She's No Angel

by Leslie Kelly

  She was greater than the sum of her work, wasn’t she?

  But she still couldn’t entirely convince herself this could turn into something real. “It won’t work. He’s so damn bossy and I’m so independent. How could I ever deal with his need to protect and order me around…and how could he ever get used to being with a woman he sometimes thinks is certifiable?”

  “Sounds like a match made in heaven,” a male voice said.

  Jen leaped out of her chair and swung around, seeing a good-looking blond guy a few feet away. Behind him, looking over his left shoulder, was Mike. A grinning, twinkling-eyed Mike.

  This stupid penthouse was soundproof. That had to be how Mike kept sneaking in on her.

  Then she thought about exactly what she had been saying—which they’d obviously overheard—and wondered if it was soundproof enough to hide a scream of absolute mortification.

  EMILY DIDN’T WANT TO THINK of herself as disloyal, but secretly, she had to admit, she had loved Friday’s picnic. It had been the highlight of her summer so far, surpassing even her private dates with Mr. Ward. Not that date was the word she’d use for them. Meetings, appointments—that was more accurate.

  Nice meetings. Cordial appointments. That was about all.

  She’d been meek and quiet. He’d been cool and impersonal. They’d been utterly and completely boring.

  But the picnic had been different. Mainly because Rod had been different. Teased out of his ill humor by an unrelentingly jolly Mortimer Potts, Rod had finally become the man Emily had imagined him to be. Less proper, more adventurous, joining with Mr. Potts in telling outrageous stories of adventure and excitement. Actually laughing deep belly laughs the likes of which she hadn’t heard come out of his mouth before.

  His fine gray eyes had sparkled; the lines beside his mouth had eased and when he smiled, he looked almost youthful. When he was relaxed, ten years fell off the man’s face.

  He’d even—she believed—flirted with her. At least, she thought he’d been flirting when he’d smiled as he’d informed her that her lips were shiny from the fried chicken she’d been eating. Roderick had also touched her more than he had previously, taking her arm when they’d walked over uneven ground, holding her hand for a moment longer than he’d had to when he’d helped her out of the car. And for at least a short time, Emily had forgotten how romance heroines were supposed to behave and she’d simply let herself laugh and have a fine time.

  “A lovely time,” she murmured as she prepared herself a cup of tea that evening. “What a perfect day.” She did a little spin around the kitchen as she went to the refrigerator for milk, smiling at her own foolishness but unable to help it.

  It hadn’t merely been Roderick’s mood that had made the afternoon delightful, it had been the whole experience. Emily hadn’t gone on a picnic in years—decades even. And though they hadn’t had an official picnic hamper, their brown-bag carryout meal from Tootie’s Tavern had been fine. Even spiteful old Ivy Feeney had been charming…. Vivacious and happy, she’d almost seemed like the girl Emily remembered from school. Not the harpy who’d returned to Trouble after being widowed.

  They’d gone to a woodsy park outside of town, cleaning off a dusty old picnic table and spreading their lunch on it. Glancing around, Emily had wondered at the complete air of abandon in the place, judging that, like her, everyone else in Trouble had simply forgotten it was here.

  Emily had gone by the overgrown entrance to the wooded place hundreds of times over the years, but somehow, it had never registered. She’d never taken note of the shady gravel road or the nearly unreadable sign hanging by one corner. The park had slipped out of her memories, even though her father used to bring her here with the other kids to swim in the pretty green lake.

  Funny how decades of living in a place made it so entirely familiar that you no longer even saw parts of it. Like rereading a much loved book, when the eyes skimmed over familiar lines, no longer even recognizing individual words.

  Emily loved to read—mostly romance stories, but any good novel would do. That was another thing she and Roderick had in common, along with their delight in history and appreciation of good art. Of course, Roderick actually knew something about art—Emily only knew what she liked and what she didn’t. But somehow, their tastes meshed.

