Nobody's Angel

by Sarah Hegger

  Richard snorted softly.

  Donna glared at her oldest son and he stared back at her implacably.

  Lucy looked from Donna to Richard. It had seemed like an innocuous enough question.

  “Did I miss something?” Josh, obviously, felt the same.

  “Did you tell him your great idea?” Richard raised an eyebrow.

  Donna picked up her wineglass.

  “What?” Josh demanded.

  “I was going to tell him tonight.” Donna shrugged. “But why don’t you do the honors.”

  “Ma has decided to go and see her father,” Richard announced.

  “What?” Josh stared at his mother and then at Richard.

  Donna shrugged and reached for a cloth to dry her hands. “It’s time and he’s sick. I want to make peace. Go home.”

  Lucy understood that and the look Donna gave her said that she knew it too.

  “Cool.” Josh dragged a chair out and sat down. “When did you decide this?”

  “You think it’s cool?” Richard crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture Lucy recognized well. Richard was gearing up to entrench himself. “You know what that shit put her through and all you can say is, ‘cool’?”

  “Jesus, Richard, she’s old enough to take care of herself,” Josh snapped back at his brother.

  Richard tossed a wooden spoon onto the countertop. “I think she’s being impulsive and hasn’t thought this out.”

  “And I think she’s earned the right to make up her own mind and do what she likes.”

  “I’m in the room,” Donna reminded her sons. “And thank you for your support, Joshua, but I really don’t need anyone’s approval.” She glanced up at Richard again. “I am old enough to make my own decisions and I need to do this. So I am going to. Point final.”

  Richard and Joshua locked eyes across the kitchen.

  “Your sauce is burning.” Donna gave Richard a push. She threw Lucy a look loaded with exasperation. “Still they must butt heads, all the time.”

  “Richie Rich.”

  “Flower?”

  “Would you fight off ravening hordes for me?”

  “Ravening?”

  “Yup.”

  “Hmm … couldn’t I raven with them?”

  Josh and Richard had one or two more skirmishes, but it didn’t bother her. Donna ignored them and so did Lucy. Dinner was fun. Josh kept them laughing. And Richard? Lucy’s thoughts stuttered to a halt.

  Richard was silent, for the most part, but his eyes strayed back to her time and time again.

  God, she was in so much trouble and happily tumbling deeper.

  She didn’t stay late.

  “I’ll walk you home.” Josh got up to leave with her.

  Richard tensed and opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again. His cheek moved against hers as Lucy thanked him for dinner and kissed him a polite good night.

  Donna gave her a warm hug and made her promise to drop by and see her, soon.

  “This is not necessary,” she said as Josh pulled her arm through his and tugged her out into the cold. “I think I can find my own way home.”

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning, “but my mother would kill me if I let a lady walk home alone.”

  He stopped at the stairs leading to her front door.

  “It was good to see you again, Lucy.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Listen.” He straightened up and for once there was no mischief in his eyes. “I have a few friends in the program, so if you need a meeting, you let me know.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy said, smiling. It was easy to forget Josh had a sweetness that ran all the way to the bone. He spent so much time hiding behind wit and charm it was easy to overlook the real man lurking inside. “It was good to see you, too.” And she meant it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It took Lucy a while to get away from Lynne and up to her bedroom. Her mother was waiting up for her and full to bursting with questions. There was only so much Lucy was prepared to share with her. It reminded Lucy of times in the past when Lynne had wanted to know everything about her day. Lapping up the details of her daughter’s life, as if she could capture the moments for herself. It was invasive then, and now, it was just plain odd.

  Lucy hung up her dress and slipped into her pajamas. She crept across the hallway from the bathroom and into her bedroom.

  The light was on in Richard’s house. Richard was clearly visible, silhouetted in the frame of his bathroom doorway. He must have stepped out of the shower.

  Look away, whispered her better self, but very, very softly. No fucking way, roared back the rest of her and Lucy stood still.

  “Shit,” she breathed out loud. He was beautiful and she’d had her hands and mouth all over him the night before. “Don’t go there,” she tried to tell her fogged brain. “Let it go and move on.”

  Lucy ogled the tight line of his butt, perched temptingly above the hard swell of thighs. His lean waist swept up into the clean, wide lines of his shoulders. His arms rippled with muscle as he toweled himself dry. Pure, unadulterated lust rushed through her veins and she stood, fused to the spot. She remembered the feel of his hard body and the taste of his skin.

  “Turn around,” Lucy murmured under her breath. “Please, please turn around.” God, this was reprehensible, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, she reasoned strongly, if he didn’t want her to look, he should have closed the blinds to his bedroom.

  He started to turn around and reality was like ice water down her neck. She ducked out of sight to the side of the window. And just in time.

  She stayed where she was, contemplating her next move. She could stay down and belly-crawl to a safe distance. Or she could step in front of the window, as if she had come in to draw the drapes. Which, she had and, if he was still there, then she could pretend surprise—yank her bloody eyeballs away—and discreetly move out of sight.

  She was mentally cataloguing her options when her cell vibrated in her hand. She almost dropped it and then scrambled to answer.

