Public Secrets Part 72

two months since that horrible night, and Brian was still in seclusion.

He wondered if Brian knew that "Love Lost" was topping the singles

charts and had gone gold. He wondered if it would matter to him.

P.M. knew the police were no closer to finding out who had killed

Darren. He made it a point to stay in touch with Kesselring. It was

the least he could do for Brian, and for Bev.

He thought of Bev, how pale and stricken she had looked on the day of

the funeral. She hadn't spoken a word, not to anyone. He'd wanted so

badly to comfort her. He hadn't known how, and the fantasy he'd had

about taking her to bed, tenderly loving her until her grief pa.s.sed, had

shocked him so much he'd been unable to do more than pat her cold, rigid

hand.

Angie Parks came down the circular stairs in a pink T-shirt that barely

covered her hips. She'd taken the time to add a bit of makeup

-a little mascara, a touch of lip gloss. She'd brushed out the knots

sleep and s.e.x had tied in her long blond hair, then had carefully

arranged it to give it a tousled, bedroom look.

The best way to get what you wanted from a man was with s.e.x. And she

wanted quite a bit from P.M.

She glanced around the big, gla.s.s-walled living room. It was a nice

start, she decided. A very nice start. She'd like to keep it as a

weekend place once she'd talked P.M. into Beverly Hills. That was

where stars lived, and she had every intention of being a star.

P.M. was her stepping-stone. Her romantic liaison with him had already

led to a handful of commercials and a nice supporting role in a TV

movie. She wanted better things, bigger things, and was willing to keep

P.M. happy to get them.

She was grateful to him. Without the interest that had come her way

since the press had picked up on their affair, she might have had to

take a turn doing some p.o.r.no flicks. A girl had to pay the rent. Angie

flexed her wrist so that the light caught the diamonds and sapphires in

the bracelet P.M. had given her. She wouldn't have to worry about rent

any longer.

She turned toward the gla.s.s doors and saw him standing on the deck. As

he stood in the early sunlight she thought he looked almost handsome.

And lonely. Even a heart as naturally ambitious as Angie's could feel

some pity. He hadn't been the same since the little boy had died. She

was sorry about it, really, but the tragedy had made P.M.

even more dependent on her. And the press was worth its weight in gold.

A smart woman took whatever opportunities came her way and made the most

of them.

She ran a hand over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pleased that they were firm enough to

stand without a bra. She walked up behind him, pressed them against his

back as she wound her arms around his neck.

"I missed you, honey."

He lifted a hand to hers, embarra.s.sed that his first thought had been of

Bev. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"You know I love it when you wake me up." She slipped around him, her

arms like long, soft ropes. With a little catchy sigh, she closed her

mouth over his. "I hate to see you looking so sad."