Sensuous Angel

by Heather Graham

  Donna hurried into his bedroom. She didn’t allow herself idle time to fantasize about her future in the room; she pulled out her suitcase, decided on a lightweight suit, shivering as she did so. It felt so cold but she was honeymooning somewhere warm, and she didn’t want to get off the airplane and find that she was wilting. Not on her wedding night….

  She paused suddenly, holding perfectly still and frowning. There had been something…some sound from the office. Little fingers of dread tripped along the small of her back, and she listened intently. Nothing….But then she heard it again. The sound of the window.

  It crossed her mind that she should tell Luke the front door didn’t need a double lock when entry through the windows seemed to be so easy. But then she forgot about witty comments she might make later, because she was suddenly positive someone was in his office.

  Cautiously and silently, she grabbed her purse and crept down the hall, trying to convince herself that the intruder was only Andrew, hoping to catch one of them.

  But what if it wasn’t Andrew? She needed to run now and find out later. But she couldn’t get to the door to run—not unless she went past the office.

  Tiptoeing and barely breathing, she paused at the office door. She swallowed hard and edged just close enough to see inside.

  It wasn’t Andrew. There was a woman quietly lowering the window. Donna’s brow furrowed with puzzlement. She had seen the woman, briefly, before. She had been standing in the back of the church during the service. She wore a low-brimmed hat, gray-tinted glasses, and a trenchcoat with the collar pulled up high. Against the cold and the rain, or because she was hiding something?

  She was tall and slender, blond—and drenched as badly as a drowned rat. Go now, Donna warned herself, run, and find Luke….

  But she didn’t run. She stared open-mouthed as the woman turned around and let out a panicked scream as she realized that a shadow was watching her.

  It was Lorna who ran, hopping back out the window in a wild panic.

  Donna tried to call her name to reassure her, but her first cry came out as a whisper, and Lorna was out of the window before she could yell again. “Lorna!” Damn! Lorna hadn’t seen her, only a vague form in the hallway. “Lorna! Wait! It’s me, Donna!”

  Barely pausing for thought, Donna raced for the window and crawled through it. She could see her friend running down the street, trying to hail a taxi. Donna paused, then streaked after her, barely aware that she was destroying her blue silk. “Lorna!”

  The figure continued to run. Donna stopped in dismay as she saw a taxi halt and Lorna hop in. “Lorna!” She screamed again. The taxi started to move as Donna kept running. She would never get another cab, not in the rain.

  But she began to believe in miracles when she saw another taxi pulling to the corner. The driver pushed open the door and, with no hesitation, Donna hopped in.

  “Where to, lady?”

  It didn’t strike her just how ridiculous she would sound until she spoke. “Ah…just follow that cab, please.”

  “Which cab?” There were cabs all over the place.

  “That cab!” She pointed out the Checker that Lorna had taken. It was over a block ahead of them.

  “It’s your fare, lady, but if you ask me, you’ve been watching too much television.”

  “Just follow the cab, please,” Donna said with the best effort at dignity she could muster.

  Maybe the cabbie had been watching too much television himself, because he did try. He tried so hard that Donna felt as if her heart was lodged in her throat for the entire ride. But somewhere—where, she didn’t know—they lost sight of the Checker.

  “What now, lady?” The driver asked her.

  But before she could answer, Donna spotted the cab. It was stopped at the corner, half hidden by a produce truck. Lorna was nimbly climbing from it.

  “I’ll get out!” Donna replied. She scrambled in her purse for the cab fare and paid him, yelling out that he should keep the change.

  Apparently it was more than an ample amount. “Thanks, lady!” he yelled to her. “You keep watching that television of yours, you hear?”

  Donna barely heard him as she dashed down the street, trying to thread her way through an incredible number of people for such a stormy night. When she reached the corner, there was no sign of Lorna.

  Refusing to accept defeat, Donna walked along the block of shops. Lorna couldn’t have disappeared into any of them; they were all closed. Donna kept walking anyway, until she was ready to cry.

