by Dianna Love
We? Was Zane in partnership with his sister? Sounded like he had a financial investment as well as a personal one. Why was Trish drinking during the day and stopping by here when she had a business to run?
As though talking to himself, he murmured, “I won’t lose her.”
Angel jerked her eyes to his face. She understood that look, the desperate drive to keep someone alive. Had Trish’s new business happened as a result of her drinking? Something Zane encouraged to keep his sister busy and away from a bottle?
Angel understood wanting to fix someone, thinking that if you tried hard enough and came up with all the right ideas, it would stop the person you loved from destroying her life.
But alcoholism had to be cured from the inside out and that took the person with the problem wanting to make the change.
Zane wouldn’t want to hear that, especially from a stranger so Angel offered, “Trish has the personality for a people business.”
He paused and answered slowly, a bit cranky. “She’s definitely a social butterfly.”
Where was that edge in his voice coming from? “Lucky for her that you travel and can find things for her store like the birdhouse.”
“Yeah, but that’s not anything of value. Everyone carries that kind of crap in home decorating shops. Trish should be an estate appraiser. That’s what she studied to do. Loves all that old stuff.” He seemed to have wandered off in thought, brooding about something.
“It must be nice to for her to be self-employed and close enough to pop in.” Angel smiled, trying for something positive to lift his spirits.
A longer pause, then Zane said, “But what you’re really saying is that you’re surprised to see her here in the middle of the day when she has a business to run.”
Well, that was stupid. Now she’d ticked him off. She remembered the days of being on edge whenever someone mentioned her mother. Always expecting to be criticized because her mother was a drunk. Zane could be just as hypersensitive about his sister. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I like Trish. She seems very sweet.”
One thing she’d say about Zane was that his anger flared and dissipated with the same speed.
He lifted a hand and rubbed his chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I get a little uptight when it comes to Trish. Her life hasn’t been easy.” He stared off into the distance. “My parents gave me every opportunity, but by the time Trish accidentally came along, they were tired of child rearing – what little they’d been interested in to begin with. I took off and she got the leftovers.”
Angel couldn’t stop the next words from falling out of her mouth because she’d drilled one mantra into her own head daily for years.
“Hard knocks make you a stronger person. From the sound of it, your sister is probably pretty tough.” Seeing a family side of Zane piqued her interest to know more about the man who’d opened his home to her. “What do you mean by leftovers? You said you took off. Where’d you go?”
Even as he sheathed his face in a calm expression, pain trickled into his eyes. “I went into the Air Force when she turned nine. My parents pawned her off on friends and relatives so they could...” He paused to make air quotes. “‘Enjoy their life.’ Almost like they knew they’d die in a car crash before they reached fifty.”
“I’m sorry, Zane.”
He lifted his head as if hearing his name drew him. Standing away from the wall, he moved forward, slowly consuming her personal space.
She should back away and make her boundaries clear.
But she didn’t. The only reason to withdraw would be out of fear and she wasn’t afraid of him.
She’d lived her life in tiny moments for a long time and didn’t want this one to end. Not yet. Probably exhaustion talking, but she wasn’t up for arguing.
When he stood in front of her, Zane bent his head forward, focusing all that intense scrutiny on her. A formidable power swirled around him. He was rugged and confident and sexy as hell. Mere inches separated his face from hers. That urge was back. The one that had her holding her breath, wishing he’d follow through on the offer in his eyes. Just a kiss.
Where would be the harm?
But she couldn’t instigate it.
She had so little experience with men she’d make a fool of herself.
He asked in low voice, “Now that we’ve cleared up Trish’s history, what’s yours ... Angel?”
When he said her name like that, as if it were a pet name, his voice reached inside her and stroked her heart.
She couldn’t breathe for fighting this wild craving he brought on. A tornado churned behind the dark eyes drilling straight into her soul. Balmy ocean air ruffled his T-shirt and lifted fine hairs across her face.
He used a finger to brush the hairs away from her cheek. “Talk to me, Angel.”
The softer he spoke the more he hypnotized her, but she didn’t want to talk. Clouds diffused the late afternoon sun sweeping her along in the moment.
His aftershave teased her senses, blended with the salt air to draw her towards him. She wanted to erase the stern line of his wonderful mouth.
Angel raised her hand then lost the nerve to touch his lips.
He caught her hand, wrapping it in his long fingers. “You said I couldn’t help. What can someone else do that I can’t?”
His deep voice kept reeling her in closer and closer.
“Nothing,” she whispered, not thinking about her answer beyond mumbling a response born of fatigue. If she curled up in the safety of his arms, would she finally sleep through the night? She couldn’t think clearly. His large, warm hands had moved to her arms where he stroked slowly up and down, waking up her skin.
One kiss. She’d never wanted to kiss a man more than right now.
He leaned forward a tiny bit, their faces only a whisper apart. She softened her lips, anticipating.
“The truth, Angel, just tell me the truth so I can help you. Why are you avoiding the law?”
