Charlie's Angel

by Aurora Rose Lynn

  He caught her taking a quick look at him from lowered lashes. Was she headed toward him? A bright blue eighteen-wheeler in his peripheral drew his scrutiny for a brief second. Then the world segued into slow motion. The semi bore down on Roxie who had frozen in her tracks, a look of pure terror on her lovely face. Charlie had mere seconds. He sprang to his feet, hurtled across the truck’s path and barely pushed the waitress out of the way in time.

  A strong wind current whipped them both. The Coke can lay crushed on the hot pavement. Dark brown liquid poured out as if it were blood. The sweat on his body chilled in the abruptly cool air as he held Roxie against his chest, his arms around her slender waist. Miraculously, they were standing rather than lying on the ground. Vehicles in their lane and one beside it came to a standstill while, in the other two, cars crawled by.

  “Are you okay?” he asked into Roxie’s hair, afraid to look into her face or onto her trembling body. He couldn’t stand it if she were injured.

  “I think so,” she said in a shaky voice. Her accompanying nod was barely perceptible against the expanse of his chest. Her hurried breaths fanned his left biceps sending shivers up and down his spine.

  “That was far too close,” he whispered in a husky tone, fighting his inner demons. Roxie could have been killed right in front of his eyes.

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t stir against him, her arms tightly circled around his neck, the soft suppleness of her body pressed along the length of his. The fragrance from her hair enveloped him, teasing, coaxing, arousing.

  He was oblivious to the traffic passing by until a gravelly male voice called out, “Hey guys! Get a room!”

  She gave a little laugh, but Charlie couldn’t make out whether it was of embarrassment or some other emotion. As he rushed across the street with her tightly pressed against his aching body, he wondered if she’d felt the same heightened sensations he had.

  Angry with himself for being wound up to fever pitch by his own desire, he paused under the bus shelter’s roof and spun Roxie around. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

  He hadn’t meant the words to sound so harsh and bit his lower lip. Where had his self-control gone? He released her enough to push her down onto the unyielding wooden slat bench. Of all the stupid things to do, to want a woman after she’d just about been run over by a maniac trucker.

  Her blue eyes went wide. “I wasn’t intending to get killed,” she murmured, her gaze fixed somewhere on his nose. “I thought you might like something cold to drink.”

  He cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words to say.

  She’d been crossing the street with a cold drink for him? Had she been watching him?

  Her tiny earrings glittered in the strength of the sunlight. His gaze slid from her twinkling eyes to her quivering mouth. Her glossy upper and bottom lips parted slightly. He could bend ever so slightly and kiss her, taste her, drive himself further into this insanity of longing. And he did. Ever so slightly. “Charles Vernon,” he said, introducing himself. “Most people call me Charlie.”

  “Oh.” She bit into her lower lip, and seemed to hesitate. “Roxanne, Roxie Abernathy.”

  Highly erotic thoughts of what those parted lips could do to him flooded his feverish mind. She’d kiss his mouth with a fierce onslaught, and they would leave a fiery trail down the length of his body, from his throat, to his navel and beyond.

  Oh God, Charles Vernon. Stop tormenting yourself like this.

  Why couldn’t he think anything but sex in Roxie’s presence? Heck and out of it too, he told himself, remembering his much too vivid fantasy on the ballroom floor.

  “That semi would have run you over,” he told her. It wasn’t hard to drum up the fury rising from within his chest. His blood still boiled, not only from the exertion, but from the fear he’d felt as he’d seen what was about to happen.

  She touched his forearm. “Thanks.” She blushed prettily and tantalizingly. “For saving me.”

  Roxie clearly meant every soft-spoken word. Her gaze caught his and her pupils narrowed. Her nipples budded against the thin fabric of her bodice.

  Skilled at hiding his emotions, Charlie couldn’t let go of his anger. He should have been thankful that she cared enough about him to come out into the sweltering heat, but his mind’s imaginative eye conjured up a terrifying picture of mangled, bloodied limbs. “Do you understand that you could have been severely injured or worse yet, even killed?”