  They were, in fact, very well matched, as comfortable together now, after their three or four get-togethers this week, as a pair of old friends.

  Friends. That was the part that bothered her. Because today was the first time he’d acted the way she thought a man would act if he were interested in more than friendship. And it was the first time she had ever relaxed enough around him to be herself, rather than her idea of what a woman in a romance should be.

  That had delighted her. But it had also terrified her. Because as he had escorted her home, he’d begun to retreat again. His smile had faded, his back had stiffened. By the time they’d reached her door, he’d become the same nice-but-aloof man she’d spent so much time with in recent days.

  She liked that man. Quite a lot, in fact.

  But it was the charming laughing one at this afternoon’s picnic whom she knew she would dream of tonight.

  “What are you doing?”

  As usual, when Allie popped downstairs into the kitchen, she took Emily by surprise. On evenings like this one, she half wished she hadn’t told the girl to feel free to come and go down the back stairs of the house, which connected Emily’s area to Allie and Hank’s apartment. If Allie had come down a few minutes sooner, she would have seen her landlady twirling around the kitchen in her bathrobe like a witless teenager.

  “Nothing at all, dear, would you like some tea?” she asked, managing to keep her voice noncommittal.

  Allie hopped up onto the kitchen counter, swinging her legs so her heels touched the cabinet doors. She looked like a little girl ready to exchange secrets, except the secrets Allie wanted to hear about involved very adult activities.

  Or…so Allie thought.

  Unfortunately, they did not. Because her dates with Mr. Ward had included no adult activities. Not even a kiss. Still.

  “Tell me about the picnic.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  Allie rolled her eyes. “Duh. I work for Mortimer. They came back to the house talking about nothing else today.”

  Of course.

  “Did Roddy finally loosen up?”

  Emily thought about it, then nodded. “I’d have to say he did.” A smile widened her lips. “He was delightful.”

  Allie’s eyebrows waggled up and down. “So…how far’d you go? I mean, it’s not like you guys haven’t gone out before, so I sure hope you didn’t stop at first.”

  “First?”

  “Base.” Allie reached for Emily’s cookie jar, helping herself to a freshly baked oatmeal cookie. As she nibbled, a look of pure bliss appeared on her face.

  It was nice to have someone to bake for again!

  “What’s that?” Emily asked, though she had a vague idea.

  Allie gaped. Young people these days—they simply had no idea how different their world was to the one in which Emily had grown up. She hadn’t even been allowed by her parents to wear ladies trousers until she’d been over twenty-one years old.

  Allie quickly explained what she’d meant about the bases, running down the latest rules about how quickly a woman was supposed to let a man make it all the way around.

  Ha. So far Roderick hadn’t even picked up the bat.

  Some of that disgruntlement must have shown on her face because Allie hopped off the counter to approach her. Her cheerful face appearing much more serious than usual, she said, “What’s the matter? Is there anything else you need to know about?”

  The girl probably wondered if Emily needed to talk about sexual positions or something equally as outrageous. So she was probably very surprised when Emily replied, “Yes. How on earth do you get a man to kiss you?”

  For once, Allie appeared shoc
ked into silence. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, obviously not knowing what to say. Emily understood the feeling.

  “You’re as flummoxed as I am,” Emily murmured, almost laughing at the young woman’s consternation.

  “Roderick hasn’t…?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess that means he also hasn’t…”

  “No!”

  “I’m sorry.” Allie scrunched her face in concentration. “Have you made it clear you want him to kiss you?”

  Not being sure what that entailed, she answered truthfully. “I thought that was a natural progression when two people have been seeing so much of one another. In the movies…”

  “Forget the movies. You watch too many movies.”

  She supposed she did.

  “Guys in old-time movies always seemed to have some romance handbook, but real men don’t, Emily. I think it’s time you came right out and let Roderick know you’re interested in more than he’s been offering you.”

  Emily was shaking her head before Allie had even finished her thought. “I couldn’t.”

