The couple in front of them at the counter ordered. The female opted for a latte and the male for a cappuccino. He searched for those on the board behind the people serving the coffees and taking orders. Latte and cappuccino fell under the coffee heading. He raised an eyebrow again when a small footnote on the board declared that coffee was also available decaffeinated. Marcus presumed that meant they had removed the stimulant. He turned to Amelia.
“I am not really a coffee drinker. It’s the caffeine… it keeps me awake.”
Her grey eyes widened and her lips parted. “There’s herbal tea.”
Tea didn’t seem a very manly drink. He frowned.
“Decaffeinated means without caffeine?” It wasn’t exactly how he had wanted to find out. Asking her what something meant was bound to make him appear less appealing to her. He didn’t know something so basic. How had he missed such things?
He realised that Amelia always drank straight coffee. She had never opted for anything foreign sounding or decaffeinated in all the times he had watched over her. These past thirty years, he had been so focused on her that he had only learned about the things that she liked. Chinese food, Italian cooking, Spanish tapas, and straight coffee. Sometimes a fruity shake, a smoothie they called it, or some frozen coffee drink. Occasionally a glass of wine with friends. Never beer or mead. He grimaced, stomach turning at the memory of what too much mead could do to an angel.
“It’s not quite without caffeine. I think they sort of extract it or something. It leaves a hint of it behind.” Amelia didn’t look sure.
Marcus nodded. “Decaffeinated cappuccino then.”
It sounded manly enough and he could handle any effect it might have on him. He hadn’t tucked in his white linen shirt today because he had wanted to feel the slight breeze, needing it to cool down in the hot summer sun. The tail hung loose, covering his dark jeans to the apex of his thighs. If the coffee produced any sort of negative effect on him, he would be able to conceal it.
Amelia ordered the drinks for him and even paid. He hadn’t noticed in time to stop her, dropping more points in the manly stakes. He had wanted to insist on paying so her trust in him would increase. It seemed to work for the other men in the queue, gaining them smiles from their females.
Chivalry, he supposed. A code of honour he was familiar with. Did it only take chivalry to gain a female’s favour?
He caught Amelia looking around the coffee shop. There were a few tables free on the buzzing inside, but some outside too.
“Why don’t we sit in the sun?” he said before she could make a decision and then added, “I will pick up the coffees while you find us a table.”
She nodded and smiled at him, a brilliant one that drew another hard thump from his heart. At this rate, he wouldn’t need even a trace of caffeine to embarrass himself. Whenever Amelia smiled at him, her grey eyes warm with it, he wanted to reach out and brush the straight lengths of her hair from her face so he could take it all in. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers would definitely be too much. When she had touched his hand last night, he had felt the warmth of her caress for minutes after she had released him. In fact, he could still feel it now if he focused hard enough on remembering that moment, as though a ghost of her touch remained.
The man making the coffees pushed two white mugs towards him and said something about decaffeinated. One looked frothy with a sprinkling of chocolate on top and the other was straight white coffee. Definitely their drinks. He took the two mugs and wove through the patrons in the café, heading for Amelia where she waited for him at a table in the sun.
The evening was drawing on but the light was still warm on her face, highlighting her soft features and shattering the momentary control he had gained over his emotions. How was it that she could distract him so easily?
He placed the coffees down on the round dark metal table and took the seat opposite her, studying her face and trying to keep his attention on the conversation and what she was saying. It was impossible as he looked at her, his knuckles throbbing with the memory of how she had iced them for him, and how gently she had held his hand.
Being around her today was different. Was it because of last night? They had never touched before. They had barely spoken a word to each other beyond pleasantries on meeting in the hallway outside their flats. She had rarely looked at him in the past.
But now she was looking right at him, her gaze boring into his with such intensity but such shyness that he couldn’t look away. Transfixed. Mesmerised. Bewitched. Three words that sounded so innocent yet felt so dangerous to him.
He couldn’t allow things to head in this direction, but he felt powerless to stop them.
Marcus sipped his drink, making appropriate responses whenever he caught what she was talking to him about and enjoying the slight buzz the remaining trace of caffeine gave him. Not enough to cause adverse effects on his body but enough that it created a tingle in all the good places.
Amelia was animated now but the shyness still lingered beneath her layers of confidence, betraying that inside her tough exterior beat the heart of a female, a woman that he was affecting by only sitting and drinking coffee with her. Was this enough to gain her trust? Would it satisfy his superiors or would they demand he took things further?
He wasn’t sure how he would respond to such an order. Drinking coffee with her seemed innocent enough. He wasn’t seducing her or using her feelings against her. He was merely being friendly and it was forging a stronger connection between them. Every minute that passed, each sip of coffee she took and smile she flashed, she was growing more confident and more at ease around him.
The sun bounced off the shop windows on the opposite side of the street and played on her face and her body, stuttering as cars and red double-decker buses broke the beams of warm light. Amelia didn’t seem to notice. She continued to talk about small things such as their neighbours, work and the weather. Idle conversation. He’d had practice in that during previous missions on Earth and also from his time in Heaven when he’d had to speak with angels he wasn’t overly familiar with.
