Kiss an Angel

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  Sheba surveyed Daisy’s small figure. “You don’t have any idea what you’ve gotten into with him, do you?”

  Sheba seemed eager to prod her into a catfight, but since Daisy was fairly certain she’d come out the loser, she tilted her head toward the two costumes draped over the back of the chair. “Am I supposed to try those on?”

  Sheba nodded.

  Daisy picked up the top one and found that it made little more than a puddle of midnight blue spangles in her hand. “It seems awfully skimpy.”

  “That’s the general idea. This is the circus. The audience expects to see a lot of skin.”

  “Does it have to be mine?”

  “You’re not fat. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “I’m not exactly a hard-body. I’ve never been very good about following an exercise program for more than a few minutes.”

  “You just have to learn some self-discipline.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve never been very good at that, either.”

  Sheba regarded her critically, obviously expecting Alex Markov’s wife to display a little more backbone. But from having lived with her mother, Daisy knew not to engage in gamesmanship with a master player. Honesty was the only defense against experts at guile.

  She went into the bathroom and removed her clothes down to her panties, but as she dressed in the scanty costume, she realized that the leg was cut so high they showed. She stripped them off and started all over.

  With the costume finally in place, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt like a trollop. Two blue spangled scallops covered her breasts while a larger scallop covered her below. The body of the costume was made up of nothing more than a thin veil of tacky silver net. Sheba hadn’t even included a pair of tights.

  “I don’t think I can wear this,” she called out through the door.

  “Let’s see.”

  She stepped out. “It’s a bit too—” Her words broke off as she saw Alex standing by the sink in his Cossack costume. She wanted to run back into the bathroom, and if Sheba hadn’t been standing there she would have. Why did he have to show up now when she looked like this?

  “Step out so we can see you,” he said.

  Daisy moved forward unwillingly. Sheba walked over to stand next to him, wordlessly uniting the two of them and making Daisy the outsider.

  Alex said nothing, but the way he studied her made Daisy feel as exposed as if she were entirely naked.

  “Turn around.” Sheba ordered.

  Daisy felt like a prostitute being put on display by the madam for a favorite customer. Although the mirror in the bathroom was too small for her to observe what she looked like from the back, she had a good idea what they were seeing: two round, bare cheeks with a small scallop camouflaging the place where they met. Her skin was flushed as she once again faced them.

  “We’re a family show,” Alex said. “I don’t like it.”

  Sheba walked toward her and began fussing with the bodice. “I suppose you’re right. She’s really not big enough to fill it out properly. It’s gaping.” Daisy felt the woman’s hands on her neck. “Let’s see if the other one works better.”

  Without warning, Sheba opened the costume and pushed it down, leaving Daisy naked from the waist up. With a startled exclamation, Daisy grabbed at the puddle of spangles and net that had tangled low on her belly, but her fingers were clumsy, and it was like trying to unravel vapor. Her gaze flew to Alex.

  He stood with his hips resting against the sink, ankles crossed, heels of his hands braced on the counter behind him. Daisy wordlessly pleaded with him to look away, but he didn’t drop his gaze.

  “God, Daisy, you’re blushing like a virgin.” Sheba’s lips formed a thin smile. “I’m surprised anyone can spend time in bed with Alex and still remember how to blush.”

  The jewels flashed on his sash as he stepped forward. “That’s enough, Sheba. Stop baiting her.”

  Sheba turned away to pick up the other costume. Alex put himself between the two women, almost as if he wanted to shield Daisy’s nakedness from Sheba, which was ridiculous since he was the one she wanted to hide from.

  “Let me have it.” The full sleeves of his white shirt rippled as he took the red-sequined costume from Sheba, glanced at it, then handed it to Daisy. “This one looks better. See if it fits.”

  She snatched the costume from him and dashed into the bathroom. When she’d closed the door, she leaned against it and tried to steady her breathing, but her heart was beating and her skin burning. She’d been raised by a mother who sunbathed in the nude, and she told herself not to make such a big deal out of what had happened. But it still bothered her.

  She finally managed to get into the costume, and to her relief, it had a little more to it than the other. A flame-shaped pattern of fire red sequins climbed from the crotch to the bodice, where it clung to her breasts in irregular, jagged points. The leg openings were cut nearly to the waist, giving her a giant wedgie as she eased open the door and reluctantly walked forward. At least her middle was covered.

  Alex stood alone, resting his hip on the edge of the table. Daisy swallowed hard. “Where’s Sheba?”

  “She needed to talk to Jack. Turn around.”

  She bit her bottom lip and remained where she was. “The two of you were lovers, weren’t you?”

  “We’re not now, so it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “She still appears to care about you.”

  “She hates my guts.”

  For all Alex’s talk about pride, he didn’t seem to have much honor, or he would never have let her father buy him, and there was something she needed to know.

  “Was she married to Owen Quest when the two of you had your affair?”

  “No. Now stop prying and let me see the back.”

  “I don’t think it’s prying to want to know more about you. For example, I was looking through the clipping file, and I noticed you weren’t with Quest Brothers last year. Where were you?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “I’d just like a little information.”