  The rain came again. Only when she started to shiver in earnest did it suddenly occur to her that she hadn’t the faintest idea of where she was.

  And then she paused in horror. Luke! Oh, no, he had to be wondering what happened to her. She should have been ready for her honeymoon twenty minutes ago!

  He would understand. Surely he would understand, she thought frantically.

  Are you crazy? she asked herself. He wasn’t going to understand how she chased after Lorna in the pouring rain like an idiot.

  Donna started searching the streets for a cab. And now—now when she needed it so desperately!—the cabs that rushed by, sending puddles of cold rain splashing over those who tried to hail them, were all full.

  She had to get to a phone. She started looking and when she found one, discovered that the receiver had been torn out. She glanced around uneasily and finally realized that she hadn’t ended up in the best part in town.

  Whistling against the darkness and the rain and the people—who all looked sinister now—Donna started walking again. She found another phone, one with a receiver. But when she started to tear her purse apart, she hadn’t a single coin.

  She stood on the sidewalk, cursing her own stupidity, until a form rose from the shadows and approached her. “Hiya, honey,” the drunk muttered.

  “Oh, go straighten up, will you!” Donna snapped, but she began to hurry down the street in the opposite direction.

  Then a small miracle occurred. She heard the sound of wheels driving-up beside her and she turned quickly, nervously. It was her original cab driver.

  “Lady,” he called out to her, “are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “Yes, I think I am! But where did you come from? How—”

  “I’ve been tagging you. I’m not the last of the great humanitarians or anything, but I thought you might be in trouble.”

  “Oh, bless you!” Donna stumbled back into the cab, still babbling. “Oh, bless you, bless you! And my husband’s a priest, so it really should mean something.”

  He already thought she was crazy. It didn’t seem to matter much if he thought her an idiot too.

  But he didn’t comment until they reached the house. It was dark. Where was Luke? she wondered anxiously.

  “Doesn’t look like anybody’s home,” the cabbie commented. “Should I take ya somewhere else?”

  “No, no,” Donna answered, overpaying him atrociously again.

  “My name is Dave Gimbal, lady. Give me a call at the shop anytime, okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Donna murmured. She stepped from the cab and started rummaging through her bag for her keys. Then she remembered that she had set them on the dresser when she changed her shoes.

  “What did I do to deserve this?” She groaned, staring up at the dark heavens.

  With a sigh of resignation she turned toward the garden, tripped through the damp foliage, jerked up the window, and crawled over the windowsill.

  She had been wrong. The house wasn’t completely dark. The desk lamp was burning and the house wasn’t empty. Luke, clad in a pair of jeans and work shirt, was sitting on the edge of his desk, the phone in his hand.

  She tried to smile against his thundering scowl but it didn’t work.

  “Donna, where have you been?”

  “Lorna was here. I—I tried to chase her.”

  “Lorna?” Disbelief was written all over his face.

  “I swear it, Luke. I startled her, and she ran. And
I—I tried to catch up with her.”

  His eyes raked over her from head to toe. “Just how far did you run?”

  “I…until I tried to follow her cab.”

  “In another cab, I presume? Oh, never mind!” he snapped with fury. He pushed the button on the phone and started dialing a number, never taking the searing fury of his stare from her. “Andrew, she’s here. You can call off the search. What?” A long pause. “Well, at least she’s back too.” Another pause. “Tonight I have to agree with you. A pair of idiots!”

  Donna stiffened at the tone of his voice. Anger raged inside her, but enough to stop her from shivering from the cold rain.

  Luke hung up the phone and crossed his arms over his chest. His casual stance was deceptive, but she knew him better. He was about as casual as a cobra about to strike.

  Her shivering increased as she remembered the night that they had met, the way he had plucked off the young mugger with a grip that could crush bone.

  “You could have both gotten yourselves killed!” Luke snapped so suddenly that his voice was like a whipcrack in the room. Donna forced herself not to jump.

  “Luke, you have to understand that it was Lorna—”

  “Yes, it was Lorna. And between the two of you, you had half the police in New York running wild goose chases in the rain.”

