“They already are.”
“You call that happy?”
The screen flashed back to an appropriately blurred view of Jonah cringing from a cold shower’s sting.
Geneva winced. “I get your point. But what am I supposed to do?”
“Discovering the truth about Angel’s background might be a good start.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Angel kicked off her sheets.
Outside, rain hammered the earth, doing little to cool the steamy heat inside the house. At least tomorrow she wouldn’t have to water the garden.
The box fan Jonah gifted her with, in what seemed like another lifetime, did more harm than good by tickling the hem of her satin gown. How much more satisfying would it be for Jonah to run his hands over her thighs.
“This is madness…” After thirty minutes of longing, she finally sat up.
Lightning strobed, reflecting off the brass knick-knacks Angel hadn’t yet disposed of. Instead of shopping other people’s yard sales, she needed to host her own. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe because of all of her clutter, Jonah didn’t feel comfortable in his own room.
Rolling thunder shook the walls and the dangling leaves on the brass tree on top of Jonah’s highboy dresser. The dresser that now stood empty since he’d moved his clothes to the guest room.
Too antsy to remain lying down, Anger eased out of bed, planning to pace, but another lightning flash showed rain pooling on the windowsill, so she changed course. Creaking open her door, she padded into the hall, intent on grabbing a towel from the bathroom to sop up the mess.
The hall was spooky dark.
Had the storm knocked out power?
Days earlier, Jonah had had a crew out from the power company to fix the yard light. Since then, even in the thick of night, there’d been a glow through the window at the top of the stairs.
Lightning momentarily illuminated her path, shining through not only the hall window but an open door at the end of the hall.
Jonah’s door.
Usually he kept it closed.
Sometimes she’d even heard him lock it. But tonight there it was, drawing her beyond the bathroom, beyond all good judgment and into the heart of the true storm. The floor beneath her shook from thunder. Or was that her hammering pulse?
No, just rain battering the old house with the fury of a thousand hammers.
I only want to see him, she told the warning bells pealing in her heart. I won’t touch him. I won’t even enter his room.
Just one look.
That was all she needed.
Right. Just like that one drink you’ve been craving?
The voice had been blessedly quiet for the past few days, but now it was back with a caustic vengeance, forcing Angel to stop, pressing the heels of her hands to her temples to make it go away.
You don’t need him. You don’t need anybody. You’re a freakin’ star. All you need is a bottle and a stage, and you’re good to go.
“No,” she whispered, not hearing her voice above the rain. “I don’t need anything except my Lizzy and my husband. They’re my life.”
Great, only Lizzy’s dead.
Lightning struck close.
Thunder boomed and the old house shuddered.
“No. No, that isn’t true. She’s in her crib, sound asleep.” To prove it, Angel dashed down the hall, throwing open the door to Lizzy’s room.
Running to the crib, she bent over the rail to scoop her baby into her arms. Her warm baby. Her very much alive baby.
“There,” she said to the voice. “There, see? Just like I told you, she’s fine.”
The voice only laughed. Go right on believing everything’s fine. Meanwhile, your real life, your real you, is out there just beyond your reach—falling apart.
The pain was too much, so Angel gave Lizzy a final hug, then set her back in her crib, freeing both hands to clutch her forehead.
More lightning.
More thunder.
More rain, pounding in time to the blinding ache in her temples and heart.
Jonah. I need Jonah.
She went to him, navigating the hall by rote. Lightning further showed her the way, thunderous rain applauding her every step. Not much farther now. Not much farther and she’d crawl into bed beside him, melting against his strength.
His love. That’s all she’d ever wanted.
Standing in his open doorway, to the accompanying strobes of the storm, she drew her satin gown over her head, pooling it on the floor. She bent to remove her panties, slipping one foot out, then the other, dropping the lacy scrap atop her gown.
Jonah lay spread-eagled with the sheet twisted around his legs, pulled only waist high. His bare chest gleamed, damp with sweat.
The four casement windows were open to the storm, gauzy curtains writhing in the wind. Rain pooled in lightning-reflecting droplets on the sills and wood floor, but she didn’t care. She was beyond caring about anything but the unquenchable hunger that had been building inside her for days.
She craved Jonah’s touch, knowing it was the key to her finally feeling whole. This time, unlike the others, she refused to let him turn her away.
Now seeing with the acuity of a nimble cat, she crept toward the bed. Once there, she ever so slowly drew back the sheet. Had she been dreaming, she couldn’t have woven a more spellbinding sight.
For only an instant lightning kissed her husband’s rock-hard form. Thighs of steel, chest sculpted from marble and arms of the most glorious flesh-toned granite. He’d thrown his head to the side, and in profile she saw both his beauty and pain.
Like her, he also wasn’t whole.
But tonight—right now—she would fix that.
She would complete him.
And, come morning, when the rain was wiped clear by dawn, he would thank her. And the two of them would once again be one.
Jonah groaned.
Damn, that felt good.
In his dream a woman—no, an angel, his Angel—leaned over him, sweeping his chest with her long silken hair, whispering soft, hot kisses to his abs.
