Kiss an Angel (9 page)

"Hush, Frankie." Jill patted his furry leg. "I don't know what's the matter with him. He usually likes women." "Animals aren't too fond of me." "You're probably afraid of them. They can always tell." "I expect you're right. A German shepherd nipped me when I was little, and it made me leery of all animals." The German shepherd hadn't been the only one. She remembered a school visit to a London petting zoo when she was six.

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She'd gone into hysterics when a goat had begun to nibble on her uniform.

A woman in baggy black shorts and an oversize T-shirt wandered up and introduced herself as Madeline. Daisy recognized her as one of the showgirls who'd ridden into the arena on an elephant. Her comfortable clothing made Daisy feel a bit overdressed. She'd wanted to look nice for her first assignment at the ticket window, so she'd selected an ivory silk blouse along with her pearl gray Donna Karan slacks instead of the discount-house jeans and T-shirts Alex had insisted on buying her before they'd pulled in today.

"Daisy is Alex's new girlfriend," Jill said.

"I heard," Madeline replied. "Lucky you. Alex is a hunk and a half."

She opened her mouth to tell the women she was Alex's wife, not his girlfriend, only to draw back as Frankie began to shriek at her.

"Quiet, Frankie." Jill handed the chimp a small apple, then regarded Daisy with the open enjoyment of someone who loved a good gossip. "This thing with you and Alex must be serious. I've never heard of him having a live-in."

"Sheba's going to have a fit when she gets back." Madeline looked as if the prospect pleased her.

Frankie stared at Daisy, making her so nervous she was having a hard time paying attention to the women. To her alarm, Jill lowered the chimp to the ground, where he clutched her leg.

Daisy took another quick step backward. "Do you have a leash for him by any chance?"

Both Jill and Madeline laughed.

"He's trained," Jill said. "He doesn't need a leash."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. So how did you and Alex meet? Jack Daily— he's the ringmaster—

said Alex didn't say anything about having a new lady friend."

"I'm a little more than a lady—are you sure about that leash?"

"Don't worry. Frankie wouldn't hurt a flea."

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The chimp seemed to lose interest in her, and Daisy began to relax. "I'm not Alex's lady friend."

"I thought you were living together," Madeline said.

"We are. I'm his wife."

"His wife!" Jill let out a squeal of delight that warmed Daisy all the way to her toes. "You and Alex are married! That's wonderful."

Madeline regarded Daisy good-naturedly. "I'm going to pretend to be happy about this, even though I've been lusting after him myself for a month."

"You and half the world," Jill laughed.

"Day-zee!"

She turned to see Heather calling out to her from the far side of the yard. "Hey, Daisy!" the teenager yelled. "Alex says you're late. He's really mad at you."

Daisy was embarrassed. She didn't want these new friends to know that she and Alex weren't a love match. "He gets impatient; I guess I'd better go. It's been nice meeting both of you." With a smile, she turned away, but before she'd taken more than a few steps, something hit her between the shoulder blades.

"Ouch!" She whirled around and saw a half-eaten apple lying on the ground next to her. In the background, Frankie screamed with delight while Jill appeared embarrassed.

"Sorry," she called out. "I don't know why he's acting like this. You should be ashamed, Frankie. Daisy's our friend."

Jill's words tampered Daisy's desire to strangle the little beast. Instead, she gave both women a small wave and set off toward the office trailer. She mentally corrected herself, remembering that she was supposed to refer to this trailer as the "red wagon." Earlier, Alex had told her that's what circus offices were always called, regardless of their color.

Heather fell into step beside her. "I wanted to tell you that I shouldn't have been such a bitch yesterday. I was kind of in a bad mood."

Daisy finally felt as if she were catching a glimpse of the real person behind the ill-fitting facade. "It's all right."

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"Alex is royally pissed." Daisy was surprised to hear a thread of genuine sympathy in Heather's voice. "Sheba says he's the kind of man who doesn't ever stay with one woman for long, so don't feel bad when he—you know."

"What?"