  “But why…?”

  Luke stood. He began talking slow, menacing steps toward her. “Why? Lorna just had to make an appearance at your wedding. She slipped past her guards, intending to slip back—just to be at your wedding. Wedding, Donna. Remember?”

  “Yes, yes, of course I remember,” Donna said, inadvertently backing away from him. “It’s just that when I saw her, and when she ran—”

  Her voice died away as he kept approaching. For the first time she really noticed the difference in their heights. And for the first time she was really frightened of him. She could see a pulse ticking furiously at the base of his throat, the ripple of muscle as he moved with athletic agility…slowly…like a tiger about to come in for the kill.

  “Luke…” She murmured, panic setting in as she skirted around him, trying to put the width of the desk between them. “Remember, you’re a priest.” She tried a smile and a weak play at humor. “Priests aren’t supposed to go crazy and beat their wives. Oh! Luke…please!”

  In a swift movement, he had hoisted himself over the desk to capture her wrists and pull her hard against him.

  “I’m not going to beat you!” he said heatedly, his arms sliding around her. “Although I’d like to shake you until I could rattle some sense into that impulsive head of yours! Don’t you realize there’s a killer looking for Lorna? You might have led him to her, or gotten…oh, God! Don’t ever do something like that to me again!”

  She was not the only one shaking, Donna realized as her hand had instinctively come to his chest, and she felt the quiver of muscle in that hardness. “Luke,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, really sorry. But she ran! Why did she run?”

  She couldn’t see his eyes, she was being held too tightly against him. “Either she thought you were one of Simson’s men, or Andrew.”

  “Andrew!”

  “Umm. He would probably skin her alive. Is possibly skinning her alive—”

  “Why…?”

  “Shut up, Donna.”

  “What…?”

  He pushed her away to stare at her, his eyes intensely gold and narrowed with anger again. “The honeymoon is over. We’ve missed our plane, and there isn’t another one until tomorrow.”

  “Luke, I’m sorry, I really am. But you have to realize….” Donna paused. He didn’t look as if he realized anything. She turned away, pretending to saunter calmly toward the fire and warm herself by its low flame. “I do know how serious the situation is, and she means so much to me. You have to understand—”

  She broke off, spinning back around, when she heard his footsteps coming toward her again. Not a slow stalk. A hurried, swift and angry pace. She saw his features, taut and grim.

  “Luke!” she cried out, her eyes widening with alarm as she held out a hand in self-defense. “Luke, please, calm down. Let’s be rational here—”

  Her gesture was useless, her hand was swept aside. She felt his fingers on her, undoing the sodden buttons of the blue silk. “Donna! I am rational! I wish you’d quit trying to talk! I have done—and will always do—anything that I can to help Lorna. But damn it, Donna, I don’t want to hear anything more about her tonight!”

  His fingers worked quickly. The sodden blue silk fell to the floor. He stood back a second, staring at her in her slip and the low-cut lacy bra. She saw something in his eyes change. Gold to burning amber. His hand came to her, his forefinger, lightly stroking over her cheek, his knuckles, falling to brush over the mounds of her breasts. Donna began to tremble all over again.

  “Today,” he told her huskily, “we were married. And I’ve waited too long for you, Donna. Tonight…is ours.”

  She nodded, feeling the trembling deep within her. She shivered, but in her womb, she was hot. She could barely breathe. She had wondered and wanted so long too. And now, now she was his wife. She could touch him. Have him. Reach out and take all that was him, luxuriate in his physical splendor….

  He released the front clasp of her bra, smoothed his hands over her flesh, and edged the straps from her shoulders. She heard his intake of breath, felt his eyes as their hungered gaze raked her breasts. She was suddenly shy, suddenly longing to crawl against him and escape that gaze that made her feel as if she burned…and ached…and longed for more.

  But she didn’t move, as his hands moved to her waist, then upward, until he cradled her breasts, cupped them, as if he tested their firm weight and found them to be perfect. His palms grazed over the nipples, and they hardened into twin peaks as a low moan escaped from her throat. She tore her eyes from his as she leaned heavily against him.