Instantly hard, he shifted, hoping she’d get the hint that he wanted all of her on top of him, saddling up for a nice, long ride. Too bad this dream Angel was a tease, for the moment only into kissing.
But, hey, that was okay.
He wasn’t opposed to taking things slow. What he was opposed to was taking them nowhere, like he had with Angel for the past couple of weeks.
Outside, or maybe in his head—didn’t really matter which—the storms that’d been stoked all afternoon under scorching tropic-like heat were only just now reaching their peak.
As for him… he had quite a way to go.
Grabbing his dream Angel by her upper arms, he dragged her up the length of him, loving the contrast of her soft curves against his steel.
Steel? Come on, Jonah. Layin’ it on a bit thick there, aren’t ya?
Burying his fingers in this temptress’s hair, he told the voice in his head to shut up. This was his dream and, by God, he’d be made of steel if he damn well pleased!
Her mouth fell even with his and he kissed her hard, making up for all the times he’d wanted to kiss her but couldn’t. Needed to kiss her but knew he shouldn’t.
In the real world, odds were she belonged to someone else. But, in this world, she was his for the taking, giving, loving and, before the night was out, he intended to do all three.
Her lips landed pliant and warm against his, and when she groaned her pleasure he sent one hand sliding into a deeper exploration of her wild hair, the other on a trek down her back. Cool satin was the only way to describe the sensuous slope of her spine, culminating into the sweetest mound of ass God ever created.
He intensified their kiss, memorizing the feel of her tongue stroking his, the forbidden honey-sweet smell and taste of her breath. This moment, this memory, might be all of her he ever had and, with that in mind, he intended to mine it for all it was worth.
&nbs
p; With a grunt of pure, masculine pleasure, he turned the tables, spinning her over to land himself on top.
Time for more than kisses.
Time for breasts and belly and inner thighs and all the delectable places in between.
“I love you,” he said, because in this dream world he could.
And, with her left nipple swelling in the palm of his hand, she replied in a fevered, raspy voice that she loved him, too. And that was all he needed to drive him over the edge.
All at once, he was kissing her again, telling himself over and over that if he wished it hard enough, if he willed it so, he could somehow make it possible for her to stay. To keep being a mother to Katie, a wife to him in every single way—most especially the activity they currently engaged in!
She kissed him back, squirming and bucking beneath him, running her fingers through his hair.
The two of them flowed like a windswept song, frantically exploring in rising and slowing pitches.
He drew first one of her life-sustaining breasts into his mouth and suckled and, when milk came, though she pushed him away, he returned to her other for more.
He moved on to her belly, feasting there in greedy nips and laves. And then he was moving lower, pressing his hand between her thighs, finding it damp with sweat and desire.
Shifting to a sitting position between her legs, drawing those endless golden limbs around his waist, he granted himself full access to her womanly core.
She squirmed against him, claiming he shouldn’t. But he was right there, reminding her that this was his dream and ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, all those days ago at his diner, he’d wanted to pleasure her in ways she hadn’t dreamed possible. She acquiesced, tossing her head to and fro with each thrust of his tongue.
By the end of this night he hoped to ruin her for all other men. He hoped to brand her with lovemaking so intense, so carnal, so elemental and raw and exquisitely right that, even if she was married, she’d have no choice but to leave that other man—that nobody man—for him.
In this dream land, far from his real life, Jonah chose his destiny, and that destiny began with making Angel his wife.
He brought her to climax twice.
Once with his fingers, then again with his tongue and, while the storm battered the house around them, he sought shelter deep within her velvety folds.
She was hot, slick and ready, welcoming him to her secret world.
With his every thrust, she cupped his ass, urging him deeper and harder.
And so he rode. Rode and rode like a madman through the storm.
He was once again pulling her up, setting her astride him so he could feast on both her magnificent breasts and her kiss-swollen lips. He needed to lose his fingers in her thick hair, bury his face in the sweet curve of her neck.
Outside lightning slashed, thunder roared.
Inside he roared for, in her, he’d become king, master of his destiny. In Angel, he could do anything, be anything. If only for this one moment, this one night. All fear was gone, replaced by joy and hope, building within him like the brightest, most brilliant rays of sun.
And then he was falling, falling, and she was reaching out for him, meeting him along the way. Hugging, laughing, kissing, they finished their journey together, beating back the storm, becoming one with it, reveling in the cooling driving rain.
Cupping her face in his hands, he said, “I love you. I adore you. No matter what, you’ll always be mine.”
Lightning illuminated her aquamarine eyes and they shone huge, and he couldn’t tell whether tears fell from them or rain. But it wouldn’t have mattered either way, for the smile lighting her face shone a thousand times brighter than any mere flash from a storm. Her light came from within, filling him with her magic and her awe.
And while the rain raged around them, he ever so gently lifted her from him, easing her back to the bed, where he nestled a downy pillow beneath her head.
True, all of it had only been a dream, but even dream angels needed their sleep.
