Saved by an Angel

by Roberta Capizzi

  An hour later I excused myself to go to the ladies’, and slowly made my way through the crowd standing in front of the small stage, swaying to the music. I had almost reached the door when a guy stumbled and collided against me, causing me to lose my balance. I would’ve surely face-planted into the hard wooden floor if a set of arms and a firm chest hadn’t saved me. A firm chest that belonged to a handsome guy with silver-blue eyes and tousled dark blond hair. My face burned with embarrassment.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, a light frown appearing on his face. I blinked and shut my mouth. I probably looked like a cod, but he was so gorgeous I couldn’t help my jaw from dropping.

  He was tall; even with my five-feet-eight and my—well, Ciara’s—heels, he still had at least another couple of inches on me. A citrusy, masculine scent of cologne hit my nostrils and I couldn’t help breathing it in, feeling slightly dizzy at my proximity to this striking guy. His hands were still on my upper arms, and I was thankful for that.

  “I . . . um . . .” My voice came out in a weird, strangled tone. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was only trying to go to the toilet.”

  Huh? Had I just said something so stupid?

  He smiled. “Yeah, well, I was only trying to get a beer, and look what’s fallen into my arms.”

  If possible, my face turned even hotter. I was positive I looked like a chili pepper right now. Had the temperature just spiked in the pub, or was it just me self-combusting?

  “Will you be okay if I let go now? You won’t crash to the floor, will ya?”

  The cheeky grin on his beautiful, angelic face was contagious, and I couldn’t help but grin back. I nodded and he let go of my arms, tucking his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

  “Well, um . . . I guess I should . . .” I looked past him at the toilet doors and he took a step aside, a flash of something resembling disappointment crossing his face for an instant. Or maybe it was just me seeing things, because there was no way a guy like that could be single, let alone be flirting with me.

  “Um . . . thanks.” I said, my voice trembling a little. What was wrong with me? He’d only just stopped me from making a fool of myself by smashing my face onto the floor—no big deal, right?

  “My pleasure,” he said, bowing his head just a little. I turned around and made a beeline for the toilets, needing to splash ice-cold water on my cheeks before the flames burned the place down.

  I was hopeless. Completely, utterly hopeless.

  Chapter Four

  David

  I gave one last stare at the girl before she disappeared behind the wooden door of the ladies’.

  What has just happened?

  My girlfriend of a year was waiting for me at the table with my friends, and I’d just flirted with another girl. I’d never cheated on Michelle or on any of my girlfriends before, and I never would. Even though things had been a little strained between us recently, I still believed in loyalty and honesty; so then why had I been so tempted to never let that girl go?

  She wasn’t a stunner or anything; she actually looked very normal: tall, lean, with big, brown eyes that had looked like a deer’s in headlights when she’d first looked up at me, and her hair . . . damn, her hair was gorgeous. I’d always had a thing for red-haired girls, but I’d never dated one. All my previous girlfriends had been blondes, and so was Michelle.

  In my dreams, though, my perfect woman had long, ginger hair that reached halfway down her back—very Irish. And very sexy. Although her curly hair barely brushed her shoulders, I’d been tempted to reach up and run my hand through the locks, see if they felt as soft as they looked. And she smelled so good she’d almost made me dizzy. I’d been very close to starting to take deep breaths and sniffing her like a hound. She smelled deliciously sweet, like watermelon and berries—it’d been almost inebriating.

  I shook the thought away when Teddy, the barman, handed me a pint, without even asking what I wanted. I’d been a regular for so long there was no need for me to order anymore.

  “Who’s the girl?” he asked with a smirk. My cheeks heated, reddening for what was probably the first time in my life, and I shrugged nonchalantly.

  “No idea. She crashed into me, and I saved her from falling face-down.” I took a sip of my Guinness, and remembered Michelle had asked me to get her a rum and cola, so I used the excuse to change the subject. I had a girlfriend, and that girl could be married for all I knew.

  Cute girl bumped into me, then I checked her out for a moment and liked what I saw. No big deal. Time to get over it and stop acting like a freaking teenager.

