Europe filming."
"Mmmm." She considered the idea a moment, then smiled. It made it all
the more interesting somehow. Here she was on the verge of seducing one
of little Emma McAvoy's friends-and playing Emma's
mama in what was sure to be the hottest movie of the year. And it would
be all the more interesting to think of herself as Jane while they made
love. "Small world." She set her glass aside to lean forward and toy
with the buttons of his shirt. "Do you see much of Emma?"
"No. Well, actually I saw her last month when she was in town."
"Isn't that sweet." The first button popped open. "Are you two ...
involved?"
"No. That is ... No. Miss Parks."
"Angie." She blew a light stream of smoke in his face, then crushed out
her cigarette. "And what is your name, darling?"
"Michael. Michael Kesselring. I don't-"
Her movements stopped. "Kessetring? Any relation to the investigating
officer on the McAvoy murder?"
"He's my father. Miss-"
She laughed then, long and loud and delighted. "Better and better.
Let's call it fate, Michael." Her hand slid up his thigh. "Relax."
He wasn't stupid. And he wasn't dead. When she closed her hands over
him, the pleasure speared through him like a heated blade. And so did
the guilt. It was ridiculous, he told himself. She was gorgeous,
dangerous-every man's darkest fantasy. He'd had his share of women,
starting with Caroline Fitzgerald on the night before his seventeenth
birthday. They'd lost their virginity together, sweatily and clumsily.
He'd learned a lot since good old Caroline.
Angie slipped the cigarette from his fingers, leaving it to smolder in
the ashtray as he hardened against her palm. He was going to be sweet,
she thought. So very sweet. And the irony-the irony was beautiful.
"I've never had a cop," she murmured as she nipped at his lip. "You'll
be the first."
He felt the breath back up in his lungs, thick and hot. He shook his
head to clear it. He had one flash, achingly lucid, of sitting with
Emma on the winter beach. Then Angie stood up. With a flick of her
hands, she unsnapped her belt. She had only to shrug her shoulders to
have the red silk slithering to the floor. Beneath it her body was
white and lush and naked. She ran her hands over it, lingering,
caressing as adoringly as a lover. Before he could find the strength to
stand, she was straddling him. On a groan of pleasure, she pressed his
mouth against one perfect, polished breast.
"Do things to me," she murmured. "Do anything you like."
THE SUPERMARKET TABLOIDS had a field day.
ANGIE PARKS'S ROOKIE LOVER
The Inside Story
TRuNGLE OF PASSION AND MURI)ER IN HOLLYWOOD
They leaped on the connection with the McAvoys and played it like a
brass band. In New York, Emma tried to ignore the gossip and prayed it
wasn't based in fact.
It was none of her business, she reassured herself as she spent hours in