Her eyes sparkled as she smiled again, overflowing with warmth and life, gloriously radiant.
Marcus forgot his coffee and just watched her, stealing this moment with her, unable to believe that after all this time he was actually speaking with her directly, talking to her like a mere mortal and not her protector. It was a strange experience. He had never truly spoken to a mortal before and the workings of her mind were fascinating. She bounced around subjects so quickly that he couldn’t keep up with the flow of conversation, and whenever he fell behind, she smiled brightly and apologised.
Another thing he had never noticed about her before last night.
He had never seen her apologise so profusely to anyone.
She paused in the middle of her conversation about a news programme she had watched about the upcoming planetary alignment.
“Are you sure last night didn’t wreck your sleep?” she said, concern in her eyes as she leaned across the table, affording him a view down her cream dress that he refused to take advantage of.
Marcus held her gaze instead and smiled faintly. “Maybe a little. Have I been… spacing out again?”
That was what she had called it. Spacing out. He presumed that meant he was currently occupying another galaxy. It seemed apt for his behaviour over the past half an hour with her.
“I’m sorry.” Amelia reached across the table and took hold of his left hand, her touch jolting him. His gaze leapt down to her fingers. Her thumb softly caressed his knuckles and her fingertips brushed his palm, bringing everything he had felt last night back to a rolling boil inside him. His pulse raced and his breathing quickened.
Desire?
Couldn’t be.
But even as he stared at their joined hands he couldn’t form a denial.
He inhaled sharply, trying to catch his breath and instead catching her sweet fragrance on the dusty warm air. Blood pounded in his t
emples and he could only watch the gentle sweep of her thumb across his fingers in abject fascination.
Images of her flashed across his wide eyes, dressed in her satin slip or in the tight summer dress she wore now, twirling and spinning towards him until her hands pressed against his chest and she was smiling right up into his eyes, her lips parting in invitation.
No.
He had never cared about anyone.
Had never desired a female.
He couldn’t start now.
CHAPTER 4
Amelia sat back in her seat when Marcus took his hand away from hers and leaned back in his chair. She toyed with her slim black mobile phone for a moment to distract herself from the disturbed look on Marcus’s face. When he didn’t stop glaring at her, she put her phone down on the round dark metal table and nursed her drink, feeling incredibly foolish for taking hold of his hand. She sipped her coffee, grimacing internally as the cold liquid touched her tongue. Nothing was going right for her today. No, some things had been going right. She hadn’t been imagining the way Marcus’s eyes had lingered on her body, or how quick he was to smile at her whenever she smiled at him. Those smiles had reached his beautiful silver-blue eyes too, lighting them in a way that wasn’t fake and that told her they were real this time, not the usual polite ones he forced whenever someone spoke to him.
He had been different since last night.
She wasn’t usually in the habit of relying on men to fight her battles for her but she had appreciated his intervention. It was the first time that a man had come to her rescue and when he had punched Mike, her heart had fluttered and she had looked at Marcus with new eyes. She had noticed him the moment he had moved in next door to her, had registered him as handsome, but she had never really taken the time to look at him. The man had a body that could put models to shame and she hadn’t stopped wondering what he did for a profession since setting eyes on it. Was he a model? She hoped to God he wasn’t a hand model because her own stupid choice of men had gone and wrecked one of his lovely strong hands.
Amelia stared at his injured one, her heart beating hard in her throat. He had large hands, made for cupping and holding, or made for fighting. He had landed a hefty punch on Mike, sending him down with one blow, and for a brief moment she had feared he wasn’t going to get back up. She had almost gone to him but then instinct had kicked in and reminded her that Mike had been intent on fighting Marcus. He must have been drunk. Only an idiot would pick a fight with Marcus if they were sober, and Mike wasn’t that stupid. He should have known he didn’t stand a chance.
Marcus had a seriously cut physique, lithe muscles that radiated strength and raw masculinity.
Once she had noticed that he was topless, it had been difficult not to stare. The few times that she had managed to peel her eyes off his body and found the courage to meet his, he had been looking at her with wide pupils darkening his amazing eyes, a sure sign of desire.
So why had he been so quick to snatch his hand away from hers?
Amelia almost laughed at herself. Since when had she given a damn about what men thought of her? Men were trouble. Mike had hammered that nail so firmly into her head that she had got the message this time. Men were something she could live without and that life would certainly be a lot easier and less painful than hers had been up to this point.
Her eyes betrayed her and snuck back to Marcus. He sat opposite her with his head tilted back and eyes on the sky. The lines of his defined jaw led her gaze up to his square chin and sensual mouth and her pulse picked up, jittery in its beat, when she licked her lips and contemplated what kissing him would be like. He lowered his head, their eyes met and then he looked away, an air of irritation about him.
Her fault?
She had taken his hand last night when icing his knuckles and he hadn’t reacted so coldly then. If anything, the desire in his eyes had increased. What had happened between then and today? Had she said or done something wrong? She could have sworn that she had read the signals right and that Marcus liked her. Now she felt as though a vast frigid ocean had opened between them and that she would drown if she tried to traverse it to reach him.
