by Day Leclaire
Sheer panic gripped her. “No! No, please. You have to give me a little longer. Reed needs me.”
“He doesn’t need you,” Goodenkind corrected, his voice compassionate, yet unyielding. “He needs a wife. And he needs love. That’s what you’ve been sent to give him, remember? That’s what you’ve failed to give him. Or have you forgotten your purpose for being here?”
“I haven’t forgotten. I’ll take care of it. I will. Please—”
“Very well. I’ll give you three more days. You have until Monday morning to complete your assignment and then you must come home.” His outline faded, his final words drifting to her as though borne on the wings of a sweet summer breeze. “Remember the gift, Angie. Give him his gift.”
And with that, he was gone.
As Reed dressed for dinner that night, he found himself wondering what shade of red Angie would choose for the evening and how outrageous her dress would be. Whatever she wore, she’d undoubtedly end up the center of attention. She possessed the innate ability to attract people. And once they came within her sphere of influence, she instantly enchanted them. He’d never met anyone with that much charm before.
Walking into the sitting room, he found her standing by the windows, waiting for him. As he’d anticipated, she wore red—rose-red, to be exact. The dress had a halter top that left her back bare to the base of her spine, the skirt flaring at her hips and falling to the floor in graceful folds. Her skin gleamed in the subdued lighting, as soft and creamy as an angel’s should be. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. An angel. She said it with such sincerity she had him half-believing.
“How did your meetings go?” she asked without turning around.
“Very successful, thanks. I’m sorry I’m late. My final appointment ran longer than expected.”
“That’s all right. It gave me plenty of time to set up the laptop and type some preliminary notes.”
She still hadn’t turned around and he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. He could see the silvery gleam of her hair, the moist redness of her mouth and the glint from wistful blue eyes. She seemed so distant, so untouchable.
So angelic.
A chill swept through him. He’d never been a superstitious man. He’d always been pragmatic to the extreme. He believed in what he could touch and see and taste and build with his own two hands. But as he stood there, watching Angie, some sixth sense stirred to life. Something was wrong. He could feel it, like a living entity writhing in the air.
“Angie—”
“I called the office, by the way.” She cut him off, as though she knew what he intended to ask. “I spoke to Casey.”
“And?”
She shrugged, the movement causing her skirt to ripple in gentle waves. “There’s been another change on the Wellsby project.”
“No surprise there.”
“She offered to fax the information to you.”
“It’ll keep until Monday.”
“She also reported that Joel caused a minor uproar when he moved his project into the reception area. He claimed it had to be done now or the model would be too big to fit through the apartment door.”
Reed shifted irritably. “I’ll deal with it when we return.” He waited a moment, finally prompting, “Is that everything Casey had to say?”
“Yes.”
“No other problems?”
“None.”
The hell there weren’t. Something had upset her. If not at the office, then here at the hotel. Or perhaps in her personal life. The tension poured off her, simmering in the air between them. “What going on, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
She lifted her hand to the window, her fingers splayed against the thick glass. “I can feel the vibration of the traffic in my palm,” she commented quietly. “It rumbles like distant thunder. You know... I never noticed that before. I was always so busy, I never paid attention.”
He approached, standing directly behind her. Reaching out, he planted his hand next to hers. “You’re noticing now.”
She bowed her head, exposing the tender nape of her neck. “It’s too late now.”
“It’s never too late.”
“It is for me.” She turned, caught within his arms. To his alarm, tears glistened in her eyes. “But it isn’t too late for you.”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “I don’t want a wife.”
“Don’t you understand? I have to leave soon. I don’t have much longer to accomplish my assignment.” She caught the lapels of his suit coat, crumpling them in her fists. He doubted she even noticed. “What do you want, Reed? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Just this...” He closed his mouth over hers. She tasted like heaven. Sweet and moist and deliciously warm. He could get used to holding her, kissing her, loving her. It would be easy. So very easy. He wanted her, wanted her more than he had any other woman.
Even Emily.
She pulled back slightly, her lips hovering a scant inch beneath his. She inhaled deeply, blinking in confusion. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.” He nuzzled her cheek, following the silken line of her jaw to beneath her ear—to the spot he knew would arouse her passion. Sure enough, her pulse beat frantically against his mouth.
“I thought I heard you ask for something,” she insisted.
“I asked for a kiss.”
“No. I mean, after that. I thought you asked for—”
“It was a kiss, not a request.”
“I must have been hearing things.”
“Do angels do that?” he teased.
She stilled, her eyes widening. “Sometimes.” She searched his face, as though desperate for an answer to some vital question. “Sometimes wishes speak so loudly, angels hear. Especially when those wishes are your true heart’s desire. What was your wish, Reed?”
He dropped his arms and stepped free of her embrace. “I don’t believe in wishes any more than I believe in angels.”
