Errant Angel Page 9

  She couldn’t explain the feeling that gave her. She only knew that, as with so many other things on this case, she’d never felt it before. It was a...a giddy sort of feeling, she supposed, from what little she remembered of such things. And it was quite enjoyable, not at all something she felt the need—or desire—to be adjusted out of.

  “Angie,” Dalton said, low and wondering.

  That giddy sensation intensified, until Angie wondered if she’d completely lost it and was floating away. “You did wonderfully.”

  Dalton blinked, and Angie suddenly wasn’t certain if she’d said it out loud, or if she had sent it on along that impossible link that had sprung up between them. Her glance flicked to Jimmy, who was smiling at her but not acting as if anything unusual had happened.

  She must have sent it, then, she realized. No wonder Dalton had looked bemused. She just had to watch herself around him; she seemed to lose track of everything.

  “Hi, Ms. Law. We were talking, and didn’t hear you pull up. What are you doing here?”

  The brightness of Jimmy’s tone robbed it of any rudeness. Angie wondered how differently the boy might have sounded had the exchange that had taken place here gone differently. Or if he would even still be here at all.

  She looked at Dalton again. And then, on a wave of sensation, she got an image from his mind—of her in his arms, his mouth on hers, building, expanding heat between them. It nearly swamped her, and she sucked in her breath. She was suddenly very aware of the soft, swirling dress she wore, because Dalton was looking at the buttons that ran down the front as if he wanted to undo them. This could be dangerous, this unexpected connection.

  Jimmy’s look changed from inquiry to curiosity, and she realized she had never answered him. And that she was, to his eyes no doubt, acting rather strangely.

  “Er,” she began hastily, “car trouble.”

  She felt Dalton relax a little, and knew he’d been wondering how she’d managed to show up just after she’d been so vividly in his mind.

  “With the ‘57?” Jimmy asked.

  She nodded, wishing she’d come up with something else.

  Dalton, recovered now, glanced from her to the car and then back. “What’s wrong?”

  Darn, Angie thought. He knew the car had been fine just the other day. “Ah...a spark plug wire, maybe?”

  “The motor’s missing?”

  She nodded. “I was...close, so I thought I’d stop in and see if you had time to look at it.”

  He nodded. “Pull it on in,” he said, indicating the repair bay next to the sedan he’d been working on.

  She turned to do as he said, then stopped. She glanced at Jimmy, then back at Dalton. She thought about sending the idea to him, but before she could even begin, he nodded at her. She looked back at Jimmy.

  “Want to do it?”

  Jimmy gaped at her. “For real?”

  “If it’s all right with Mr. MacKay. It is on his property, after all.”

  Jimmy spun around to face him. “Dalton? Can I? Please?”

  Dalton lifted one shoulder casually, as if he had all the confidence in the world in Jimmy’s capabilities. “Sure. Just don’t ding it, or Ms. Law may flunk you.”

  “Aw, she wouldn’t do that. She’s fair.”

  Apparently totally unconcerned with his sudden lack of “cool,” Jimmy scampered toward the Chevy. Dalton watched him go, then looked at Angie.

  “Quite a testimonial.”

  “From Jimmy,” she said, “that was a fanfare of trumpets.”

  “Especially since I’ve got him convinced nothing in the whole world is fair?”

  “I think,” she said slowly, “that you could unconvince him as easily as you convinced him.”

  He gave her a look that told her he still didn’t believe he had that much influence, but said only, “And you think I should?”

  “I think there’s a middle ground somewhere, Dalton. Life isn’t always fair, but it isn’t always awful, either.”

  She felt the coming rejection of that idea, but before he could voice it Jimmy was guiding the Chevy into the repair bay with exquisite care. Angie watched, to make sure all went well, but Jimmy didn’t need her help. He pulled up until Dalton signaled him to stop.

  “Leave it on,” Dalton told him.

  Jimmy nodded, and slid out of the driver’s seat with an excited little whoop.

