He's No Angel (Heaven Can Wait Book 1)

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  I took a huge bite of my cookie. Ah, yes, once again, the delicious aroma of the treat had proven irresistible and served me well, compelling Mr. Gallagher to see Miss Heely immediately. Now if only he’d tell her he loved her, and she’d repeat the sentiment, I’d be released from my prison. Good-bye Pre-Pearly Gate, helllooooo Heaven.

  If it had been possible for me to do so, I would have hugged the fireman Dave for encouraging Mr. Gallagher to tell Miss Heely his feelings right away. Yet in spite of that encouragement I’d still detected Mr. Gallagher’s hesitation. I could easily imagine him waiting until this evening-- or worse, even longer, in an attempt to manufacture some nebulous “right” moment. And that simply would not do.

  Bloody pesky human. I couldn’t possibly wait until this evening-- or worse, even longer-- to hear him say the words that would set me free. I wanted, needed him to tell her now. Thus I’d immediately employed the mouthwatering magic of the chocolate chip cookies, hoping the scent would push Mr. Gallagher into immediate action. Rather like a cookie cattle prod. And I’d succeeded.

  Filled with excitement and hope, I popped the last bite of cookie into my mouth. By God, these things were divine. I’d indulged in the treats with alarming frequency over the past month, a habit that if I were alive would have proven disastrous to my weight.

  Chalk up one advantage to being dead. Yippee.

  I swallowed the last delectable morsel, and bristling with impatience and unable to sit still, I left Mr. Gallagher and zoomed ahead to Miss Heely’s residence. I found her in the kitchen, wearing the short pink robe she always slipped on after her shower, a fact I knew as over the past four weeks I’d witnessed her exiting the shower numerous times (yes, I’d watched her leaving the shower. She’s a most fetching sight in the nude. So sue me).

  “Here you go, Fluffy,” Miss Heely said, setting down a bowl of food for her unfortunately named pet. The cat shot me a squinty-eyed glare then turned his attention to his meal. The animal and I had reached a détente of sorts. We both knew the other existed but in the interests of peace, gave each other a wide berth.

  A good compromise given the exorbitant number of hours I’d spent in Miss Heely’s lodgings while observing my humans. The good news was that after spending that first night together, they’d required very little interference on my part to advance their relationship.

  Oh, I’d still kept my hand in things to insure their progress didn’t slow down. After all, time was of the essence. On several occasions I prodded Miss Heely into tripping, which worked out quite well as this sent her careening into Mr. Gallagher’s strong arms and immediately shifted him into his fireman’s I-Shall-Rescue-You mode.

  The bad news pertained to their sex life. The fact that my humans enjoyed such frequent and varied bed sport was, for the purposes of my successfully completing my task, very good news. Unfortunately, being near them when they indulged their passion filled me with gut-wrenching envy, which meant I’d spent a great many hours alone with my torturous thoughts while I sought to spare myself the torment of watching them partake of the carnal pleasures I could not enjoy.

  Or could I?

  The question had plagued me, along with so many others, these last four weeks as I’d watched the relationship between my humans grow and deepen.

  And it was all her fault. She who I refused to name. Her and that damnable, infuriatingly unforgettable kiss.

  Over the last two hundred years I’d thought little about passion and desire. Why would I as they were lost to me forever?

  Until that damnable kiss had filled me with a raw yearning, a naked hunger that could not be slaked.

  One entire month. Four interminable weeks during which time I’d thought of little else except that damn kiss and the shocking, inexplicable sensations it had wrought upon me.

  How had I felt such desire? Why would I feel it? And most baffling of all, why with her?