"You know. When he dumps you." She gave a wistful sigh. "It must be cool being his girlfriend even for a little while."

Daisy smiled. "I'm not his girlfriend. I'm his wife."

Heather came to a sudden stop, and her face grew ashen. "You're not!"

Daisy stopped, too, and as she saw the girl's reaction, she touched her arm in concern. "Alex and I were married yesterday morning, Heather."

She jerked away. "I don't believe you. You're lying! You're just saying that because you don't like me."

"I'm not lying."

"Alex didn't marry you. He wouldn't do that! Sheba told me he won't ever marry anybody!"

"Sometimes things change."

To Daisy's astonishment, Heather's eyes filled with tears. "You bitch! I hate you! Why didn't you tell me? I hate you for making fun of me like this!" She whirled away and ran toward the trailers.

Daisy stared after her, trying to understand the reason for Heather's hostility.

Only one explanation sprang to mind. The girl must have a crush on Alex.

Daisy experienced an unexpected pang of sympathy. She remembered too well what it had felt like to be a teenager with no control over the actions of the adults around her. With a sigh, she set off for the red wagon.

Despite its name, the business office was white, with a splatter of colorful stars and the Quest Brothers legend. In contrast to the cheerful exterior, the interior was dreary and cluttered. A battered steel desk sat opposite a small couch covered with stacks of paper. There were mismatched chairs, an old file cabinet, and a green gooseneck lamp with a dented shade. Alex sat behind the desk, a cellular phone in one hand,

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a clipboard in the other. A single glance at that stormy face told Daisy that Heather had been right about one thing. Alex was royally pissed.

He abruptly ended his conversation and stood, speaking to her in that ominously quiet voice she was growing to dread. "When I tell you to be someplace at a certain time, I want you there."

"But I'm barely half an hour late."

His voice grew even quieter. "You don't have a clue about real life, do you, Daisy? This is a job, not a hair appointment, and from now on, for every minute you're late, I'm docking five dollars from your pay."

Her face brightened. "I get paid?"

He sighed. "Of course, you get paid. That is, once you start doing some work.

And don't expect to buy diamonds with the money. Circus wages are about as low as they come."

She didn't care. The idea that she would actually have some money of her own was thrilling. "Just show me what to do. And I promise, I won't be late again."

Alex took her over to the ticket window set into the side of the trailer and explained the procedure in a terse voice. It was simple, and she caught on immediately.

"I'll be checking receipts to the penny," he said, "so don't plan on borrowing any cigarette money."

"I wouldn't do that."

He didn't look convinced. "Make sure you don't leave the cash drawer unattended for even a second. This circus operates on a shoestring, and we can't afford any losses."

"Of course I won't. I'm not stupid."

She had the sinking feeling he was getting ready to argue the point, but instead he unlocked the hinged window. He stayed with her as she took care of the first few customers to make certain she had the hang of it, and when he saw that she wasn't having any trouble, he told her he was leaving.

"You're not going to the trailer are you?" she asked.

"Not until I have to get into costume. Why?"

"There are a few things I still need to do in there." She 66 Susan Elizabeth Phillips

had to get back to the trailer before he saw the mess she'd made. When she'd started to clean up, she should have left the cupboards and storage closet until last, but she'd wanted to be thorough, so she'd unloaded everything to scrub the shelves and start fresh. Now the cupboards were clean, but she hadn't had time to put anything away, and there wasn't a single surface of the trailer not covered by clothing, bedding, tools, and an alarmingly large collecting of bullwhips.

"I'm sure I can get the job finished when I'm done here," she said hastily, "so don't worry if you see some things lying around."

He nodded and left her alone.

The next few hours passed without incident. She enjoyed chatting with the people who came to buy tickets, and in several instances when the families were obviously poor, she invented wonderful reasons why they had just won free passes.

Word had spread that she was Alex's wife, and a number of the circus people made excuses to stop by the office to satisfy their curiosity. Their friendliness to a stranger wanned her. She met the men who ran the "joints," as the concessions were called, as well as a few of the clowns and several members of the Lipscomb family, who performed the equestrian act. She could tell that some of the showgirls had to work hard to hide their jealousy over the fact that she'd managed to snare Alex Markov, and she appreciated their generosity of spirit. For the first time since her arrival, she felt a sprig of hope. Maybe this would work out after all.

