Charity's Angel

by Dallas Schulze

  He was absolutely furious.

  Chapter 12

  "Excuse me?" She hadn't done anything wrong, she reminded herself. But it was a little hard to keep in mind when he stood there glowering down at her.

  "You heard me. What the hell are you doing?"

  Charity lifted her chin. She didn't particularly care for his tone.

  "I'm relaxing in the pool," she said, making it clear that she thought that should have been obvious.

  "Alone?"

  "Unless there's someone here I hadn't noticed."

  "Are you crazy?"

  "I don't think so," she said stiffly.

  "Well, you couldn't prove it by me."

  "I don't recall asking you. What are you doing?"

  He was wearing black running shorts and a dark gold polo shirt. Now he was stripping the shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the concrete.

  "You're getting out," he said flatly.

  "I'm not sure I want to get out," she protested.

  "Tough."

  He jumped into the water. The waves from his entry into the pool reached her just before he did. Charity had been prepared to protest his macho treatment but she swallowed the words when she got a good look at his face.

  She'd never seen Gabe so angry. His jaw was set like granite. His eyes met hers for only an instant, but Charity felt singed by that brief look.

  The water lapped around Gabe's collarbone as he stopped beside her. She expected him to take her by the arm and tow her to the side of the pool.

  Once she was out of the water, she was going to explain calmly and coolly, that she didn't care for his overbearing attitude. She would make it clear that just because she was staying in his house, he didn't have the right to treat her like a child. She would make him understand—

  "Oh!" Gabe scooped her up in his arms and strode to the steps. Charity's arms circled his neck automatically. He carried her as easily as if she were a child, striding up the steps and onto the concrete decking.

  "Put me down." She bit her lip in annoyance. She sounded like the heroine in a grade B movie. But she didn't like being so close to him. It was hard to remember how angry she was when she could feel the steady thumping of his heart against her breast.

  "Gladly." But he didn't put her into her wheelchair. He set her on the redwood lounger. "Now,

  would you like to explain what you thought you were doing?"

  "I don't think so." She dragged the tattered remnants of her dignity around her. "I don't see why you're so upset."

  "Oh, you don't?" It was obvious that his brief foray into the water hadn't cooled his temper by even a degree.

  "No, I don't," she snapped. "I was wearing a life vest." She wrenched at the buckles of it as she spoke, tossing it onto the decking. She glared up at Gabe, furious that he'd spoiled her small triumph. "There was nothing to worry about."

  "I had no way of knowing that." He stood over her, dripping wet, his anger so palpable that she wouldn't have been surprised to see the water turn to pure steam on his skin.

  ''Why would you think anything else?"

  "I looked out the window, expecting to see you waiting for Mary. Instead, I see that—" He thrust an accusing finger to where her wheelchair lay next to the pool. Her precipitous exit from it had tipped it onto its side.

  Charity stared at it, realizing how it must have looked. From the house he couldn't have seen her in the water. All he would have seen was the overturned chair.

  Illogically her anger didn't abate with the realization that he'd had reason to be worried. It had seemed such a simple thing. All she'd wanted was to do something—however minor—to exercise some tiny amount of control over her life.

  She hadn't meant to worry Gabe. And what had he been doing looking out the window, anyway?

  "I thought you'd fallen into the pool," he said.

  "Well, I didn't," she snapped. She blinked back tears of frustration.

  "I didn't know that. You could have drowned." He raised his voice on the last, as if she might not have grasped the possibilities,

  "Maybe that would be a relief," Charity all but shouted, frustration bubbling up inside her.

  "Don't say that." Gabe sank to his knees on the decking beside the chair. "Don't ever say that."

  "Maybe it's the way I feel," she muttered without looking at him.

  She hadn't realized the tears had escaped until his hand came up to brush them away. She batted his fingers aside.

  "Go away."

  "Hush." The sight of her tears seemed to have washed away his anger.

