Ms. Eastwood nodded and snapped her fingers. "You bet. I have a couple of forms to sign, then we're out of here."
"There were others," Margo began, her gaze inexorably drawn to Jared's slouched figure against the other wall. His expression was so intense it stole her breath. She needed to talk to him, to learn why he was here and why he'd been at the Studfinder. Somehow, she sensed he wouldn't welcome her questions now, and she needed a hot bath and a couple of aspirin. Maybe more than a couple.
But there was a story here — more of one than she'd originally thought. Jared knew something.
Frowning, she dragged her gaze from Jared to ask the attorney something, but Ms. Eastwood was staring at Jared, too. Of course she was. Jared was the kind of man any woman would ogle, and he wasn't Margo's anymore. She had no right to feel jealous. But she did.
"I guess you've all had enough excitement for one night," Jared said with a chuckle, gaining Margo's immediate attention. The expression in his eyes was no longer intense, nor was it for her alone. Again, the mask was in place.
What was his game? Narrowing her eyes, she reminded herself that no one else here knew who he was. He'd shushed her back at the Studfinder. For now she would play along. However, she reserved the right to collect payment later for keeping his secret.
"Excitement?" Her voice dripped sarcasm, and she mentally patted herself on the back when his eyebrow arched ever so slightly. "The only exciting thing that happened this evening was watching you parade around in front of a bunch of screaming women. Half-naked. More than half."
"I'll say," Steph said.
Ms. Eastwood shook her head slowly, her gaze riveted to Jared. "Another surprise." She cast a sidelong glance at Margo.
After Margo and Steph finished answering a few questions about the Studfinder and signing some papers, the attorney offered to drive them home. They walked by Jared, who stood and flashed them his stage smile again. "Nice meeting you, ladies."
"Very nice." Steph giggled.
"Shake it, don't break it, man," Ms. Eastwood said in a sultry tone.
Margo couldn't prevent herself from giggling along with Steph, though her reasons were far different from her sister's. She'd only known one person who would've had the guts to say something like that to Jared Carson, and he was dead.
Jared's eyes sparked and one corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Lawyers. Who needs 'em?" He turned his gaze on Margo. "Reporters, lawyers… and women."
"Hey, watch it, buster." Raquel placed one hand on her curvy hip." Margo's a reporter."
"Anything for a story?" The expression on Jared's face now could only be called a smirk.
Margo elevated her chin and took a deep breath, sensing this was part of his secretive role. "You bet." She noted a wink of approval from Ms. Eastwood. Just how had Warren's new partner known she was a reporter? Well, it didn't really matter. This nightmare was almost over, except for dealing with Jared.
Later.
3
Nick stripped off his dress and infernal high heels the minute his apartment door closed behind him. Thank goodness he and Grayson had seen the wisdom of opening their offices in an old Victorian. The upstairs was a furnished apartment — the perfect place for the new junior partner to hang out for a while.
The perfect halfway house for a halfway angel.
He had no idea how Séamus had managed to create a position for Raquel Eastwood in the firm, but it was like magic. From the moment Raquel had walked through the door, everyone treated her as if she'd gone through a normal hiring process and they'd been expecting her. Amazing. Even Mrs. Brown, the old bat receptionist, hadn't suspected a thing. This divine intervention stuff had its merits.
Raquel had a driver's license, a Social Security card, a diploma hanging on her office wall, and she was a member of the Bar. She was as real as anyone else walking down the street.
"Yeah, and she looks a lot like a streetwalker, for that matter," Nick muttered.
Trying unsuccessfully to unhook his bra — aka torture band — he gave up and yanked it over his head. He used to be able to do it with one hand. Of course, it hadn't been behind his back then.
He grimaced as his breasts were freed from the confining garment. It was bad enough being in a woman's body, but why had Séamus felt compelled to make Nick so well-endowed? Raquel was at least a ten and a half. He glanced down at the lush breasts attached to his once flat, once hairy chest. Okay, maybe a twelve.
After pulling on an oversized T-shirt, he flopped into a chair in front of the television's blank screen. "Séamus, I don't know what got into you."
"Oh, stop your bellyachin', Nick."
It was hard to get used to hearing voices in his head. Especially when that voice belonged to a former New York City cop who sounded far less than angelic. "I saw Margo," Nick whispered on a sigh.
"Margo's a good person, and she deserves better than you."
Scowling upward, Nick scratched in a manner a lady wouldn't be caught dead doing. But then… he was already dead, and he sure as hell wasn't a lady.
"Where'd this body come from?" Nick asked. "Is this an Invasion of the Body Snatchers deal?"
"Don't worry about it. The body's owner lived and died in another time and place."
"Okay. So how do I go about finding Margo a new husband?" He chewed a long, manicured nail. It was damned strange, trying to find his own wife another man.
"But you're not a man anymore."
"Yeah, thanks for reminding me."
"And she's already found the right man."
"Already found him?" Nick rubbed his chin, still amazed at how smooth his skin was now. "When do I get to meet him?"
"You know exactly who he is."
"No, I—" Realization smacked Nick between the eyes. Oh, he'd considered the possibility earlier in the evening but had denied it. Repeatedly. Even Séamus couldn't be that cruel. Then again, what about this Raquel gig?
Nick swallowed hard, remembering all those years of lurking in Jared Carson's shadow. All his life, Nick had struggled to stay one step ahead of Jared. And failed.
Until Margo.
"So I'm being punished." Nick sighed, rubbing dried mascara from his eyes and pondering the merits of the entire pint of dark fudge ice cream lurking in the freezer.
"No, you're being given the opportunity to fix your mistakes." Séamus made a tsking sound in Nick's head. "An opportunity most would welcome."
Nick closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair. "I guess pride is something we aren't allowed to have even after we die."
"Depends."
"Why him?" A shudder crawled through Nick from the top of his stylish, tousled hairdo to the tip of his perfect pedicure. "Jared Carson has always kicked my ass." His new voice dripped sarcasm like battery acid. "Star in baseball, football, basketball, track and field, class president, and I'll bet you already know who ran against him. Gee, thanks, Séamus. Thanks a lot."
Bitterness tasted vile on his tongue. The ice cream would help. Nick kept his eyes closed, but that couldn't block the memory of his father's lectures. Fred Riley's kid was never the best at anything. Sure, Nick had been close many times, but second place was never good enough for his old man. Especially not second to Jared…
"Winning isn't everything. In fact, it really isn't important at all in the big scheme of things."