  A trifecta of agonizing questions that had haunted and tormented me to the point of pain, a situation made all the more difficult and unpalatable by my forced proximity to Mr. Gallagher and Miss Heely who spent what felt to me like endless hours in sensual exploration. Naked. Kissing. Touching. Their bodies entwined--

  “Argh!” I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes and forced myself to concentrate solely on the positive aspects of my situation. Namely, that I had not seen Director Foscari again. And that Mr. Gallagher had fallen in love with Miss Heely. And within moments he’d arrive and-- fingers crossed-- tell her so. And if she repeated those three magical words to him, I’d finally, finally, finally be free.

  But would she tell him?

  “Yes,” I said forcefully. She would. She had to. Not only to set me free, but because I knew, deep in my soul, that she loved him, too.

  Over the last month I’d minutely examined every interaction between my two humans, the unmistakable emotions growing between them. The strong relationship, the unselfishness, the camaraderie and enjoyment that formed and grew, both in and out of the bedroom. All of it led me to the irrefutable conclusion that they were perfectly matched. Like paper and ink. Tea and crumpets. Chocolate chip cookies and milk.

  I knew, and more importantly I now believed (albeit much to my shock) that the True Love I’d always mocked and dismissed as drivel did indeed exist. Of course, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that all couples who claimed to love each other were perfect matches, but there was no doubt that my humans were truly Meant to Be.

  Now all I needed was for them to say so out loud.

  Just then a knock sounded at the door. Miss Heely shot a surprised look at the kitchen clock then rose and walked toward the foyer. She applied her eye to the small glass hole in the door then quickly opened it. “Liam!” she said, stepping back so he could enter. “Is everything ok--”

  Her words cut off when he backed her against the wall, pressed his body into hers, and kissed her with an ardent fervor that would suggest they’d been apart for years rather than hours. The sort of kiss that regularly fogged up Miss Heely’s spectacles.

  Fluffy wandered into the foyer. He bestowed a disdainful glance at the couple that clearly said, Oh, for God’s sake, they’re at it again, then hoisted his tail in the air and sashayed right back into the kitchen.

  I’d said it before, but it warranted repeating: smart cat.

  As quickly as he’d started it, Mr. Gallagher suddenly ended the kiss. Cradling Miss Heely’s flushed face in his hands, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “I know you need to get ready for work, know this isn’t the time or place, but I don’t want another minute to pass without you knowing that I love you.”

  I stilled, afraid to so much as stir the air around me lest I miss a single word.

  “I love you,” he repeated. “I’ve wanted to say it for weeks but was afraid you’d think it was too soon. I was trying to think of the perfect way to tell you-- champagne and candlelight or something-- thought maybe I’d tell you tonight, but then I smelled chocolate chip cookies and I just couldn’t wait to see you. And the minute I saw you, I had to tell you-- ”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I can’t think of a more perfect way than this. I love you, too. And I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks, but I was afraid you’d think I was some crazy stalker and run screaming from the room.”

  “Not a chance. In fact, I don’t want to ever be farther away from you than this. And I’ve known it since the first minute I saw you. Knew it in my heart. Knew you were The One.”

  She smiled and gave a quick, joyful sounding laugh. “My heart knows it, too. You’re The One.”

  Mr. Gallagher’s grin could have lit the entire town of London. He picked up Miss Heely in a tight hug and spun her around. She clung to him in laughing delight and was still grinning when he set her back on her feet, clasped her hands and pressed them to his chest.

  “I love you so damn much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Emma. Want to make a home and a family with you. Want to laugh and love with
you. Will you marry me?”

  Her breath caught. His question hovered in the air for several heartbeats then she said, “Yes! God, yes!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. Their lips met in a lush kiss, one she ended by leaning back in the circle of his arms and asking with a grin, “Are we really engaged?”

  “Sure are. And don’t be thinking I’ll let you back out. You’re stuck with me.”

  “I’ll try not to complain too much. But just to make it clear you’re stuck with me as well, I want to ask you. Liam, will you marry me?”

  “To quote the woman I love: Yes! God, yes!”

  She laughed. “We’re officially stuck with each other.”

