Kiss an Angel Read online

  Even though she didn’t plan to go any farther than the airport, she wanted to jerk away from Alex’s touch as he steered her toward the door. She turned back toward her father and hated herself for the faint thread of panic in her voice. “Maybe you could convince Alex to stay a little longer, Dad. We’ve hardly had a chance to visit.”

  “Do as he says, Theodosia. And remember—this is your last chance. If you fail at this, I’m washing my hands of you. For once in your life, let’s see if you can do something right.”

  By now she should be used to her father humiliating her in public, but being humiliated in front of her new husband was so embarrassing she barely managed to square her shoulders. Lifting her chin, she stepped in front of Alex and walked out the door.

  She refused to meet his eyes as they waited in silence for the elevator that would take them to the lobby. They moved inside. The doors shut, only to open again on the next floor and allow an elderly woman leading a tan Pekingese to enter.

  Daisy immediately shrank against the elevator’s rich teak paneling, but the dog spotted her. He drew his ears back, yipped furiously, and sprang. She screeched as he jumped up on her legs and tore her nylons. “Get away!”

  The dog continued to claw at her. She screamed and grabbed the brass rail. Alex regarded her quizzically, then nudged the animal away with his shoe.

  “Naughty Mitzi!” The woman swept her pet into her arms and gave Daisy a censorious look. “I can’t think what’s wrong. Mitzi loves everybody.”

  Daisy had begun to perspire. She continued to hold the brass rail in a death grip while she kept her eyes on the vicious little beast as it yipped and snapped at her until the doors opened to the lobby.

  “The two of you seem to know each other,” Alex said as they got off.

  “I’ve—I’ve never seen that dog in my life.”

  “I don’t believe it. That dog hated you.”

  “I’m not”—she gulped—“I have this thing about animals.”

  “You’ve got a thing about animals? Tell me that doesn’t mean you’re afraid of them.”

  She nodded and tried to force her heartbeat back to normal.

  “Terrific,” he muttered, setting off across the lobby. “That’s just terrific.”

  The late April morning was damp and drizzly. There were no crepe paper streamers attached to the limousine that waited for them at the curb, no tin cans and just married signs, none of the wonderful silliness reserved for ordinary people who loved each other. She told herself to stop being such a sentimental fool. Lani had teased her for years about being hopelessly old-fashioned, but all Daisy had ever wanted was to live a conventional life. Not so unusual, she supposed, for someone who had been raised so unconventionally.

  As she climbed inside, she saw that the tinted glass window separating the driver from the passengers was closed. At least she’d have the privacy she needed to tell Alex Markov her intentions before they reached the airport.

  You took vows, Daisy. Sacred vows. She shook off the troublesome voice of her conscience by telling herself she didn’t have a choice.

  He got in next to her, and the spacious interior suddenly seemed cramped. If he wasn’t so physically overpowering, she didn’t think she’d be so nervous about this. Although he wasn’t muscle-bound like one of those freakish-looking bodybuilders, he had the hard, sinewy physique of someone in top shape. His shoulders were broad, his hips narrow. The hands that rested on the slacks of his charcoal suit were strong and deeply tanned, with long, tapered fingers. She felt a small jolt of awareness that unsettled her.

  They had barely pulled away from the curb before he began to tug at his necktie. He yanked it off, stuffed it in the pocket of his suit coat, and unfastened his collar button with an efficient flick of his wrist. She stiffened, hoping he wasn’t going to take off any more. In one of her favorite erotic fantasies, she and a faceless man made passionate love in the back of a white limousine stuck in a Manhattan traffic jam while Michael Bolton sang “When a Man Loves a Woman” in the background, but there was a big difference between fantasy and reality.

  The limo began to move. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together, and smelled the heavy scent of the gardenia in her hair. She was relieved to see that Alex had stopped taking off his clothes, but when he stretched his legs and began to study her, she shifted uneasily. No matter how hard she worked at it, she would never be as beautiful as her mother, and when people stared at her for too long, she felt like an ugly duckling. The hole in her shimmery gold nylons from her encounter with the Pekingese didn’t add to her self-confidence.