  “Your curiosity isn’t my problem.”

  He was the most private person she ever met, and she would get no more out of him. “I don’t like this costume. I don’t like either of them. They make me look cheap.”

  “You’ll look like a showgirl.” Since she hadn’t turned around as he’d asked, he walked behind her. She hated being put on display like this, and she began to move away only to feel him touch her shoulder. “Stand still.” His other hand brushed her waist. “This one fits you better and won’t get us closed down in the Bible Belt.”

  “It’s too skimpy.”

  “Not really. The other women wear costumes this brief and they don’t look nearly as good in them as you do right now.”

  He was standing so close that her breasts brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt as she turned to face him. A funny feeling skittered through the pit of her stomach. “Do you think I look good?”

  “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

  She nodded, feeling weak-kneed.

  He lowered the hand that had been clasping her waist, slid it over the bottom edge of her costume, and curled his palm around her bottom. “Consider yourself complimented.” His voice had a husky rasp.

  Flares of heat shot through her. She drew back slightly, not because she wanted to get away, but because she wanted so very much to stay where she was.

  “We really don’t know each other well.

  Keeping his hand in place, he dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. Her skin prickled with the whisper of his breath on her ear. “We’re married. It’s all right.”

  “We’re circumstanced.”

  He drew back far enough for her to see the amber flecks glimmering in his eyes. “I think it’s time we make our circumstance official, don’t you?”

  Her pulse jumped, and she couldn’t have moved away fr
om him if she’d wanted. As she gazed upward, she felt as if their surroundings had faded away until nothing was left but the two of them.

  His mouth looked strangely tender for something with such hard edges. His lips parted and brushed over hers. At the same time, he pulled her close, where she felt him big and heavy against her. As his mouth settled, she experienced a moment of wonder. His lips were warm and gentle, such a contrast to the rest of him.

  She parted her own because she could no more have closed herself against him than she could have flown to the moon. He drew at her bottom lip and touched the tip of her tongue with his own. The sensation sent her spiraling, and she wrapped her arms around his hips, feeling the silky material beneath her palms. She dug the heels of her hands into his buttocks.

  He groaned against her mouth. “God, I want you.” And then his tongue plunged inside her.

  Their kiss turned into a wild animal mating. He lifted her against him and carried her backward, where he pushed her against the counter. She raised her hands to clutch at his back for balance. He stepped between her legs, and the jewels on his sash dug into the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

  Her tongue caressed his. His soft groan echoed in the warm cave of her mouth. She felt his hands fumbling at the back of her neck. He moved just far enough away to peel her costume to her waist.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at her. He lifted her breasts in his palms and brushed his thumbs over the crests, sending pleasure ricocheting through her. He began kissing her again while he teased the nipples. She clutched his arms and felt their strength through the billowy sleeves.

  He abandoned her breasts and clasped the back of her thighs at the place where they met her bare bottom. It was all too much for her. The bite of the jewels into her thighs the soft caress of his hands . . .

  “Five minutes till spec!” A fist slammed against the door of the trailer. “Five minutes, Alex!”

  She jumped like a guilty adolescent and slid away from the counter. Turning her back on him, she fumbled with her costume. She felt hot and queasy and terribly upset. How could she be so eager to give herself to a man who hardly ever said a kind word to her, a man who didn’t believe in honoring vows?

  She rushed toward the bathroom only to have him stop her before she got there with the soft, husky sound of his voice.

  “Don’t bother making up the couch tonight, angel face. You’re sleeping with me.”

  7

  While Sheba checked the cash drawer, then went through a stack of papers in the office, Daisy sold tickets to latecomers for the second show. She performed the motions mechanically, smiling automatically at the customers but so rattled by the passionate kiss she had shared with Alex that she barely heard what anyone was saying. Her body grew warm at the memory, but at the same time she felt ashamed. She should never have given herself to him with so much abandon when he regarded their marriage with so little respect.

  The music for spec came to an end, and Sheba left the red wagon without speaking. Daisy closed the ticket window and was straightening the cash drawer when Heather appeared. She wore her gold-spangled costume, and her makeup looked harsh on such a young face. Five red rings dangled from her small, thin wrist like giant bracelets, and Daisy wondered if she went anywhere without them.

  “Have you seen Sheba?”

  “She left a few minutes ago.”

  Heather glanced around as if to make certain they were alone. “You got a cigarette?”

  “I had my last one this morning. It’s a disgusting habit, not to mention expensive, and I’m making myself quit. You’ll regret it if you get hooked, Heather.”

  “I’m not hooked. It’s just something to do.” Heather began idly walking around the office, touching the desk, the top of the file cabinet, flicking through a calendar on the wall.

  “Does your father know you smoke?”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell him.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, go ahead,” she replied belligerently. “He’s probably going to send me back to my Aunt Terry’s anyway.”

  “Is that where you were staying?”

