The Dollmaker. Amanda StevensЧитать онлайн книгу.
his eyes briefly as an image of his ex-wife appeared in his head. She wasn’t as curvy or as beautiful as Angelette, but her appeal was far more dangerous because she was the kind of woman you could never get out of your system. No matter how much you drank.
As if she was reading his mind, Angelette’s expression hardened. Her gaze seemed to pierce right through him, and then she blinked and the daggers were gone. The familiar smile flashed, dazzled, even as her chin lifted in defiance.
Same old Angelette.
She wore a blue dress, transparent from where she stood in the doorway. Jubal leaned an elbow on the bar and swore under his breath. Together he and Dave watched her walk with fluid grace to the stool next to Dave’s, a whiff of something seductive preceding her.
Still smiling, she placed her purse on the bar and crossed her legs, letting that blue dress skate up her slender thighs.
“I don’t want no trouble,” Jubal warned.
She tossed back her dark hair and laughed. “I don’t want any trouble, either.”
“You start throwing beer bottles like you did last time, I’m calling the law on both of you.”
“I am the law, remember?” She laughed again, but her amusement didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just relax, okay? Dave and I kissed and made up a long time ago. Didn’t we, Dave?”
“If you say so.” He was all for letting bygones be bygones, but when Angelette leaned over to brush her lips against his, he couldn’t help tensing.
Her gaze lit on the scar above his eye. “Wow. Did I do that?”
“Better than a tattoo.”
“Speaking of tattoos…I got myself a new one. Remind me to show it to you sometime.”
Dave let that one go. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, as Marsilius frequently pointed out, but he’d learned his lesson with Angelette.
Not getting the response she wanted, she turned to Jubal. “Double whiskey.”
There was something about Angelette that Dave hadn’t remembered from before. She’d always had an edge. Had always been able to give as good as she got. An ambitious female detective had to know how to handle herself in a man’s world. But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t her years as a cop that had given her face a brittle veneer. It was selling out. Being on the take for too long had chipped away at her sensuality and left in its wake something hard and unpleasant and faintly decadent.
Dave cradled his cup, gratified to note that his hands no longer trembled. He hadn’t felt this steady in years. “So how did the anger management classes go?” He knew the question was likely to set her off. Angelette didn’t like being called on her bullshit—by him or by the judge who’d ordered her into the classes—but Dave couldn’t resist goading her a little.
She surprised him. Instead of rising to the bait, she gave an airy wave with one hand as she lifted her drink with the other. “Oh, I finished up months ago. You’re looking at the new and improved Angelette. What do you think?”
“Not bad.”
One brow lifted as her eyes seemed to challenge him. Not bad? There was a time when you couldn’t keep your hands off me, you bastard. “You’re not faring too badly yourself. You’ve put on a little weight, but it suits you. I was never all that partial to scrawny guys. A girl has to have something to hang on to, right, Jubal?” She gave the bartender a wink.
The older man glared at her with open suspicion. “You want another drink?”
“Oui, bien sûr.” She waited for him to pour the whiskey, then picked up her glass. “Let’s move over to a booth.” She slid off the stool, and as she turned, her full breasts brushed up against Dave’s arm for a split second before she moved away.
He got up and, taking his coffee with him, followed her to a back booth. By the time he sat down, she’d already finished her second drink.
“Maybe you ought to ease up on the hooch.”
“What is that? A friendly piece of advice from one drunk to another?” Her face was flushed and her voice sounded strained as she folded her arms on the table.
Something was wrong. Dave could feel it. Her eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. Instead, she watched the steam rising from his cup that drifted up between them.
“What did you want to see me about?”
Her gaze darted to the front door, and Dave noticed that she’d chosen a booth where they both had a view of the entrance. He’d taught her that. The things she’d taught him didn’t come in so handy these days.
“I’m seeing someone. I wanted you to hear it from me first.” She ran a fingernail around the rim of her empty glass and Dave could tell she wanted another drink. He knew that feeling, that hunger. It was like a needy old friend you could never get rid of.
He waited for a moment, thinking he might feel a twinge of regret at her news, but no. Not even a flicker of relief. He just didn’t care anymore. “Is it serious?”
“Who knows?” Angelette shook out a cigarette and lit up. The smoke mingled with the steam from his coffee, softening her features and making her face seem almost vulnerable, but Dave knew better than to believe in a mirage. “We’re taking things slow for now. Something you and I should have done, I guess.” She propped an elbow on the table, letting the Camel smolder between her fingers. “Never was anything slow about you, Dave.”
“Most men wouldn’t take that as a compliment.”
“But you’re not most men, now are you?” She gave him a dark smile. “We both liked it fast, didn’t we? And often.”
Her lowered voice conjured images best left in the past. Seedy motel rooms. The hood of his car. A deserted road with the smell of the river drifting in through the open windows.
“We were good for a while, baby. You can’t deny that.” She reached for his hand, but Dave pulled his away.
“Tell me about your new guy. Anyone I know?”
“It’s Lee Elliot.”
Dave was caught off guard by the name. The conservative Orleans Parish district attorney hardly seemed suited to Angelette’s free spirit, but then Elliot came from old money and that would most definitely appeal to her.
“Are you impressed?”
“Have to say that I am. Does he know about the payoffs?”
“I’m clean these days, Dave. I swear. So I’d appreciate it if you’d just keep your mouth shut about the past. I kind of like the idea of a stable relationship for a change and I don’t want you ruining this for me.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Besides, I don’t exactly operate in Elliot’s circle.”
“No, but Claire’s sister does.”
“I don’t talk to Claire’s family. You know that.”
“I thought things might be different now.”
“You mean because I’m not seeing you anymore?”
Angelette took a quick drag on her cigarette. “I did wonder.”
“Claire and I are over,” Dave said slowly. “We’ve been over for a long time. You know she’s remarried.” And wasn’t it pretty damn remarkable how he was able to say it without punching a wall or shattering a window?
But the outbursts of temper and the drunken brawls were behind him. Dave had accepted his life for the way it was, and he’d finally figured out there was no profit in dwelling on what he’d lost.
He could almost hear his AA sponsor coaxing him: Say it with me, Dave. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know