AMANDA tried hard to concentrate on what the handsome man across the table was saying. He seemed earnest. He certainly wanted to keep the relationship going.
But this was shaky ground. He had pretended to be someone he wasn’t and allowed her to become attracted to that fabrication. Why should she trust him now? He could have let her in on his little secret last night or at least prepared her for the eventual discovery that he wasn’t exactly what he seemed.
She had felt an excitement and rush of energy from “Antonio” that she had never felt before. He had swept her imagination up to almost transportable heights with his amazing portrayals of powerful masculine works of art and then had swaddled her in personal charm, sensitivity, attentiveness and humor. She had liked that…a lot. What more could a woman ask of a man?
Trust.
If he and the art class instructor were involved in some sort of undercover investigation, that could explain his odd shifts of mood last night and she could understand why he might have hesitated in exposing his true identity.
“Exposing” his true identity.Amanda forced the upward-tugging smirk on her lips into a downward-turned scowl of concentration as the earnest blue eyes behind the Clark Kent horn rims continued to plead their handsome owner’s case.
It was, after all, a great body.As Cissy had so vividly pointed out, Amanda would be foolish not to give it a chance.
Cissy had dragged her to deafening and blinding rock clubs and all Amanda had to show for it was several nights of energetic dancing with good-looking guys. But it didn’t take an MFA to figure out the guys were no more interested in long-term commitments than Cissy was and that Amanda was totally out of her element.
Long-term commitment. Boy, did that sound like Pittsburgh. And, what was wrong with a one- or two-night stand? Especially if the body you were going to take your stand with was built like a Cellini bronze? Christine would be proud.
Marc looked at her questioningly.
Amanda realized she hadn’t the remotest idea what he had been saying for the last few minutes.
“Does that sound all right?” he asked earnestly.
She waved his question aside. “If you promise me what you and David are doing is on the up and up and that nobody is going to get hurt, then I guess I’ll go along with your… operation. But if I find that whatever it is you’re doing is fishy, I’ll blow the whistle on you in an instant.”
He flashed an Antonio sigh-of-relief grin that she recognized in the “Marc” face. Amanda searched the blue eyes. She was beginning to connect the two personalities.
“Thanks, Ace,” he reached across to run his fingers down her jaw. “I promise when this is over, and it will be soon, you’ll be proud.”
Although, Marc thought to himself as his fingers touched her delicate skin, Ace might not be so happy to find that one of her friends is an international… miscreant. His fingertips reveled in the silken touch even as he allowed himself the possibility of a worst scenario.
He had been intent on presenting his case. This woman had attracted him like no other and he wanted to follow this relationship to the end. Foolhardy, he knew. It could very well be that her response to his poses last night might ultimately reveal her as the culprit that would exonerate David and secure his own reputation. Marc’s jaw tightened at the prospect.
Damn it. One thing’s got nothing to do with the other. So what if she was a brilliant artist who had gone astray?
She was still the funny, charming and sexually exciting woman that had totally captivated him. He traced the line of her lush lower lip as she stared mesmerized at him, her delicate jaw slack. He had a job to do and, as much as he resented David’s assessment, this luscious, auburn-haired rising-female-executive certainly had the ability to, at the very least, confuse the issues. He peered into the dark brown apprehensive depths.
“I’m sorry about the fake hair and the eyes, but the rest of me is very real.”
Amanda was still reacting to the line of electric sparks that his finger had produced on her skin. Clear, guileless blue eyes looked back at her. Like a mountain stream. Full of immediate, rushing life and sparkle, alive with directness and honesty. They seemed like honest eyes.
“What are you looking at?” The slashes under his high cheekbones deepened and fine triangles of lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. Without the dark, smoothing makeup, his skin took on the changeable texture of an older man, more mature, less perfect. More interesting.
“I’m trying to see who you really are in there.”
“When I can explain what this is all about, you’ll like what you see.” He paused. “I like what I see. I’m not giving it up easily.”
The dark Italian model faded further into the distance as the handsome grave man in front of her took his place.
He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry about fouling up your meeting with the money guy. I’ll be getting out of here, now. I’m meeting David at the Met.”
“The Metropolitan Museum?”
“Yeah. He’s involved in a big deal there. He’s been asked to help curate a new exhibit they’re installing. I told him I’d meet him and we’d go over our observations about last night’s class. How about dinner this evening?” The fine lines deepened. “I know a really out of the way place in the Village where a big brother can’t pull his Spanish duenna routine.”
Amanda’s heart skipped a bit. A small, startled laugh escaped from her throat. They seemed to have more and more in common.