  He slid down her body until he knelt at her feet. Her fingers braced into his shoulders as he removed her sodden shoes one by one and tossed them across the room. She felt his hands graze over her knee, along her thigh…travel to her waist, and then she felt the delicious rasp of silk as her stockings were swept away. He stood then, eyes locked with hers as his palms coursed over her hips, finding the elastic, of her last garment, and forced the slip to fall in a soft flutter to the floor at her feet.

  He stepped away. She could cling to him no longer. But the touch of his eyes caressed her and held her. She stared at him, loving his look and his hunger and the hot and beautiful way he could make her feel just by savoring the naked sight of her.

  He came closer again, not touching her. “I knew you would be beautiful,” he whispered to her hoarsely. “But not so…perfect….”

  His voice touched and teased her earlobe. His breath warmed and thrilled her. Donna emitted a little cry and threw her arms around him.

  “Donna…” He murmured, his voice muffled against her hair. “I want you…now.”

  Kisses, light, nipped; the touch of the tip of his tongue, the graze of his teeth, found her throat…her earlobes. Her own breath rose on a jagged plane to meet and mingle with his. She continued to cling to the solidity of his shoulders to stand. “Luke…” she whispered a soft plea. It was all that she could do.

  The fire burned warm in low embers behind them. He stepped back from her again, gazing at her with desire tautening and darkening his features. Donna lifted a hand to him, but he caught it and remained still, savoring her. Shadows and glimmers of golden light were cast over her angles and curves. Her breasts gleamed with that gold, full and firm, over the shadows of her ribs, the trim waist. Her hips were full, rounded, inviting; her legs were long for her height, shapely…beautiful…gold against the fire. He could stare at her forever. He could never drink in all of her….

  He moved toward her, pressed his lips to hers, loved them, revered them. Then his tongue filled her mouth with his hunger, sweet and warm and passionately exciting. Donna returned
the kiss, awed at the response he could elicit in her. Nothing mattered when he touched her. No concern or fear could haunt her in his arms.

  She stood on tiptoe and pressed her body to his, the softness of her form against the hardness of his. Her fingers played with the hair at his nape that curled over his collar. Roamed his shoulders, his back…slipped beneath the waistband of his slacks. The vibration of his groan trembled against her and through her. She slid her fingers around until they met at his buckle. She was as sure as he as she released it. She half laughed and half cried with frustration as his zipper refused to give way to her fingers.

  Luke stepped back again, kicking off his loafers. She was certain that she ripped away half the buttons in her haste to remove his shirt. She could wait no longer. She threw herself against him again, luxuriating in the feel of the dark hair on his hard chest, teasing, pressing her breasts. He laughed huskily, and she heard the rasp of his zipper giving. He was gone from her for a moment as he shed the pants and his briefs, and then he was holding her, touching her, taking her lips, her throat, the hollows of her shoulders with kisses of spiraling passion.

  Against the soft flesh of her belly, she felt the strength of his desire. Hard and potent and so insinuating that she moaned his name, losing all thought except of her need for him.

  She forgot that they stood in his office, that they were newly married, that a plush bed awaited them down the hall. She brought her fingers to his face, cupping his chin in her hands, savoring the rough texture of his cheeks. High on her toes, she kissed him and then slid her body against his. It was her turn to explore, and she did. Touching, kissing, tasting his flesh, utilizing secrets so recently learned from him, charting out patterns over his shoulders with just the moist tip of her tongue. Her fingers threaded through the thick dark hair on his chest, followed that triangle until it narrowed at his waist.

  He responded to her every touch, his lean, powerful frame trembling, whispered words of encouragement that increased her own spell of passion and desire. She trailed lower and lower against him, unaware that she had ever been afraid of him, that she had feared for her soul for wanting him with such lust. To love him so was a carnal venture, yet nothing had ever felt so pure or so right, or so utterly delicious and primal.