And that made her want him even more.
"I don't believe this." Nick kicked off his high heels and put his feet on his desk. Who cared if the hem of his skirt slid all the way up to the crotch of his — God save him — panty hose? To make things even worse, this really had been his desk, once upon a time. "Séamus, I just want to know one thing." "What is it this time, Nicholas?" "Were you a sadist when you were still alive?" "I know you don't mean that. You're just upset" "Noooooo. What was your first clue?" Nick raked his slut-red fingernails through his hair. "I told you I'd find her someone else."
"Jared is Margo's destiny. It's not your place to—"
"Not my place?" Nick stood, wishing he had pockets to ram his fists into. Wishing his punching bag was still hanging in the corner. He'd draw Séamus's face on it and take out his frustrations. "How thoughtful." Nick scowled up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes, resignation coiling through him with all the ease of a rattlesnake. Margo's destiny, my ass. He clenched his fists, struggling against the urge to put his fist through the wall.
"Do you have any idea how it felt to—" He bit back what threatened to become a sob. Nick Riley didn't blubber, but as Raquel…
"It's hard, Nick. I knew it would be."
"But you sent me here anyway, knowing he was the one?"
"Remember, this order came from higher up the chain of command."
Nick barked a derisive laugh. "So God really is that cruel?"
"You have to figure it all out for yourself Nick. Have you ever really loved anyone but yourself?"
"That's bull. I loved Margo. I married her, didn't I?"
"But you didn't love her the way a man loves the woman he's meant to spend his life with. Did you?"
"I… hell." He punched his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Just hell."
"I think you're starting to see the truth, though you don't like it now."
"Now? You think I'll ever like seeing Jared Carson manhandle my wife?"
"Widow. And what I think isn't important, but you will come to accept what must be. And perhaps you shouldn't carry your father's secret to your grave either. Maybe it's time to learn something about sacrifice."
Nick dropped his gaze to the floor, scowling at the runner in the toe of his hose. A soggy tear landed on it, as if to punctuate this entire sordid mess.
"If I accept what you call destiny" — he drew a shaky breath and forced the words—"that means I also have to accept that Margo was never really… mine."
Only silence answered him, but he knew. His rivalry with Jared Carson and his marriage to Margo were the reasons he hadn't made it all the way into Heaven. He was dead, dammit. Margo wasn't. His mission was to see her happy for the rest of her life. But why the hell did that have to make Jared happy for the rest of his life, too?
Sacrifice… Nick pulled a sheet of stationery from the drawer and scribbled a short note — words he'd buried deep and sworn he would never reveal. Even so, one of the things he'd regretted after his death was taking this knowledge with him, instead of leaving it here for those it affected.
He stared down at the written words, reached for the sheet, fully intending to rip it to shreds. Sacrifice. Truth. Instead of tearing it, he swallowed hard and drew a deep breath. The date he wrote at the top of the page was from the week before his death, two years ago. He signed Nick at the bottom.
Seeing his real name in his own hand again gave him pause. He'd made so many mistakes — had so many regrets. Maybe Séamus had a few points. Maybe. This one was easier than Margo. He folded the sheet and sealed it in an envelope. Very neatly, he wrote a name across the front and slid it to the back of his top desk drawer. Someone would find it when Raquel was gone and think it had been missed after Nick's death.
The receptionist's voice scratched over the intercom. "Henry Millman on one, Ms. Eastwood."
"What does that son of a bitch want?"
"Are we having PMS?" the old woman asked, her voice dripping sarcasm.
"Eat sh—" Nick clenched his teeth, rather than complete that remark. "I dunno. Maybe. Fine, thanks. I'll take the call."
Nick blew his nose, dabbed the tears from his eyes, grabbed the phone, and punched line one. After he reiterated his refusal to accept the owner of the Studfinder as a client, Nick hung up the receiver. That snake made the need for sexual harassment laws way too frigging personal.
Someone knocked and simultaneously opened Nick's office door. Mrs. Brown, the firm's loyal receptionist, who'd adored Margo and hated Nick in his natural life, entered with a small brown paper bag. The little, gray-haired woman pulled a gigantic chocolate bar from the bag and slapped it into Nick's hand.
"I ran downstairs to the drugstore. This first, to sweeten your mood," she said. "We've never had a female attorney in the office, and I'm, well, beyond all this."
Nick blinked, staring from the bar and back to Mrs. Brown. "But…" She'd never given him chocolate.
The woman made an annoying tsking sound with her tongue and removed two more items. "Evening primrose for your PMS." She slapped the pill bottle down on the desk and removed two small boxes— one of tampons and one of maxi pads. "And these for later."
Nick sputtered, unable to contemplate the horror of what she'd just proposed. He stared at the diagram on the side of the tampon box. No way. Not even Séamus would…
"You'll feel better soon," Mrs. Brown said. "Take the primrose. Start now." She opened the bottle, then pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket. "And a phone message from Steph Knutsen." Mrs. Brown moved to the office door.
"Wait." Nick sniffled and tore open the chocolate. "Thank you. I think."
"You don't know it yet, but you already did, dear."
Dear? He shifted the glob of soothing chocolate to one side of his mouth. "I did?"
"Steph included me in her invitation." Mrs. Brown flashed a wicked grin and left the room.
Nick grabbed the phone message and simultaneously bit off another chunk of chocolate. Maybe there really was some truth to that serotonin business. He felt better already.
Raquel, meet us at the Studfinder around seven. Mar go's on assignment and we may need our attorney. Bring Mrs. Brown. A smiley face was drawn at the end.
"Oh, my God." Nick Riley was going to watch male strippers. Revulsion slithered through him, until he remembered that Jared Carson was a main attraction.
He broke off another chunk of chocolate, liking the idea of watching old Jar-O humiliate himself. If only Jared Carson knew who Raquel really was, that could make it all the more satisfying.
"Get serious." He dropped the unopened boxes into the wastebasket and looked at the digital clock on his desk. It was too early to call it a day, but he didn't have any appointments. Besides, he didn't feel like himself. Well, even less than usual since his new appearance. Maybe Mrs. Brown was right about the PMS.
Heaven forbid.
He almost laughed. "I know what I'm gonna do to lift my spirits." He'd have Raquel's long red hair cropped off into something more manageable. And get rid of these manicured claws, too. The more he contemplated it, the more he liked the idea.