“What are these ‘observations’ you and David are supposedly making?” she asked defensively. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being surreptitiously ‘observed’.
He looked around melodramatically and leaned closer. “Can’t give away my P.I. secrets, babe.” His Humphrey Bogart impression was very well done. “But I should try to pump ya about your classmates, now that I got ya in my confidence.”
Amanda laughed. Whatever it was couldn’t be all that serious if he kept making jokes. “Christine should be the one you’re ‘pumping’.” She blushed at his suggestively raised eyebrows. “She can tell you more than you’d ever want to know about our group.”
“Who’s ‘our group’?” His smile was seductively easy.
“Professor Angeli, Mr. Wilde, Nathan, me and the ever-observant Christine, of course. The professor and Mr. Wilde seem to have decided we three were the most…” she paused to choose the words, “easily influenced in the class and gathered us under their critical wings.”
“Does your group also comprise the best artists in the class?”
“The professor is a brilliant draftsman, and despite Christine being a bit of a dilettante, when she puts her mind to it she can really draw. Nathan drives us all crazy. He can be an inspired craftsman, but he’s incredibly erratic. I’m always amazed he’s so focused at work- after he tires of his macho posturing.”
“What about Wilde?”
Amanda’s eyes glowed. “Absolute genius. I’ve no idea why he isn’t internationally known. He’s very well off, you know. Maybe he simply doesn’t need the recognition and he certainly doesn’t need the money. But you must have heard all this from David.”
“David isn’t particularly observant outside of what he sees you all put down on paper. Tell me more about the wealthy Mr. Wilde.”
“Sorry to interrupt, honey. You got a call.” The waitress approaching the table looked concerned.
“Oh, good heavens, Mr. Untermeyer, my venture capitalist! Thanks, Phyllis, tell Mindy I’ll be right up.” Amanda began to slide out of the booth.
“It’s not her. I think it’s your roommate. She sounds really weird.”
A moment of dread enveloped Amanda. Surely Cissy hadn’t relapsed into one of her alcohol and drug stunts. She had been so diligent lately. Amanda picked up the receiver of the pay phone.
“Honey,” Cissy’s tremulous voice was barely above a whisper. “Somebody’s in the apartment. I’ve locked my bedroom door so I’m okay, but I thought if you’d come quick, maybe you could scare him away.”
“Cissy, call 911 right now!”
“No, no. No police! Maybe you could bring one of those nice, big men from work with you. I think I better hang up.”
Marc was at her side the instant he saw her look of shock.
“It’s my roommate. She thinks someone’s in the apartment and she wants me to come scare him away.” Amanda gestured distractedly. “She also could be… hearing things. She doesn’t want the police involved. I must go. Could you take care of the bill?” She started out the door.
Marc caught up with her as she waved a cab down and he hastily crawled in beside her. “Are you totally crazy? Scaring away a break-in? Are both you and your roommate loony? Call the cops!”
“It’s only a few blocks away,” Amanda explained more to herself as the cab sped away. “I usually walk to work.” Her mind was racing. “It also may be nothing, but she’s upset and I should try to calm her.” She looked at Marc as though she had just realized he was in the cab. “You’ll be late for your meeting with Mr. Parkerson. You should go.”
Marc held her hands solidly in his. “No. I’m here with you.” His voice was firm.
Amanda felt a rush of relief. She nodded thanks.
They dashed up the front stairs and she let them into the outer vestibule. Quietly and quickly she led Marc up the stairs to the second-floor apartment.
He held her back. “The door’s been forced. Very professional. Get back.” He pushed her back against the hallway wall and pulled a small hand gun from the pocket of his suit jacket. “He may still be inside.”
Amanda felt icy as the possibility of violence occurred to her for the first time. She started to protest, but Marc suddenly kicked the door open and leaped into the room in a crouched position, the gun pointed in front of him.
There was a scream from the bedroom. “He’s hurting Cissy!” Amanda dashed into the living room in the direction of the bedroom door. Suddenly her large drawing table in the dining alcove leaped at her, scattering drawing paper and art paraphernalia and sending her sprawling to the floor.
“Hold it,” Marc’s voice demanded harshly, as another scream from Cissy’s bedroom split the air but the table swerved in his direction and crashed into him as a large form separated from the battering wooden rectangle and dashed through the open door.
Marc threw the table aside and hurled himself through the doorway after the intruder. “Stop! I have a gun!” He paused, glancing back with concern at the fallen Amanda as Cissy’s voice cut through the racket.
“Oh, honey, is that you?! What’s going on? Was somebody here? Is he gone? Who’s got a gun?” The downstairs door slammed. Marc stood frozen in the hallway.