She stretched out a hand, then hesitated. “What if I were to offer you the chance to have your heart’s desire? One wish granted, free of charge—”
His mouth twisted. “I’d say thanks, but no thanks. Wishes don’t come true. And nothing in this life is free of charge. There’s always a catch.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Have wishes ever come true for you?” She started to turn away and he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You swore you’d never lie to me. So tell me, Angie. Have you ever had one of your dreams come true?”
Slowly she shook her head, compressing her lips to conceal an almost imperceptible tremor. “No. Never.”
He felt the depth of her distress and understood how much their conversation hurt her. Not that it stopped him. “And love,” he demanded. “Have you ever experienced any such emotion? I’m talking about the soul-shattering, forever-after sort of love.”
Again she shook her head, the intense pain in her eyes almost more than he could handle. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
He heard the desperate edge to her voice. Still he forced the issue, unable to help himself. “No? And this wish you’re so eager to grant. Name one wish anyone’s ever given you. A wish with no strings attached. Yours for the taking.”
She stood before him—delicate, ethereal, heart-breakingly beautiful. And unflinchingly honest. “No one’s ever given me that, either.”
“You don’t believe in dreams or true love or wishes. And yet, you expect me to?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t, Angie. I’m sorry.”
“This wish...” She tried again. “It’s Goodenkind’s gift, not mine. I’m merely the messenger.”
“And what if I’d rather have the messenger instead of the message?”
He could practically see her vulnerability, it surrounded her like a pale, shimmering aura—paper thin and painfully exposed. Just a few cutting words would slice through it. A sharp comment or two an
d he’d destray her month-long pretence and settle this nonsense once and for all. He’d wait until the tears had passed, hear the painful story that had prompted her to invent her “angel guise,” and then he’d take her to bed. They’d have a brief passionate affair before gradually drifting apart. Of course, they’d part friends, he’d see to that. Except for Emily, all his relationships had ended on good terms. It would be the same with Angie.
All he had to do was force the issue.
Just say the words.
“You look stunning tonight,” he told her gently. “Shall we go down now? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
A smile broke free, winning out over the anguish, a smile as beautiful and soul-shattering as any he’d ever seen. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
She stepped forward and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. But as they walked toward the door, he saw her lift a trembling finger and surreptitiously brush tears from the comer of her eyes. And that, more than anything that had gone before, filled him with remorse.
Dammit all. He’d made an angel cry.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE next few hours were the most enchanting Angie had ever known. She and Reed ate in a huge dining room, sharing a table with three other couples attending the conference. Most of the participants had brought families and looked forward to the picnic the next day. To her surprise, she was the only secretary present—not that anyone believed she’d come in that capacity.
“If you all brought families, where are they?” Angie asked one of the wives.
“Oh, they have events organized for the younger children and sitters for the babies.” She wrinkled her brow. “I think tonight’s the pajama party. They’ll have pizza, popcorn and a triple feature.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It is. We attend every year.” She winked at her husband. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, would we, Donald?”
“Not a chance.”
“It’s my only opportunity each year to go dancing,” another of the wives commented. Everyone laughed at the long-suffering expression on her husband’s face. “Oh, don’t you believe him,” she scoffed, giving him a loving pinch. “You watch. He’ll be the first out on the floor and the last to leave.” Sure enough, the minute they’d adjourned to the ballroom, the two headed straight for the dance floor.
“Shall we?” Reed murmured. Not waiting for an answer, he drew her into his arms.
“This is so wrong,” Angie confessed with a sigh.
In fact, after Good’s warning, it was downright foolhardy. She didn’t dare waste a single second of her remaining days. And she wouldn’t have, except for one tiny problem. The truth was, she didn’t have a chance in a million of finding Reed a wife this weekend. Not unless he fell in love at first sight—and knowing him, that seemed highly unlikely. Nor could she simply pick the next eligible woman walking by and force him to fall in love.
No. The only chance she had of completing her mission was to get her reluctant boss to “wish” his future bride into existence. That gave her precisely two and a half days to work on him, to convince him that he wanted a wife with all his heart.
And what better way to get him in the mood, than a romantic evening of dancing? At least... That’s what she told herself
“So tell me, Ms. Makepeace.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head, his breath stirring the pale curls. “Why is enjoying a simple dance wrong?” he asked, his tone indulgent.
“Because I’m neglecting my responsibilities.”
“You’re off duty tonight. I insist.”
“I may be off duty as your secretary, but that doesn’t let me off the hook as far as Goodenkind is concerned.”
“You’re my angel, which means you have to do what I say,” he insisted stubbornly. “And I say you’re to forget everything except enjoying yourself.”
She chuckled. “I’m not sure Good would agree with that, but I’m having too marvelous a time to argue. And since Scratch isn’t around to debate the issue...” She snuggled into his embrace and sighed. “It’s been so long since I last danced. How about you?”