  “Yeah. She’s already got four kids, and the only reason she’s willing to take me is because Dad pays her and she needs the money. Plus, she gets a free baby-sitter. My mom didn’t used to be able to stand her.” Her expression grew bitter. “He can’t wait to get rid of me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “You don’t know, do you? He only likes my brothers. Sheba says it’s not my fault because he doesn’t know how to relate to a woman he can’t have sex with, but she’s just trying to make me feel better. I keep thinking if I could juggle better, he might let me stay.”

  Now Daisy understood why Heather always carried the rings around. She was trying to earn her father’s affection with her juggling. Daisy knew all about trying to please a disapproving father, and her heart went out to this young girl with her fairy-sprite face and gutter mouth. “Have you tried to talk to him? Maybe he doesn’t understand how strongly you feel about not going back to your aunt’s.”

  She pulled on her tough-girl face. “Like he’s going to care. And look who’s giving advice. Everybody’s talking about you. How Alex only married you because you’re pregnant.”

  “That’s not true.” The cellular phone buzzed before Daisy could say more, and she went over to the desk to answer it. “Quest Brothers Circus.”

  “Alex Markov, please,” a male voice on the other end replied.

  “I’m sorry, but he’s not here at the moment.”

  “Will you tell him Jacob Solomon called? He has my number. Oh, and Dr. Theobald is trying to get in touch with him.”

  “I’ll let him know.” As Daisy hung up the phone and wrote down the message for Alex, she wondered who these people were. There was so much about him she didn’t understand and he seemed unwilling to reveal.

  She realized Heather had left some time during the phone call. With a sigh, she locked up the cash drawer, turned off the lights, and left the trailer.

  The workmen had already taken down the menagerie tent, and once again she found herself thinking about the tiger. She wandered over toward the place where the tent had been, feeling almost as if she had no control over her destination.

  The cage sat on a small flatbed about three feet above the ground. A rim of light cast by the floodlights threw harsh shadows over the animal inside. Daisy’s heart pounded as she approached, and her steps slowed. Sinjun rose and turned toward her.

  She froze as she received the impact of those golden eyes. His gaze was hypnotic, both direct and unblinking. A chill slithered along her spine, and she felt herself dissolving in those golden tiger eyes.

  Destiny.

  The word trailed through her mind, almost as if she hadn’t put it there herself, almost as if it had come from the tiger.

  Destiny.

  She wasn’t aware that she had walked closer until she smelled the tiger’s musky scent, a smell that should have been unpleasant but somehow wasn’t. She came to a stop less than four feet from the iron bars and stood without moving. The seconds ticked away, growing into minutes. She lost all sense of time.

  Destiny. The word rattled through her head.

  The tiger was a huge male animal, with enormous paws and a bib of white beneath its throat. She began to tremble as he twisted his ears so that the oval-shaped white markings on their backs showed, and somehow she knew it wasn’t a gesture of friendship. His whiskers fanned. He bared his teeth. Perspiration trickled between her breasts as an awful hissing roar erupted from his throat, a demon’s sound that belonged in a horror movie.

  She couldn’t lower her eyes, even though she somehow knew that was what he wanted. His unblinking stare bore a challenge; she was to look away first. She wanted to look away—she had no desire to defy a tiger—but she was paralyzed.

  The bars seemed to evaporate between them so that she no longer had any prot
ection from him. His sharp claws could rip open her throat with one swipe of his paw. Even so, she couldn’t move. She stared at him and felt as if a window into her soul had opened.

  Time ticked by. Minutes. Hours. Years.

  With eyes that no longer seemed to belong to her, she saw all her weaknesses and inadequacies, the fears that kept her prisoner. She saw herself floating through her life of privilege, swept along by wills stronger than her own, afraid to confront, trying to please everyone except herself. The tiger’s eyes revealed everything she wanted to keep concealed.

  And then he blinked.

  The tiger.

  Not her.

  With a sense of astonishment, she watched the white markings on his ears disappear. He stretched his great body back down on the floor of the cage, where he regarded her with deadly gravity and delivered his own verdict.

  You’re soft and cowardly.

  She saw truth in the tiger’s eyes, and her moment of victory for having won their staring contest vanished, leaving her legs weak and rubbery. She lowered herself into the weeds, where she hugged her knees and sat silently watching, not quite so frightened, merely drained.

  She heard the closing music from the final act and was dimly aware of the voices of the workmen as they moved around the lot, along with the noises of the concessions being packed away. She’d had so little sleep the night before that she grew drowsy. Her lids sagged but didn’t close. She propped her cheek on her knee and continued to watch the tiger through half-shut eyes as he watched her in return.

  They were alone in the world, two lost souls. She felt every thud of his heartbeat. His breath seemed to fill her lungs, and gradually her fear evaporated. Instead, she experienced a deep sense of peace. Her soul melded with his—they became one—and at that moment she would have been happy to be his food and sustenance because no barrier existed between them.

  And then—more rapidly than she could have imagined—her peace shattered, and she was hit by such an explosion of pain, she groaned aloud. In the farthest reaches of her mind, she understood the pain was coming from the tiger and not herself, but that made it no less acute.