My Special Angel

by Marcia Evanick

  On the way home from Hidden Valley she had refused to go inside a restaurant wearing clothes that looked as if she’d slept in them. Her shorts and top were dry, pretty much on the clean side, but the wrinkles were terminal. Owen had gotten his way and bought her dinner when he found a roadside diner with secluded picnic tables; fat, juicy hamburgers; and the crispest fries she had ever tasted. For two hours they wolfed down their meal, fought off killer mosquitoes, and laughed. She had a wonderful time trading childhood stories with Owen. Not only was he the sole child of the town’s most influential and wealthy family, but he had a curious mind and had gotten into more scrapes than all her brothers combined. It seemed that money, prestige, and power only gave Owen an added edge on his adventurous nature.

  Night had gently fallen during their meal, cloaking them in a seductive darkness. She had been reluctant to leave their private haven, but she knew it couldn’t last. The wonderful day with Owen had to end. Reality and home were calling. She glanced at her house. Only the porch light radiated a warm glow of welcome, but it stopped at the front door. The house itself was dark and lonely. Since when did it bother her to come home to an empty house?

  Owen parked the car and glanced around the yard. “Everyone must be at the camp.” He glanced at the house sitting all alone. “Why are you the only one who lives in the house?”

  “The rest prefer the camp and the old way of life.” She climbed out of the car and started for the porch.

  Owen followed her up the two steps. “Don’t you like the old way?”

  “I have nothing against the simple life.” She walked over to the railing and stared out toward the hills where the camp lay. “But I also have nothing against a bathroom down the hall, running water, and electricity.”

  “Your family has all that.” He leaned against a post and studied the gentle curve of her cheek, the way her hair had dried into a wild mass of untamed curls, and the provocative fullness of her lower hp. “You could live in one of those mobile homes at the camp.”

  “What’s wrong with me living in the perfectly good house that came with the ranch?”

  “You’re not with your family.” From everything he knew about Nadia, her family was very important to her. They ranked right up there with her music.

  “My family is no more than a quarter of a mile over that hill.” Her head nodded in the direction she had been staring.

  “So why aren’t you with them?”

  “I’m perfectly content living here alone.”

  “But are you happy?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Owen picked up the strain in her voice and decided to back off for now. For some reason Nadia always held herself a little bit apart from her otherwise close-knit family. “Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I see a great sadness.” And secrets. Dangerous secrets you try to hide from everyone.

  Nadia’s teeth worried her lower lip. “You must be mistaken. I have everything I always wanted. My family is well, nearby, and living in a war-free country.

  I own, or will own in twenty years, one of the greatest horse-breeding ranches in North Carolina. I am beginning on a fabulous and possibly highly profitable career. The only thing I’m missing is my music, and as soon as I get it back, my life will be complete.”

  He took a step closer. “But what about you, Nadia?”

  “What about me?” She took a step back and ended up with her back against a post.

  “Are you happy?” He moved nearer and tenderly cupped her cheek.

  “Why shouldn’t I be?” Her voice shook, but she kept her chin up and held her ground.

  His hungry gaze fastened on her mouth. He leaned in closer and lowered his head. “You tell me, Nadia.” His breath teased the corner of her mouth as his tongue faintly outlined her passion-swollen lower lip. “Tell me what would make you happy.” He sighed into her mouth as she slowly parted her lips and yielded to his gentle onslaught.

  Owen felt her arms encircle his neck and her breasts crush against his chest. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and drank from her sweetness. Thoughts of making her happy vanished from his mind. He wanted her hot, wild, and as hungry for him as he was for her. He wanted to carry her through her empty little house, up the stairs, place her down on her bed, and make sweet, hot love to her till the ache she had caused inside him eased. His hand stroked the enticing flare of her hip and caressed the tempting roundness of her bottom. He pulled her in closer and pressed her abdomen against his straining manhood. He figured it would take at least sixty years for the ache to ease so that he could start to breathe normally around her.

  “Nadia!” He groaned her name in need as he broke the kiss. He loosened his hold and blazed a trail of kisses over her jaw, down her throat, to the rapidly pounding pulse thundering in the side of her neck. His teeth sank into the pulse with a teasing playfulness before climbing up to capture a dainty lobe. He toyed with a golden hoop earring, sending it gently swinging with his breath. “Tell me what would make you happy.”

  Nadia closed her eyes and said a silent prayer in Russian. One that would hopefully grant her courage, wisdom, and the strength to go against what her body was begging for—release. To take Owen into her home and into her bed would be taking him into her heart and risking the greatest sorrow of her life. She had been so strong for so long for so many people, she didn’t know if she had anything left for herself. Her life was centered around her family and her music. There wasn’t time or energy left over for anything else. Maybe once the album was finished, she could get out more and possibly start to date. Owen was the wrong man for her, no matter what her body said.

  With a heavy sigh she leaned back against the post for support and gave the only answer she could. “Having my music return would make me happy.”

