He stepped out of the car, thinking he’d escaped reasonably unscathed. As if Gabriel wasn’t content to test him with Althea Hudson, when Michael climbed the stairs to reach his apartment, Leslie stood leaning against his door. “Leslie. How long have you been here? It is not good for you to stand around in drafty hallways.”
“What do you mean, it’s not good for me?” She was too suspicious.
He had to think quickly. “I mean you could catch cold and not be able to fill your obligations to Mr. Melville.”
“That’s really sweet, Michael. That’s what I came here to talk to you about. Do you have any grape juice?”
He did not have grape juice, but that only meant he would have to go out in the kitchen and conjure up some. A nice bottle of Concord Grape Juice. From California.
When it came, he popped the cork in his minuscule kitchen, and brought the bottle out with two glass flutes to pour a portion for Leslie.
“I like to pretend I’m drinking wine.” She was in her pajamas again, with her terry robe open. He supposed he should be glad she felt so comfortable with him. Yet that persistent human male part of him wished Leslie didn’t see him quite so much as a big brother.
She had the script in her hand, but she laid it on her lap while she picked up the delicate wine glass. He thought it looked perfect in her slender fingers. Ping. She took a sip of the wine and closed her eyes, savoring the taste, her lips full and pink. Ping. Michael sent an exasperated glance up to heaven. I hadn’t even thought that thought yet.
No, but you were going to.
“Why do you do that?” Leslie asked.
“Do what?”
“Look up at the ceiling every once in a while with an annoyed look on your face.”
“Oh.” Think. “The landlord mentioned that he had a leak in the ceiling. I keep expecting a deluge of water to come pouring down.” PING.
“Oh, Michael. That ceiling isn’t going to leak. You do worry about the strangest things.”
“I guess it is because I am from Ireland and I am not quite accustomed to life in the Big Apple. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
Her face lit up with a huge smile and her eyes sparkled. “Melville loved what we did to the script. He thought it was great. He wants us to continue. He was especially interested when I told him I had a man helping me with it.”
“That is good.” He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. The smell of her skin, so clean with a drift of lavender, the outline of her breasts under that very practical pajama top, the flow of her hair over her shoulders had his body reacting in a way that made him uncomfortable. Not to mention her bare feet tucked up on the couch with their shiny pink-painted toes showing as she sat cross-legged beside him. Why didn’t he have any control over that part of his body? Really, at times it was most inconvenient to be a human male.
“So now we have to deal with the scene where the man takes her to bed.”
His body jumped for joy while his mind yelled, “Holy shi-rt.”
“Michael?” She was giving him another one of those searing looks. “You look…ill. I’m sorry. I’m so inconsiderate. You’ve been working all day at my job. I didn’t even ask you if you were too tired to do this.”
“I’m fine. How did you plan to proceed with…” he made a lame gesture at the script, “this?”
“I was trying to decide whether or not to have the girl be the aggressor.” She edged so close to him he could see the color of eyeshadow she’d applied on her upper lid, a light shade of ocher. Oddly, that color made her eyes take on a deeper shade of brown. By all the saints in heaven, she has the most beautiful eyes. That ping nearly knocked him off the cushion.
He sat, applying all his strength to recovering. “Do you think that is wise? I mean, the girl was supposed to be an innocent.”
“Oh, that’s all changed. We changed that with our rooftop scene. She’s no longer an innocent. She’s quite a savvy young woman.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I have a soft spot in my heart for innocent young women.”
That was something Leslie did not want to hear. What would Michael think when he knew the truth about her? “So you think it’s a mistake to make her the aggressor?”
“I am not an expert in these matters, Leslie.”
“What do you mean, you’re not an expert?”
“I mean my knowledge of this area is limited.”
She tilted her head and gave him that quizzical look of hers. “I hesitate to ask, but…you aren’t…a virgin, are you?” At his shocked look, she plunged on, “I wouldn’t have thought about it except that you have such an air of innocence about you. As if nothing bad has ever happened to you.”
“Nothing bad has ever happened to me, Leslie.” Until now.
“I’m being very rude, Michael. What you have or haven’t done in your life is really none of my business.” She looked so adorable when she was flustered. “If you don’t want to help me with the script tonight, I totally understand.”
“No, no, of course, I will help you.”
“Okay.” She tossed the script on the table. “Lie down.”
“What?”
“Lie down. Put your head on this pillow and your feet,” she rose from the couch and grabbed his legs to bring his feet up on the cushions, “like this. No, wait a minute. I saw the placement of the furniture on stage. Get up.”
He was glad to do that until she pushed him back down again at the other end. “You should have your head facing this way toward the audience.” She grabbed a pillow and put it under his head. “No, no good. I need another pillow. Is it all right if I borrow your bed pillow?”
Before he murmured yes, she’d disappeared in his bedroom.
“Wow. Spartan.” She bounced back into the room, lifted his head up and stuffed the second pillow under him. “You don’t have any family pictures on your dresser.”
“No,” he said.
“You surely have family, Michael. They aren’t all…in jail or something, are they?”
