Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella Page 9

  Angel glared at her. Damn the woman for having the nerve to follow Clancy down here! Damn it all to hell!

  "See you later, Melissa," she said hatefully. "You, too, Clancy. I don't need a love triangle in my life." She picked up her sandals and started to walk away.

  "Don't go," he said just above a whisper. "Please, don't go."

  "Why not?" Melissa turned and lifted her shoulders like an offended female feline. "She might be rich now, but she'll always be white trash."

  "Shut up, Melissa!" Clancy said furiously. "Don't you know it's over for us? Has been for years. Whether Angela stays or goes is her business, but nothing you can say would make me love you again . . . if I ever did."

  Angel doubled up her fists, but she kept them down and fought the white-hot rage boiling up inside her. One good solid right hook and this useless woman would be sporting a crooked nose until she could see a plastic surgeon. Not that Angel wanted to fight her rival—tonight or ever. But she did have an urge to sock Melissa hard enough to send her about halfway to the horizon.

  "Well, you'll love me when I tell you our good news," the heartless hussy went on. Angel fumed silently. "I do know you wanted to have a child when we were married and things just never seemed to work out. I'm real sorry about that. But now I'm pregnant, Clancy. And the baby is yours." Melissa's tone was unbearably smug, and her expression seemed to dare either of her listeners to doubt her announcement.

  "You're what?" Clancy said incredulously.

  "You heard me. Preg. Nant. Pregnant. Only by a couple of weeks, but you know how good these early tests are now. Must have happened that night at Pennington Creek when you were so drunk you didn't know what you were doing. Don't you remember-any of it, darling?" Melissa looked triumphantly at Angel and seemed to be expecting her to stomp away in a fit of anger, as she certainly would have done.

  Angel stopped in her tracks, although she'd been ready to do just what Melissa had expected. That funny feeling she called "the hunch" came over her. It started down deep where the anger had come from just moments before.

  She mentally picked up the pieces of this particular puzzle, and tried to put them together. It only took a split second to know something wasn't right and her intuition had never yet disappointed her. Angela had founded a multimillion dollar business based on it. . . and she'd be a fool to let this brazen bitch control her emotions or her life when she suddenly felt a hunch as strongly as she did now.

  "You might be pregnant," Clancy shook his head in bewilderment, "but it's not mine and you know it. Nothing happened . . . except that you slapped me when I told you about the stillborn baby Angela had. That baby was mine. Now I might have had a few beers when you showed up again, but I remember when I've had sex, and I didn't."

  "You were so drunk you wouldn't remember anything," Melissa smoothed the front of her skirt over her flat stomach. "I know you offered me bourbon . . . and then you called me Angel. Then I sat down on the sand beside you, and that's when you started kissing me, and one thing led to another."

  Angela stifled a laugh. This would make Granny's soap operas as tame as a declawed house kitten. Melissa was lying, and Angela knew it as surely as she knew Clancy was telling the truth. So Melissa needed a husband. That meant the baby wasn't Daniel's or she would still be with him. Now wouldn't that set the old Tishomingo tongues to wagging? The social cream of the crop had gotten caught with her pantyhose down around her ankles.

  "What are you laughing at Angela? You had your turn to have a baby with him. Now it's mine," Melissa sneered.

  "Don't take that tone with me, Melissa. I'm not beneath you and I'm not the poorest kid in the classroom you used to pick on. I'm a grown woman who's smart enough to know when another woman is making a fool of herself. If you're pregnant. . . well, congratulations. When the baby's born, Clancy can go to the hospital for DNA testing." Angel moved over next to him and slipped her arm through his. "If it's Clancy's baby, then he'll be more than happy to write you a support check, but you know and I know it's not his. Get back in your car, wherever it is, and get the hell out of here. Because this beach ain't big enough for us both, and I'm staying."

  Clancy didn't know whether to spit or go blind. He expected Angel to walk away from him and never look back, and he wouldn't have blamed her if she did. Lord, what in the world had happened in the middle of this argument to change her mind? Here she was plastered to his wet side as if she belonged there, and Melissa just stood in front of them with her mouth hanging open.

