Kahlen Aymes - Angel After Dark

Somehow when these eyes landed on her, her reaction was completely opposite of the store clerk’s appraisal. Her body quickened, and she had no desire to stop him from admiring her. In fact, she felt worked up with just this very brief glance, and she felt unnerved. She blinked and licked her lips; her mind searched for something to say but came up with nothing. The surreal moment consuming her senses, she shook herself mentally. She didn’t swoon over men; she kept herself under carefully guarded control, and she wasn’t about to start now. The man lifted something above the partition full of paint accessories that separated them. Automatically, her hand reached out to take it from him and she pulled her gaze away to see it was a canvas drop cloth. She’d need one of those, her mind acknowledged. He’d obviously taken stock of the contents of her cart.

Mutely, she took it from him and her fingers brushed ever so slightly against his. Electricity skittered through her entire body, and her eyes bolted back up to his.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly.

He gave a nod, two seconds before the older man, who Angel assumed was his father, glanced over his shoulder toward him. “What do you think about this color, son?”

His mouth lifted in a slight smile like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

Angel’s lips curved in answer as heat infused her cheeks. What the fuck is wrong with me? she wondered. Yes, he was gorgeous, but it wasn’t just his looks that drew her in like a helpless moth. It was the intelligent amusement behind those amazing eyes that rendered her speechless.

“Son?” his father called again at the same time as the ringing of a phone pierced the air. He reached into the pocket of his khaki shorts and pulled one out, glancing briefly at the screen. The smile faded from his face.

Angel put the drop cloth in her cart, before turning it away slightly, unsure if she should wait or go. She felt ridiculous. Obviously, he wasn’t going to say anything, and now he had a phone call. She couldn’t hang out in the paint department staring at him without feeling and looking like an idiot, so she started to push her cart away. She could feel his gaze follow her and heard his dad call him again, more forcefully.

She swallowed and wandered slowly up to the check out, hoping that if she lingered long enough, she might see him again, and he might take the chance to talk to her. However, her logical mind argued that if they were buying paint, that moron would have to mix it and it, would take more time than she needed to pay and load her items into her car. She sighed heavily as she drove out of the parking lot.

Saddened that, for the first time in a long time, a man held her genuine interest and he hadn’t said a goddamned word. She didn’t want to believe he was just another schmuck and hoped it was only his father’s interruption that prevented him from speaking. Yes, she was strong, and she believed women should be self-sufficient and not rely on men, but she still wanted the man to be the man when it came to sex, initiating a conversation or making plans for the dates. When she was sincerely interested, at least. And something deep inside her didn’t want to believe the handsome stranger was any less than perfect.

Alex ran a hand through his hair in exasperation as the beautiful girl wheeled her cart away. Fuck! His mind screamed.

Reluctantly, he walked over to his father and brother, glancing over his shoulder as she disappeared down another aisle wishing he could follow. He’d wanted to talk to her so goddamned bad, but he had two problems: his voice was destroyed from yelling at the Blackhawks game with Cole the night before, and he knew he’d come across with a creepy rasp that would be off-putting. And of course, Whitney. Inwardly, he cringed. Her phone call in the middle of his stare-fest with the gorgeous brunette brought him back to reality.

Goddamn it to hell!

Whitney was his girlfriend of sorts, but it didn’t stop his dick from getting hard when presented with someone as beautiful as the girl that just left him. For Christ’s sake! He was gawking after her, looking like a jerk in the middle of the paint aisle.

His father held out some paint samples for him to inspect. He didn’t give two shits about the difference between Almond White and Creamy Vanilla; he doubted his mother would even be able to tell the difference. He didn’t get why his dad didn’t just hire a designer and be done with it. Instead he had to drag him and Cole out on a Sunday afternoon.

He sighed. “Dad, I don’t care,” he rasped out in a whisper. “They’re both white. What does it matter?”