  She opened her purse to find a much needed cigarette. It was an awful habit, and she wasn’t proud of having succumbed to it. Although Lani had always smoked, Daisy’d never had more than an occasional cigarette in the evening with a glass of wine. But in those first months after her mother’s death she’d found that cigarettes relaxed her, and she’d become truly addicted. After a long drag, she decided she was calm enough to tell Mr. Markov her plan.

  “Put it out, angel face.”

  She regarded him apologetically. “I know it’s a terrible habit, and I promise I won’t blow smoke at you, but I really need this right now.”

  He reached past her to lower her window. Without warning, her cigarette burst into flames.

  She shrieked and let it go. Sparks flew everywhere. He grabbed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and somehow managed to put out all the embers.

  Breathing hard, she looked down at her lap and saw tiny burn marks in her gold lace dress and on the satin jacket.

  “How did that happen?” she gasped.

  “I guess it was faulty.”

  “A faulty cigarette? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “You’d better let me throw away the pack in case the others are like that.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  She quickly handed it over, and he pushed the pack into his pants pocket. Although she was shaken, he seemed perfectly relaxed. Leaning back in the corner of the seat, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.

  They needed to talk—she had to explain to him her plan for putting an end to this embarrassing marriage—but he didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation, and she was afraid she’d mess it up if she wasn’t careful. This past year had been such a disaster that she’d gotten into the habit of giving herself small pep talks so that she didn’t fall into the habit of considering herself totally hopeless.

  She reminded herself that although her education might have been unorthodox, it had certainly been comprehensive. And despite what her father thought, she’d inherited his brain and not her mother’s. She also had a good sense of humor and a naturally optimistic outlook on life that even the past year hadn’t entirely destroyed. She spoke four foreign languages, could identify nearly any couture piece by designer, and was an expert at calming hysterical women. Unfortunately, she didn’t possess even a modicum of common sense.

  Why hadn’t she listened when her mother’s Parisian lawyer had explained there would be nothing left after Lani’s debts were paid? She suspected now that it was guilt that had pushed her into her disastrous months-long spending spree following that numbing time immediately after the memorial service. For years she had wanted to escape the emotional blackmail that had pinned her to Lani’s side on endless rounds of pleasure-seeking. But she hadn’t wanted Lani to die. Not that.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She’d loved her mother desperately, and despite Lani’s selfishness, her endless demands, and her constant need to be reassured that she hadn’t lost her beauty, she knew Lani had loved her, too.

  The more guilt Daisy had felt about the unexpected freedom Lani’s death had given her, the more money she’d spent, not only on herself but on any of Lani’s old friends who were down on their luck. When her creditors’ threats had grown ominous, she’d written more checks to hold them off, not knowing or caring that she didn’t have enough money to c
over them.

  Max found out about her extravagant spending the same day a warrant was issued for her arrest. Reality crashed in, and she realized the enormity of what she’d done. She’d begged her father to lend her the money to hold off her creditors, promising to pay him back as soon as she got on her feet.

  That was when he’d resorted to blackmail. It was high time she grew up, he told her, and if she wanted to stay out of jail, she was going to put an end to her extravagance and do as he said.

  In crisp, uncompromising tones, he had dictated his terms. She would marry the man he chose for her as soon as he could arrange it. Furthermore, she would promise to stay married to him for six months, serving as an obedient and dutiful wife during that time. Only at the end of the six months would she be free to divorce and benefit from a trust fund he would set up for her, a trust fund he would control. If she was frugal, she would be able to live in relative comfort off the interest for the rest of her life.

  “You’re not serious!” she’d exclaimed when she had finally recovered her powers of speech. “People don’t arrange marriages any more.”