  "Just remember, if I couldn't keep him, you don't have a chance," Melissa said. "He's never been faithful and never will be. I'm the only person in the whole world who ever understood him."

  "Honey, you couldn't keep him because I had him first." Angel couldn't resist the barb. "Clancy, I do believe you said something about walking me to my door. Maybe you'd like to come in for a soda while I have another glass of this wonderful Italian wine. You know, I think a storm is rolling in tonight, Melissa. I hope you don't have trouble on your return flight. Come on, Clancy. These wet clothes are beginning to get sandy and I need a shower." She pulled him away.

  "Clancy, if you walk away with that bitch, you'll never see this baby." Melissa raised her voice and Angel's flat-palmed slap answered her.

  "Don't call me names," Angel ground out. "Clancy won't have to see this baby of yours, because when the tests come back, it won't be his. I'd be willing to stake Conrad Oil on it, Melissa, and you know I'm right, so go find some other sucker to pin your mistake on."

  "Are you going to let Angel run your life, Clancy?" Melissa held her red cheek and let a few well-trained tears run down to her quivering jawbone.

  "Like a toy train, if she'd do it for me," Clancy smiled for the first time since he'd flopped on his back and stared up his ex-wife's skirt.

  "Then both of you can go straight to hell, and, Clancy, you can just wonder forever if this baby belongs to you." Melissa stomped silently through the sand and back to her car, where she slammed the door and peeled out, leaving the beach behind her as she squealed the tires on her rental car loudly enough to wake up half the residents of the motel.

  Angel sat right back down in the water and poured herself another glass of wine. "And now, what have you got to say for yourself?"

  Clancy's heart fell again. She would never believe that he had told the truth. She'd certainly never trust him again and they weren't even begun to renew their romance. In fact, they were back where they started and he was sure he'd never see the day when he'd take her to dinner again.

  "This is what happened. I you at left the cemetery, stopped by the liquor store, got some beer and bourbon and decided I'd get drunk and give myself a hellacious headache. I wanted to hurt so much I couldn't think of you and I couldn't see that tombstone with my son's name on it. I wanted to forget what a heel I'd been to you, and a good old-fashioned hangover seemed like an appropriate punishment." Clancy sat down beside her.

  The pieces were tumbling into place in her hunch factory again. Clancy was telling the truth. "I see. And where did you go to create this humongous headache?"

  "To the dam. I took an old blanket and spread it out in our spot, and I sat down on the sandbar and put my feet in the water and started drinking beers. One minute I was all by myself. The next minute, Melissa was there beside me. Lord, at first I thought it was you . . . I guess I hoped it was you. She thought she'd ruined my life by divorcing me, so I just told her why I was getting drunk. She slapped my face and stormed off, saying if I didn't tell my mother, the whole story, she would the next day," Clancy said.

  "And did you?" Angel held her breath.

  "Yep, I did. Thought she was going to take a hickory switch to me even though I'm twenty-eight years old and survived marriage to that witch and then the divorce. Then she told me about Tom and I told her I realized what a big mistake I made all those years ago," he finished.

  "Then your mother knows about me?" Angel could hardly believe her ears.

  "She
's the one who insisted I fly down here. She said to face the future I had to bury the past and learn to appreciate the present . . . or some philosophical thing like that. Seemed smart to me at the time. I sure never expected to look up and see Melissa on the beach tonight. Whatever possessed her to fly down here is a mystery to me, Angel."

  Angel thought for a long moment. "So she and her husband Daniel are getting a divorce. It's scary, Clancy. She moved out of her parent's house into the dorms and a secure relationship with you, then into marriage with you, and then into marriage with him as soon as possible. Now she's about to lose her security blanket. But she doesn't care if it's a bit worn around the edges and tattered, it's better than nothing."

  "Are you saying I'm nothing?" Clancy had to smile at her choice of metaphor.

  "I'm explaining her actions," Angela said unruffled. "Melissa's scared to face life alone. At one time she could control you and it might have worked again, if I hadn't been there beside you. Her story didn't make sense. You won't even have a full glass of wine with me, but you'd get drunk with the woman who left you for another man? Come on, even you have a bit more class than that."

