Can't Buy Me Love Page 15

  “No, I wanted to eat here.”

  Paige turned back around in her chair and tried to pay attention to her food and more importantly tried to forget that her husband was seated a mere half -restaurant away.

  “So are you going to go tell him?”

  “Now?” Paige squeaked.

  “There’s no time like the present,” Maddie repeated.

  “I can’t go over there now. I...I...He’s probably waiting on someone. Yeah, that’s it. He’s probably meeting a client or a buyer or whatever it is he calls them. No, I couldn’t interrupt his business lunch. It may be very important.”

  “Well, I don’t know how important she is, but I can assure you she’s not business.”

  Paige resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and see who had joined Blake at his table. Probably nobody. This “she” was most likely just Maddie’s covert way of making Paige look.

  “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s Anna Rivera.”

  “Anna is in Africa.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Maddie, I’m not going to fall for this. I’m not going to look and I’m not going over there.”

  “Paige.” Her friend’s voice turned soft with regret. “I wish this was a trick. But I think Blake was waiting on his ex-lover.”

  Unable to hold out any longer, Paige turned just in time to see Blake bend his head and kiss the newly-returned Anna Rivera.

  ****

  Blake lightly kissed Anna at the corner of her mouth, then lifted his head.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  Africa had changed Anna. Her flawless features, once accented by the world’s finest cosmetics, were adorned only with the merest trace of pale coral lipstick and lingering sunburn. A band of freckles arched across a nose that her plastic surgeon was surely proud of and an insect bite adorned her left cheek where a beauty mark should have been.

  “Will you join me?” Blake pulled out a chair for her.

  “I can’t stay long. I’m meeting some friends for lunch.”

  She sat across from him and an uncomfortable silence descended. The months between them created a gulf that even their shared social standing couldn’t breach. Blake felt it in the coolness of her cheek and the lack sparkle that used to ignite between them. Funny though, he wasn’t saddened by the loss, but comforted. It was as if a chapter of his life had passed and he had moved on. So had Anna.

  “When did you get back?” Blake asked.

  “Last week. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I just didn’t know what to say.” She worried with the wrapped silverware. “Cherry told me about the wedding. I wish you the best.”

  “You sound like we’re never going to see each other again.”

  Anna smiled that knowing smile all females mastered in the cradle and all men went to the coffin still trying to decipher. “It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it? I never wanted to go to Africa, but Father insisted. Now I’m so glad he did. I met a man while I was there. A missionary. I’m going back to Africa, and we’re going to be married.”

  “And what does the Congressman have to say about this?”

  “Father’s fit to be tied, but he can’t change my mind. I spent the first part of my life not caring about others. Now, I’m going to spend the rest of my life helping them.”

  Blake tried to compartmentalize her words, but couldn’t help thinking how much she sounded like Paige. Wanting to help people, not caring about worldly things, not willing to take the job at Caldwell. The entire concept gave him a headache, so he pushed the thoughts aside and said the one thing he could. “Stop by the office next week. I’ll leave a check with Catherine. Any cause that can change a person this much has to be worthwhile.”

  “Thank you, Blake. Your support means a lot to me.” Anna stood. “But I really have to go.”

  Blake stood as well, taking one of her hands in his own. After all she had told him, he shouldn’t have been surprised by the calluses, but he was. “Take care of yourself.”

  Anna smiled, raised on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “Good luck to you, Blake. And God bless you.”

  He returned to his seat as Noah approached.

  “Was that Paige?” Noah sat down across from him.

  “Really funny, Anderson. I know she’s changed a lot, but would hardly say that Anna looks like Paige.” Blake glanced back in the direction Anna had departed.

  “Not her. Her.” Noah turned in his seat and pointed toward the front of the restaurant.

  There was no mistaking that seething turquoise gaze as belonging to anyone other than his wife. “I’ll be right back.”

  Blake caught up with her just outside the restaurant. “Paige,” he called as she unlocked the door to her new blue Mercedes. She had originally refused to drive the car, so he had hidden the keys to her Volkswagen and given her no choice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having lunch here today?”

  She shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

  “We could have at least had a cup of coffee together.”

  “You looked a little busy.”

  “I was just waiting on Noah.”

  “Oh. Well, tell Noah that I’m glad his sex change operation was such a success. For a minute there I actually thought he was a woman. Anna Rivera, to be exact.”

  “I can explain.”

  “I’m sure you can.” She flung her purse into her car and started in after it. “The problem is I’m not willing to listen.”

  For a minute there she almost sounded jealous. His heart warmed thinking that might actually be the case, but there was no way he could let her leave upset. “I know what that looked like, but nothing happened. I just—”

  The car door slammed on his words, and Paige started the engine before he could protest any further. She shoved the car in reverse, then rolled down the window. “By the way. During the course of their experiments, the aliens left lipstick on your face.”

  She punched the gas and barely missed running over his foot as she sped from the parking lot.

  Blake re-entered the restaurant, trying to wipe away the traces of Anna’s innocent kiss from his cheek.

  “You’re just smearing it,” Noah criticized as Blake sat down at their table.

  “Why didn’t you tell me I had lipstick on my face?”