  "Just go away," she said, trying to turn her face away. "I'm sorry you were worried. Now leave me alone."

  "I wasn't worried. I was scared to death." He cupped one hand around her chin, tilting her face to his, brushing her tears away with his other hand.

  "Don't be nice to me," she mumbled, feeling like a fool. If he was too nice, she was likely to burst into tears and make a total fool of herself.

  "Would you rather I was mean?" Gentle amusement laced the words.

  "Yes." She sighed, blinking back the tears. "It would be easier to take. I'm sorry I scared you."

  "I'm sorry I yelled at you." His thumb brushed across her lips.

  "I just wanted to feel like I was doing something on my own. Like I was in control of my life again." She looked into his eyes, trying to see if he understood what she was saying.

  "Next time, warn me, would you?"

  Warn him of what? she wondered dazedly. Was it possible to drown in someone's eyes?

  His thumb brushed across her mouth again, and her lips parted, as if in answer to a silent command. Gabe's eyes dropped to her mouth for an instant before sweeping back up to hers. His gaze was more gold than green. She closed her eyes, unable to sustain the intensity of his look.

  She felt his breath brush across her mouth an instant before his lips touched hers. Her breath left her on a sigh, her hands moving up to clutch his bare shoulders.

  It was just as it had been before. Passion flared between them. Rising in a quick, stunning tide that swept her along.

  His mouth slanted fiercely over hers, his tongue sliding past the barrier of her teeth to twine over hers. Charity welcomed the sensuous touch. Her fingers buried themselves in the damp hair at the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

  Gabe groaned deep in his throat, his arms lifting her further onto the lounge, his lean body following her, half pressing her into the cushions.

  Charity murmured a protest as his mouth left hers, but it turned to a sigh of pleasure as his tongue found the delicate curve of her ear. She arched her neck to allow him better access as he dragged his mouth the length of her throat, finding and testing the pulse that beat frantically at its base.

  One strong hand cupped the back of her head. The hand that had been resting against her waist slid upward and Charity's breath caught when he boldly cupped her breast. She stiffened, only to melt when his thumb brushed across the taut peak of her nipple.

  Her fingers tightened in his hair, dragging his mouth back up to hers, and she heard Gabe's rumble of approval as their lips met.

  She'd never felt this kind of frantic need before. Her whole body seemed to pulse with it. The sun that blazed down from the sky was surely no hotter than the heat they were generating between the two of them.

  Her hands slid over his sun-warmed back, feeling the muscles rippling under her fingers. She wanted him, needed him in a way she'd never needed anything before. It was as if he was a part of her, missing all her life and finally back where he belonged.

  His hand left her breast, sliding along the indentation of her waist, pausing there, savoring the feel of her yielding beneath him. Charity thought she could never get enough of him, never give enough in return.

  His hand slid lower, his thumb brushing over her hip bone before stroking downward.

  "No!" Hands that a moment before had been holding him close were suddenly frantically pushing him away.

  "W
hat the..." Gabe's head jerked up, his eyes still dark gold with hunger.

  "Don't." The choked word was all she could get out, her hands still pushing against his shoulders.

  "Don't?" He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of lingering passion. "Don't what?"

  " Let me go,'' she ordered tightly.

  "What's wrong?" He still couldn't quite absorb the abrupt change in her."Did I hurt you?''

  She shook her head. "I just don't want you to touch me there."

  "Where?" His brows rose as understanding came. "Your legs? You don't want me to touch your legs?"

  She nodded, turning her face away. It made her feel sick even to think of him putting his hands on her legs.

  "Does it hurt you?" he asked, bewildered.

  "No, it doesn't hurt," she said tautly. "I can't feel anything, remember? I can't feel it when you touch me. I can't feel anything. Let me go."

  "Calm down, sweetheart. There's nothing to be afraid of."

  If she hadn't been so upset, she might have noticed the endearment, might have taken pleasure in his tenderness. But all she wanted was for him to go away. Something that had been so wonderful had turned to ashes.