  “Hello,” she whispered hoarsely. God knows why? Richard could see her, but he didn’t have supersonic hearing that could penetrate two sets of triple glazing.

  “That’s very rude, you know?” Richard’s voice chased over her nerve endings. She went hot and then cold. “I am very sure there are all sorts of laws against peeping at the neighbors.”

  “Who is this, please?” Lucy brazened it out.

  His deep chuckle told her it had been an epic fail. “Come to the window,” he commanded softly.

  “Are you dressed?”

  “No, but you’ve seen it all before.”

  “It must have slipped my mind.” Lucy went for nonchalance.

  “Come to the window.”

  “At least put a towel on.” Her insides melted.

  “I have a towel on.”

  “Oh, okay.” Lucy stepped out from behind the wall and he laughed.

  He was wearing a towel, riding low on a set of narrow hips. It was like her own Old Spice commercial, only better and real and less than twenty feet away. He had his phone pressed to his ear and a small grin playing around the corners of his mouth. Damn, but she wanted to bite him. “Are you showing off?” Lucy accused.

  “Maybe.” His stab at humility really lacked conviction. “What do you think?” He flexed a bicep for her.

  She thought it was rather yummy.

  “Hmm?” She put her head on one side and studied him.

  He grinned and posed through her perusal.

  “It’s very nice, Richard.” And then she gave an apologetic wince. “But you used to have these cute, little skinny arms. And I really preferred them.”

  “Is that right?” he drawled, totally unconvinced.

  “Oh, definitely,” Lucy assured him. “And I really got off on your chicken chest back then. All these bulging pecs and ripped abs are so …” She made a business of searching for the right word. “They’re so passé.”

  “So now
you speak French, chérie?”

  “I get by with a little bit here and there.”

  “Impress me with something,” he challenged with a tilt of his jaw in her direction.

  “Oh, I couldn’t.” Lucy batted her lashes furiously. “I am naturally modest. You, on the other hand …”

  “Since when are you modest?” he snorted.

  “I have changed in many ways.”

  “Yes, you have.” And her insides grew warm and gooey. “So, you liked my skinny arms and turkey chest, hmm?”

  “Chicken chest,” Lucy corrected gravely. “You know how roosters have this bit that sticks out, but there’s only bone there?”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes narrowed at her over the distance separating them. “I never had a chicken chest.”

  “Sure you did,” she assured him. “Like you had that cute, little potbelly.”

  He looked down over the corrugated skin of his abdomen.

  Lucy wanted to touch so badly her hands started to sweat. Oh dear, this was not good. Her skin felt too tight for her body. She wondered if he could hear her accelerated breathing down the phone, or had any idea how hard her heart hammered against her breastbone.

  “So, what have you got?” he shot back at her while she silently salivated. “I seem to recall from last night that you are still quite something.”

  “Quite something?” Lucy jeered and flapped her hand at him. “Smokin’ and you know it.”

  “Yeah,” he rumbled in a voice that shot straight into her pants. “I think I need a bit of a refresher,” he suggested huskily.

  Lucy’s face baked. “Is this some puerile version of ‘I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours’?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He flashed another grin her way. “And you’re looking at mine,” he pointed out with another devil-spawn, sexy chuckle.

  “Not all of it,” Lucy said, and then winced.

  His one hand went straight to the tucked edge of the towel. “You ready for this?”

  “No,” she yelped hurriedly and then lowered her voice. The last thing she needed was Lynne coming to check on her right now. “And it makes no difference, because I am still not showing.”

  “Coward,” he taunted.

  “Oh, please, that is so lame. As if I am going to start dropping my clothes because you called me a coward.” She had to speak as loudly as she dared over the loud clucking noises he made.

  “I can hope,” he pointed out reasonably. “Actually”—and his expression grew truly evil genius—“I have thought of something else you can do to prove your sincerity.”

  “Don’t even go there, buddy.” She made a chopping motion with her hand.

  “It was worth a try,” he said, shrugging. “But come on, Luce, this is hardly fair. I am standing here in a towel.”

  “You called me and told me to come and look.”

  “I called you to tell you spying on your neighbor’s bare ass was rude.”

  “Not when he’s waving it in the window.” She gave him her best repressive look. “Besides which, you are being an exhibitionist now.”

  He laughed without bothering to deny it. “So, the answer’s still no?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Even if I tell you it’s only professional curiosity. As a medical man, I would like to see the changes that age has wrought on a beautiful, young body.”

  “You are so full of shit.”

  “Right back at you, sweetheart,” he said, winking.

  “And on that note.” Lucy managed to dredge up the self-possession to get away. “I am going to bed.”

  “Planning on sleeping naked?”

  “Nope. Me, SpongeBob, and Patrick are staying together.”

  “You’re not a team player, Lucy Flint.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” she snorted, and turned away from the window.

  “You still have a great ass,” he told her.

  “You big flirt.”

  “My mother says I’m charming.”

  “Your mother has no idea.” His chuckle made gooseflesh spread all over her. “Say good night, Richard.”