  “I didn’t see it at the time.”

  “Well, Paige did.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “I would hardly call my marriage paradise. So tell me what you found out today.”

  “Not good.”

  “Let me guess. Daniel Masters, counselor at large, had a stroke while playing golf in Crete.”

  “Close. He had a heart attack while playing tennis in Capri.”

  Blake folded his arms across the table and laid his head down. “I don’t believe this,” he said his voice muffled against the sleeves of his suit coat.

  “Well, believe it. It was only a mild attack, if there really is such a thing, but he’s going to take a couple more months off to recoup.”

  Blake lifted his head. “I thought he went on this vacation to improve his health.”

  Noah shrugged. “I talked to the attorney handling Masters’ cases, but he wasn’t given authorization to handle any changes concerning your aunt’s will. He’s just supposed to contact you periodically and make sure that you and Paige are still co-habitating. As far as Masters is concerned, the case is closed until the annual report comes due.”

  “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “Make the best of it. At least there have been no further attempts on your life since the incident with the ham.”

  “So you finally believe she poisoned me.”

  “I didn’t say that, but whatever it is you’re doing with Paige, keep it up.”

  “I hardly ever see her. She’s still asleep when I leave in the morning, and she goes to bed right after dinner. It’s kind of strange, you know. She used to be up before me every day of the week.”


  “Maybe she’s sleeping late because she can, now that you’ve hired a new cook. By the way, how is she working out?”

  “Fine, I guess. It’s just kind of eerie having a person without a past around the house. You never know what they may be hiding.”

  “Yes, but can she cook?”

  “You expect me to eat at home?”

  “Isn’t that why you have a cook?”

  Blake shrugged.

  “You hired her two weeks ago.” Noah’s tone reeked with disbelief.

  “Yeah, and in those two weeks I have eaten at every restaurant in Chicago be it fast food or fine dining. I can’t be too careful.”

  “You have finally lost it,” Noah said. “Marriage has driven you over the edge.”

  “Yes, well. I’d rather be crazy than dead.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The phone rang four times before Noah disengaged his lips from their current assignment and set his fluted wine glass on the coffee table. He looked at the woman next to him, the voluptuous Delilah French. It had taken him several calculated weeks to get her into his apartment and into his arms, and now that he had her where he wanted her, the damned phone was ringing.

  He let it sound once more. Not taking his eyes off the dark-haired beauty, he answered it on the fifth ring.

  “Anderson.”

  “She must be good. I thought you’d never answer.”

  The voice that came across the phone lines was thick and slurred, and Noah barely recognized it.

  “Blake?”

  “Noah,” he said in return. “Listen, pal. I have to talk to you. I’m in big trouble.”

  Noah looked at Delilah. “It’s a client,” he mouthed, then he turned his attention back to Blake. “What kind of trouble?”

  “The worst kind. Are you coming or not?”

  Noah’s gaze slid over the dark-haired beauty’s tiny black dress and the hot, silky, moistness of her lips. A friend in need, he thought to himself then sighed heavily. “Are you at home?”

  Blake laughed, the laugh of a man too far gone in straight whiskey. “Lord, no. I may not have much longer, but I want to see the night through. I’m at a bar. I think on Eleventh Street. I can’t make out the name, but there’s a bird on the sign. You shouldn’t have much trouble finding it; my car’s out front. Come celebrate with me.”

  “Celebrate? I thought you were in trouble. You’re not making much sense.”

  On the other end of the line Blake sighed. “Yeah, well, none of this does. Are you coming or not?”

  Noah eyed the beautiful brunette and sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  ****

  True to Blake’s word, Noah didn’t have a hard time finding the bar. Joey’s Blue Flamingo Lounge and Beer Gardens sat between a used car lot and a bowling alley and could only be described as a wanna-be upper class redneck hangout. The Blake Caldwell he knew would have never set in foot in such an establishment, but Blake’s brand new white Mercedes was indeed parked out front on the rough, unlined patch of asphalt that served as a parking lot. Not surprisingly it was the only Mercedes. Noah parked his Towncar, set the alarm and said a small prayer that it would be all right in this rough-hewn environment.

  The crack of billiard balls floated out of the small building on the warm night breeze already filled with the honky-tonk nasal sounds of some country singer who proclaimed that Hank Williams wrote his life.

  The smell of stale cigarette smoke and unwashed, hard-working bodies assaulted Noah as he walked in the door. The interior was small and the crowd likewise. It took him only a few moments to spot his friend-in-need sitting at the bar nursing a fruity looking drink.

  “Blake.”

  At the sound of his name, Blake turned sloshing the alcohol concoction on his sleeve, on the bar, and on the man seated next to him.

  “Hi, Noah. Sit down. Sit down. Have a drink. Fred,” he called to the man behind the bar. “Get my friend Noah here a drink.”

  Fred nodded.

  “I’ll take a vodka martini.”

  Fred stopped, glass in hand and a confused, even horrified, expression on his large face.

  Blake laughed. “Give him The Special,” he said to the bartender, then turned back to Noah. “Fred’s new at this mixed drink stuff. He’s just learning, you understand. The bar used to only serve beer, but now they’re trying to up-grade their image.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Noah dryly commented.