“Are you okay?” he called to Amanda, his voice filled with concern for her. “I could run after him.”
“No!” Amanda pulled herself upright, appalled at the instant mess the usually neat living room had become. At the bedroom door, she called out, “We’re okay out here. Cissy, are you all right? Please…” she turned to Marc, “put the gun away.”
Cissy’s bedroom door tentatively opened and a wide-eyed, disheveled, short-blond head peeked out.
“I was in thebathroom,” she announced to Amanda, “And I’d just gotten out of the shower, when I thought I heard something. You know hownoisy this place can be sometimes. I didn’t think athing about it until I put on a robe and wrapped my head in a towel.” She stooped to help Amanda gather the scattered drawing materials. “And I came out here to fix myself a cup of broth. Honey,” she said earnestly, “I have not had asingle drink this morning. Oh, my…” She noticed Marc righting the drawing table and touched her hand to her still-damp head.
“I justfelt something was wrong,” her voice rose dramatically as she continued her recitation of events. “So I sort of ‘tsk-tsk’-ed to myself and said ‘oh dear, how silly of me’ and nonchalantly sashayed back into the bedroom.” She turned to Marc as he straightened a fallen lamp. “Where I closed the door like I was looking for something behind it? And slid the bolt ever so quietly.” She turned back to Amanda. “Honey, you wereso right to have those bolts installed.”
Back to Marc. “She is so clever, so clever, no wonder she’s doing so well at work. And then I listened at the door,” she re-enacted for them both. “Andheard something. Well, I could have fainted dead away, but I thought I’ll be brave, I’ll call my very practical roommate who will know exactly what to do. And you did, you saved me. You both did.”
Exhausted, she sank onto the sofa and, having finished her recitation, immediately gave her whole attention to Marc. He repositioned the drawing table in its original position as Amanda took deep breaths of relief and continued to straighten the room.
“Who on earth areyou, you handsome thing?” Cissy was her old seductive self. “How will Iever repay you for being such a knight in shining armor. Amanda, honey, you are indeedtwice blessed. Especially after last night,” she added coyly.
At Marc’s questioning look and wry smile, she leaned forward. “Did she tell you about the most extraordinary…”
“Cissy! You might want to go…check your hair while we see if anything’s missing.” Amanda’s firm tone segued into a lilting cadence. “We’ll see about the lock before we go. How did the person get in?”
Cissy looked slightly embarrassed. “It might have been me.” At Amanda’s puzzled look, she continued. “Well, you know how that kid on the third floor isalways forgetting his key and runs his hand up and down all the buzzers? I thought it must have been him, right before I went in to take my shower, so I rang back but I never heard him run past the door up the stairs, so then I thought it must be those menu people and they’re soquiet.”
“Okay, okay,” Amanda said in exasperation. “We all do dumb things. Now, you’ll know not to do that again, right?”
“Never,” Cissy said contritely, tugging at the neck of her silk, patterned robe. She gave Amanda a grateful hug. “Thanks for coming. I won’t let this upset me. I’ll be fine. I do think my hair may need the touch of a comb. I’ll only be a minute.”
“She’ll be ten, at least,” Amanda said, sotto voce to Marc as she began to check the room and he went to inspect the door. “She’s really a terrific person who has had to overcome some pretty rotten breaks. We’ll do a proper introduction when she comes back out. You can pretend to be an interested investor.” She chuckled. “Good-looking and rich. I may have to beat her off you with my poor, battered drawing table.” She began to carefully check the room.
Marc smiled and turned his attention to the door. “He used a pry bar. And he cut the chain with a lock cutter. He certainly knew his stuff. A little more prepared than a common thief looking for stuff to hock. What’s missing?”
Amanda’s face was filled with surprise at the realization. “Nothing. Except my files have been wrecked.”
He was quickly at her side. “Sit down, you look a little pale.”
“Marc, I was debating whether to tell you or not. This morning, when I got to work, I discovered the files in my office had been gone through. There was no sign either the company doors or the door to my office doors had been forced. I… I…” She hated implicating anyone. “There’s no reason for anyone in our production unit to go through my files. There are very few, if any, secrets in that office. But something odd is going on.”
Marc’s broad forehead furrowed. “Your office and now your apartment? You’re damned right something funny’s going on. I think I’d better have a talk with my older brother right now. Just to be sure he’s told me everything I need to know. The man is a ditz,” he grumbled. “You gonna be okay here? You got a super or something that can take care of the door? I’ll wait ‘til it’s fixed. Why the hell didn’t anybody stick their head out with all the racket? Damn New York.”
“To be so in love with the Village, you’re certainly short with Chelsea. Nobody’s home during the day on this floor. Everyone works.”
