of the cap, and in the front the snood came down
in a point in the middle, touching the center of her forehead. Pearls lined the edge of the heart-shaped, stiffened front.

It was the effect she had desired—more, really. She looked foreign, mysterious, romantic. She wondered what Bryce would have thought of it if he had seen her in the costume. It had been him she had thought of when she saw the dress and decided she wanted it instead of the Maladora costume. But then, after the way they had parted in her office, she didn’t have the nerve to ask him again to go with her. Bryce might be attracted to her, but he did not want to be, and Angela was not about to make a fool of herself over him.

The doorbell rang, surprising Angela, and she sidled through the doorway, careful not to bump the farthingale into anything else. When she opened the door, she simply stood there for a moment, her jaw dropping open in shock. Bryce Richards stood before her.

But what a Bryce! It wasn’t the man she knew, but a dark-haired, silver-eyed gambler. He was dressed in black, with a white shirt underneath; ruffles cascaded down the front of the shirt and flowed from his wrists. A black string tie was fastened around the collar, and a black felt hat was on his head. He held a long, very thin cigar in one hand.

“You look like you just stepped off a riverboat!” Angela exclaimed. “Or maybe out of
Gone With the Wind.”

Bryce smiled. “That was the idea. Dorothy told me it was the perfect costume for me.”

“Dorothy? Our receptionist?”

“Yes. I figured if she had made your costume, she must know something about them. So I asked her
where to get one and what I should get. She thought a riverboat gambler would probably make me feel the least foolish. I guess she’s right. I feel enough of an idiot like this—I hate to think what I’d feel like dressed up like a knight.”

Angela smiled. She suspected that she was glowing. Bryce was going to Tim’s party, and he was obviously here to take her to it.

Angela stepped back, and Bryce followed her into the condominium. His eyes ran down her figure appreciatively. “You’ve changed costume.”

“Yeah. I decided that sexy Maladora stuff just wasn’t me.” Angela spread out her arms and turned around to show off the dress. “How do you like it?”

“You’re—it’s lovely.” He looked a little stunned. His eyes dropped involuntarily to the tops of her creamy breasts, which looked in danger of popping out at any moment.

Angela smiled, pleased that she had made an impression. “Thank you.”

He seemed unable to pull his eyes away from the white expanse of her chest revealed by the low, square-cut neckline. “Are you supposed to be Elizabeth I?”

Angela shrugged. “No, not especially. Just a generic Elizabethan lady.”

“You don’t look very generic. I’d say you look quite unique.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is that a euphemism for ‘strange’?”

A smile cracked his usually reserved face. “No. Not at all. A synonym for ‘beautiful,’ perhaps.”

“Oh, my,” Angela teased, “you’re going to ruin your reputation as a dull C.P.A. if you keep making remarks like that.” She paused for a moment, then
went on, “What made you change your mind—about the party, I mean?”

“I’m not sure.” His brows knit in a frown. “I think, maybe, I got tired of being me.”

Angela’s eyebrows went up. “What does that mean?”

“Sometimes it gets awfully dull being a stick-in-the-mud.”

Angela turned the full wattage of her smile on him. “Well, I’m glad you decided to get out of the mud tonight.”

Bryce hardly looked like anything dull tonight. He looked hard, perhaps, maybe even a little dangerous, but also dashing and handsome. And he was looking at her in a way that made her feel warm and tingly all over.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes. And you are definitely driving. I doubt very seriously that this dress would fit behind a steering wheel.”

A faint smile warmed Bryce’s lips as he stood aside for her to pass in front of him. “I’d say only a carriage would do for that dress. Or perhaps a sedan chair.”

They stepped out the front door, and Angela locked it behind them. “Oh,” she said, glancing over at the door next to her. “I forgot. I promised Jim I’d show him my costume.”

“Who?”

“My next-door neighbor. He loves stuff like this.” Angela turned, almost knocking a plant off its stand, and went to the next door to knock.

Jim opened the door a moment later. “Oh, my,” he said, his eyes widening. “Queen Elizabeth the First, as I live and breathe. Harbaugh, come look at our girl.”

Harbaugh, taller and younger than Jim, with a muscular build and a serious face, appeared behind Jim in the doorway. He smiled. “You look like you stepped out of a history book.”

“Thank you.” Angela dipped them a little curtsey, then turned toward Bryce. “Jim, Harbaugh, I’d like for you to meet Bryce Richards.”

Bryce came forward to shake hands. Jim’s brows went up and he shot a knowing look toward Angela. Only two days ago Angela had been sitting glumly on his couch and telling him all about her and Bryce’s abortive relationship.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Jim said. “Wouldn’t you two like to come in for a drink?”

“No, we’d better not,” Angela demurred.

Jim leaned in, giving her a hug, and murmured, “Very nice. What happened?”

Angela chuckled and whispered back, “Tell you later.”

“You better.” Jim stepped back, his eyes twinkling. “You kids have fun.”

Bryce drove quickly, competently, following Angela’s directions to Tim’s home in the rolling land north of Raleigh. They crossed the belt line and soon were on a winding road. Trees grew close to the road and whatever houses there were could not be seen.

They turned onto another narrower road and in a moment Angela said, “There it is, straight ahead. See the open gates? Oh, and look!”