  “You could. You have to. If you were dealing with Mortimer, you’d already be playing chase-around-the-desk, but Roddy’s a tougher nut. I should have realized it—he’s decided he’s past his prime and too old for romance. He’s not going to go down that road unless he is quite sure it is what you want.” Staring into Emily’s face intently, she asked, “So, is it? Or is a nice, quiet friendship enough for you at this point?”

  She thought about it. The answer should have been easy because she’d been telling herself for ages she wanted a little romance in her life. Now that she had a male friend, however, she’d found she liked it. And she did not want to upset that by doing something to drive Roderick away completely. Finally, though, she had to admit at least one thing to herself: she’d like to be kissed. If nothing else…she wanted a kiss.

  “No, Allie, I really don’t think it is enough anymore,” she finally admitted, the words rushing out in one exhaled breath. “Tell me what to do.”

  Reaching for another cookie, Allie nodded her head, then sat at the kitchen table. Talking a mile a minute, she was like a general in a battlefield, etching out her attack plan with her fingertip on the table’s wooden surface.

  By the time she was done, Emily was shaking her head. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

  “Yes, you can,” Allie said, as if reading her thoughts.

  “I’m not making any promises.”

  Allie stood, walked around to Emily’s chair and hugged her around the shoulders, offering as much support and encouragement as her tiny frame could manage. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to promise me anything. But you need to promise yourself you’ll at least try to do these three things.”

  Emily nodded, knowing what they were. Allie had gone over them once. But her young friend insisted on repeating herself.

  “First, quit playing silly games and acting like a woman in a movie—be the real Emily we all know and love.”

  “Yes.” She agreed with that one wholeheartedly. She was tired of pretending to be someone she wasn’t—someone proper and meek, who smiled faintly and never laughed too loudly. That wasn’t Emily Baker and it was about time Roderick Ward discovered it.

  “Second,” Allie said, “follow your heart.”

  She could do that, too. She feared her heart was already engaged in the matter. It had been since the picnic yesterday when she’d realized she could so easily be in love with the smiling, easygoing Roderick she’d seen at the park.

  “Finally,” Allie said with a huge grin, “don’t wait for him. You grab him, plant one to-die-for kiss on the man’s mouth, and take what you want.”

  That was the sticky one. Because Emily honestly didn’t know if she had the courage to do as Allie said.

  But in the end, she gave her promise.

  She would at least try.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Have you seen the commercial that says a real man should have no problem spending a month’s salary on an engagement ring for the woman he loves? Ha. I don’t know a man who wouldn’t bitch about spending a month’s salary to buy a kidney to save his own life, much less a piece of rock for a woman he’s already thinking might someday cost him a lot more than a month’s salary in alimony.

  —I Love You, I Want You, Get Out by Jennifer Feeney

  MIKE LIKED JEN’S FRIEND ASHLEY. Tommy liked her even more.

  In fact, he strongly suspected that right now, Tommy and Ashley were liking each other in the attractive blonde’s bed.

  He smiled, thinking what a strange coincidence it had been that he’d brought his single buddy up to meet Jen at the very same time she’d invited her single friend over, too. Tommy had been nattering on all night about it being fate. Mike considered it serendipity.

  Like the way he’d happened to come driving into Trouble at the very moment a barefoot, tire-iron-swinging Jen had been trudging down the same road.

  “What’s that smile for?” she asked as she returned to the living room, carrying two small glasses of brandy.

  “Nothing. Just enjoying the view,” he replied as he watched her walk over, her curvy hips swaying gently, her thick hair bouncing on her shoulders.

  God, she was beautiful.

  “Tonight was fun,” she said as she sat beside him on the couch. Mike immediately stretched his arm across her shoulders, tugging her against him. She curved into him, fitting as perfectly as a glove on a hand.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  The four of them had spent the evening together in an impromptu double date. They’d gone out to dinner, his ex-partner never shutting up. He’d told story after story, at ease with everyone, as always. Charming and full of laughs, he’d obviously gotten Ashley’s attention right away.