  Clancy winced at the backhanded compliment. "Thanks, and I do mean it," he sighed. "I really did not have sex with her. I had drunk several beers and I was a little tipsy, but I did not touch her, and that's a promise. If she's pregnant, I'll go for DNA testing, I promise."

  "Well, let's see," Angela said. "But for now I think I'd like to call it a day. I need a long, hot shower to wash all this sand out of my underwear, and you, sir, probably do, too. So you can walk me to my door. But I was only kidding about you coming into my room for a cold soda. I learned my lesson about sex many years ago. I don't fall into bed with a man just because he has lots of sex appeal and a nice smile."

  "Thanks for the compliments." Clancy helped her up.

  They walked up the sandbar in silence, each thinking about the evening's events. He knew the head of all the guardian angels in heaven had been working on his side tonight. Clancy felt a crazy need to drop down on his knees and give thanks even if he never knew just exactly what it was that had turned her around in the middle of that triangular argument.

  She hadn't realized how much Clancy meant to her until the thought of Melissa snaring him with a lie shocked her into awareness. Angel might not be ready for a relationship with the man, but she'd be damned if she stood by and lost the best golfing partner she'd ever found. And, besides, she got the whole bottle of Asti when he was buying!

  When they reached the top of the stairs, he unlocked her door for her, handed back the key and started to the next room. "Thanks. I mean it, Angel," he said over his shoulder.

  "Is that all? I didn't say I wouldn't appreciate a nice warm kiss to finish off a wonderful day," Angel cocked her hip in that provocative pose that made his blood boil, and waited for one sweet second for him to turn back around to her.

  Clancy gathered her slowly into his arms, realizing that this was the grand finale of the whole disastrous, wonderful day, and when his lips met hers, she opened hers slightly to taste the sweet smoothness of his part of a glass of wine still on his tongue. He never knew Asti could taste so good. Maybe he'd been drinking it all wrong all these years. He just needed to funnel it through Angel Conrad's sexy mouth to appreciate the full flavor.

  They were both adults and they'd kissed other people in the past ten years. But when they closed their eyes and flesh finally met flesh again, it was as if the heavens opened and stardust glittered above them in the darkness of the night.

  "Thank you again, my sweet Angel," he murmured softly into her neck, dreading the moment he would have to pull away and go to his lonely room.

  "Oh, Clancy." Angel pushed him away with an honest, warm smile. "See you in the morning. I'll be on the balcony throwing toast to the turtles early, but you can sleep in if you've had too big a day," she teased as she slipped out of his arms and into her room, knowing full well how much she wanted to drag him in with her.

  "I'll be waiting on my balcony right next door when you get up," Clancy challenged and he walked off to his own room, wishing he could have picked her up and carried her with him.

  Ten

  Angel crawled between the cool, white sheets, and stared at the ceiling for a minute or two before she drifted off. Suddenly the next morning the alarm went off and she didn't remember even setting the clock. She always woke early, read the paper and had coffee while she mentally went over the day's schedule. When she slapped at the clock on her bedside table and it rang again, she realized it was the telephone. "Damn that Clancy," she swore, glancing at the time and realizing it was only four o'clock in the morning. He'd probably stayed up all night just to beat her to the balcony this morning. Early meant seven o'clock to her . . . not the darkest hours before dawn.

  "What?" she picked up the receiver and answered without opening her eyes all the way.

  "Miss Conrad, this is the front desk. We're sorry to inform you that you'll have to leave within the next hour. We are evacuating the motel. The hurricane that was expected to hit the east coast has made a turnaround and is coming this way. Can I assist you in any way?"

  "Good grief!" She was out of bed and on her feet. "What hurricane?"

  "Blanche," he said, as if he were telling her the name of a hairdresser in town. "Hurricane Blanche. Been tracking her path all night, and the weather channel predicted she'd go to the other side of the state, but she made an abrupt about-face and headed this way with a full head of steam."

  "Thank you," Angel managed to say before she hung up and threw a suitcase on the bed. She picked up the receiver again and dialed the airport. "I need a flight out of here to Dallas or Oklahoma City," she said.