  She laughed and snapped off the light. She hung up on his long protest and slipped into bed. She didn’t draw the drapes and she could still see him standing by the window.

  Her cell phone vibrated and she picked it up.

  “Still me.” Richard’s voice sent her pulse into overdrive.

  “Oh, hi.” Her voice came out all breathy and come hither. “What can I do for you, Doctor Hunter?”

  “Um …” His voice was like hot chocolate and it sent shivers down her spine. “I’ve got this mental image giving me some trouble.”

  “What’s that?” Lucy heard the dark, sweet promise in his voice and it flowed through her like honey.

  “You in that black dress,” he murmured. “I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”

  “Hmmm,” Lucy purred into the phone. “What would you prescribe?”

  “I was wondering if I should make a house call?”

  Lucy almost melted into the mattress as hot pulses shot straight to her core. “You were?”

  “Mmm.” His murmur stroked her from the inside. “You looked a bit feverish to me earlier.”

  “Richard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this a booty call?”

  “I’m not sure. That would depend on whether or not you’re coming.”

  “Not yet, I’m not.”

  He groaned softly. “Lucy, I am dying over here.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  “Shouldn’t I come there?”

  Always the gentleman. Lucy rolled her eyes. “Not unless you want to share the details with my mother in the morning.”

  “I’ll stay naked.”

  “Good idea.”

  He was waiting for her by the time she slid and slipped her way across the icy sidewalk to his house. The door opened and he tugged her out of the biting wind.

  “Oh, God, I officially have no pride,” she muttered as he shoved her coat down her arms. “I answered a booty call.”

  He was still wearing only his towel, slung low on his hips, and Lucy drank him in.

  His hair was wet from the shower and he smelled of soap and man.

  Lucy’s mouth watered. Not only did she have no pride, but she was a helpless slave to her sluttish tendencies.

  Her coat hit the floor and his one hand slipped behind her neck, tugging her closer.

  “Lucy.” His voice was hoarse and rough in the near dark. The only light cast was the dim glow from the ambient city lights. “Could we not talk tonight?” It was not a request. His mouth sealed the demand on hers.

  Lucy opened for his assault immediately and all thoughts of leaving disappeared.

  His mouth devoured her in a rough slide and tangle of his tongue. As he consumed the taste of her, they were moving all the time deeper into the house. Under her palms, his chest was firm and beautiful and she spread her fingers wide.

  She slid her hands down over his washboard stomach, glorying in the feel of him, moaning her pleasure into his voracious mouth. Her fingers found the tuck at the edge of his towel and pulled. The terry cloth dropped in a sibilant sigh to the floor and Lucy stepped over it.

  He was fully, magnificently aroused and Lucy closed her hand around him.

  He tensed and froze, absorbing the feel of her caressing his cock. He tugged his mouth away from hers. His eyes were heavy and laden with desire, burning into her with a ferocity that tugged between her legs. “Get up those stairs.”

  “Make me.”

  He was on her before she could blink. Lucy’s world went ass over tip, quite literally, as he hoisted her effortlessly over his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time while she squealed and laughed. She hit the bed still laughing. “Oh my, but you have learned a thing or two.”

  “You talk too much.” He hauled her shirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra and his eyes feasted on her naked breasts. He reached out w
ith both hands to cup them, before lowering his mouth to lavish attention on the peaks with his tongue and teeth. Pleasure rocketed through Lucy.

  He helped her wriggle out of her flannel pajama bottoms, wrapping her legs around his hips to bring his erection against the cradle of her thighs. He was so hard she ached for him and pushed her hot, slick flesh against his hardness.

  “I have to get inside you, now.” He reached for protection as he spoke.

  He drove into her in one sure, strong stroke that arched Lucy up off the bed. He took her hard, strong, and fast and Lucy clung on for the ride. Urging him on to more and more with her hips and her hands and her teeth against his shoulder. The climax built rapidly within her, plummeting her over the edge in a wild free fall that left her clinging to Richard as he emptied himself into her.

  It took a while to come down. Lucy stayed perfectly still, glorying in the feel of his strong body over her and inside her. Eventually, one of them shifted and he rolled over onto his back. He kept one arm around her and tugged her over to lie on his chest.

  “Jesus, Lucy,” was all he said, his breathing still a bit rapid. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No way.”

  “You make me crazy, you know that, right?”

  “I think we make each other a bit crazy.” Lucy got comfortable against him.

  He shifted to accommodate her, his arm tightening around her waist to keep her safe.

  Feeling like a guilty teenager all the way and cursing herself for it, Lucy opened the front door to Richard’s house. She peered around the crack onto the deserted street. It was still pitch dark outside, a little before six. She had a few minutes to slip inside her house before Carl woke up. She was cutting it close, but she’d lain in bed for a few more precious moments, listening to the steady thud of Richard’s heartbeat and glorying in the feel of him wrapped around her.

  “How old are you?” She shook her head at herself as she crept down the walkway to her own house. The window to Richard’s bedroom was still dark. She’d sneaked out before he was awake, a part of her not wanting him to wake up and do the same as last time. Last night was magical and she wanted to surf the high for a bit longer before reality came crashing down on her.