  "I don't need your pity," she told him, her voice climbing.

  "Who said anything about pity? Did it feel like I was pitying you?"

  "How would I know?" she snapped. "Go away."

  "I'm not going to go away until you calm down and listen to me. I've touched your legs before when I picked you up and you didn't get upset."

  "That was different." She refused to meet his eyes. "Get off me." How could she explain the difference to him when she couldn't even explain it to herself? And how was she supposed to explain anything at all when he was practically on top of her?

  "Charity." He caught her chin in his hand, turning her face to his. His eyes were all golden green, warm with emotion.

  "I'm falling in love with you."

  Just one simple sentence, but Charity felt as if her world had been picked up and given a hard shake and when it was set down, it wouldn't ever be the same again. Her eyes widened in shock.

  "No."

  "Yes." Gabe's half-amused look hid the anxiety she was too upset to see.

  "No. You're just saying that to make me feel better."

  "I'm saying it because it's true. I'm falling in love with you."

  "No!" She didn't want to hear it. She was afraid she might believe it. And when reality came crashing in, she wouldn't be able to deal with the heartbreak.

  "I didn't mean to upset you," Gabe said, easing away from her.

  "I'm not upset. And I wish you'd stop saying that," she added on a frantic note that gave the lie to her first statement.

  "Okay. But not saying it doesn't mean it's not true."

  "Stop it." She pushed against his shoulders, levering herself away. "You don't love me. You just think you should." She pushed again, wanting him to be gone, wanting to lock herself away somewhere. Somewhere where she didn't have to hear things that she desperately wanted to believe.

  She was so focused on her emotional turmoil that she'd completely forgotten her physical limitations; forgotten legs that didn't move; forgotten everything beyond her desire to put some distance between herself and Gabe.

  Her left leg shifted toward the edge of the lounger. It was only an inch, hardly enough to notice. But Charity noticed.

  "Oh my God." Charity's nails dug into Gabe's shoulders, her eyes snapping to his, a mixture of hope and fear darkening them to a muddy green.

  "What's wrong?" He picked up on her sudden tension, his expression changing from one of chagrined amusement to concern. "Are you hurt?"

  "No." She swallowed, afraid to even voice the thought out loud. What if she'd imagined the small movement? What if she could never do it again?

  "What is it Charity?" Gabe caught her arms, his eyes searching.

  "My leg," she whispered. "I think it moved."

  He stared at her as the realization of what this could mean swept over him. Joy blazed over his features.

  "Can you do it again?" Neither of them noticed that he'd lowered his voice to match hers, as if speaking above a whisper could jeopardize the miracle that might have just occurred.

  "I don't know." She could hardly get the words out past the nervousness clogging her throat. "I don't know."

  "Try. Just relax and concentrate." It didn't strike either of them that the two commands were mutually exclusive.

  "What if I can't do it again?" she got out. Tension had made her voice thin.

  "You can." He sounded so absolutely confident that she felt her own confidence take a bound upward. "Just try."

  "I can't look," she said, her eyes neverleaving his. "You look."

  "You couldn't talk me out of it." He grinned at her as if there was no doubt about the outcome of the next few seconds; as if her entire future wasn't on the line here. She wanted to hit him and she wanted to cling to him. Since she couldn't seem to get her fingers un-peeled from his shoulders, the latter course seemed easier.

  "Give it a shot, Charity."

  Easy for him to say. His whole life wasn't about to be decided. She closed her eyes, too nervous to even think of offering up a prayer. It was a simple thing, really. She'd been moving her legs all her life without giving it a thought.

  She concentrated every fiber of her being on her left leg, on moving it. Even the merest fraction of an inch would do. Something, anything, to show that she hadn't dreamed the earlier movement, to show that there was reason to hope for the future.