Michael’s lips lifted. “No. They are just…camera shy.”
“I’d really like to meet them. Your mother and father certainly did a good job with you.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yes. You’re so kind and gentle…I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Odd, this sensation of blood rushing to his cheeks. “You did not embarrass me. Perhaps we should get on with whatever it is you had in mind to do.”
“We’re in a tricky area here.” She sat down next to him, her hips bumping his on the couch, and began to unbutton the top button of his shirt.
A very tricky area.
“We need this to look sexy, but we don’t want to embarrass the audience.”
“Just how do you hope to manage that?”
“I don’t know. I thought perhaps you might have some ideas.”
He had ideas, all right, but none of them were fit for an audience to view.
Leslie said, “In some of the musicals I have seen, humor has often been added to the romance scenes. Suppose she leans down to kiss him, and they bump foreheads. Can we try that? How would it work? If I came up at the same time you came down…”
He did as she directed and bang, their foreheads came together.
“You are not hurt, are you?” he asked her.
“No…but your head is really hard.”
“Sorry.”
“Okay. Now, let’s see. What if she said, “Maybe it would work better if I lie down on top of you.” Leslie tossed the script on the floor and stretched out on top of Michael. Even though he tried to stop it, the inevitable happened.
She put both her hands behind his head to brace herself and pushed up to look down in his face. “Michael. I…you…want me.”
He sprang up from the couch so fast he had to catch her to keep her from tumbling to the floor. When she recovered her balance, he said, “A temporary aberration, I assure you. Is that not what would happen to any man wh
en a woman lies on top of him?”
“I’m not an expert on men’s anatomy, but I don’t think so. There has to be some…attraction involved.” When he said nothing, she put her finger under his chin and brought his face around to look into his eyes. “Are you attracted to me, Michael?”
“Of course I am, Leslie. How could I not be? You are everything a woman should be, gracious, charming, attractive…”
“Michael. You mustn’t care for me. I…I’m carrying another man’s child.”
“I know.”
“How could you possibly know?”
He thought about lying and telling her that Marian had told him, but Marian would quickly deny it. “I just…have this ability to know things about people.”
“And you’re still attracted to me, knowing what I’ve done?”
“What have you done, Leslie?” He reached out and cupped both her cheeks in his hands. “You loved a man who was not wise enough to know you had given him the greatest gift you could give, the gift of yourself.”
He brushed his lips over hers, meaning it to be a light kiss of affection and caring. When he made a move to lift his head, Leslie wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, probing with her tongue. Startled, he didn’t respond. But as her tongue took possession of his mouth, he opened and met her eagerly.
Still kissing him, Leslie pulled him over to the couch and pushed him down, coming half on top of him. When they were nearly in the position they started from, she lifted her head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“You tasted really good.”
“So did you.”
“I want to taste you again.”
“Leslie…”
She covered his protest with her mouth. He lay there, taking her in, knowing he was the one in the wrong. Nothing could come of this. Nothing must come of this. But talk about heavenly. Her reveled in the feel of her, her breasts pressed against his chest, the scent of her veil of dark hair that fell around him, brushing his cheek. And her mouth. Could anything be as wonderful as her mouth on his, her tongue teasing his? It was as if she were an essential part of him, the part he needed to breathe. He almost forgot who he was and where he was…until the gigantic ping reminded him.
He cupped her shoulders with his hands and gently pushed her away from him.
She roused up and looked so beautifully contrite that his heart ached.
“I apologize, Michael. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that you are so handsome, and so kind and so nice.”
He pushed himself up off the couch and discovered that he was angry. “Do not depend on my being “nice,” forever, Leslie. I am a man, not a saint.”
Then it hit him. It was true. He was a man. Right now, in this place, looking at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he was as male and as human as any guy could get. The urge to take Leslie down on the couch and bury himself in her was the strongest emotion he had felt since becoming human.
“You need to go, Leslie.”
“Yes,” she said, stooping to pick up the script papers she had brought.
He looked at that lovely dark head and knew he had done the right thing. But unfortunately, he could feel how sad her heart was.
When she straightened he said, “Leslie, we hardly know each other.”
“You’re wrong,” she said, with that stubborn little chin tilted up. “I feel as if I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone in my whole life. It’s obvious you don’t feel the same way, so I’ll just…go.” At the door, she turned. “I won’t bother you again, Michael.”
Chapter Six
Michael stared at the door she closed behind her. How could he be feeling so many things? Sorry that he had hurt her? Yes. Sorry that he couldn’t tell her the truth about himself? Yes. Sorry that he couldn’t make love to her the way he wanted to? Oh, yes.
He had planned it all so differently. He’d meant to help Leslie face the dilemma she was in, not create another one for her. How could he have messed up so badly? What was he going to do about it? He couldn’t ask Gabriel for help. Gabriel had already made his displeasure known. He had only one other source. He went into his kitchen, lit a candle, sat down, and cleared his mind to receive the best guidance of all.