  Blue eyes squinted closed in shock before she flashed them open. “You were clearly miserable. I was trying to do something nice for you.”

  “If you want to do something nice—” Charlie cut his retort off just in time, or else he’d have admitted that if Roxie did want to do something for him, she could take care of the raging need she’d inspired. No, that wasn’t wholly true. The woman in black leather this morning had had a lot to do with cranking up the heat.

  She assessed him quickly, lowered her gaze, and pursed her lips. Her hand fell to her side. “I thought you might be hot, but the only place you’re steaming now is under the collar. Thanks, Charles, for pushing me out of the way.”

  Unsteadily, she got to her feet and rocked for a second.

  Should he reach out and steady her? He compromised by touching her arm in case she needed assistance. Squirming in his seat with indecision, he had no doubt the near accident had left her shaken. He stared at her, analyzing her, attempting to see into her head. Had it been kindness or had she run across the street for another purpose? She would have said more. He was sure of it as she straightened her shoulders and a look of determination crossed her face. She was hiding something, but what?

  “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said flatly, smoothing her apron at the thigh.

  He watched the slender fingers trailing up and down. If only she could use that feather-light touch on him. Simmering anger rose from deep within his gut. He couldn’t help himself. “What are you going to do? Repeat your earlier performance?” he asked harshly, instantly regretting both the fury and his choice of words.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I don’t have time to run down to the crosswalk, then back up the other side. If you hadn’t been sitting here,” she continued, her voice rising, “then I wouldn’t have thought you needed a cold drink!”

  Roxie had so neatly dumped the whole thing in his lap. Was she refusing to take responsibility? All since he was trying to help her! “If I hadn’t been here?” he asked, matching her tone and volume. “Are you pinning this on me?”

  She folded her arms across her chest in an I’m-not-about-to-back-off stance. “That’s pretty much what I said.”

  Brushing past him, she stepped one dainty foot over the curb.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He grabbed her upper arm in a firm hold, unwilling to risk another incident where his heart jumped into his throat and gagged him. “We will go down to the crosswalk where the light is, then we’ll come back on the other side, safe and sound. No more of this running across four lanes and looking to get killed.”

  She tried to shake his hand free, but his grip was tight and relentless. His whole body was one live wire. She was like liquid fire running along his veins, her fragrance invading his every pore, overwhelming his good sense to leave her alone and run as far and fast from her as he could. But he was a gentleman. He’d never allow her to cross the street again and place her life in danger, and she might need an explanation for her boss when she arrived late back to work. Charlie could handle both, even if every nerve in his body hummed with sensual awareness in Roxie’s presence.

  “Look. I can take care of myself,” she huffed, her bodice rising and falling with hurried breaths. Her nipples were gorgeously peaked and drove him crazy.

  “You keep telling me that, but I’ll still end up helping you out.” And I want sex with you so much, I’m about to jump out of my skin.

  “I didn’t ask you to,” she responded petulantly, lifting her wrist to glance at her watch. “I’ve go
t one more minute before I’m late, and I don’t want to be canned. I can’t afford it, so I’ll just go back the way I came.” She made as if to leave, but his hand was still clenched possessively around her arm. “I’m sorry about the Coke. I wanted to help you cool off.”

  There’s only one way to do that. Come to bed with me, alleviate the heat burning through my body. Why are L.A. chicks so hot? “I can’t let you do that. I’ll explain to your boss why you’re late.” With that, he marched her down the sidewalk toward the light and crosswalk at the intersection.

  As Charles walked her down the sun-heated sidewalk, Roxie fumed inwardly. Oddly, even though he was angry with her and she didn’t understand why, she felt comforted by his touch on her upper arm and his evident concern. Then, too, he couldn’t hide his rigid shaft.

  She repressed a smile of feminine satisfaction. He could have been outside the diner for only one reason—to keep an eye on her because he was in a bad way. She heaved a deep sigh. She was so aroused when he was nearby, never mind when his skin contacted hers, that it almost made her delirious with need. What could a powerfully built, well-muscled, extremely virile man do to her in bed? Was she willing to find out?