That broke the spell.
She flinched and backed away, cursing herself for letting her guard down when she should be vigilant. He still thought she’d committed a crime and had tried to seduce her into saying something she shouldn’t. She managed to keep her temper in check. Only it wasn’t just temper this time. It hurt.
So much for trusting men.
He asked, “What’s wrong?”
Did he really expect her to believe he hadn’t been trying to pull something? “Nothing.”
“Nothing is female talk for something. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”
He was kidding, right? “Other than making me feel like a fool?”
“How’d I do that?” His surprise was too sincere to be faked.
Now she’d talked herself into a corner. “Never mind.”
He lifted his hands. “Never mind is like nothing. Loaded with hidden meaning. Why’re you angry?”
She’d wanted someone to ask her that for years so she could rant about all the injustices she’d suffered in silence. Maybe it was time to speak her mind. “You were trying to trick me.”
“How?”
“By acting like you wanted to kiss me when that wasn’t what you wanted at all.”
“Like hell. I do want to kiss you.”
She’d have enjoyed a moment of thrill over that admission if he hadn’t shouted it. “Really? Does the idea of kissing a woman always make you this angry?”
“No, just you.”
She couldn’t think what to say to that. Well, the hell with him. She would not let him see how that had stuck a splinter in her heart. “Glad we got that straight.”
He lifted his fist and thunked his head. “That didn’t come out right.”
Taking a breath, she composed herself to answer calmly. “I think it was perfectly clear.” Before he could say another word, she changed the subject. “I hope a shower comes with my room-and-board deal, because I’d love one right now.”
A muscle in his cheek jumped. He didn’t make a soun
d. To his credit, he wasn’t shouting at her.
Not that he intimidated her. Far from it.
She hadn’t realized until meeting Zane just how much she liked large men. Or maybe she just liked this one.
When he finally spoke, it came out with resignation and acceptance. “You still have the yellow shorts and T-shirt?”
“Yes, but I need to wash them.”
“Tell you what. Give me those, then take off what you have on and drop your clothes outside of the bathroom over there.” He pointed down the hall before continuing. “Take your time. Soak in the Jacuzzi if you want while I toss everything in the washer. There’s a dispenser with soap and shampoo. Linens are in the tall cabinet. The bottom drawer of the middle cabinet has new toothbrushes, disposable things and female stuff you’re welcome to use.”
Oh? She made a sound of surprise before she caught herself. Celibate, my ass. His sister clearly wasn’t up on just how much female traffic ran through this apartment.
“Don’t give me that look, Angel.”
“What look?” She could do innocent.
“Like I’m a man ho. My sister hates to be alone and, as you witnessed, she shows up whenever. She put that drawer together for when she spends the night here. There’s a hairdryer and whatever in there, too.”
She experienced a moment of relief for no reason, at least none that would make a lick of sense if she dissected it.
Digging out her clothes from the linen bag, she felt a little strange about handing the bundle to him. When was the last time anyone had washed her clothes? She’d done the laundry for everyone at home from the time she’d reached ten years old.
When Zane took the handful and disappeared into the kitchen, Angel headed for the bathroom where she peeled off the clothes she wore and deposited them outside the door. Every conceivable luxury installed in the luscious bath had been decorated in black marble with copper flecks and adorned with copper hardware. Very masculine.
Zane must do well in spite of his poor customer service attitude.
When she had a steaming hot tub of water and bubbles – thank you, Trish – Angel sank into what was certainly one step from heaven. Her muscles moaned at the welcome feel of hot water. She bathed slowly, enjoying more luxuries such as a razor and girlie soap. Soaked to the point of wrinkling, Angel finally forced herself to step over to the beveled glass shower so she could rinse off and wash her hair.
At the wall-to-wall mirror above the vanity, she tried to avoid her reflection until feminine vanity forced her to see how well she was healing. She’d lost some body weight from lack of eating and sleeping over the past week. Just a few yellowish fist-sized bruises remained across her back and thighs, but one ugly one still shined on her side. The last of her cuts were starting to heal.
Look at the positive. All those battle scars still belonged to a living body.
She brushed the tangles from her hair, and the parts that had dried began to curl half-heartedly. Couldn’t she have curly or straight hair? No, it fell in half-assed curls. After seeing Trish’s cute bobbed cut, Angel would love to cut hers, but couldn’t. Not yet.
Shorten it now and she’d have few options if she had to change her appearance even more. For the time being she’d stuff the wimpy mass under her hat.
No disguise would keep Mason at bay for long.
Every hour that went by decreased her chances of remaining free.
Had Mason had incriminating evidence against her delivered anonymously to the FBI?
The coins had been stolen from Bolen Gallery in Boston. They were beyond rare. The news still carried sound bites. She needed to find someone who remembered a lone female runner on the trails outside Raleigh during the time of the theft – a person above reproach who would swear under oath that Angel had an ironclad alibi.
But how? Run an ad for witnesses?