  "Sorry, ma'am. The flights that haven't been canceled are already full," the reservations clerk said, and Angela swore under her breath at the same time she heard an incessant pounding on her door. She jerked it open to find Clancy standing outside on the landing with his bags.

  "I've called the airport and the car rental where I got the Cadillac. We can drive it to Oklahoma City and leave it there. Get in touch with your rental outfit car and we'll drop your car off on the way out," he said, picking up her suitcases and heading down the stairs.

  "Wait a minute!" she called desperately. "What if I don't want to ride to Oklahoma with you?"

  He chuckled. "You can go with me or we can ride out the hurricane on the beach. The motel is evacuating. I'll be back in two minutes, Angela. You don't have to get dressed. You look pretty cute in that nightshirt, and I'll drive, so you can sleep." He laughed again.

  "Oh, hush!" She slammed the door, shucked her Betty Boop nightshirt and threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and dialed the rental company number on the keychain she'd pitched on the night table yesterday . . . Was it really just yesterday? A whole month's worth of staggering events had happened in a scant twenty-four hours and now some unexpected hurricane had decided to pay a visit. Did she have her girlfriends to thank for that, too? She tapped her fingers on the table and willed someone to answer the phone. Maybe the rental agency had been evacuated too!

  "Thank you for calling Hertz," the rental clerk said cheerily. Was Florida full of crazy people who had no respect for hurricanes? And what did they do with tourists who needed a place to stay when the beach motels were evacuated?

  "This is Angela Conrad. I need to return a rental since there appears to be a hurricane on the way," she said. "I just wanted to make sure someone was there this early in the morning."

  "We're here twenty-four hours a day," the clerk said. "Park it in front and drop the keys in the front door slot. Angela Conrad, red Ford Taurus, credit back to your card? Do you need the address of a shelter where you can stay for the next couple of days until the hurricane blows over?"

  "No, thanks. And please do credit it back to my card." Angela hopped on one foot while she put on a sneaker.

  "Better hurry if you're planning on making a run for the border," th
e woman said. "Blanche is due in an hour or so."

  "Will do." Angela crammed everything from the vanity in the bathroom in her last bag, quickly scanned the room, and was on the landing by the time Clancy started back up to help her.

  They were thirty minutes inland, headed due north, when the wind and rain hit in a solid sheet, surrounding the car on all sides. Clancy eased up on the gas pedal and inched along the highway, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Visibility was two inches at most, with the wind beating a powerful, driving rain into the car in great waves.

  "Maybe we should've built an ark last night," Angel whispered, awed by the force of the storm. This was worse than she had thought it would be.

  "Maybe we should have found a shelter and not tried to outrun this," Clancy berated himself for putting her in danger. "I thought half an hour would give us enough time."

  "Shhhh," she said "I don't want to spend time in a shelter full of strangers and homeless people. We'll get on the other side of the storm soon enough. Too bad we can't take part of it home . . . only without the wind. You know how much my gardener would like this amount of water in the middle of July," she said nervously as she watched a tree on the side of the road bend and sway, then disappear in the grayness. They could die in this stupid gray Cadillac out here in the middle of a gray hurricane throwing gray rain at them and no one would know for days. When rescue workers would come to clean up the rubble, there would be an overturned car, looking like a casket, with two bodies in it. What in the hell would the Tishomingo newspaper do with that story? Angel could just imagine the lead sentence. Well-known local resident dies in crash with rich oil company president, formerly a local member of the white-trash sector, and former wife says she barely got out of the state before the storm hit! Who knows, maybe the wrath of Melissa had caused the hurricane to take an abrupt turn. After all, she'd been a first-class witch for years. Maybe she had taken a correspondence course and expanded her powers. Angel visualized her in a long, flowing black robe, stirring a boiling pot full of liquid. She'd chant a while and then add a pile of frog toes and the powdered brain cells of a sea gull, along with a sprinkle of lizard liver, evoking the dark powers to bury Clancy and Angel together in a big automobile while Melissa laughed hysterically.