  Charles wasn’t speaking to her. His shaded gaze scrutinized everything but studiously avoided her. Not that she was staring at him, but she could tell from which way his head was turned. They stopped at the light, waiting for it to turn green.

  On impulse, she reached up and slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. Thunderous gray eyes met her inquiring gaze. Boldly, in words she’d never spoken to another man before, she asked, “You want me, don’t you?”

  His lips turned down in a heavy grimace, and he inched the glasses up to cover his eyes. But not before she saw the intensity in his gaze, which confirmed her suspicion. He wanted sex with her.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said, perhaps a tad too brightly. “I’ll pick you up at your place tonight.”

  The light turned green. His fingers dug deeper into her upper arm with a pressure she couldn’t ward off, and he stepped off the curb. Helplessly, thinking she was a fool for even considering he might want sex with her, she followed. He moved quickly, with an agility she found hard to believe of a powerful male.

  It wasn’t until they’d stepped onto the opposite curb that he responded. He paused and canted his head her way. “I’m supposed to pick you up.”

  She noted the anger had died away, replaced by an almost lightheartedness.

  “I don’t buy into the patriarchal society theory where men do everything.” She ran her free hand through the hair above her ear. “Women can do anything they want, when they want.”

  That saying was rapidly becoming her mantra, besides which, if he picked her up, he might discover who she really was—a runaway from wealth and prestige and the type of lifestyle to which he subscribed. She could not allow herself to return to her father and the strict guard under which he’d place her.

  Several pedestrians skirted them, throwing discreet glances their way. It never paid to be snoopy in L.A. Gang members could easily shoot one down for looking the wrong way at them.

  Charles nodded. His mouth moved as if he were about to say something. She had to forestall any argument.

  “It’s all or nothing,” she said, countering his silence. She would not allow him to push her around. She was the mistress of her life, and any man she invited had to follow her rules. She moistened her lips. With Charles Vernon, she could be a savage, unpretentious woman in and out of bed. She would never again allow a man to treat her like a delicate wallflower.

  He grimaced, but his lips parted without sound. His shirt molded to his awesome biceps and his flat stomach. Sunlight threaded through his short hair, and she swore she saw a hint of blue in those strands. What would running her fingers through the silky strands feel like? Sensuous, drawing her closer to him as he spun a delicious web of erotic pleasure?

  “In other words, a business deal.” He spoke the words in a flat monotone, but he couldn’t hide the excitement her statement had triggered.

  Roxie shrugged. Who cared what he called her proposition. “If that’s what you want to call it. Are you in?” She no longer needed to play hardball, but she liked this new side of herself she’d never before experienced.

  The small, tight smile he gave her made her shiver. The skin on her arms prickled with anticipation.

  The intersection light had changed from green to red, and back again.

  Charles was in a quandary. He had no doubt what Roxie had meant, but he took her words to mean “Is your cock inside me or not?”

  He chuckled. “I’m in.” He raised his hand and gently brushed a stray tendril from her cheek. Roxie leaned forward half an inch, and he realized they’d probably battle for control over the other. He was sure to win a good deal of the time, but once in a while, he could be the loser, too. He swiveled and, pulling her along with him, headed toward the diner. “You’ll definitely need my explanation as to why you’re late.”

  Roxie grunted in acknowledgement, and when they entered Woody’s, the boss waited with crossed arms.

  “So?” he growled, looking from one to the other.

  Charlie observed her face as she hesitated, frowned and finally came to a decision. “I was almost hit by a semi, and Charles took the time to push me out of its way.”

  She tugged her arm free without looking at him.

  His hand felt empty, despite her nearness. The diner was packed with patrons laughing, talking, and eating, but all that mattered was Roxie.

  The boss shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not willing to ask questions about semis and pulling you out of danger on your break.” To Charles, he said, “Thanks,” shook his hand firmly and ambled back into the kitchen.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven at your place,” Roxie told him with a knowing look and flashing him a triumphant smile.

