Johanna Lindsey - Angel

Phineas rocked back on his toes. He loved watching human reactions. Drop the right word or phrase, and people behaved in the most fascinating ways. He wouldn’t have expected this man to lose control, though. Just went to show that everyone did have at least one weakness.

Phineas tried again. “It would be helpful if you could supply me with a description of your parents, and anything else that you can remember about them.”

Black, emotionally charged eyes came back to the detective. “She hired you. Get your information from her.”

“Now, how did I know you wouldn’t be very cooperative?” Phineas replied. “They’re your parents, but I guess the little lady you married is the only one who wants them found.”

“All right, Kirby, you’ve made your point,” Angel said disagreeably. “I don’t remember my father, but my mother had black hair, curly, and dark eyes.”

Phineas whipped out his notebook before he asked, “As dark as yours?”

“No. I think they were brown.”

“Any scars or distinguishing marks?”

“Not that I recall.”

“What about her age or nationality?”

“She was young and pretty.”

“All mothers are pretty to their five-year-olds. Did she speak with an accent maybe?”

“If she did, then I would have, too, so I wouldn’t have noticed a difference, now would—?” Angel paused, looking slightly abashed. “Now that you mention it, I recall Old Bear said I talked funny when he first took me. ‘Course, he butchered the English language himself, so maybe I didn’t.”

“Then,” Phineas added, bringing back Angel’s scowl. “But, of course, you’re a product of your upbringing, which I imagine was quite primitive.”

“I don’t have any problem making myself understood,” Angel said in clear warning.

Phineas chuckled. “I don’t imagine you do. Guns always do speak louder than words.” And then he got back to the subject. “Now, my first guess would have been that, with your coloring, you’re part Indian, but you don’t really have the bone structure for it, and that mountain man would have known enough Indian not to remark on it if you spoke one of the dialects. My second guess is you’re Spanish, possibly pure. At any rate, the likelihood that she was a foreigner will help narrow down my questioning if I can’t locate any old newspapers.”

“You really think in a city this size that the disappearance of one kid would have been mentioned in a newspaper?”

“Absolutely. The problem will be finding one that keeps old issues. Most can’t afford the storage space, though some of those make an effort to at least keep their front pages. Then, too, news printers come and go just like other businesses. But like you said, this is a large city and has been for a very long time, so with any luck, there will be at least one paper that’s been around for the last twenty or so years.”

“And with my luck, that won’t be the one that keeps old issues.”

“You’re feeling unlucky these days?” Angel just grunted, causing Phineas to laugh. “Well, your luck’s about to change. This is one of my easier assignments. It’s tracking people with unlawful reasons not to be found that is time-consuming. This case won’t take any time at all.”

Angel wasn’t going to hold his breath. “If you do find ‘em, bring the bill to me. I’m not going to owe another debt to that woman I married.”

“I doubt she’ll appreciate that. She seemed to be looking forward to finding them for you.”

“Too bad.”

“But there’s a matter of ethics involved. She did hire me first.”

“Then I’m firing you on her behalf and hiring you on mine. Last I heard, a husband can still do that.”

“Up until he’s a divorced husband he can.”

“Get out, Kirby.”

Phineas was chuckling as he left. Angel slammed the door shut behind him. A few moments later, though, it hit him, forcefully, that Cassie was actually here in the city, probably no more than a few blocks away— and his damn body reacted to that knowledge with a vengeance.

“Are we divorced yet?”

Cassie woke with a start, that soft drawl echoing in her ears. “What?”

“Are we divorced yet?”

She knew instantly who he was, she just couldn’t believe he was there. “Angel?”

His hand slipped into her hair as his body moved to cover hers. “Just answer the question, Cassie.”

“We’re not.”

“Are you—?”

“No!” she quickly assured him. “I just haven’t had the time—”

His mouth came down to cut off the rest of her explanation. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in her excuses just now. But what he was interested in was bundled up in warm flannel.

“How come you don’t sleep naked?”

It was a question born of frustration, not one for a lady to take seriously. Cassie answered anyway. “I do in the summertime.”