And with that thought in mind he lay down beside her, spooning her, the gentle curve of her belly warming his palm.
Geneva switched off her view screen and fell back on her newly installed supple cloud couch.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
What was the one thing missing from Heaven?
Cigarettes.
No, she hadn’t stayed around to watch all of Blondie and Jonah’s big show, but what little she had seen left her horny as hell and needing a smoke.
Geesh, she’d spent her entire mortal life looking for a little excitement, a little grace, when all along it’d been right there under her nose in the form of her husband.
Make no mistake, she and Jonah had shared some pretty hot nights, but nothing like this. For the few minutes she’d watched, she hadn’t just seen the love flowing between those two but felt it.
Felt it in a way she’d never experienced love herself.
What she’d missed out on was genuine depth. Substance. And that made her sad. Not just for herself but for her daughter, because if she hadn’t been such a coward when it came to opening herself up to true emotions, she could’ve so easily loved her husband and child.
Now it was too late for her, but at least in hooking up Angel with Jonah, she’d given both him and Katie a second chance—at least she would if she could decipher Angel’s mystery before Sam.
The question was, how to go about informing herself without tipping him off? After all, if the news did turn out to be bad where Angel’s past was concerned, it was Geneva’s duty to provide instant damage control.
But how?
Rubbing what she thought was her forehead, Geneva jumped to hear footsteps from behind her.
There was Elvis, swaggering her way with his guitar slung across his shoulder and his handsome mug sporting a sexy grin.
Hand to her hammering heart, she asked, “What’s with you people, always sneaking around?”
He laughed. “And here I thought I’d be playing to a friendly crowd. Want me to come back some other time?”
“No. In fact, maybe you can help.”
She explained the basics of her problem, after which, the King snapped himself a chair, took a seat, then played her a charming acoustic rendition of “Stranger in the Crowd.”
“Mind keeping it down?” Sam glared out his bedroom window at the rain pelting his window.
As if flipping him a cosmic bird, lightning struck uncomfortably close. The resulting thunder shook the house, like some rotten teenager out to avenge his latest speeding ticket by lobbing a live grenade down Sam’s chimney.
“Thanks,” he said to the heavens. “Yeah, that was real nice.”
He gave his cheap, poly-fil pillow a couple of punches, swearing that if he ever got a raise he’d blow it all on comfortable bedding.
He rolled over for a glance at the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock, but the power must’ve gone out, because the rectangular box was black.
Finding some solace in the fact that at least he wasn’t out on patrol working a wreck, he rolled back over and promptly fell into a shallow sleep. A sleep filled with freaky psychedelic imagery like floating tie-dyed peace signs, mushrooms and hippies reclining on big pillows smoking joints.
He should’ve arrested the lot of them, but a couple of the chicks were hot, wearing hip-hugging jean cutoffs and leather halters with lots of beads and fringe. And boy, oh boy, look at the cleavage. Mounds of it. Enough to keep him happy for many nights to come.
Even better, they had boxes and boxes of greasy pizza!
And then, this one particularly hot chick glided through the pot-smoke haze, dancing all Mata Hari-like to slow Led Zeppelin.
Sam just stood there, staring like a junior high kid freaking over his first public boner, as she danced his way, gyrating saucy hips and bouncing her red hots behind a barely decent macramé halter.
He’d freakin’ explode if he couldn’t at least kiss her, but when he tried sh
e skittered away, laughing, teasing, shaking her sweet derriere in time to the music.
“You know what you need to do,” she said.
“Take you right here on the floor?”
She grinned. “Sounds fun, but that’s not it.”
“What, then? Give me a hint.” She’d sashayed her hips within grabbing distance, and he slipped his hand behind her back, cinching her close.
“Naughty, naughty…” She pushed herself free, wagging her finger at him as if scolding a bad boy. “Mustn’t touch—at least not until you tell me what I need to know.”
“Sure. Ask anything.”
“Good answer.” She was back, standing on her tiptoes, slipping her arms around his neck to draw his ear to her delectable mouth. “...Tell me how to search for missing persons.”
He frowned. What kind of crappy dream was this?
“Mmm…” she moaned into his right ear, filling the cavity with her moist, hot breath. “I promise, Chief Lawson, if you tell me all I need to know, this dream will fulfill your wildest fantasies.”
“Promise?”
Presumably to show him she meant business, she kissed him, writhing her way into his senses with her nimble tongue, doing things he’d never even read about on an online porn site . “Do we have a deal?” she asked, stepping back for his perusal. “Lady, for you, my mind is an open book.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Crashing thunder jolted Jonah awake.
It was light outside, which meant he was already late for work. And tired. Actually, tired didn’t begin to describe the bone-deep weariness he felt coming on.
Damn this crazy weather. The storm kept him up half the night. And those dreams.
Talk about X-rated…
Grinning about his dreamland prowess, he reached low for his usual morning scratch. Only instead of meeting up with cotton boxers, he found nothing but skin. No cause for alarm, though. He vaguely remembered stepping from his second cold shower straight back to bed.
Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait) Page 17