  “It sounds okay to me,” Jimmy said, listening.

  Oops, Angie thought. She’d been paying too much attention to Dalton and not enough to the matter at hand. She’d better do something about this problem she’d made up.

  “Sometimes these things are intermittent,” Dalton was saying as he walked to the front of the car.

  As he lifted the hood, Angie quickly sent a little pulse of energy toward the car. It didn’t quite work so she did it again, and this time felt the response she wanted. A split second later, the motor hiccupped obligingly. And kept hiccupping. She let out a breath and relaxed.

  “Is that it?” Jimmy asked.

  Dalton nodded as he bent over the fender and reached into the engine compartment, his hands moving competently. Angie watched him, only vaguely aware of Jimmy running around to watch from the front of the car.

  “Why do you leave it running?” Jimmy asked.

  “To check the plug wires.”

  “How?”

  Dalton flicked a glance at Jimmy, and Angie remembered what he’d said about not being used to having a kid around all the time. He wasn’t used to having to explain every step of what he was doing to an eager, full-of-questions kid.

  “You pull each one loose, and if the engine starts running rougher—” he tugged a wire loose and a moment later the motor shuddered “—like that, you know it’s good. If there’s no change, then you know you’ve got the one that’s already bad.”

  He really was being patient, she thought as Jimmy continued his barrage of questions. He really wasn’t used to kids, or anyone else being around him, yet he was making a tremendous effort for Jimmy. And somewhere, deep in her heart, she cherished the thought that this might be the impetus he needed to rejoin the world, that in reaching out to help Jimmy, he might find there was still something worth living for—really living, not this cloistered existence—in his own life.

  She studied him as he worked. He really was quite good-looking, she mused. She liked the way his hair fell over his forehead, and the way the length of it brushed his shoulders. She liked the strength of his jaw, and the straight, even shape of his nose. And those eyelashes...

  If he had been her mission, what would she have done? she wondered. Simply dragged him kicking and screaming back into life? Or, as she had with so many others, simply presented him with the irresistible lure, the woman he’d been meant for?

  Something sharp, clawed and unbearably hot tore at her. She nearly doubled over, and sucked in a quick, deep breath to try to ease the pain. Her hand shot to the pendant, but she knew she couldn’t send up a call for help here, in front of both of them.

  After a moment the pain faded. She made herself focus on Jimmy, who was still rattling off questions.

  “Then what? What do you do when you find the bad one?”

  “You check the connection. Then test the plug itself, and make sure it’s good. Then you test the wire, at both ends.”

  “Why?”

  Angie sensed Dalton again reining in his impatience, but when he answered the boy, it was evenly enough. “It can be broken inside the insulation where you can’t see it. Then you have to replace it.”

  It was curious, she thought. With all the men she’d dealt with over the years, sometimes on a mission to help them, sometimes to help their destined mate, some of them had been strikingly handsome, some of them simply with good, loving hearts that glowed beyond any physical attributes, but never once had any of them made her feel like this one did. She was aware of male beauty, but never once had she caught herself reacting like this to a male face, a mane of hair, or to th
e way jeans could hug a taut, high backside—

  Oh, God. She cut her own rambunctious thoughts off sharply. What was she thinking? What on earth was happening to her? Was this how they had felt, the women she’d helped over the years, the ones who had found the mate they’d been destined for? Was this what she’d never understood, that indefinable attraction that she’d known existed but had always watched with a sense of almost smug indulgence?

  Pay attention, she snapped silently at herself. She watched as Dalton tugged on a wire and it gave, but no change came in the motor’s sound.

  “That’s it,” Dalton said with satisfaction. He glanced at her, a look that seemed equal parts approbation and speculation. “Good call, Angie.”

  Her heart seemed to take that crazy tumble again. She tried to steady herself as Jimmy clambered up on the bumper to peer at the motor.

  “You found it?”

  “Yep. This wire was loose.”

  “So now you try and put it back in right first, right?”