  Chapter Six

  Owen stood in the shadows of the barn and watched in awe as Nadia wove her magic. He had been right earlier; she was indeed a witch. Her sweet, gentle voice was low and throaty, and her fingers moved as gracefully as the wind over the strings of her acoustic guitar. He had no idea what language she was singing, or even what the words were, but with her song she was seducing the hell out of him. The amazing part was, she had no idea that she was doing it. She hadn’t even noticed when he had entered the barn ten minutes ago. At first he had thought her music had returned, but he now realized she was singing the same song over and over again, although in different languages, and she was reading sheet music that was spread out in front of her on the hay.

  He glanced at IRS, who was standing motionless in his stall gazing at Nadia. He wondered if it was possible for a horse to feel longing, or was he being fanciful and misinterpreting the look in IRS’s soulful brown eyes? Whatever it was, Owen understood exactly how IRS felt. Nadia was a vision sitting in the sweet-smelling hay wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of denim shorts and a sleeveless red-and-white-checked blouse. She had twisted a red bandanna and made it into a headband to keep the wild curls away from her face. He smiled as she stopped for a moment, worried her lower hp, and then quickly scribbled something on the page in front of her.

  When she resumed her singing, he closed his eyes and allowed the music to wash over him. He knew she was working on a children’s album about animals, but the foreign words gave the light little number a very provocative sound. He silently cursed and shifted his weight when he felt his jeans become a little too snug. Nadia seemed to have that effect on him, no matter what she was doing.

  Last night when she had said that only the return of her music would make her happy, he felt she had been holding back something, and the secrets in her eyes had grown. She had wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had felt it in the way she melted in his arms, the way she flared up when he kissed her, but more important he had heard it in the heartfelt sigh that had escaped her when he had ended the kiss. For some reason Nadia had hid behind her music. He had left her standing on the porch with the promise t
hat he would help her get back the music and a silent prayer that he would capture her heart in doing so. It hadn’t come as a great shock to him that on the way home he realized Nadia had come to mean more to him than just a beautiful woman with an incredible body. He wanted to be the key to her happiness. He was falling in love. He wanted to be her knight in shining armor and return her music, then sweep her off her feet and into his bed. It was hell being a romantic southern gentleman with raging hormones. He took a deep breath, prayed that his physical condition wasn’t too obvious, and stepped out of the shadows.

  Nadia caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over to the far side of the barn. Her fingers stilled on the steel strings, and her voice faded away as he stepped into the light. “Owen?”

  “I went to the house first, but no one was there.”

  “IRS likes to listen to me sing.” She straightened up the scattered music and neatly placed it in a blue folder. “I thought maybe a change of scenery would inspire me.”

  “Did it?”

  She glanced around in frustration at the mounds of hay, weathered planking, and the way the sunlight played with the dust particles as it streamed in through the huge open doors. She sadly shook her head and whispered, “No.”

  Owen sat down beside her in the hay. Her one-word answer told him so much. She was disappointed and didn’t know what to try next. “Was the song you were singing one of the ones for the album?”

  “Yes. I was just putting some final touches to it.”

  “How many songs have you written?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  Owen glanced at her in surprise. “Surely that’s enough to finish the album.”

  “No, I need one more.” She plucked at a guitar string and sent a soulful note heavenward. “Children’s albums are different from adults’. Some of my songs are short and simple, so the children can learn them quickly and sing along with the record. Others are more complex: They tell a story, and there’s no constant chorus for the children to memorize. The song I’m missing is one of the complex ones.”

  “How long does it take you to write a song?”

  “I’ve been working on the album for over two years now.” She glanced down at the blue folder and all the translated copies of “Fearless Benny”, a song about an ostrich named Benny who refused to hide his head in the sand. “I had half of it done when I signed the contract, and I’ve been working on it full-time ever since.”

  “And all you need is one more song?” It didn’t sound totally impossible to him. How hard could it be to write one children’s song after already writing twenty-three?

  “Don’t sound so hopeful.” She laid the guitar aside and leaned back into the soft hay. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “You can do it. I have all the faith in the world in you.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, but you seem to be forgetting that I’m missing the main ingredient of any song, the music.”

  “Improvise.” He plucked a piece of straw from her hair and tickled her nose.

  She chuckled and shook her head. “It would be like you trying to build a house without any wood.” She brushed a piece of hay off his jeans. “Speaking of your work, why aren’t you there?”

  “I’m the boss”—he reached over and drew a line up her bare thigh with the straw—“and I decided I deserved the rest of this beautiful afternoon off.” The only reason he had left work early was because he hadn’t been accomplishing anything there. All he had done all morning was think of Nadia, her hot, sweet kisses, and the fact that he was falling in love. He just had to see her.

  She snatched the piece of straw away from Owen. “What did you do that was so wonderful?”

  He plucked up another piece of straw and leaned in closer, playfully teasing the corner of her mouth with the hay. “It’s not what I did that was so wonderful; it’s what I’m going to do.” His hungry gaze followed the dried stem as it slowly made its way over the dewy softness of her lower hp.