  Quickly, he gave her his address in Malibu before she scooted back to work.

  Charlie didn’t know what to think as his gaze fell upon her delicious backside. He figured the best way to keep an eye on her was to seat himself at a booth, order a burger and fries and keep his cool without thinking too much about how he would rather be helping himself to something else. Someone else, he corrected.

  * * * *

  Somehow, she still managed to elude him. Charlie ate a fantastically juicy burger with cheese and bacon and the best fries he’d ever had. He must have licked his fingers five times before it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Roxie in several minutes.

  Gerry yelled, “Eighty-nine up!”

  Uneasy, Charlie rose and asked the older man, “I haven’t seen Roxie in a few minutes. How is she?”

  The older man eyed him over the counter and smiled to himself. “She slipped out the back ‘bout five minutes ago, muttering she hated to be followed. Guess she needed time off to take care of something.”

  Charlie frowned and pressed his lips together. Roxie had given him the slip? Why? Her action confirmed his fear that she was hiding something.

  The kitchen doors opened, and Gerry came around and slapped him good-naturedly on the back. “I hired her a couple months ago, but she’s already doubled my business in that time.” Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level, he said, “She’s got smarts, that woman. If she ran off on you, she’s got a damn good reason.” With one more hearty clap on Charlie’s back, he returned to the kitchen.

  Cursing under his breath, Charlie figured he had two options. He could call it quits for the night and return to his rented condo, or he could ask Gerry for Roxie’s address and pick her up for their date.

  “Roxie and I have a date,” he told the boss through the space over the counter. “Would you happen to know her address?”

  The man smiled again. “You’re new here, aren’t you? If folks run off, they mean to stay hidden, ‘sides which, I doubt the address she’s got on her application is the one she’s living at. Best not to ask too many question
s in L.A.”

  “Thanks, that’s good advice.”

  Knowing he was probably much too late, he darted into the street, up a block, and into the dead-end alley behind the diner. He didn’t see Roxie. His heart was pounding madly, and the heat was still overwhelming.

  Why had Roxie made such an impression on him in her candy pink uniform? Charlie opted to return to his condo. Would Roxie show up or would she change her mind at the last moment? Had she been serious about picking him up at his place or had he mistaken the reciprocating hunger in her eyes?

  Seated behind the steering wheel of his Mercedes, he had the distinct conviction that Roxie was skilled at eluding anyone she chose. Should he take a photo of her on his cell phone and send it to his law enforcement friend to check her out? Maybe she was a criminal on the run.

  He started the car and pulled smoothly from his parking spot. Roxie, a criminal? He didn’t think so. Her innocence had struck him from the outset. If she wasn’t on the run, what was she doing and why had she given him the slip? Why had she hesitated momentarily before answering her boss about where she’d been during her break? Was she running from something? If so, from what?

  He’d been in law fifteen years and had learned that people ran from all manner of things, whether they were real or imagined. Did he really want to get involved with someone who was so clearly hiding something? But then, one night of sex wasn’t getting involved. It was merely scratching the itch he had for this woman who intrigued him. She was so very sexy, feminine and playful. He’d loved how she’d pulled his glasses down his nose to look into his eyes. She wasn’t afraid of the truth.

  Charlie jumped on the freeway and thanked his lucky stars the traffic was moving smoothly. He could only hope that Otis Rowter didn’t know where Roxie lived and wasn’t following her.

  As the sun dropped lower in the early evening sky, the shadows across the I-10 Freeway lengthened. He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers. How could he have let Roxie get away so easily? Who would have thought she would dart out the back? If she was in danger from Rowter, how could Charlie help her if he wasn’t with her? Did Roxie know the former convict threatened her safety? Charlie had seen men like him before and prosecuted them. They went postal at the slightest provocation. He hoped Roxie could handle herself, yet he wondered. She was beautiful, spunky and intelligent, but if faced alone with a mad ass like Rowter, would she really be able to take care of herself?