  This time Dalton managed a smile for the boy. “Right.” Angie saw him start to reseat the wire she’d loosened, then he stopped. He looked at Jimmy, hesitated, then said in a rush, “Here.” He indicated the wire. “Why don’t you do it?”

  “Me?” Jimmy’s voice squeaked with astonishment. Angie wanted to hug Dalton for doing this, for seeing the need in the boy and responding to it.

  “Just take the wire here—” he showed the boy where to hold it “—and see that little boot connection? Just make sure it’s in solid.”

  Jimmy’s fingers were shaking, but he took the wire. It took him three nervous tries, but he finally got it right. And the motor, cooperatively, smoothed out.

  When Jimmy yelped with delight, jumping down from the bumper and turning to Angie, when she saw the pride and happiness in his face as he exclaimed, “I fixed it for you!” she didn’t want to hug Dalton. She wanted to kiss him. Hard and hot, like he’d kissed her.

  Dalton had been washing his hands, but at the instant that thought flashed into her mind, his head came up sharply. He stared at her, and she saw his lips part as he took in a quick, short breath.

  God, had she sent it to him? Had the image that had leapt to vivid life in her mind somehow traversed that odd connection between them? She felt color rise in her cheeks, and it heightened as she remembered the wish that had come next. That this time, he wouldn’t stop the kiss.

  Please, she begged, she wasn’t sure of whom, he hadn’t gotten that, had he?

  “Did you hear it, Ms. Law?” Jimmy crowed. “It smoothed right out.”

  “I...heard, Jimmy. Thank you.”

  “I did good, didn’t I, Dalton?”

  “Yes.” His voice was taut, strained. “You did good, Jimmy.”

  “Can I do some more things, easy things like that?”

  “Maybe.” Dalton answered the boy, but his gaze was fastened on Angie. “Later, though. I’m through for tonight.”

  “Oh.” The boy sounded downcast, but seemed to take heart from Dalton’s semi-promise of later.

  “You’d better get going, Jimmy. I have to talk to Ms. Law anyway. Close that door as you leave, okay?”

  There was something very odd in his voice, and it made Angie’s breath catch in her throat. Jimmy’s forehead creased, then cleared.

  “Oh, the bill, huh? Okay. I hate that paperwork stuff.”

  Spoken exactly like Dalton, she thought. She managed a cheerful enough wave as the boy went and picked up his bike, but nearly jumped as, instead of the door to her car that she’d assumed Dalton had meant, he hit the control for the big, heavy, roll-up garage door. She saw the boy look back at Dalton and wink as he rode off, and she knew he’d done it intentionally. It wasn’t hard to guess what the boy had in mind.

  The big door rumbled down noisily, and the combination of the knowledge that she would soon be closed in here with Dalton, and the memory of that undertone in his voice, made her very edgy. She walked over to the open car door, wondering how to phrase her request that he raise the big door again so she could get out of here. Dalton followed her, and stood so closely behind her that, although it took most of her nerve, she had to turn around and look at him.

  He met and held her gaze, until she wanted nothing more than to look away from the intensity of it. At last he spoke, very, very softly.

  “What’s going on, Angie? What is it that happens between us?”

  “I...”

  He lifted his hands to the roof of the Chevy and the top of the driver’s door, capturing her neatly. “Don’t say you don’t know what I mean. You can’t not feel it. At first I thought you were just very perceptive. Enough to guess what I was thinking. Maybe I even thought it was ESP or something, even though I think that stuff is a crock. But how do you explain it going the other way?”

  She tried to stall. “The other way?”

  His hands came up to grip her shoulders. “Don’t lie, Angie. Just explain how I knew exactly what you were thinking a moment ago.”

  She felt that heat rise in her cheeks again as the memory of his kiss leapt to life in her mind once more. His fingers tightened.

  “Exactly,” he said flatly. And too late she realized that she had just proven his words true.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly and a bit desperately.