  Jen had liked him, too. But the intimate smiles and fleeting touches she’d given Mike all night had let him know where her only interest lay. Not that he needed the reassurance—he knew Jen could barely keep her hands off him. It was mutual. But it was cute to think she needed to make sure he didn’t get jealous.

  Mike never got jealous. Ever.

  Though, he had to admit, if Tommy had made a move on Jen, he probably would have broken his best friend’s legs.

  “Think they’ll ever see each other again after tonight?”

  He had a feeling they were seeing a lot of each other right about now. “I don’t know. Tommy’s a player.”

  “So’s Ash.”

  He lifted his glass. “A perfect match.”

  Hell, maybe they were. Maybe a strong, single-minded woman would turn Tommy inside out, much the way Jen had him. There was no doubt why Ashley was Jen’s best friend—the two of them were a whole lot alike.

  “So, tell me about you getting shot.”

  Mike tensed, cursing his buddy’s big mouth. Because he’d danced around that story all night, playing coy whenever Jen had asked for details. He should have known the relentless woman would be at him for it as soon as they were alone.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  She nestled closer, until her sweet hair brushed his face and neck. Lifting one hand, she placed it on his chest, zoning in on the small scar. She traced it through his shirt, lightly, delicately, as if trying to take away any residual pain that had long since ceased to exist. “I wondered about this scar,” she murmured. “Was it…”

  “Yeah.” He sipped his drink, stretching uncomfortably. She felt so incredibly good beside him, he didn’t know if he’d be able to refuse any request she made.

  Jen turned a little, lifting one slender leg across his thighs. “Tell me,” she said softly. “It wasn’t a regular cop story, I know that much. Otherwise your big-mouthed friend would have spilled it.” She hesitated. He could feel her swallow, then she whispered, “Why do I have the feeling it…involved a woman?”

  “Maybe because my ex-partner and former best friend dropped that tidbit when I was out of earshot?” he r
eplied dryly.

  Jen sat up, meeting his stare, looking disgruntled at having been caught. “How’d you know?”

  “Because I know Tommy. And I know you. And I knew the minute I got up to take that call during dinner that you were going to harass him for more details and he was going to give you a few.”

  Her bottom lip went out as she frowned. “Well then why don’t you just tell me everything I want to know?”

  “Why don’t we go to bed and I’ll do everything you want to have done?”

  Her eyes flared, excitement shining in them as it always did when they got physical. Damn, the woman was insatiable. In that they were well matched—he couldn’t get enough of her. Every time he came inside her, he immediately began thinking about having her all over again.

  “Tell you what. You tell me your story. And I’ll tell you some things I’ve never told you.”

  Cautiously interested, he raised a brow. “Like what?”

  A sultry smile widened that sexy mouth. “Like exactly what I want you to do to me that you haven’t already.”

  He had to shift again, this time because his pants had pulled tight across his crotch. She got him hard with a smile and a whisper. “Is there anything we haven’t done?”

  She nodded, licking her lips. “I can think of a few things.”

  Erotic things. Wild things. Yeah. He could think of them, too. He just hadn’t been sure she’d want to do them.

  “I’ve been eyeing those handcuffs of yours….”

  He put his head back and groaned, sure he was going to burst out of his pants now.

  “I’d love to have you at my mercy,” she added.

  Mike’s head shot back up. “You want to use them on me?”

  Out came that pink tongue again, gliding across those full red lips. “Eventually.”

  Hell, he was in trouble. A complete goner. He was ready to blab anything she wanted to know, his own personal secrets included. So, after draining his glass, he spilled his guts. As briefly and concisely as possible, he told her what had happened—his ex-girlfriend, her psycho friend. The shooting. The subsequent breakup and the reasons behind it. All of it.