  Gabe was watching. Even if her leg twitched, he'd see it and tell her. But she didn't need him to tell her. She felt the movement. Not much, certainly—an inch or less—but it didn't matter how much she moved. Only that she'd moved her leg.

  Her eyes flew open, reading the confirmation in Gabe's eyes that she didn't really need. She stared at him, hardly able to absorb the miracle.

  "I moved." It wasn't a question but he answered it anyway.

  "You moved."

  "I think I'm going to cry." She blinked moisture from her eyes.

  "No, you're not." Gabe sat up, pulling her into a sitting position. "You'll be walking before you know it. Next thing you know, you'll be running marathons. Hell, you'll probably be ready for the next Olympics."

  Swept along on his extravagant vision, Charity laughed shakily. "Don't you think you're going a little overboard? I've never run a marathon in my life."

  "It's never too late to start." His smile faded. "God, Charity, this is all I've wanted since the shooting. Just to see you walk again."

  "Well, I'm not walking yet." She was trying desperately to rein in her hopes. "It could have been a fluke."

  "It wasn't a fluke. I can feel it in my gut." His hands slid down her arms to take hold of her fingers. "This is your big break, kid," he said, in his best imitation of a studio mogul.

  "I hope so, Gabe. God, I hope so."

  "I know so." In that moment, with Gabe holding her, his eyes bright with belief, Charity didn't doubt that he was right.

  If Charity had been determined to keep up her exercises before, she became obsessed with them now. Given even a fragment of progress, she wasn't going to let it slip away. She spent as much time at her exercises as Mary would allow.

  And she made progress. Agonizingly slow at first but it was progress. Every tiny step forward was a triumph, even if she promptly took two steps back.

  Now that she had reason to believe she really would walk again, she focused every fraction of her energy on that goal.

  The more she concentrated on regaining the use of her legs, the less time she had to think about Gabe, to think about him saying he loved her. She didn't want to think about that. If she thought about it too much, she might begin to believe it, and that would almost certainly lead to nothing but heartache.

  ❧

  "Please, Diane. Please say you'll come and stay." Charity was not too proud to beg. Her sanity was more important than her p
ride. She couldn't take much more time alone in Gabe's house. It was either convince Diane to move in or she would have to move out.

  "Why? Does Gabe turn into a werewolf at midnight or something?" Diane leaned back in her chair, giving her sister a suspicious look.

  "Of course not. It has nothing to do with Gabe," she lied.

  "Then why do you want me to move in? And wouldn't Gabe have some objections?"

  "I already asked him and he said he didn't mind." Charity shifted uneasily, remembering the way his brows had risen. Something in his eyes had told her that he knew exactly why she wanted her sister to move in and that it had nothing to do with her rather tangled explanation about Diane helping with her therapy.

  It had been a thin excuse at best since Gabe knew as well as she did that Diane would be gone most of the day. So unless Charity expected to work on her therapy in the middle of the night, there wasn't much by way of practical reasons for her sister to move in.

  "There's no practical reason for me to move in," Diane said bluntly.

  "Can't you just do it because I asked you to," Charity suggested hopefully.

  "Of course." Charity had only a moment to feel relieved at her prompt agreement before Diane continued. "But if I'm going to move to Pasadena when my home and business are in Beverly Hills I don't think it's unreasonable of me to be curious about why

  I'm doing it. Not to mention that you're asking me to move next door to that dreadful prig of a doctor."

  "Jay isn't a prig," Charity said, taking on the most minor objection first.

  "You couldn't prove it by me. The man looks at me like I'm an insect."

  "You just don't know how to cope when a man doesn't fall panting at your feet. It's not an uncommon experience for us mere mortals."

  "I don't expect a man to pant at my feet." She caught Charity's disbelieving look and shrugged. "Okay, so maybe I've gotten used to a pant or two. But there's got to be something between panting and sneering. And don't think you're going to distract me from the point of this whole conversation," she added, fixing Charity with a stern look. " Why do you want me to move in?"