Alex knew this little home improvement project was his father and mother’s attempt to get his brother to spend more time with the family. Cole was the family’s black sheep, lacking responsibility and direction. He’d rather sleep all day than be productive and frankly, Alex was sick of being party to their attempts to make him change. Their father refused to cut him loose despite Alex’s urging. His little sister, Allison, was the princess and Alex was left with the majority of the responsibility.

He glanced around again, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of the woman’s purple shirt between the aisles. His heart stopped when he’d seen her; she was extremely pretty, despite her simple dress and lack of make-up. He felt inexplicably drawn to her and couldn’t resist walking closer, leaving his dad and Cole behind him to select the swatches. His heart sped up, and naturally, his dick woke up in instant arousal. She was perfect. Her breasts round and full, her hips gently swelling and her long, shapely legs, bare. There was a softness about the stranger that Alex found extremely appealing, like he could sink into her and they would melt together, yet there was a tiger behind her expression. Alex found the combination intriguing and unpretentious, which made Whitney seem fake in comparison.

With Whitney, it’d become like fucking a Barbie doll; hard and grasping. He found himself wondering how this beauty in Home Depot’s skin would feel under his touch, how she would smell up close, and if her lips were as luscious as they looked. Maybe his intense interest in this random meeting signaled it was time to end it with Whitney, but he liked the convenience of their arrangement.

Alex had a moment’s pause at how callous that sounded, even in his own mind, but their relationship was not about feelings and never had been. But the sex accomplished what he needed, and she provided arm candy when he had an event to attend. He was always so hellish busy, that romantic complications were not something he needed to take on.

His father and brother’s chatter with the clerk faded into the background as he considered trying to find the woman and strike up a conversation, maybe get her number. His hand swiped over the dark stubble on his jaw. As much as he wanted to, it wouldn’t be right to do so while he was still technically committed. It wouldn’t be fair to Whitney, another woman, or frankly, to himself. That wasn’t the type of man he wanted to be and he had little time for those who were. He may not be in love with Whitney… maybe he didn’t even believe in love, but he’d be damned if he’d break his word or be a cad.

Dr. Angeline Hemming pushed the headphones off of her head in agitation and threw them down with a clang. The damn things itched, they were heavy and terribly awkward. She felt like they were three sizes too big.

“Ugh,” she groaned. She’d been doing the weekly radio show for six weeks already and sometimes questioned her decision. This wasn’t her. She was a clinical psychologist, for God’s sake. She spent her days getting paid $450 per hour to help people deal with real life problems, not make spectacles of themselves in a public forum.

She’d worked her ass off to get where she was, literally and figuratively. Growing up poor, she had few prospects and opportunities like Northwestern University didn’t just happen for girls from Joplin, Missouri. Her father, Joseph, was the janitor at the high school and Angel’s mother had run off when she was a baby, leaving a broken man without the skills needed to handle an infant. Angeline had her share of bumps since then, but with a lot of smarts and guts, she’d managed to make something of herself. Now, she was in a position to take care of her father financially and to use her education to help people. Really help people. This radio gig… this was fluff, but it served a purpose, and it helped take her mind off of the more dangerous characters she dealt with on a regular basis.

“Angel, what’s the problem?” her producer, Darian Keith, asked. He was clearly impatient with her as she ran her hand through her long dark hair, scratching her scalp in reaction to the headphones. Darian was a great guy and professional, as far as she knew about him, which wasn’t much. A slender African American, he was dressed in jeans and a light blue T-shirt under his dark blue blazer. He had an easygoing demeanor that Angel instantly liked.

She smirked at his mocking tone, as she pushed the necessary buttons on the computer to play the commercials and cue up the next song. The phone lines in front of her began blinking red.

“It’s just… Well, so many of these callers are so freaking naïve! Most of them are women, which I know is to be expected, but it burns my ass how they let men treat them the way they do! Gah!” She reached for a big sports bottle full of ice water that she kept on the desk at all times and took a long drink.

Darian chuckled softly, causing Angel to shoot him a caustic look.