Heavenly Desire

by J. L. Sheppard

  ****

  “Ashley.” He whispered her name under his breath as soon as his eyes slid open. Thoughts of her filled him or in reality they’d never left.

  Last night he’d dreamt, and it was her he’d dreamt of.

  They were at the pub again, but it was fall. She wore a dress with her hair spilling around her shoulders. He’d said something, and she laughed that blinding laugh and then he was struck with a thought. Nothing else matters.

  It wasn’t what he had dreamt of that startled him. It was that he had dreamt at all. Angels didn’t dream. They had no worries because they trusted fate completely, but last night he had.

  He forced himself to get out of bed and into the shower to erase the memory. The steam and hot water did little. He dried himself, dressed quickly then walked toward Ashley’s flat to wait for her.

  The same routine for the last several days. He waited and watched.

  Today would be different though. Consciously, he’d made the decision to tell her the truth. Whether it was the dream, the numerous emotions filling him or the prickling feeling that had nagged him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he didn’t know.

  Either way, today was the day.

  ****

  Under a light drizzling rain, Ashley arrived at the bakery a quarter after five. She was late and hated it. Undeniable guilt washed over her because she strived, above all else, for perfection.

  Entering the bakery, she said, “Sorry, guys.”

  “Sorry?” Brenda quirked a brow. “You work harder than anyone else, Ash. Come on, give yourself a break.”

  “Agreed,” Augusto said poking his head from behind the pastry display. Augusto was in his forties and a tad overweight, so his gut hung over his jeans. “No worries, I put the first batch in.”

  She smiled, then headed toward the kitchen. As she spent hours consumed in work, thoughts of Clyde zipped through her mind replaying their encounter.

  The realization he had revealed nothing about himself while she had, made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t the type to divulge information about her life to anyone. In fact, it had been years since she had. She hadn’t even had the urge to do so, yet she revealed things to him she never considered revealing to anyone else. Even the smallest details about how much she hated the rain or why she accepted her job in London.

  Clyde had saved her. He spent days on end sitting at the bakery where she worked, but he hadn’t revealed his reasons for doing so. He spent too much time lounging around to be a local or a tourist for that matter. If she were on vacation, she wouldn’t spend all her time sitting in a bakery.

  She sighed heavily rationally coming to the conclusion she shouldn’t waste any more time thinking of a man whose primary interest in her was her baking.

  The door leading to the front of the shop swung open and Brenda rushed toward her. “Ash, he’s here.”

  Her heart flip flopped, hope floating. Could he be interested in her? No! she scolded herself. He’s here for the pastries.

  “He wants to talk to you,” Brenda said, grinning foolishly.

  Her heart fluttered. He asked for me! Me! “I… I’ll—”

  Brenda giggled. “Ha! I told you. He likes you.”

  Finally, she found her voice. “I’ll be right there,” she said hoping she sounded calm and composed even as her hands began to tremble.

  She inhaled and exhaled several times and braced herself before she strolled through the door. Nearing it, she retraced her steps taking another look at the baked goods in the ovens ensuring nothing would burn. She walked back toward the door, inhaled deeply then crossed the threshold.

  Her eyes immediately found his, and he smiled that smile that made her knees go weak. Thankfully, her knees didn’t buckle beneath her, and she continued toward him.

  “Hi,” he said before she reached him.

  “Hi,” she replied.

  “I know you’re busy. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I just wanted to know if there’s any chance I could…” He hesitated. “Can I take you out tonight?”

  Her face flushed. Everything surrounding her blurred except his face as his words replayed in her mind. She didn’t know how long she stood there as he waited for an answer. Her nickname on his lips was what woke her from her inane state.

  “Ash?” he said, his brows drawn.

  “Yeah, I mean yes. I should be done by three, unless someone calls out sick.”

  He flashed her another smile. “I’ll pick you up around five then at your place.”

  Before she could refute or ask for his number in case she had to cancel, he strode away. She watched befuddled, berating herself and simultaneously wondering what she’d gotten herself into, then she turned and marched back into the kitchen.

  Hours later Brenda came barging in, demanding answers. “I’m sorry. I would’ve come in here earlier, but it got really busy. So tell me, what did he say?”

  Ashley was in the middle of mixing several batches of dough and only glanced over briefly. “Nothing.”

  “Lies! Tell me! I saw you walk in here. You were like a zombie!” she said then burst into a fit of giggles.

  “Nothing happened.” She paused and felt her face flush scarlet then gave up. “He asked me out.”

  “What?” Brenda shrieked.

  Ashley glanced into one of the ovens attempting to keep herself busy. Pulling out several chicken pot pies, she set them on the counter.

  “He asked me out,” she repeated as nonchalantly as she could.

  “Oh! I knew it!”

  “Sh!” she said. “Please don’t make a big deal about this. I—”

  Brenda’s expression softened as she grasped Ashley’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it between us, but please tell me how it goes.”

  Ashley nodded. Brenda smiled then turned and walked away.