“Oh.” His angry look softened. He leaned closer, studying her distracted look. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“I had the strangest sensation when the man leaped out from behind the drawing table and dashed out.” She bit her lip. Dare she trust this man?
He waited.
“It… he…the body shape… reminded me so much of Mr. Wilde.” She rushed on, appalled that she had actually voiced such a terrible accusation. “Which makes no sense, of course. I can’t imagine him moving that quickly; he’s almost as old as Professor Angeli. But… but I suppose with adrenaline… No! No. It’s not possible.”
“What’s not possible?” Cissy appeared from the bedroom, clad in a skimpy top and even skimpier skirt, her hair a golden casual poof topping her freshly made-up face. Amanda tensed as Marc visibly reacted with a show of pleasant surprise and interest.
“Oops. Did I interrupt something? Now, you two just go on chatting while I run down to the super’s. I am quite pulled together,” she said brightly, delicately readjusting her top so her unfettered breasts inside became even more apparent. She dashed from the apartment waving Amanda and Marc to stay seated.
“Will the super be able to handle that?” Marc’s sardonic look followed Cissy’s exit.
“Mr. Raymondo is very responsive to our needs. His wife sees to it that he’s not too responsive.”
He laughed and Amanda felt her throat tighten. She wanted so desperately to let her bottled-up feelings flood free. She had become used to tension at work, the pressure of surviving in this city, the chaos of living with Cissy. She had been in tricky situations before but she had never before felt… fear.
Marc put his arm around her and pulled her close as if understanding her sudden apprehension. He held her tight. The warmth of his powerful body, the security of his embrace, melted the tension and unleashed her tightly wound nerves. Amanda began to cry.
The raking sobs came quickly, and just as quickly subsided. That was what she needed. Just to let it out. She sucked in great gulps of air, forcing her mind toward blankness, allowing the containing grip of the male arms around her to give her the freedom to relax completely and slowly reassemble herself.
He said nothing. She felt the solid thump of his heart beat steadying her, righting her. A final shuddering sniffle and she was her old in-charge self again.
She pushed away from him, testing the surface tension between them. She was fine. She was whole again. And separate.
Marc smiled. “I liked that.”
“What? My falling apart? I don’t know what the hell’s happening to me,” she said roughly, her ego battering its wings distractedly against the bars of fear that had trapped her. “I’m certainly used to edgy situations. I guess… I guess it’s just that it’s been so unrelenting for the last couple of days. I…”
“The part about holding you.”
The ego-bird flew free into azure skies.
“I’ll go fix lunch.” She leapt up from the sofa, suddenly famished. At the fridge she could feel his powerful presence move behind her, feel the heat of his body warming her back as the cool air brushed her fevered cheeks.
“Back off, big boy.” Amanda clattered sandwich fixings onto the counter. “You and I need to get a few things straight.” He reached for her. She slid out of his embrace.
“I want to know what’s going on and what it has to do with me. And don’t give me that ‘all will be made clear in good time’ crap.” She was feeling her oats, fending off his wicked, crooked smirk, slipping away from his teasing, outstretched arms.
“I appreciate the comforting shoulder.” She pressed a knife firmly into his solid midsection, urging him back. “A lot.” For a brief moment she thought of dropping the pointed barrier between them and allowing their hormones to flow freely. His eyes were so blue, his look so warm, his comforting solidity such a refuge.
Home and hearth.
But this was no such thing. It was one hot, handsome male intent on conquest and one almost-willing female, fighting the powerful lion back onto his platform with an upraised chair.
Maybe she couldn’t make him jump through flaming hoops- just yet- but she could prevent him from leaving his marks on her, at least for now. She had no intention of fighting him back into his cage permanently.
Marc slumped against the counter, looking forlorn as he plucked a slice of chicken from the deli wrapper. He shoved the slice into his mouth. “Are you the bad guy, Ace?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t screw with me, Ace. I can handle it. We’ll work something out with the insurance company. David could learn to live with it. After all it was his class that inspired you.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Nobody reacted the way you did, Amanda.” He took off his glasses and pulled her close to him, peering deep into her eyes. Into her soul. Amanda’s pulse began to race.
“I… I really have no idea… what…” She twisted from his grip and clutched the edge of the counter. “Gee… whiz… Marc…” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“I don’t know what you mean by that ‘acted-the-way-I-did’ crack. You’re a good-looking guy,” she tossed back, returning to constructing the sandwiches. “Can I help it if I’m particularly susceptible to naked lov…”
She spun back, her eyes wide on him. “Naked… nude… men…models! ” Her body whirled away again as she seized a tomato and began to vigorously slice it. “I’ve never seen such terrific poses. I told you. It was very inspiring.”