She’d been a loner since getting out of prison and had lived in a two-room house out in the woods. The theft had happened over a weekend, or someone would have seen her working around Mason’s warehouse. He swore he had evidence that placed her at the scene of the crime. Truth or lie?
Deal with one problem at a time.
The plan was coins first, alibi next, then cut a deal with the FBI. Until then, she had to stay on her toes to avoid the FBI. And, if she pulled all this off, she’d have the evidence to hang Mason.
He’d handled the clear sleeves that protected the coins.
This time, the fingerprint that put someone in prison would be his.
After wiping down everything she’d touched in the bathroom, Angel stuck her head out the door. Country music played in the living room. She called out softly, “Hello. I’m done. Are my clothes dry?”
Silence.She wrapped a thick towel around her that only reached a few inches above her knees and barely covered her breasts, but she wanted her clothes. Now. Holding the front of the towel with both hands, she tiptoed out to search for the laundry room and saw the washer and dryer through an open door on the other side of the kitchen.
Her clean clothes sat folded on top of the dryer.
But that meant walking across the kitchen half naked.
Where was Zane? Had he stepped out?
The bath had refreshed her more than she realized and now she was rethinking the idea of staying here tonight. That meant the risk of bringing trouble to Zane’s door. All she had to do was check at the marina each day until the package arrived. She could find shelter until then, somewhere far from Zane and his sister.
He’d done more than enough by helping her escape Raleigh.
If she worked out a WITSEC deal with the FBI, she’d have them send a letter to Zane explaining everything.
Her chest hurt at the idea of leaving. It would be so easy to stay, but Zane couldn’t solve her problems and didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire if Mason caught up with her.
She’d have to dress right here for any hope at getting out the door fast enough.
Chapter 14
Zane heard Angel call out the second time as he finished his conversation with the High Vision representative.
No definitive time as yet for picking up their overseas shipment expected to arrive in Jacksonville any day now. He’d fly out the minute he was notified. Zane had three days left to prove to High Vision he was the perfect choice to handle their southeastern cargo shipping.
It might be easier to hand the entire contract to one of the other two groups contending for their business, but Zane had outperformed both of them every time they went head to head in the southeast. This was his territory.
By the time he ended his call and checked on Angel, the bathroom was vacant. His stomach fell.
Was she gone again?
He rushed toward the kitchen, halting one step from plowing through the knee-to-shoulder café doors that hung between the kitchen and living room.
The curvaceous body that had raced through his dreams came into view, barely covered with a towel.
Good thing he’d stopped here. The swinging doors hid just how much he appreciated what the terrycloth didn’t cover of Angel’s body. His mouth turned to cotton just looking at those legs. Don’t even think about looking at her chest.
She turned around and caught him staring. Guilty.
Now handcuff me and make me pay.
He should turn around and walk away. But if it were that easy, he’d have done it already.
She cleared her throat and asked, “Did you want something?”
Loaded question. Hell, yes, he wanted something. Her.
Admitting that wouldn’t earn him any points. Not after he’d screwed up on the patio. Had he really said wanting to kiss her made him angry? Idiot. She’d thought he was trying to trick her.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Find everything okay?”
“Yes.”
Damp strands of cinnamon hair licked her shoulders. One wisp clung to her cheek. She tucked the end of the towel in tighter at the top of her toga wrap, sending
his damned gaze there. Drops of water trickled down her slender neck to the slight crevice created by two soft mounds of ivory breast.
Following that trickle with his tongue would be heaven.
Spending a night in the same apartment with her and only thinking about chasing that water droplet might kill him.
“Give me a minute and I’ll get dressed.” She lifted the wad of clothes to her chest.
He wanted to kick himself. She didn’t need some guy leering at her after all she’d been through. And he didn’t even know everything she’d been through.
“I heard you call, but I was on the phone,” he mumbled, backing away. “I’ll wait in the front room.” He turned and walked away, hearing the sounds of her footsteps hurrying behind him from the kitchen to the bathroom. By the time the door closed, he still stood at rock hard attention. If she dressed slowly enough, he might be at ease by the time she got back.
Think about ... flying.
What the hell was wrong with him? He had better control than that, but dammit he’d never been turned on so fast around a woman who wasn’t trying to raise his interest.
Angel sure as hell wasn’t trying to encourage him. She wouldn’t even be here now if he hadn’t coerced her into staying with him. He’d have done worse than manipulate her if it kept her off the streets and somewhere he could protect her.
No, he couldn’t blame Angel for his lack of control.
He’d dated some hot women and had no trouble finding someone to spend a night burning off energy with, so this clawing need to keep her close and to touch her made no sense. He was overdue for some serious downtime. This proved it, because Angel was pretty, but nothing like the women he normally chose.
He’d never gone for thin and muscular.
Liar. That body was trim and well toned.
And her eyes were too big for her face.
Soft eyes that carried too much living for someone her age and more emotion than she liked revealing. When her guard dropped an inch, her lashes would lower to half-mast.