  She spun to glance at the clock for the hundredth time that day.

  It was still only noon.

  ****

  Clyde paced his hotel suite repeatedly. He was surprised he hadn’t yet burned a hole in the carpet. His mind was consumed with Ashley, primarily, where he should take her.

  From what he’d seen and according to what she told him, she hadn’t been out much since she moved to London. There were tons of tourist spots in the city, and London was a foodie locale as well. The forecast predicted clear skies, which meant it would be the perfect night to show her the city, yet he’d love nothing more than to enjoy a nice, quiet dinner with her but wondered if she’d enjoy it as well. He had no idea, and the closer the time came the more nervous he became.

  He had watched her leave the bakery just half an hour before. She rode the tube, then walked several blocks and entered her flat. Still he had time, half an hour exactly, but if he had all the time in the world it wouldn’t help him decide any faster.

  He paused to scrutinize his behavior: nervous and pacing repeatedly. Then he scowled, realizing his actions were those of a heartsick mortal on the cusp of falling in love or, worse, a mated immortal. The thought was ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel anything at all. He was an angel. Angels were created, not the product of mating and were unbiased. To accomplish their duties, they couldn’t succumb to emotions.

  As realization set in, dread prickled inside him. The prior forewarning tickled his mind. You’ll never be the same.

  Taking a deep breath, he then clenched his jaw, attempting to rein in all emotions by reminding himself this was just another assignment in the long line he’d had over the centuries. He had a job to do—take Ashley to her sisters in New York. She was just a job.

  He couldn’t let her undo everything he had set out to do since Jenna. He couldn’t let her stand in the way of the promotion he’d waited for, for centuries.

  Grabbing his wallet and walking out of his hotel suite, he headed downstairs and down two blocks until he reached Ashley’s flat. He hesitated outside then checked his watch. Fifteen minutes early, maybe he should wait longer? Women were never ready on
time. Did it matter? No.

  He knocked and heard her inside, walking toward the door. As the door opened and her eyes met his, a soft smile spread across her lips. He found himself holding his breath, losing track of his thoughts.

  His prior resolve melted away as he took in her appearance. She wasn’t ready, far from it, wearing a pair of loose-fitting pants revealing her slim waist and round hips, a tank top and a hoodie. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders almost to her waist, styled in soft curls. He had the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. As the thought wandered through his mind, he batted it down, shaking his head.

  “Hi,” she said. “Sorry, I’m not ready. Do you want to come in? I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

  He nodded. She stepped aside to allow him in. He entered and glanced around her flat. It was small but impeccably clean. A den with a loveseat and TV, small dining area with a table and two chairs that led toward a kitchen. A hallway lay to the right of the den that he assumed led to her bedroom and a bathroom.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, closing the door behind him, locking it then turning to face him.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, you can have a seat anywhere. I just need to get dressed.”

  He nodded and headed toward the loveseat as she walked down the hallway and disappeared out of sight. He glanced around the room again, registering something odd about her flat. Then he realized there were no pictures at all, no memories of her life. Just as easily, he dismissed the thought. She had just moved a couple of months before. Perhaps, she hadn’t had time to finish decorating.

  Ten minutes later, she reappeared. Immediately, he stood, his eyes travelling from top to bottom. She wore dark-wash skinny jeans that hugged her hips and plump rear, a black long-sleeved shirt matching her black boots.

  “You look beautiful,” he said when he realized he had stared for far too long.

  A light blush appeared on her cheeks then she said, “Thanks. Where to?”

  “It depends on you. We can go anywhere. I know you said you hadn’t been sightseeing. We can grab a bite to eat, then do some sightseeing.”

  “Sounds good,” she replied, smiling.

  He took Ashley to a small quaint restaurant less than half a mile from Tower Bridge, requesting a table outside. The hostess escorted them to a table near the river where they could enjoy the view of Tower Bridge and the London Tower. Once there, Clyde pulled out Ashley’s chair and she sat.

  “Are you sure it’s not too cold for you out here?” he asked her for the third time.

  She shook her head then added, “I’m fine, really. Plus, I don’t want to miss this view.”

  He nodded steering his attention away from her to take the menu the hostess offered. His hands shook slightly, still nervous, and once again he scolded himself for his behavior, for letting any semblance of emotion through his guard. He glanced at her hoping she hadn’t noticed. She was transfixed on the menu in front of her.

  He had every intention of shifting his gaze toward his menu but couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. She looked ravishing. Different from any other time he had seen her. Dressed for a night out, her hair styled and not too much make-up, because she really didn’t need it.

  As if she heard his thoughts, her gaze strayed toward him. “You okay?” she asked her tone concerned.

  “Yes, why?” he replied too quickly, shifting in his chair.

  She shrugged. “You seem distracted.”

  He supposed he was. She evoked feelings he couldn’t quite describe making him feel human, making him feel alive.

  “I guess.”

  “Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I am fine.”

  Her gaze returned to her menu. The waitress appeared before them, introduced herself, took their drink orders and told them the specials.