  “Works for me. But to make it really official, I need to put a ring on it. How about we hit the jewelry store tonight? If we don’t find something here in London, we’ll head to Atlanta tomorrow since we’re both off work.”

  Miss Heely’s eyes glistened with tears. “That sounds perfect.”

  “Wanna seal the deal with a quickie before you go to work?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

  She laughed. “Again-- sounds perfect.”

  He swung her up in his arms and headed swiftly toward her bedroom. As they disappeared around the corner, Miss Heely’s squeal mingled with Mr. Gallagher’s low-pitched chuckle.

  A burst of joyous, relief-filled laughter escaped me. I was free! Free! My task was successfully completed. And with forty-eight hours to spare!

  A shout of primal exultation erupted from me. I shot upward, through the roof, toward the sky, my eyes focused on the Heaven above me where I would soon dwell for eternity. I’d done it. After nearly two centuries filled with loneliness and failure, I’d succeeded.

  By God, I felt bloody damn amazing! I lost track of time as I zoomed about in mindless joy. I couldn’t stop laughing. Couldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to stand on Mr. Gallagher’s roof and shout out the news to the entire city of London. I wanted to tell the whole world! I wanted to tell--

  Director Foscari.

  I halted, and still grinning, fought to catch my breath. Ah, yes, Director Foscari. I couldn’t wait to tell her the news. Doing so was all that stood between me and Heaven.

  As if the mere thought of her conjured her up, she suddenly appeared before me. Her face, ordinarily pale, was completely devoid of color. And her eyes that usually gazed at me with such maddening, dispassionate coolness now burned with a combination of confusion and unmistakable fury.

  Before I could utter a word she reached out and grabbed my arm in a steely grip. “What have you done?” she demanded in a hoarse voice. “What on earth have you done?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I blinked twice. Bloody hell, talk about a buzz kill. I jerked my arm from her grasp. “What have I done?” I repeated. “I’d be delighted to tell you. I’ve succeeded at my task. Mr. Gallagher and Miss Heely have found True Love. They’ve verbally stated that love for each other and plan to marry. Which means I am free. Full-Fledged. And ready to assume my hard-earned place in Heaven.” I had to clamp my lips together to keep from adding a smug Ha! So there!

  “Yes, but your success is going to cost your humans everything.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “You changed Mr. Gallagher’s movements this morning-- ”

  I cut off her words with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I merely encouraged him to tell Miss Heely his feelings now, rather than tonight.”

  “And by doing so, he went to her apartment, rather than to his home. Which delayed her departure for the library.” She dragged her hands down her face. “I told you, warned you that whenever you interfere in the natural order of events there’s a domino effect on the environment. Which means there are consequences. Sometimes they are of no great import, but other times they are. And in this case, I fear the consequences are catastrophic.”

  “What dramatic rubbish. What could possibly happen except that I’ll arrive in Heaven sooner, rather than later?”

  “Miss Heely is going to die.”

  For several seconds I could only stare at her. Then a burst of laughter erupted from me. “Well, of course she’s going to die. Everyone dies eventually,” said I, the Voice of Experience.

  “Yes. But when you changed Mr. Gallagher’s timeline for this morning, that impacted Miss Heely’s timeline, making her arrival at the library twenty-seven minutes later than it should have been.”

  “So?”

  “So instead of being safely in her office, she’ll be somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. Involving her in an accident. A fatal one.”

  I shook my head which suddenly felt as if bees buzzed inside it. An accident? Impossible. Utterly, completely impossible. Another of my tasks could not end in an accident. “That is a bloody, filthy lie.”

  “No.” She glanced down at the tablet she held. “I was monitoring my morning reports when I received the notification of a change in Mr. Gallagher’s activities. Knowing your deadline was approaching, I wanted to make certain you hadn’t done something drastic-- ”

  “I didn’t-- ”

  “Yet it was enough to change the course of their lives. When I pulled up Mr. Gallagher’s and Miss Heely’s files, I learned about the accident.”

