Guardian Angel

Studying her buffed nails, Talia grimaced. Kevin would be present for some LAM activities, so she’d better go ahead and break the news now. “Trace Barringer.”

The silence was heavy, fraught with painful memories. Her heart twisted, and she rushed on. “It’s not a real date, Kevin. For some reason I don’t understand, Trace Barringer has been real pushy about this. I tried to put him off, but he’s set on the idea of the mill being directly involved. If it were up to me, I’d tell him to take a flying leap, but the Barringer Corporation is one of our biggest contributors.” She was breathless by the end of her explanation, and felt incredibly guilty and disloyal.

When Kevin didn’t immediately respond, she said, “Listen, if it really bothers you, I’ll resign from the committee.”

His sigh was audible. “No. It just threw me for a minute. There probably isn’t anybody who cares as much about LAM as you, Talia. Mom would be proud of you for what you’re doing. Besides, Trace is the one Barringer who wasn’t involved in my little mess with them. Val used to talk about him. She always said he…”

Talia strained to hear the uncompleted sentence. Kevin rarely spoke of Valerie Barringer, even though he’d been wildly infatuated with her years ago.

“Just keep your eyes open,” Kevin warned her in a voice beyond his years. “We learned the hard way not to trust the Barringers.” Then his tone lightened.

I’ll see you in a few weeks, big sister. And I’m bringing you a tall, dark, handsome guy with a brain as a coming-home present. The guys in Barringer are too stale for you. I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered to the dial tone, and tried to work up some enthusiasm for Kevin’s tall, dark “coming-home present.” Unfortunately she was far more intrigued by a certain blond man with green eyes. She sighed heavily and snatched up her keys.

Alternately cursing and encouraging herself, Talia drove to Hidden Hills Country Club. When she stepped from her battered Datsun, she bit back a laugh at the parking attendant’s expression of chagrin. She dropped the keys into the older man’s hand and gave him a saucy smile. “Be careful with it, the front fender’s a little loose.”

When she looked up at the club’s white columns and grand entrance, a tremor of unease swept through her. The differences between Trace Barringer’s lifestyle and her own suddenly seemed acute. On her last date, she’d gone to a miniature golf course. Before that, it had been bowling. The most adventurous date she’d had in the last year involved a trip to Richmond to see a baseball game. And while she enjoyed baseball, she would have given her eyeteeth to see the opera.

Opera and ballet. Country clubs and elegant dinners. Those were Trace’s life. Hers was ham and salami.

Still, Talia hadn’t arrived at the age of twenty-six without a large dose of practicality. This country club would likely provide LAM with a generous donation. She battled down the notion that she was a fish out of water and marched up the steps.

Nodding briefly to the doorman, she muttered under her breath, “This one’s for you, Mom.”

She was crossing the red-carpeted foyer, heading toward the desk to ask for directions to the lounge, when she felt a hand on her arm.

“Wait up, Italia,” a familiar voice murmured behind her.

Chapter Three

Talia whirled and stared up at Trace. Her heart sank with disappointment when she saw he still looked wonderful. She’d been hoping he’d grow a few warts during his time away. A man with his looks, intelligence, wealth and insufferable self-confidence needed some flaw to bring him down to the rest of the human race. And she certainly didn’t see a flaw. A charcoal silk blazer covered his impressive shoulders and chest, and well-tailored slacks fit his long legs perfectly. The light reflected off his tawny hair, and his green eyes glinted with humor.

What did he find so amusing, she wondered, then she remembered what he’d called her.

“Who told you that?” she asked as he led her down a hall.

“One of the supervisors at the mill. When I mentioned the plans for LAM, he casually passed on the information.” Smiling wickedly, Trace opened the brass-and-glass door to the lounge. “I found it…intriguing.”

“Did you happen to notice the guy’s nose?”

Puzzled, Trace thought that over as they sat at a small round table. “Now that you mention it, Don’s nose is a little crooked. Why do you ask?”

Talia smiled. “I went to school with Don. He’s my best friend’s husband. But he had this annoying habit of teasing me. I warned him to stop.”

Trace watched the spark of indignation in her eyes and drank in the force of her personality. After another fruitless week spent trying to gain custody of his son, Talia was a breath of fresh air to him.

“Outside my family,” she continued, “he’s the last person to call me Italia to my face since seventh grade. I finally had to break his nose.”

At the image of a feisty young Talia and a howling Don, Trace let out a deep laugh, feeling the tension leave his body.

“Can I get you something from the bar?” a waitress asked.

“Scotch, neat,” Trace said, and turned to Talia.

“I’ll take a Bloody Mary.”

As they waited for their drinks, Trace noticed the way she looked around the room with carefully veiled curiosity. Dismay seemed to cloud her eyes, and she bit her lip.

“So what made your mother name you after Italy?” he asked in an effort to regain the earlier mood.

She turned to him, the bleak expression fading. “My grandmother died in Italy the week before I was born. Mom was devastated that she couldn’t attend the funeral. And though my grandmother liked America, her first love was Italy. She was always telling my mother never to forget Italy.”

Talia paused as the waitress set their drinks on the table. “When she first mentioned the notion of naming me after my grandmother’s homeland, my father thought she was crazy with grief. But he went along with it, hoping she’d change her mind when it came time to fill out the birth certificate.” Talia smiled and ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “She didn’t. I’m just glad Grandmother wasn’t from Turkey.”

Trace grinned and watched the motion of her finger around the glass. “Imagine how many more noses would have been broken.”