When he rose, he knew what he must do. He’d been given his advice. It wasn’t an ultimatum. It was a suggestion. But Michael knew it was the right one. It was time for him to go home.
What on earth possessed me to kiss Michael so intimately? What on earth possessed me to kiss him at all? I must be losing my mind. Here I was, almost three months pregnant with Adam’s child and I kissed Michael like some sex starved maniac.
I’d thought of Michael as a big brother. A very hot, very handsome big brother, but nevertheless, a guy that was totally out of my realm. What was really confusing was that he had kissed me back. Boy, had he kissed me back.
What the heck did I know about Michael? He said his name was O’Malley and he came from Ireland. Now that I thought about it, his speech was very correct, but he certainly didn’t have an Irish accent. What had he said about his family? Had he said anything about his family? What did he do in Ireland before he came here? Surely he’d been more than a waiter. His manners and speech were elegant, as if he belonged to a British upper class. Yet he didn’t speak with a British accent, either. What had he told me when I asked if he had ever been married? He said no. I asked him if all the girls in Ireland were blind and he immediately changed the subject. Who was this man? I went to my computer and logged in.
Two hours later, I gave up. Nothing. He wasn’t anywhere on line…which had to be a first. Everyone got there, sooner or later. He was a ghost. How was that possible?
I went to bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. I kept seeing Michael floating around in heaven with wings on. Well, I had told him he was a saint. But I hadn’t meant it literally.
The next morning, Marian was already gone when I arose. I felt as if I were walking around with cartoon birds circling drunkenly above my head, tweeting crazy tunes. I stood in the kitchen in my pajamas and robe a little after eight o’clock, drinking coffee to wake up my dazed brain, when my doorbell rang.
“Good grief. Who comes calling at this hour?” It occurred to me that it might be Michael. What in heaven’s name was I going to say to the man I’d thrown myself at last night?
As I opened my door, hoping it wasn’t Michael and wishing it was, I came face to face with a fashion plate, an elegantly dressed woman in a powder blue Armani suit with a one-button jacket that I knew had to cost somewhere in the two thousand dollar range. She had the dark hair and distinctive eyebrows of Adam.
“I’m sorry. I’m Endora Clarke, Adam’s mother. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
Yes, of course you are. “No, not at all. Do come in, Mrs. Clark.”
The woman glanced around at the apartment, and to her credit, she merely smiled. “I remember these days. Living in a small apartment, filling my life with hopes and dreams.”
A little bit of tension eased out of my shoulders. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you. I won’t stay long.” She took a seat at the breakfast bar while I sat on the stool at the end of the counter.
“I’m afraid that I’ve come to say what my son should have said to you.”
“What would that be?”
“That he has no intention of supporting you or the child financially. If you had any idea he would change his mind after you delivered the baby, you are sadly mistaken. Your best course of action is to get an abortion now before you are any further along.”
How clever this woman was. She’d come in, appearing to be friendly and understanding and then she’d hit me with a two-ton hammer.
“I believe I made it clear to Adam that I expect nothing from him.” I was proud of the frost in my voice.
“But still, you must be hoping for something. Otherwise, why would you keep the child? I’m sure you kno
w how wealthy his family is.”
“Why would I keep the child? Because he’s already a human being, that’s why. Because I’ve brought a life into the world and I am responsible for that life. I am this child’s mother and I’ll protect him with my life.”
“You think it’s a boy, do you? Is that why you’re so determined to keep it? You’re hoping if it’s a boy, Adam will be intrigued and want to see him.”
“Boy or girl, makes no difference. I hoped for Adam’s love and affection for his own flesh and blood, but since he doesn’t seem to care about me or our child, it would be foolish of me to expect any financial help from him.”
“I’m quite willing to pay for any medical expenses you incur if you have an abortion.”
“No. I am having this baby, whether you like it or not. Since both you and Adam have no interest in this child, it is none of your business. Now if you don’t mind, I have more important things to do than stand here and listen to your insults. I would like it if you’d leave.”
“Of course,” Endora Clarke replied, her face wreathed in anger.
Michael had been on his way to Leslie’s door to explain that he had to leave her. Now, standing outside, listening to Adam’s mother deliver her poisonous words, Michael knew his fate was sealed. He could not leave. Not yet.
Gabriel zoomed inside his head. “Michael, you cannot do this. You cannot rush in like Sir Galahad and make this quixotic gesture of gallantry. You’re an angel. You need to remain an angel and return to your eternal life.”
“I can’t, Gabriel. I’ve thought for some time the only way to save Leslie is to marry her. I know the times are different now and people are more liberal, but not all people think it’s all right for a child to be born outside of marriage. I won’t have Leslie’s child…or Leslie…suffer any more condemnation.”
“She is not your responsibility, at least not in these earthly matters.”
“No, she isn’t. But I have come to…care for her.”
“Care for her? Care for her? You haven’t the least idea what it takes to care for a woman. You’ve had no preparation for being a husband and a father. On top of that, you’d be well on your way to signing your death warrant.”
Some Kind of Angel Page 6