She slapped slices of whole wheat bread down firmly, mashing the lettuce and tomato into the chicken slices. She briskly cut the sandwiches in two. Marc quickly retrieved one of the plates and delicately plucked the knife from her hand.
Her rattled brain clutched at another subject. “What are you doing with a gun?” she challenged.
“I have a permit.” He reached to spear pickle chips onto his plate.
“I don’t like guns,” she grumbled.
“I don’t either. But I like the reasons that I have to carry one even less.” He poured them each a glass of milk.
“Promise me, Ace, it ain’t you. I’m taking a hell of a risk here. Be straight with me. I could use your help.”
Her body stiffened. “If I had the slightest…”
Trust.He was trusting her. Even if she hadn’t the remotest idea what he was talking about. She unclenched her jaw and studied the narrowed blue eyes, shadowed by the intent, compressed eyebrows. The tight constriction in her chest slowly ebbed away. “I promise, Marc. It ain’t me.”
With a sigh of enormous relief he pulled her roughly to him and narrowly missed smushing the chicken sandwiches between them.
“I could lose my license for this,” he announced happily, cupping her head in his strong hand and holding her tightly against his chest. The surprise that Amanda felt at his reaching for her was instantly replaced with a wave of pleasure at being plastered securely against Marc’s strong chest.
He released his grip and held her away from his body; his face a confused mask. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away.” His eyes swept her look of quiet amusement. “No, I’m not sorry. Not at all.” He grinned wickedly. “Okay,” he cleared his throat and his voice changed to one of brusque efficiency. “Good. Now that we’ve settled that, let’s get down to business.”
“Business?”
“Yep… you and me, babe. We’re a team. Welcome to the P.I. biz.”
Amanda frowned. “Does that mean I’m supposed to spy on my friends, now?”
“It’s not spying,” Marc said earnestly. “God, no. I’d never ask that of you. But, Ace, somebody in the class is in a lot of trouble and it may be one of your guys. If we can figure it out before the feds do…”
“The feds?” The lunch dishes clattered into the sink.
At the same moment, Cissy appeared at the broken apartment door accompanied by a middle-aged Spanish man carrying a toolbox. With a concerned nod of greeting to Amanda the superintendent began replacing the broken lock and chain under Cissy’s watchful eye.
Amanda turned back to Marc. “The feds?” she repeated quietly. “Do you mean to tell me this is an international thing?”
Marc chewed on his lower lip and sat back in his chair on the opposite side of the small dining table. “I… I need a few more days before I blab all. Man, this is not the way I usually operate.” His broad shoulders took on the Humphrey Bogart slouch. “You’re putting me off my feed, babe.” He beamed his killer grin. “I like it.”
He shifted into yet another gear as Amanda sat down opposite him. “All I’m asking is that you pay close attention to how the group reacts to my… to Antonio’s poses. We’re going through all this hassle to see if we can elicit a specific response. After tomorrow night’s session, I should know more about whether it’s gonna work or not. You’re sharp. You’ve got a good eye and a great ear. Just tune it my way a bit more. Okay?”
“Flattery seems to be getting you everything you want.”
The edges of the beautiful, sculpted lips shot up. “We’re not at the ‘everything’ mark yet, but we’re sure as hell working on it.” He reached for her cheek again. She drew back.
“Marc… I…” Amanda feared his touch as much as she longed for it. “I’ll do what you ask, but I need more space between us, for the time being.”
“Gotcha.” He pulled his hands back and laid them on the table, palms up. The same gesture he had used in the Village restaurant the night before. Simply there. Open. Waiting for her to make the next move.
She placed her fingers tentatively in his palms. The throb in his wrist visibly quickened as he closed his hand gently over hers.
Cissy breezed over. “Mr. Raymondo is so efficient. I’m going to give him a nice tip.” She giggled at Amanda’s sharp look and Marc’s smiling leer.
“Allow me.” Marc trailed his fingertips over Amanda’s as he left the table. He exchanged a few words in Spanish with the super and tucked a bill into his hand. Mr. Raymondo’s profuse thanks trailed after him as he disappeared down the stairs.
“Give you a lift?” Marc said to Amanda. “I’m springing for a cab uptown, I can drop you.” He reached for Cissy’s hand which she turned in his grip so that he felt impelled to press it in gentle farewell rather than a firm handshake.
“Iknow we’re going to be seeing more ofyou.” Amanda suppressed a cough and Marc chuckled wickedly. Cissy looked from one to the other in feigned questioning annoyance.
“What?”