  I took the glass for Michelle and my pint, and struggled through the crowd back to our table.

  “What took you so long, Dave?” my friend Jack asked in a slightly slurred voice. “We thought we’d have to send out the search party.” Everyone laughed, as if this was the funniest joke they’d ever heard. I shrugged.

  “Long queue. It’s crowded here tonight; I think the band’s a hit, but the guys at the bar aren’t used to this many people.”

  Okay, it was a little white lie, but knowing my friends, they would never let me hear the end of it if I told them the truth about what, or actually who had delayed me. Besides, I couldn’t really talk about a beautiful girl with my girlfriend sitting at my table.

  I took my seat next to Michelle, and she smiled as I handed her the glass. I stared at her for a moment and tried to remember how I’d felt the first time I set my eyes on her, a year ago. She was beautiful: long blond hair, blue eyes, a slim body, and luscious curves, just like every guy liked. My friends kept telling me I was a lucky bastard to end up with a girl like her, someone who’d make many men turn their heads when we walked around.

  Then why couldn’t I get the image of the redhead out of my mind? She wouldn’t make heads turn around in a crowded place. For one thing, she was tall; I hadn’t really noticed if she was wearing heels, but she definitely was taller than the average women I was used to, from my family members to my girlfriend. She didn’t have lots of makeup on, unlike Michelle, who always liked to get heavy on the stuff whenever we went out. The redhead had a natural kind of beauty, with those puppy eyes barely highlighted by that eyelash goop, whatever it was called, and just a hint of glossy lipstick. I reckoned she didn’t need to cake her face with stuff to look beautiful in my eyes: that gorgeous hair of hers was enough to catch my attention and make me want to follow her inside the ladies’ room.

  I blinked the image away, and snapped my attention back to where it belonged: at the table, with my friends. With my girlfriend. I took a long gulp of my Guinness and tried to relax, letting the strong thump of the music drown my thoughts.

  My concentration on my friends’ chat around the table lasted all of two minutes. Without realizing, I started scanning the crowd, hoping to get a glimpse of those ginger curls somewhere, to see who she was with—hopefully a group of girls and no guys. I narrowed my eyes, nearly causing my contacts to pop out with the effort, and my heart skipped a beat when I thought I’d spotted her.

  That was when Michelle put her hand on my thigh, higher than is decent in public, and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the contact. She laughed, and I hoped she hadn’t noticed what I’d been doing.

  “Whoops, sorry,” she said, in a tone that didn’t sound apologetic at all. She rubbed the palm of her hand up and down my thigh, and all my concentration returned to my girlfriend—and to the reaction she was causing in my body. I turned my stare away from the crowd and looked at her. She had a cheeky smirk, and I knew very well what that meant.

  “It’s very noisy in here tonight,” she whispered in my ear, her breath hot and ticklish. “Don’t you want to go back to my place, so we can relax for a while?”

  ‘Hell, yes!’ my body screamed, even though my mind was still crowded with images of the redhead. Guilt rushed through my body, and I fought the images away. She was just a nice-looking girl I’d
met in a pub—end of the story. My very beautiful, and apparently very eager girlfriend had just invited me to her place. I wasn’t going to let a stranger ruin what could turn out to be a very lucky night, from the look on Michelle’s face.

  “Yeah, I think I could do with a little more quiet.”

  I hadn’t stayed at her place since that last time when I’d had that nightmare and had taken off in a hurry the following morning. I still felt ashamed about that; I hadn’t explained to her the reasons for my behavior, and I knew I probably never would, but we’d been together a year—I couldn’t think of throwing everything away because of some nightmare I didn’t understand the meaning of. We only had to sort out our problems, and we’d be okay again. At least, I hoped that was how it would be.

  I downed the last of my drink, and so did Michelle with hers. When we said goodbye to our friends and left the pub holding each other, my arm around her shoulders and hers around my waist, I fought the urge to turn back and give one last look at the crowd.