He pulled her closer. “It’s been a while.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She heard the surprise in his voice and smiled. It was a start. She’d planted a reminder of what he currently lacked in his life. Now she just had to convince him he missed it sufficiently to “wish” it into existence. Her smile faded. Whomever he ended up marrying would be a lucky woman. And though she should be happy for him, she couldn’t quite ignore the pain that knowledge stirred.
Glancing up at the firm sweep of his jaw and the warmth in his gaze, the pain intensified. She closed her eyes to blot out the sight. Not that it helped. Instead she felt the hard strength of his body moving in rhythm with hers, the delicious friction of male on female. Tears burned against her lids. Darn it all, Angie Makepeace! Angels had no business feeling envy or desire or longing. Angels intent on maintaining their status in heaven needed to focus on their mission.
Determined to do just that, she threw herself into her plan, encouraging the various couples they sat with between dances to talk about their family life. She even asked how they’d met and decided to marry. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she caught a wistful gleam in Reed’s eyes when the discussion turned to children. Not that it lasted long. In the middle of the conversation, he decided they should turn in. Still, it was enough to give her hope during the long silent ride in the elevator.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said the minute they entered the suite. “I enjoyed every minute.”
He cupped her shoulders, turning her around. “It doesn’t have to end. We could make it last all night.”
Her breath caught in a small hitch. At the revealing sound his eyes glittered an intense gold. “That wouldn’t be a good idea,” she said unsteadily.
“I happen to think it’s an excellent idea.” He cupped her face and tilted it to accept his kiss, the touch light and gentle and frighteningly persuasive. “See how good that was?”
“It was wonderful,” she admitted, catching his taste with the tip of her tongue. It made her hungry for more, so very hungry.
“Truthful to the end, Ms. Makepeace?”
She bowed her head. “I told you I’d always be honest.”
“Then can you honestly say you want the evening to end?”
“I want it to last forever.” The confession slipped out before she could prevent it. “But my wishes aren’t important.”
“Just mine are.”
“Yes.”
He snagged her chin, forcing her to look at him. “And what if I wished for this evening to last forever? What if I wished for you in my bed?”
“I don’t know what would happen,” she confessed. “I’m not sure that even heaven’s powers can create a never-ending night. Nor do I think they’d willingly put an angel in your bed.”
“So there are limits to my wish?”
“Only one that I’m aware of.”
“And what’s the one condition?”
“That the wish be your true heart’s desire.”
His mouth skated to the base of her throat, dipping into the shallow hollow he found there. “And how will you know if it’s my true desire?”
“I won’t need to.” She could barely think, the words a confused jumble in her head. “Heaven will.”
“Come to bed with me, Angie.” His hand slipped around her neck, finding the closing to her halter top. He eased one button after another through the tiny eyelet fastenings. “Maybe we can find that desire together.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. Why did this have to be so difficult? “I can’t,” she whispered. “As much as I want to, it would be wrong. I’m not meant for you and you’re not meant for me. You have to find love, Reed. True love. And you have to find it with a living woman, not a shadow from the past.”
“If that’s a
ll you are and this moment is all you have, don’t you deserve to enjoy life for a night?” He released the final button and the halter top drifted downward, baring her to his gaze. “Make love with me, Angie.”
She swayed, a mere breath from surrender. Perhaps she would have followed him into his room, if his final words hadn’t reverberated straight through to her soul. Make love with me, Angie.
Love.
Make love.
The pain nearly sent her to her knees. If she went with him, it wouldn’t be love they shared, but lust. And she knew all about lust. She’d experienced it once during her years in the real world and that single instance had been more than enough. Slowly she pulled away, lifting the scarlet pieces of her bodice with trembling hands. For the first time in her angelic life, she saw the color as a brand. Shame filled her.
“I would make love with you, Reed—if that’s what it was.” She attempted a smile and failed miserably. “But we both know it’s not.”
“Angie—”
“Don’t you understand, yet?” A tear escaped and she brushed it away. Not that it helped. Another came. And then another. “You want me to act out a lie. And I can’t. I don’t lie.”
His eyes turned black. “Are you so sure it would be one?”
“For you? Yes.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze with every ounce of remaining courage. “Which means it would be for me, too.” There was nothing left to be said. Turning, she walked away from the one man she could have loved...if he’d been capable of such an emotion.
And if she hadn’t been an angel on a mission.
“We’re not taking the bus to the picnic with everyone else?” Angie asked the next morning. She kept her question light and impersonal, hoping he wouldn’t mention what had passed between them the previous night. To her relief, he didn’t.
“Nope. I don’t feel like a bus ride, so I rented a car for the day.” He led her out into the underground garage. “In fact, I rented one just for you.”
That caught her by surprise. “Really?”
“Yup. They had quite a nice selection. I thought—now which would Ms. Makepeace pick, if were up to her?” He paused by a BMW. “The silver sedan?”