Perhaps the most interesting person to appear was Brady Pepper, Heather's father. He walked in wearing his costume, a white body suit cinched at the waist with a wide gold belt. Bands of gold edged the scooped neck and circled his ankles.

A showgirl named Charlene had already told her that Brady was the most attractive man in the circus next to Alex, and she found herself agreeing with them. Brady Pepper reminded her of a more rough-cut version of Sylvester Stallone, complete with muscles, a cocky walk, and a New York street accent.

His tough-guy looks were appealing, although

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the manner in which he appraised her told her he was a dedicated womanizer.

He sat down on the corner of the desk, legs splayed, a man very much at home in his body.

"So you come from circus?"

He asked the question in the aggressive, almost accusatory tone many native New Yorkers seemed to adopt for even the most mundane of inquiries, and it took her a moment to figure out what he meant.

"Me? Oh, no. My family hasn't been at all involved with the circus."

"That'll make it tough on you around here. At Quest Brothers, you don't really count unless you can trace your bloodline back at least three generations. Just ask Sheba."

"Sheba?"

"She owns the circus. Bathsheba Cardoza Quest. She used to be one of the most famous flyers in the world. Trapeze," he said, when he saw her confused expression. "Now she's training the Tolea brothers, who are flying for us.

They're Rumanians. She also choreographs some of the other acts, supervises costumes, that sort of thing."

"Since it's her circus, why doesn't she manage it instead of Alex?"

"It's a man's job. The manager has to deal with drunks, knife fights, heavy equipment. Sheba doesn't like that kind of thing."

"I haven't met her yet."

"That's because she took off for a few days. She does that sometimes when the pickings aren't good enough around here."

It must have been obvious she didn't understand what he meant, because he went on to explain. "Sheba likes men. She doesn't stay with any of them for long, though. She's what you call a snob. No man counts in her book if he's not from an old circus family."

The impression she'd had of the circus owner as an elderly widow faded, and the way his mouth tightened made Daisy wonder if Sheba Quest was more to him than a boss.

"Me, my old man was a Brooklyn butcher. I hooked up 68 Susan Elizabeth Phillips

with a traveling circus the day I graduated high school, and I never looked back." He regarded her almost angrily, as if he expected her to argue with him.

"My kids got circus blood though, through my wife."

"I don't believe I've met her."

"Cassie died two years ago, but we're divorced twelve years, which means I'm not exactly in mourning. She hated the circus, even though she grew up with it, so she moved to Wichita and got her real estate license, but I liked performing and stayed with it."

So she and Heather had both lost their mothers. She found herself wanting to know more. "I understand you have children."

"Heather was raised in Wichita with her mother, but Cassie had trouble handling the boys, so they stalled to travel with me when they were youngsters.

I put together an act with them, and we've been doing it ever since. Matt and Rob are twenty and twenty-one now. They're hell-raisers, too, but what can you expect with me as their old man?"

Daisy wasn't interested in his hell-raising sons, and she ignored the unmistakable note of pride in his voice. "Then Heather's just recently come to live with you?"

"Last month, but she used to stay with me a couple of weeks every season.

Still, it's not the same as having her around full-time."

His dark frown told her the situation wasn't working out as he'd planned, and she had enough difficulties with her own father to feel another pang for Heather. No wonder she was sneaking cigarettes and getting crushes on older men. While Brady Pepper was undeniably attractive, he didn't strike her as the most patient of fathers.

"I've met Heather. She seems quite sensitive."

"Too sensitive. This is a hard life, and she's too soft for it." Abruptly, he got up.

"I'd better get out of here before the crowd starts leaving. Nice meeting you, Daisy."

"You, too."

As he reached the door, he once again gave her the as-KISS AN ANGEL 69

sessing look of a man who enjoys women. "Alex is a lucky guy"