  Michelle pinched my hip and I smiled at her. We’d had our ups and downs, and I wasn’t 100 percent sure she was the one I’d spend the rest of my life with, but she’d helped me keep my mind off my grief, off Declan’s death and the emptiness he’d left in my life.

  I was happy my sister had found her soul mate in Colin, but I didn’t believe in that kind of girlie crap. There was no such thing as a soul mate; there were just two people who enjoyed being together and who were willing to get over their differences to make a relationship work. That was exactly what I’d been doing. Even though there were things about Michelle that drove me nuts, she was a good girl, a hard worker, and attractive as a bonus. Nobody was perfect, but we were content together. Or so I’d thought, until that redhead had crashed into me and awakened feelings I hadn’t felt in a long time—if ever.

  Could love at first sight really exist, then?

  Chapter Five

  Claire

  Two weeks after that lucky Saturday night, I walked through the gates of Galway University feeling as if I’d stepped back in time. I remembered walking down the winding paths in the university park as a freshman dreaming about my future. I’d been confident it was going to be a bright one, and soon my dreams would have come true. I’d had enough bad luck in my life, so it was bound to work this time, right?

  Too bad fate hadn’t agreed with me. Apparently I hadn’t paid my dues and my dream had been ripped from my hands before I could even start savoring the feeling.

  My eyes grew damp and I blinked, shaking the thoughts away. There was no use in lingering on what could have been, what I had lost and what I would never have. Suck it up and get on with it; that had always been Mum’s philosophy after all that had happened to her, and it had to become mine too. If things really happened for a reason, then I was sure that sooner or later I’d understand why life kept shoving dirt in my face.

  The four-story, modern glass building that housed the Department of Engineering clashed a little with the old Oxford-style buildings of the other departments, but I was glad I’d be working in a modern environment and not in a moldy office, I thought, as I walked down the corridor to what would be my new workplace.

  When Ciara had told me about the job opening at the department, I’d wondered whether I should apply at all. Engineering wasn’t exactly my thing, and I hadn’t actually planned on leaving Kerry, but my mother had just died and I’d needed a job as soon as possible. I’d had to move wherever I could find a decent job that would keep a roof over my head. Dreaming wouldn’t pay the bills, and I had to be thankful that this opportunity had landed in my lap.

  The door to the administration office was open, so I stepped inside and the middle-aged lady sitting behind a white desk looked at me over her reading glasses.

  “Hi, I’m Claire Neeson. I’m starting today as administrative assistant.”

  The woman wrinkled her nose in concentration, as if trying to make sense of what I’d just said, and my stomach quivered with unease. I wasn’t expecting a welcoming parade or fireworks, but a smile wouldn’t have hurt. Was she going to be my colleague? Or was she one of the professors?

  “I’m Professor Marian Murphy.” She stood up and gathered a few sheets of paper on the desk. “You can wait here for Professor Nolan and for Susan, the senior administrative assistant. They should arrive in a few minutes and will tell you what to do. I have classes; I can’t stay.”

  She walked past me and exited the room without saying goodbye, causing my mood to plummet to the tiled floor.

  What a great start.

  Shoes squeaking behind me alerted me to someone’s presence before the voice did.

  “Morning. Can I help you?”

  I turned around and froze with my mouth half open. The man standing before me narrowed his eyes at the same time as mine widened.

  “You look familiar. Have we met before?” he asked, and a pang of disappointment at his failed recognition hit me.

  “Um . . . sort of . . . I . . . um . . . bumped into you a couple of weeks ago. In . . . um . . . a pub.”

  Okay, why was I stammering?

  The crease line on his brow softened and he smiled, flashing a set of straight teeth. My stomach performed a triple somersault. He was even more beautiful than I remembered.

  “Yeah, I remember that. You actually crashed into me and I saved you from face-planting.” My cheeks flushed, and his grin turned wider. “So, have you come here to thank me? It was no trouble, really. I enjoy rescuing damsels in distress.”

  Cocky, much?

  I chuckled, and shook my head. “Although I’m grateful you saved me that night, I’m actually here to start my first working day.”