  “So I was right. And the words, did those come from you, too? They must have. I never know what the hell to say at times like that. But I thought of you, and there they were. It was even as if it was your voice, saying them, in my head.”

  “Dalton, I don’t know what’s happening—”

  “Well, neither do I,” he said. Then, pointedly, “But I promise you, the next time I kiss you, I won’t stop.”

  “Oh, God,” Angie moaned.

  “I swore when I came here that the sexual part of my life was over. For good. And I’ve held to it, Angie. It’s been easy, because I haven’t given a damn. I haven’t felt a thing for any woman. Hell, I haven’t even been horny.”

  The word made her blush deepen. But she understood him; he’d cut himself off so thoroughly from any human contact—for some reason she still didn’t completely understand, some reason based in the unreasoning guilt he carried—that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel even the most basic of needs. As if he felt he didn’t deserve even the most fleeting of pleasures.

  “But this,” he said, his voice going even lower, harsher, “this is crazy. This is more than I can deal with. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but—”

  “I’m not doing anything,” she protested, feeling doubly helpless because it was true. She wasn’t, at least not intentionally, doing anything.

  “Then what is this? What the hell is happening? Why can’t I get you out of my head? Why is it whenever I see you, I forget all the vows I’ve made to myself? Why is it all I can think of is wanting you, wanting to take you and you to take me again and again until we both fall asleep with me still inside you because we’re too exhausted to move?”

  She paled as if he’d slapped her. She knew how human sexuality worked, she knew the mechanics...but she had never heard stark, raging need expressed so vividly before. And never had it ever been directed at her.

  As she stared at him, a change came slowly over his face. Heat and angry confusion was replaced by something else, chagrin and an odd tenderness that she couldn’t quite describe and that was utterly unexpected. Tenderness and Dalton MacKay seemed incompatible. Until now.

  “How do you do that?” he asked, shaking his head in bewilderment. “How can you be so wise, so complicated and yet so innocent? How can you give me a look that could melt steel, then be so shocked when I put that look into words? Is this some kind of game?”

  “No,” she whispered, the loudest voice she could manage. “I swear, Dalton, this is no game.”

  “Then what—”

  “I don’t know. I swear, Dalton, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I only know this shouldn’t be happening.
”

  He drew back a little. “Wrong with you?”

  Oh, Lord, she was messing this up. Just as it seemed she screwed up everything. Maybe they were right, and it didn’t really matter that everything seemed to come out right in the end, not when she messed up so much in the middle.

  “I mean...this has never happened before.”

  “Believe me,” Dalton said grimly. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, either.”

  She didn’t know what to say, was afraid to say anything at all, afraid it might make things worse. So she just looked at him, knowing all her confusion must show in her face.

  “Ah, damn it, Angie,” Dalton said at last, lifting a hand to run the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

  At his touch a wild, sudden longing filled her, a longing she couldn’t name because she’d never known it before. It was all tangled up with her confusion, all the unaccustomed emotions she’d been experiencing, and his response to her. And it seemed to have been inflamed by that gentle touch.

  Dalton froze, his fingers now beneath her chin. His eyes darkened, and she heard him take in a quick breath. Too late she realized that this, too, was showing in her face.

  “God,” he said on a long, soft exhalation. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Oh, Dalton, I...”

  Her voice trailed away. There were no words to say in the face of the look that came into his eyes then; it was hot and urgent, yet still with that touch of unexpected tenderness. It weakened her body and clouded her brain, until she could barely remember anymore why this was impossible, why it couldn’t be.

  She tried. She truly did. Her hand crept up to the pendant, her spinning mind clinging to her one last chance. She would make them pull her out, right now, and figure out a way to explain it later. She would just make them do now what they would be doing later, that is, erasing all traces of her time here from everyone’s mind. Then Dalton would never even wonder what had happened to her, because he wouldn’t even remember she existed. And if that hurt her more than anything had in the last century or so, it was her own fault; at least Dalton wouldn’t remember.