Two large men dressed as Moorish warriors stood just inside the gates, and as Bryce’s car turned into the
driveway, they raised long spears, crossing them dramatically so that they blocked the driveway.

“Good Lord.” Bryce stopped the car and shot a disbelieving look at Angela, but he pushed the button to open his window as one of the burly men came to ward him, spear in hand.

“He wants this,” Angela told Bryce and handed him the invitation. “People often try to crash Tim’s parties because they’re so famous. Besides, it adds a certain drama.”

“I’ll say,” Bryce commented dryly, holding out the white square to the man.

The robed and turbaned warrior took the invitation and examined it. Angela, watching him, couldn’t suppress a shiver. Even knowing, as she did, that he was a N.C. State football player dressed up in costume, there was something very foreign and menacing about the silent, impassive figure.

With a brusque nod, the guard handed back the invitation and pointed to an area to the left of the driveway, where many cars were already parked. “Leave your car there,” he growled. “Then wait for Andre to drive you to the house.”

Obediently Bryce pulled the car into the nearest available spot, and he and Angela waited beside the driveway. The two guards ignored them, standing stonily in the middle of the gates. The driveway climbed a rise and curved into the unknown, the rest of it blocked by trees and darkness. The pale light of a full moon flooded the landscape, lighting it yet leaving it mysteriously shadowed as well.

“Who’s Andre?” Bryce leaned down and asked Angela in a stage whisper that seemed appropriate to the night and the locale.

Angela shrugged. “I don’t know. But I suspect we’ll know it when we see him.”

Another car turned into the driveway and went through the same routine with the guard. They, too, parked their car and came over to join Bryce and Angela.

The man was dressed as a knight in a suit of silver plastic armor, and the woman was a Gypsy with wildly curling raven hair.

“Hey, Angela,” a distinctive coastal North Carolina accent came out of the knight’s headgear, and the man pushed up the visor with a clumsy, gloved hand to reveal the face of Stephen Jenesky, one of the brains of a local computer company. His face was flushed inside the hot suit, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Stephen was still a kid at heart; like Tim, his study at home was chock full of the latest in computer game gadgetry. He had a sound system attached to his computer that practically rattled the walls when he played a jet simulation game.

“Stephen! And Terri? Is that you?”

Terri giggled delightedly. “I told Stevie that this wig was almost as good a disguise as his helmet!”

Angela introduced the couple to Bryce. Then Bryce, who was standing facing Angela and gazing up the driveway, said dryly, “I believe I see Andre approaching.”

The entire group turned to look. Coming toward them was an old-fashioned carriage. It was painted a shiny black, and a coat of arms was painted in gold on the door. A coachman in red livery and a white wig drove a team of four white horses, and beside him sat another liveried attendant.

“If that isn’t just like Tim,” Stephen commented admiringly. “Where do you suppose he found that?”

“If I know Tim, he’s been searching for it ever since the last party.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Terri agreed. “He always has to top himself.”

The coach turned slowly behind the guards and came back to the group and stopped. The driver said nothing, just stared straight ahead of him. The footman, however, climbed down and came around to open the carriage door for them, bowing with a flourish.

Bryce helped Angela up into the carriage after the other couple, then climbed in beside her. “Tim believes in going all out, doesn’t he?” he murmured into her ear.

Angela smiled. “Just wait. This is only the beginning.”

The carriage lumbered off, starting up the incline and turning the curve. There, in the middle of the road, stood an enormously tall figure clad in a long dark blue robe decorated with glittering silver quarter moons and stars. A wizard’s cap was on his head, making him loom even taller. From head to foot he looked to be at least eight feet tall.

All four of them stared, agog, out the window. The vision took two long strides forward and spread out his arms. The robe fell like bat wings from his arms, and he was a splendid, imposing picture.

“Who comes here?” His voice was impossibly deep and a little distorted, like a demon in a movie.

“He’s wearing stilts,” Bryce said thoughtfully. “And using one of those electronic devices that disguises your voice.”

“No. Don’t analyze it,” Angela told him. “You’ll ruin it. Just enjoy the experience.”

“We are the Earl of Stansbury’s men,” the coachman answered in an English accent. “And we come to bring his lordship’s guests to the ball.”

“Then you may pass,” the figure said grudgingly. “But, remember that you pass through my enchanted woods as you ride to his castle. Sights such as you have never seen before will pass before your eyes. Adventures untold. But you must not tarry, or you will become lost in the spell of the woods as well.”

He stepped to the side of the road in his odd, jerky way, his robes billowing around him. The coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage rumbled forward.

“Oh, look!” Terri gasped, pointing out her window. Everyone turned to look where she pointed.

There, at some distance from them, a white gauzy figure seemed to float in midair. Then it moved quickly, skimming through the air, at least fifteen feet off the ground.

“What is that?” Bryce asked, leaning out the window to stare at it.

Angela smiled. That was one trick she’d seen before. Most of the things Tim did were new, but some of the really successful ones he often repeated. For this one, she knew, they had strung cables with a pulley from a pole across to an old tree, and the apparition, dressed in white robes and veil, sprinkled with sparkles, was attached to the top cable by a harness he wore beneath the robe. At the appropriate time, he released a catch on the harness that let it slide along the cable, which was slanted slightly downward, until he reached the other end. Once the carriage passed
him, he then pulled himself back into place with the lower cable.