  Clyde hadn’t heard a word, solely focused on Ashley because her hair blew in the wind as if it had a mind of its own. The urge to lace his fingers through it resurfaced. Only then would he know if it was as thick and soft as it looked.

  Before he knew it, the waitress was gone, and Ashley’s attention drifted toward him. “I think I’m in the mood for pasta,” she announced.

  He nodded.

  “What are you thinking about getting? The special sounds good, too.”

  He nodded again, and her smile faded. She gazed away from him and toward the view of Tower Bridge.

  The waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders.

  Noticing she hadn’t said a word for at least five minutes and avoided looking directly at him, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Why did you ask me out?” she asked, finally looking his way.

  Startled by the question and its bluntness, he had no words. He had a reason, a good reason for asking her out but staring into her dark eyes and beautifully flushed face he couldn’t remember.

  She continued, “I mean, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just I wondered why a man would ask a woman out on a date and then…” She paused. “Never mind.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then not seem interested,” she said without emotion.

  His face paled, and he sighed frustrated with himself. He had spent the last half hour admiring her, barely saying a word, berating himself for being weak enough to feel.

  “I wanted to get to know you,” he said, knowing it was partly true. “That’s why I asked you out. I’m sorry if I’m not talkative. I just…I’m nervous.”

  Her eyes widened at his response. “You amaze me,” she said then sipped her wine and smiled. After several moments, she asked, “So, where are you from?”

  “Far away from here.” Cop out, he thought.

  “You have a way of saying things while not saying anything at all. You know that, right? It usually means there’s something you’re trying to hide. So what, are you married or something?”

  He laughed, pleased with her observation. “No, I’m not married.” He didn’t want to lie, especially to her. “Ask me something else. I’ll answer.”

  Her expression softened, and she smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “In London?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m here on business,” he said, relieved it was an easy question, and there had been no need to lie.

  She was about to ask another question, but he interrupted. “My turn.” She smiled. “Where are you from?”

  Ashley hesitated. Her expression saddened slightly as if reliving a bad memory.

  “Originally, from Florida, but I grew up in Boston.” Her smile widened. “Tell me about your parents.”

  “I don’t have any,” he replied impassively.

  Her face transformed. The sadness he’d glimpsed before returned, overshadowing her earlier excitement. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off when he reached over and grabbed her hand. It was an instinct he could no more control than his emotions.

  “It’s not a big deal,” he assured her. “We all have our own tragedies.” Tragedy? Is that what you truly believe?

  She nodded.

  The waitress appeared with their meals. They ate quietly stealing glances in each other’s direction every so often. Suddenly, he was overcome with wanting to know more about her, more than he knew from reading her aura.

  “Tell me about your life,” he said.

  Her gaze fluttered toward his. He didn’t need to hear her words. Her eyes spoke volumes telling the story of solitude, survival and far too much sadness.

  “Well,” she said then hesitated.

  Reading her thoughts from her expression, he knew she wondered how much was too much to tell a man she barely knew.

  “I was born in Florida. My biological mother died when I was three, and then I went into the foster care system. I was lucky enough to be adopted. My adoptive mom was amazing. That’s when I moved to Boston. She was really the best, always going out of her way to make me fe
el special. Left me notes in my lunch, read stories to me before bed time. She never wasted a single day. She told me she loved me often…Christmases were the best. She would fill the house with decorations. It was almost like you were in the North Pole with Santa and his elves.” She paused bringing her hand toward her chest as she reminisced. “I mean…you can’t imagine. We had two Christmas trees: one in the den another in the living room. The fireplace had stockings and lights. She would build a village. You know…the little Christmas houses…but it covered the entire living room. It was amazing.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she recounted. “She died when I was ten. Cancer… My dad was never the same. She was his life, his reason for living. When she died, he lost himself… I’ve never known a man to love a woman as much. They were my parents for six years before she died. Of course, he still is my dad, but like I said he was never the same. I saw the way he looked at her, admired her and loved her. I knew then their love was beyond anything else attainable.”

  She glanced in his direction just as a tear slid down her cheek then quickly wiped it away. “That’s what I’ve strived for my entire life, to find a love like that.”

  He realized then what he’d missed in the two thousand years since his creation, and that realization made his chest ache. He found himself wondering what it would feel like to have another complete him to such an extent it made his life make sense.

  He had nothing to say because there wasn’t anything to say, and then she spoke for him.

  “Sorry.” She laughed.

  He stared still lost in her words.

  “I just killed the mood, right?”

  Once again, he took her hand in his. “No, you didn’t. I have never heard anyone speak just as you have about love. For a child to recognize it is simply inspiring.”

  And it was. For Clyde, love was merely a luxury for immortals and mortals. Angels had no reason for it for they had another reason for existence, another purpose. And he’d never considered wanting it until she’d spoken of it.

  She smiled at his compliment, seemingly embarrassed as her cheeks pinked.

  “So you’ve never been in love?” he asked.