  Her voice held a breathless catch. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  She studied his mouth with fascination. “Is it going to be wonderful?”

  He bent over her and lowered his head until his mouth just barely grazed hers. Looking deep into the dark pools of her eyes, he whispered, “You tell me.”

  She raised her arms around his neck and smiled against his hovering mouth. “I never try to prejudge something.”

  He pulled back a fraction of an inch. “Not even when you have experienced it before?”

  “Well, there’re kisses”—she lightly ran her tongue over the seductive fullness of his lower lip—“and then, there’re kisses.”

  He nipped at her upper lip in retaliation. “You might have a point there.” His mouth came down hungrily on hers.

  Nadia surrendered to the desires that were battling her self-control. Why was she fighting against Owen’s tender onslaught? He was everything she had ever looked for in a man, and more. If he wouldn’t take seriously her warning that they were wrong for each other, then that was his problem, not hers. Her problem was going to be safeguarding her heart. Owen had the potential to steal his way into her heart and destroy it. Men like Owen wouldn’t want the happily-ever-after life with a girl like her. She had burned her bridges back in New York, and now she had to pay the price.

  With a moan of need she tightened her hold around his neck and deepened the kiss. She felt the violent trembling of Owen’s body as he pressed against her, sending her deeper into the soft bed of hay. His tongue was firm and relentless as it sought out every dark recess in her mouth. She opened up to him like a flower to sunshine.

  Owen rejoiced in her surrender and tenderly cupped her cheek. The satiny smoothness of her skin warmed his palm and his heart. With leisurely slowness he moved his hand downward, past her pounding pulse, over the faint swell of her collarbone, until he reached the soft curves of her breast. His fingers shook as they outlined the top button of her blouse.

  Nadia couldn’t stand the wait any longer. She stroked his back and hastily pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. Her mouth rained quick little kisses down his jaw as her hands slid under the shirt and caressed his back. Heat scorched her fingertips as they explored all the hollows and the bulges that had so intrigued her yesterday during their swim. He felt more wonderful than she had imagined. He was warm, solid, and incredibly sexy.

  With the haste of frustration she pulled out her hands and tugged at the buttons running down the front of his shirt. She wanted to rim her fingers through the fine, dark hair covering his chest. She wanted to run her mouth over his fiery skin.

  Owen stopped toying with the buttons on her blouse and helped her by ripping off his shirt and throwing it to the side. The prospects of having Nadia’s hands all over him had blown what little control he had left.

  Nadia reached up and drew a small, moist circle with her tongue over the pounding pulse throbbing in his neck. She felt the trembling of his body under her mouth and knew that Owen was about to go up in flames and she was holding the match. Her mouth slid down his chest, captured one of his hard, dark nipples, and playfully teased it with her teeth. The heat radiating from his body intensified.

  Her hands stroked his shoulders, and her lips greedily tasted every inch of his chest. Her blood sang an aubade as it whirled through her body, waking up every nerve, every cell. It was the morning song, and it aroused portions of her body that had been asleep for a very long time. Too long. Her breasts surged against the frothy lace of her bra. She could feel the nipples harden and become sensitive against the material. The emptiness burning inside her was the worst. She wanted to feel Owen deep inside her, satisfying this horrible ache he had caused. Her fingers reached for the snap of his jeans as she moaned his name.

  The tips of her fingers seared his stomach as they fumbled with the copper snap. His heart stopped beating when he heard voices and the sound of a
truck pulling up outside the barn. He sucked in a ragged breath and groaned, “Please tell me that’s not voices I hear.”

  Nadia closed her eyes and sighed. Of all the terrible timing ... “It’s my brothers and Uncle Rupa.”

  Owen rolled off of her and hurriedly reached for his shirt. “Are they coming in here?”

  She sat up and brushed straw from her blouse and shorts. A frown pulled at her mouth as she listened. “I would guess so.” She glanced at Owen and marveled at the way he was tugging on his shirt and buttoning it. How could he possibly be thinking straight after what they had been doing? She hadn’t even heard the truck pull up outside. “Unless you think they are taking that horse into my house.”

  “What horse?” He was jamming the ends of his shirt into his jeans when he heard a cry from a horse outside the barn. He glanced over at IRS, who was answering the distant cry.

  “That’s a very good question.” Nadia stood up and brushed at the hay clinging to her clothes. She picked a few pieces out of her wild mane as she marched to the opened barn doors.

  Owen quickly ran his fingers through his hair, double-checked his appearance, and hurried after her. He hadn’t liked the look on her face; it was the same one she had worn when she confronted him about losing her music. Someone was in for a world of trouble, but for once it was not he.

  Nadia stepped out into the sunlight as the door to a horse trailer was slammed shut. She watched as a tall, lanky man climbed back into the cab of the truck and drove away. By the speed at which the truck was taking her rutted and perilous driveway, she would guess the driver wasn’t in the best of moods. Well, tough goulash, neither was she.