He groaned, knowing full well an image of her naked was going to haunt him now. And his tongue slid in deep, eliciting an answering groan out of Cassie. It was a while before they drew breath.

“You got the sweetest, softest lips I ever did taste,” he said against them.

“Your voice makes me tingle, Angel.”

“What does my mouth do to you?”

“It makes me weak.”

His mouth moved up to suck on her earlobe. “What else?”

“Hot,” she whispered.

“Oh, God, Cassie, I’m going to burst if I can’t get inside you right now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughed and kissed her again. Then he rolled to her side to shove the covers off her. She tore the top of her nightgown open, popping off three buttons in her impatience to get it off. He yanked his shirt out of his pants and sent his buttons to join hers on the bed and the floor. In seconds he was back, pressing her into the mattress. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, locking him in place. And then he was inside, deep inside, and that familiar throbbing came so quickly, bursting on her senses, pulsing around him, drawing his own climax to mesh with hers.

Cassie lowered her legs slowly. Her toes slid against leather. Angel was still wearing his boots, and his pants. She wanted to laugh, but she felt like crying.

God, how she hated the reality that surfaced after the passion was spent. She wished just once it would stay away for a while. But that was like asking winter to go away in January. Both were there to stay.

She resented that. She resented Angel, too, at the moment. And she particularly resented the fact that he hadn’t taken off his boots.

She let him know it with the curt admonishment, “Next time take off your boots.”

“Is Marabelle here?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll take them off now.”

“No, you won’t. You aren’t staying.”

“I’m not ready to leave yet, Cassie. And that was too intense. We’re going to try it again, slow and easy.”

Her stomach fluttered in response to those words. She suppressed the feeling.

“No, we aren’t,” she told him stiffly. “You’re going to get out of here before my mama hears you and comes charging in with her gun blazing.”

“Where is she?”

“In the next room.”

“Then we’ll have to be quiet, won’t we?”

“Angel—”

His mouth was back, slanting across hers with tantalizing skill. She couldn’t let that work this time. She couldn’t.

She did. She’d missed him too much, wanted him too much, to be sensible about it. And there had been the thought, haunting her ever since he’d ridden out of her life, that she’d never know his touch again.

Now his touch was breaking the last of her resistance with a slow sweep of his hand over her breasts and belly. Gooseflesh followed in its wake; nipples tingled to hardness. She’d just had the most incredible explosion of pleasure imaginable, but her body was firing up to experience it again. And in no way did Angel hurry her toward that end. He’d said slow and easy, and that was exactly how he proceeded.

Before he was done, Cassie was sure he knew her body better than she did. No inch of her had been left untouched. He even turned her over at one point to lick his way down the center of her back. His teeth scraped over her buttocks, bringing a startled giggle from her as she was reminded of Marabelle’s habit. His tongue traced circles on the back of her knees. She never knew how many sensitive spots there were on her body. He found them all, her moans and shivers of pleasure guiding him, while his hands slipped beneath her to tease the more common areas of sensitivity.

It was nearly dawn before Angel finally got his fill of her. Cassie was too sated to feel any more resentment. And he’d been right. The first time had been over with too quickly. The rest… Lord love him, the man was as good at loving as he was with a gun.

She wanted nothing more at the moment than to fall into blissful sleep, but she didn’t dare until Angel was gone. Only he seemed in no hurry to leave, and she didn’t have the strength left to urge him to go.

He lay stretched out beside her, his arms crossed under his head, his eyes closed, but she know he wasn’t sleeping. There was the barest trace of a smile on his lips. She wondered about that for only a moment. He was the very picture of a man well satisfied, after all, so why shouldn’t he be smiling? He’d gotten his way — in everything. And she couldn’t begrudge him that. She felt like smiling herself. Until reality intruded — again.

She was back to facing the possibility of pregnancy, and another delay in getting a divorce. She wouldn’t mind that so much if she didn’t have to explain the delay to her mother. That wasn’t going to be easy. The very thought of it ruined her pleasant lethargy. And misery loved company, so she was quick to ruin Angel’s, too.