  He frowned. “Didn’t know there’d be a new colleague in the department. What subject are you teaching?”

  “I’m just an assistant. I’ll be working here in the office.” I looked around and shrugged. “If anyone bothers to show up and tell me what I’m supposed to be doing, that is.”

  He chuckled and, aw, I loved the sound of his laughter!

  “I saw Professor Murphy walking out. Didn’t she call anyone?”

  I instinctively scrunched up my nose at the memory of my first meeting of the morning, and he chuckled again. “Ah, I’ll take that as a no.”

  I blushed. What if she was a friend of his? After all, they were colleagues, so I couldn’t really start blurting out judgments about professors, and on my first day, too.

  “No, it’s just that . . .”

  He raised his palm. “It’s okay. I know she isn’t the friendliest person on earth.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I’ve been teaching classes in the department for three years now, but most of the professors still treat me like an outsider. Professor Murphy is the worst of them all. So, you see, I’m totally on your side.” He took a step back, thank God for that, and my heart rate went back to almost normal. “Anyway, I’m David O’Hagan. You are?”

  “Claire. Um . . . Claire Neeson.”

  “Well, Claire Neeson . . .” I could swear my name had never sounded sweeter on anyone’s lips. “. . . welcome onboard. Now I’d better get my stuff ready and go to class, before my students think I’ve decided to skip it.”

  He gave me a smile that nearly made my heart melt and reached over my shoulder to drop a sheet on the desk behind me. A waft of citrusy cologne hit my nostrils, bringing me back to the pub and the way his touch had nearly branded my skin.

  “Don’t worry, though: I saw Professor Nolan stop to grab a coffee on my way in. I think he should be here in a minute. Sorry, I really have to dash now.”

  He spun on his heels and waved before walking out, leaving me standing there speechless and slightly dumbfounded. He’d looked great in a T-shirt and jeans, but in a button-down shirt and dress pants? Wow, he was gorgeous to say the least. And those eyes . . . oh, my God, those eyes were going to be my undoing.

  I shook my head, mentally reprimanding myself. I didn’t need—no, I didn’t want
a man in my life, and I definitely wasn’t going after someone I worked with, no matter how attractive he looked. Besides, I was pretty sure a guy like that couldn’t be single.

  By the time Professor Nolan, the recently appointed head of the department, came to greet me and showed me my desk, I’d already forgotten Mr. Dazzling Eyes and the emotional turmoil he’d caused me. Or that was what I kept telling myself, anyway.

  It was almost noon when footsteps thudded just outside the office, and when I looked up from the tons of sheets littering my desk my eyes immediately locked with a pair of silver-blue gems.

  “Hiya,” Mr. Dazzling Eyes said, handing me a plastic cup, “Thought you might like some coffee. Didn’t think you’d have much time for a break on your first day.”

  I smiled, touched by the sweet gesture, and took the cup with trembling hands. Now, seriously, what was wrong with me? He was only being hospitable, no big deal.

  “That was very nice of you, Mr. O’Hagan.”

  He grimaced. “No need for such formalities. Please call me David, or I’ll feel ancient. Maybe a few years from now I’ll be a Professor and you could call me Professor O’Hagan then, but for now, let’s just stick to David, okay?”

  I chuckled. “Okay, well, thank you, David.” His frown eased into a smile when I said his name. “It’s been a busy morning and I didn’t know if I was allowed to have a coffee break, so I didn’t dare leave my desk. Didn’t want to get fired on my first day. I’ll probably bring a thermos tomorrow anyway.”

  He chuckled and the deep sound made my stomach twist. Get a grip, Claire. Get a bloody grip!

  “I can bring you a cup between classes, if you want. We sure don’t want you to get fired because of a caffeine fix.”

  Aw, how sweet! His words were enough to make me forget how coldly the other professors had treated me, not to mention the other assistant who was supposed to be my mentor, and whom I’d already nicknamed Bossy Susan. For a moment I wished I could be his personal assistant only, and leave Bossy Susan to take care of the other professors.