  A slick, icy sensation trickled down my spine, tightening my gut into a hard knot of frigid dread . “You’re certain of this?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s no chance you’re mistaken?”

  Her gaze never left mine. But the anger firing in her sea-green depths melted away, leaving only resignation and sadness. “None. I’m sorry, Lord Ryland.”

  The realization that she was telling the truth struck me like a fist to the temple. Left me reeling. And sick inside. Lovely, intelligent, smiling Miss Heely. So full of life and laughter and love and hope for the future. Dead. And what of Mr. Gallagher? The loss would utterly destroy him.

  A wave of profound sadness at the cruel unfairness threatened to unman me. I wanted to scream out, How the bloody hell did this happen? But my throat slammed shut and the question choked me. Because I knew the answer. I had done this. By interfering. Because I was impatient to complete my task.

  Well, your task is ended, isn’t it, you selfish bastard-- right along with Miss Heely’s life, my inner voice sneered, a steel-edged knife that sliced me in two. Perhaps you can look her up in Heaven. Regale her with the tale of how she came to be there in such an untimely manner.

  The mere thought washed a wave of nausea through me. I grabbed Director Foscari by the shoulders. “Save her. I know you have powers, powers that come with your position. Use them to save her.” When she remained silent, I added, “Please.”

  The word felt like a dry breadcrumb stuck my throat. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d uttered it. Had I ever said it? Damned if I knew. But I did know that I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted Miss Heely to remain alive.

  Director Foscari’s eyes filled with what looked like… bloody hell, were those tears? “I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Can’t. It’s true that Directors are granted Human Life Saves, but only a limited number. And unfortunately I’ve used all of mine.”

  “Can’t you buy or borrow another one? Make a trade?”

  “I wish with every fiber of my being that I could, but I’m afraid that’s impossible. And even if it weren’t, it’s already too late. She’ll be dead in less than one minute.”

  Fury rose from the very depths of my soul, filling me with a violence I’d never known, snapping my control. My fingers bit into her upper arms and I shook her once, hard. “If there was no way to save her, nothing I could do to fix what I’ve done, why the bloody hell did you tell me? So I could spend all of eternity hating myself, eaten up with guilt? Is this your way of punishing me for my previous failures? For questioning your authority? For not falling to my knees in reverence whenever you approached me?” The words exploded from me in a torrent
of white-hot rage. “Do you hate me that much?”

  My words reverberated between us in the tension-filled air. She stood perfectly still, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t begin to decipher as I’d never seen it before. In a blink she seemed to deflate beneath my hands. Her bottom lip trembled and there was no mistaking the evidence of tears that now filled her eyes.

  “Hate you? I don’t hate you!” she cried in a broken voice. “I care for you! I always have. I’ve watched over you, every day. Every hour. Even during your life-- ”

  Her words cut off and she pressed her lips together. Something that looked like fear flickered in her eyes then she quickly shifted her gaze away.

  Confusion joined my rage. “What are you talking about? Care for me?” A bitter, humorless sound escaped me. “We both know that’s not true. And how could you have watched over me during my life when you weren’t even born until decades after I died?” When she remained silent, I shook her again. “Damn it, answer me!”

  She returned her gaze to me. That infuriating look-right-through-me expression was back in place. “Unhand me, Lord Ryland.”

  I fought back the urge to shake her until the answers I sought fell from her lips. After pulling in a shaky breath I released her then fisted my hands at my sides, refusing to even entertain the possibility that the galling heat I’d experienced when I touched her was anything other than rage.

  I closed my eyes and an image of Miss Heely filled my mind. She’d been so happy only moments ago. Her death was impossible to comprehend. I had to do something. Even if I failed, I had to try. Had to. But what?

  And suddenly I knew. Even as an unearthly calm came over me, a small inner voice, the one that realized the dire consequences of what I was thinking, screamed no! But the whisper coming from my soul drowned out the scream.