  “I’ve never been more serious. If you don’t agree to this marriage, you’ll go to jail. And if you can’t stay married for six months, you’ll never see another penny from me.”

  Three days later, he had presented her future bridegroom without mentioning a word about his background or occupation, merely giving her an admonition: “He’s going to teach you something about life. For now, that’s all you need to know.”

  They crossed the Triborough Bridge, and she realized they’d be at La Guardia soon, which meant she couldn’t wait any longer to broach the subject they needed to discuss. Out of habit, she withdrew a slim gold compact from her purse to make certain everything was as it should be. Reassured, she closed it with a snap and put it away.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Markov.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She cleared her throat. “Mr. Markov? Alex? I think we need to talk.”

  The lids over those pale amber eyes drifted open. “About what?”

  Despite her tension, she smiled. “We’re total strangers who’ve just gotten married. I think that gives us a few things to discuss.”

  “If you want to pick out names for our children, angel face, I think I’ll pass.”

  So he did have a sense of humor after all, if only a cynical one. “I mean that we should talk about how we’re going to get through the next six months before we can file for divorce.”

  “I figure we’ll just take it day by day.” He paused. “Night by night.”

  Her skin prickled, and she told herself not to be foolish. He’d made a perfectly innocent remark, and she’d merely imagined that husky undertone of sexual innuendo. She fixed a bright smile on her face.

  “I have a plan; a simple one, really.”

  “Oh?”

  “If you’ll give me a check for half of what my father is paying you to marry me—and I think you’ll agree that’s only fair—the two of us can go our separate ways and end this awkwardness.”

  An expression of amusement flickered across those granite features of his. “What awkwardness are you talking about?”

  She should have known from her experiences with her mother’s lovers that a man this good-looking wasn’t going to be blessed with brains. “The awkwardness of finding ourselves married to a stranger.”

  “We’ll get to know each other pretty well, I imagine.” Again that husky undertone. “And I don’t think the two of us going our separate ways is what Max had in mind. As I remember it, we’re supposed to live together and play husband and wife.”

  “That’s just like my father. He’s a little dictatorial when it comes to running other people’s lives. The beauty of my plan is that he’ll never know that we haven’t been living together. As long as we don’t set up housekeeping in Manhattan, where he can walk in on us, he won’t have any idea what we’re doing.”

  “We’re definitely not setting up housekeeping in Manhattan.”

  He wasn’t being as cooperative as she’d hoped, but she was enough of an optimist to believe he only needed a little more persuasion. “I know my plan will work.”

  “Let me get this straight. You expect me to hand over half of what Max is giving me to marry you?”

  “How much is that, by the way?”

  “Not nearly enough,” he muttered.

  She’d never had to haggle, and she didn’t like doing it now, but she couldn’t see that she had a choice. “If you think about it, I’m sure you’ll realize that’s equitable. After all, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be getting any money at all.”

  “This must mean you’re planning on giving me half the money in that trust fund he’s promised to set up for you.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not planning to do that at all.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “Somehow I didn’t think so.”

  “You misunderstand. I’ll pay you back as soon as I have access to my trust. I’m only asking for a loan.”

  “And I’m refusing it.”

  She knew then that she’d made a mess of it. She had a bad habit of assuming other people would do what she herself would do if she were in their shoes. For example, if she were Alex Markov, she would certainly loan herself half the money just to get rid of her.

  She needed to smoke. Badly. “Could I have my cigarettes back? I’m sure that only one of them was faulty.”

  He withdrew the crumpled pack from the pocket of his slacks and handed it over. She quickly lit up, shut her eyes, and drew the smoke deeply into her lungs.

  She heard the sizzle, and by the time her eyes sprang open, the cigarette was already in flames. With a gasp of dismay, she dropped it. Once again, Alex swept up the butt and embers with a handkerchief.

  “Maybe you could sue,” he said mildly.

  She pressed her hand to her throat, too stunned to speak.