  “Well, Fred’s not up to difficult things like martinis. He practices though. Tonight he’s working on rum and fruit punch.”

  “And that’s the special?”

  “Yep. He calls it a Fruit Looped.”

  “Blake, maybe we should—”

  “And bring my friend Joe one, too.” Blake gestured to the man seated next to him, the one he had spilled his drink on.

  “Blake, what are you doing here?”

  Blake glanced covertly around him. “I’m getting drunk. Rotten, stinking drunk. Ain’t that right, Joe?”

  “That’s right.” The man grinned revealing a missing left canine tooth.

  “Oh, wait. I haven’t introduced you. Noah, this is my new friend Joe. Joe, this is my old friend Noah.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Noah said.

  Joe nodded as Fred brought their drinks, a funny pinkish-orange liquid with an umbrella stuck in the straw and a cherry floating on top.

  “I asked Joe if he owned the place,” Blake continued. “But he said no. He said he just liked to come here and pretend that he did.”

  “We all have to have a dream.” Noah took a tentative sip of his drink and grimaced. “Have you really been drinking these?”

  “Lots of ‘em.” Blake made a sweeping gesture in front of him toward the many little paper umbrellas that lay strewn across the bar.

  Noah had never known Blake to drink that much and certainly not mixed fruit drinks that came decorated with Barbie-sized umbrellas. Something was bothering him. And if Noah had to guess, that something would be Paige. “What did you need to talk about, Blake?”

  “Oh, I just wanted company. But you took so long getting here that I made a new friend. His name is Joe.”

  “We’ve met.” Noah took hold of Blake’s arm. “Come on let’s get out of here. We can go someplace where people have bathed in the past week, then you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s Paige,” Blake said as he tried to pull his arm from Noah’s grasp. “It’s always been Paige. She’s trying to kill me. Tomorrow she’ll try again, and this time she’ll succeed for sure.”

  “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.” Noah stopped tugging on Blake’s arm. He hadn’t moved him even one inch and no matter how hard Noah tried he would not be successful. He had learned one valuable lesson in his days at college: there was nothing heavier than a drunken man who didn’t want to move.

  “I’ve had a lot too much to drink, but I can still see the pattern. Tomorrow she’ll try to kill me again. Or maybe the next day. I can’t really be sure. But it’ll happen. Mark my words. She wants me dead.” When he didn’t get the apparent response he wanted from Noah, Blake turned to Joe.

  “Ain’t that right, Joe?”

  “Just like a woman.” Joe nodded, then took a drink of his Fruit Looped.

  “Ain’t?” Noah asked.

  “It’s true. You don’t believe me. Masters is gone. There’s no one to help me. So tonight I’m celebrating what will be one of my last nights on earth.”

  “Blake, getting drunk isn’t going to help you out of this problem.”

  He nodded solemnly. “But it might help cut the pain when she—” He dragged a finger across his neck.

  “Come on, buddy. Let’s go home.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Noah. I can’t go home.”

  “And I won’t listen to you either until we can go someplace where we can talk.”

  Blake opened his mouth to speak.

  “Alone,” Noah interrupted. “Witho
ut spectators or music.”

  Blake turned to Joe. “Sorry to do this to you my friend, but I have to go. He’s my attorney and all.”

  Joe nodded as if he understood all about attorneys, and Blake slid off the barstool. He wobbled a little, but Noah braced his arm around him and helped him out the door.

  ****

  Blake squinted in the bright light of the Village Inn Pancake House and tried to focus on his coffee. After four cups of the strong brew, he still felt drunk, wide awake and drunk.

  “Now tell me why you think Paige will try to kill you tomorrow,” Noah instructed in his court room tone. “And make this good. I had Delilah primed and ready, and you interrupted.”

  “Delilah French?”

  “The one and only.”

  Blake grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that.” He sighed, trying to get all the words right before he let them leave his mouth, but it was almost too much of an effort. “This afternoon at Montrachet, Paige saw me with Anna. I know what it looked like, but I was waiting on you. Then I kissed her—just a brotherly peck. I didn’t mean anything by it. I kiss a lot of women. Hell, I’ve even kissed Marguerite Davidson.” He made a face. “But I think I embarrassed Paige. I know I made her angry.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Blake rubbed his eyes still trying to logically sort through the alcohol-saturated facts. “Paige wouldn’t listen to me. She almost ran me down with her car, and then I knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  Blake shook his head, then took another sip of his coffee. “The pattern’s there, don’t you see? I took her to the Opera Benefit. It was an embarrassing experience for her. Two days later she tried to kill me by crushing me with an iron sewing machine.”

  “I told you it could have been a coincidence. That sewing machine weighs a ton. There’s no way she could have dragged it across the hall and to the railing, then pushed it over.”

  “Yes, there is. Henry the janitor confessed to leaving it too close to the banister. All Paige had to do was tip it and its own weight did the rest.”

  Noah was silent, and Blake let that little piece of information sink in before continuing. “The night after her birthday, I told everyone that she would be joining the Caldwell designing team. The next morning she tried to run me over with my own car.”