She wanted to.
Last night had opened her eyes to the fact that there was a fantastic man living next door to her and since then she had felt tied up in knots, twisted inside out and back to front. She had never been backwards about being forward before but something about Marcus made her hesitate. It wasn’t just because he would think she was rebounding. It was because he seemed like a nice guy, a cut above gorgeous in looks and personality, and she didn’t want to screw things up. He had been on her mind all day and she had tried to think of a way to bump into him again so she could strike up a conversation and get to know him better. When she had spotted him outside their building, it had felt as though fate had brought them together, but her nerve had failed at the sight of him standing staring at the floor as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He hadn’t heard her at first. It had taken her three attempts before he had lifted his head and noticed her, and by then her confidence had been shattered. Had he been thinking too?
About her?
Amelia rolled her eyes at her thoughts. As if. The poor man was sleep-deprived thanks to her terrible choice in men. He had probably been spacing out just as she had said he was, unable to function with only a few hours sleep. When he had gone back to his own apartment half an hour after she had iced his left hand, she hadn’t heard a peep out of him until gone six in the morning when there had been some movement next door. She hadn’t been able to sleep herself. Fear had kept her awake and she had watched one movie after another in an attempt to push it to the back of her mind. She was running on empty today, half asleep and feeling as though what had been a dream was turning into a nightmare.
Amelia leaned one elbow on the metal table and stared at Marcus, studying the nuances that crossed his handsome face as he watched the people passing them by on the pavement. For all she knew, Marcus was Mr Right for someone already. It wouldn’t surprise her. He had looks, a fabulous body, was quick to defend women, and had proven himself intelligent in the brief conversations they had shared. Her younger sister would have taken one look at him, with his dark tousled hair that caressed the nape of his neck and sometimes fell down to brush his forehead, causing him to sweep his fingers through it to groom it back, incredible pale blue eyes, and scorching hot body, and declared him ‘smexy’. Smart and sexy apparently. Her mother would have taken one look at him and told her that he was a keeper and not to give up on him.
Someone else was probably already keeping him.
Maybe that was why he had taken his hand back so quickly.
Marcus looked across the table at her and Amelia felt cold inside from the emptiness in his eyes. Where had the nice Marcus gone? Had she chased him away? A sense of impatience surrounded him, as though he didn’t want to sit with her anymore, and he couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a few seconds.
Amelia mused that he was always detached from everyone and distant. She shouldn’t be so surprised that he had withdrawn from her.
“I wouldn’t be any good for you,” he said, his deep voice as devoid of emotion as his face, and Amelia held her hands up, desperate to shift the course of conversation away from her feelings. “You are better off keeping away from me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She had but he didn’t need to know that. Her heart ached as he crushed it in her chest with just a glance and a handful of words. She blushed, her face on fire, and stuttered, trying to get an excuse into order.
She couldn’t find the words as he stared at her, his expression gradually turning from awkwardness towards anger, and she knew in her heart that she couldn’t have been more wrong about him.
His appearance now was a harsh contrast to how he had looked just a few minutes ago and last night. The heat that had touched his handsome features then, warming them and giving her the impression that she stood a chance wi
th him, and the undeniable spark of desire that had lit his eyes, made her feel as though she had met a different person in that moment and not the real Marcus.
Perhaps all her thoughts about him were wrong, even last night, and he was right. She really didn’t know anything about him. Her white knight might just be another black one in disguise and she really didn’t need that on top of everything else. What would she do if Marcus turned out to be another wrong choice when he looked so much like a good man? It would certainly compound the growing notion inside her that she was doomed to spend her life with a string of Mr Wrongs in an impossible search for one Mr Right.
“Did I thank you for last night?” Desperate times called for desperate measures. All she could do now was try to deflect his attention away from what she had done in some dire hope of easing the tension mounting between them.
He nodded. Silent treatment was it? He was the first man to do that to her, but it wasn’t going to deter her. Once they were back on steady ground, she would make her excuses and leave, and hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward between them whenever they met in the hallways of their apartment building.
“Was your coffee good?” Amelia looked at the white mug. He had barely touched it. In fact, he hadn’t done or said much since sitting down with her. He really didn’t want to be here. Had he only agreed to coffee out of politeness?
Marcus lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. He had looked so good in only his deep grey sweat pants, his bare upper body on display as a midnight feast for her eyes. She tried to keep her focus on the more pressing matters of her present situation and failed, ending up picturing him as he had appeared last night instead. He had an athletic physique, toned and powerful but not overly built. The sort of body she would love to run her fingers over and had fantasised about. The sweat pants had barely hidden the muscular shape of his thighs and had rode low on his hips, revealing a V line that had stirred all manner of wicked thoughts in her head, as well as a treasure trail of dark hair that her lips and fingers ached to follow. When he had punched Mike, his entire body had come alive with movement, fascinating her. The way his muscles shifted and moved with him, tensing or stretching beneath his pale skin, had been mesmerising. It had taken her a moment to realise that Mike was flat on his backside and that she should react to it in some way other than gawping at Marcus.
Her Guardian Angel Page 4