  He reached over and touched her breast. She felt the flick of his finger on the inner swell and jumped back, even as the sensitive flesh beaded beneath the satin. Her gaze flew upward to those unfathomable golden eyes.

  “A spark,” he said.

  She covered her breast with her hand and felt the trembling of her heart beneath her palm. How long had it been since a hand other than her own had touched her there? Two years ago, she remembered, when she’d had her last physical exam.

  She saw that they had reached the airport, and she garnered her courage. “Mr. Markov, you have to realize that we can’t live together as man and wife. We’re strangers. The whole idea is ridiculous, and I’m going to have to insist that you be more cooperative about this.”

  “Insist?” he said mildly. “I don’t believe you have a right to insist on anything.”

  She stiffened her spine. “I’m not going to be bullied, Mr. Markov.”

  He sighed and shook his head, regarding her with an expression of regret that she didn’t believe for a minute was sincere. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, angel face, but I guess I should have figured it wouldn’t be that easy with you. Maybe I’d better spell out the ground rules right now, just so you’ll know what to expect. For better or worse, the two of us are married until six months from today. You can walk away any time you want to, but you’ll have to do it on your own. And in case you haven’t figured it out by now, this isn’t going to be one of those modern, talk-things-through-so-we-can-compromise marriages like you read about in all those ladies’ magazines. This is going to be an old-time relationship.” If anything his voice grew softer, more gentle. “Now what that means, angel face, is that I’m in charge, and you’re going to be doing what I say. If you don’t, you’ll suffer some pretty unpleasant consequences. The good news in all this is that after the time’s up, you can do whatever you want. I won’t give a damn.”

  A wave of panic gripped her, and she fought against succumbing to it. “I don’t like being threatened. Maybe you should just come right out and tell me what
these consequences are that you’re holding over my head.”

  He settled back into the seat, and the small upward tilt of that hard mouth sent a shiver of dread down her spine.

  “Aw, angel face, I’m not gonna have to. By tonight you’ll have figured it out all by yourself.”

  2

  Daisy hovered in the far corner of the smoking section at the USAir gate, taking such quick drags on her cigarette that she was getting light-headed. The plane, she had discovered, was heading for Charleston, South Carolina, one of her favorite cities, and she tried to take that as a positive sign in a chain of events that had been growing more disastrous by the minute.

  First, Mr. High-and-Mighty Markov had refused to go along with her plan. Then he’d sabotaged her luggage. When the chauffeur had unloaded only one overstuffed carry-on bag from the trunk instead of the full array of suitcases she’d packed, she’d assumed there’d been a mistake, but Alex had quickly set her straight.

  “We’re traveling light. I had the housekeeper repack for you during the wedding ceremony.”

  “You had no right to do that!”

  “We’ll carry them on instead of checking them.” He’d picked up his own much smaller bag and she’d watched with astonishment as he’d set off, leaving her to follow. She’d barely been able to hoist her cumbersome piece of luggage, and her ankles had wobbled on her too-high heels as she’d dragged it after him. Feeling miserable and self-conscious, she’d struggled toward the gate, certain everyone she passed was noting her holey nylons, scorched gold lace, and bruised gardenia.

  When he’d disappeared into the rest room, she’d hurried to buy a fresh pack of cigarettes, only to discover that she had nothing but a ten-dollar bill in her purse. With a sense of shock, she’d realized it was all the money she had left in the world. Her bank accounts were closed, her credit cards canceled. She’d returned the bill to her wallet and bummed a cigarette from an attractive businessman instead.

  Just as she stubbed it out, Alex emerged from the rest room, and as she saw the way he was dressed, her stomach sank. The well-tailored dark suit had been replaced by a denim shirt that looked soft from many washings and a pair of jeans so faded they were nearly white. Frayed cuffs fell over scuffed brown leather cowboy boots. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong, suntanned forearms lightly dusted with dark hair and a gold watch with a leather band. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Of all the things her father had done to her, she’d never imagined he’d marry her off to the Marlboro Man.