by Lily Baldwin
She let her shoulders relax. “It’s supposed to, but the lock broke and the super hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”
A flash of anger crossed his face. “We’ll have to remedy that.”
She didn’t want to tell him that he would be wasting his time. She had called the super three times just that month to get the lock on the door fixed, and each time he blew her off.
“What floor are you on?” he asked, taking her hand.
“The second.”
He led the way, keeping her just behind him. She stared up at his strong, wide shoulders and felt a wave of security pass over her.
She hadn’t felt safe since she was sixteen.
Suddenly, he paused, his shoulders visibly tense. “Someone is coming down,” he said.
She listened to the shuffling footfalls on the stairs and smiled. “It’s just Mrs. T.”
A moment later, an old woman dressed in a beaded gown appeared on the landing. Her dyed jet-black hair was adorned with a large, bright pink flower that matched her lipstick.
She smiled down at them, deep creases forming around her eyes. “Why, hello,” she said with a rich Southern twang.
“Hi, Mrs. T,” Angel answered.
Mrs. T’s gaze shifted quickly from Angel and slowly traveled down the full length of Ethan’s body. “Why, Angel, aren’t you going to introduce me to your fella?” she said, openly admiring Ethan.
“Ethan, this is Mrs. T. Mrs. T, this is Ethan.”
Mrs. T. gracefully arched her arm over her head. “Sixty years ago, I came up from Atlanta to dance on Broadway. I used to be a star.”
Ethan dipped his head to her. “I know,” he said.
“Oh, is that so,” Mrs. T. said coyly. “I don’t believe you. You’re too young to have heard of me.”
Ethan smiled. “You have the distinct bearing of a dancer.”
“Oh, my stars!” Mrs. T. exclaimed, her smile beaming. “You, sir, are welcome here anytime.” She waved to them as they turned the corner to the next flight of stairs.
Outside Angel’s door, Ethan took her key and opened it. Her chest tightened as she watched him stand in the center of her tiny studio apartment, taking in her entire world in one turn.
“You’ve done well with the space,” he said, approvingly. “Nice clean lines and simple colors.”
His praise brought a smile to her lips that she couldn’t contain. She turned away to hide her pleasure.
“When does your shift start?” he asked, once more drawing her gaze.
Damn, she had almost forgot about work. Once again, she was back where she started yesterday. How the hell was she going to get to work?
“3AM,” she answered brightly, hiding her distress.
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up at two.”
Despite how much she wanted to say yes, she shook her head at his offer. She couldn’t rely on him. She had to sort herself out. “Ethan, I’m grateful to you for last night, but I can’t let you do that.”
He stepped close and gently cupped her cheek in his strong hand. “Angel,” he said softly, his lips a breath from hers. “You don’t have a choice this time.”
∞∞∞
Ethan remained where he was, poised, his mouth hovering above hers as he listened to the sound of her quickening breaths. Then, like a whisper, his lips grazed hers, the barest touch. Her breath caught. Her fingers gripped his jacket. Tension filled his body as he held still, their lips so close but again not touching. He held her gaze, savoring the yearning he glimpsed in her amber eyes. Then he crushed her against him. She groaned, inviting his kiss to deepen. His tongue stroked hers. She tasted clean and warm. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her body melding to his, hungry, soft, and achingly vulnerable.
He pulled away and stared down at her wet, parted lips. Her pulse throbbed at her neck. His heart pounded in his chest. Her lips, her embrace, the feel of her body trembling nervously and wantonly in his arms—he had kissed more women than he could ever count or remember, but never had a simple kiss stirred him so deeply. His hands followed the sleek contours of her waist and smoothed over her slim hips. He never wanted to let her go.
Well, damn…there was a first for everything.
He forced himself to step away, still holding her gaze. “I’ll see you at two,” he said, his voice low and husky. Then he opened her door. “Lock this when I leave.”
Chapter Eight
Angel felt her bruised lips as she stared at the closed door. Ethan’s kiss had left her breathless, weak-kneed, elated, and confused. Her heart continued to race when she, at last, did as Ethan had bade and locked the door behind him. Then, on shaky legs, she headed into the bathroom. She studied her reflection. Her lips were red and swollen. She had never imagined a kiss could be so intense. His hands had been so strong, gentle but insistent. His tongue had stroked hers again and again, stealing her breath, her strength. A sweet ache held her body captive. She closed her eyes, wishing he was there, wishing he was slowly stripping her clothing off, piece by piece, and kissing her from head to toe.
“Oh my God,” she whispered as she turned and splashed cold water on her face. When she looked again at her reflection, she caught sight of the angry bruise marring her cheek, and the horror of last night’s attack came crashing down on her. Her mind raced, spinning out of control as images of cruel eyes and mauling hands combined with the remains of her yearning for Ethan.
To calm down, she had a bath, then picked at some lunch. Still, her head pounded. She tried watching TV, but her mind continued to race. She laid down, not thinking she would be able to sleep. But after a while she dozed off, and when she awoke, her apartment was shrouded by darkness. Stretching, she glanced at the clock. “Oh no!”
It was 1:45 in the morning. She rushed from bed and pulled on a clean work shirt and jeans. Then she brushed out her hair, letting it fall unbound down her back, and quickly ran a mascara wand over her lashes. A few minutes later, a soft rapping sounded on her door. She glanced at the clock. It was exactly 2AM.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Ethan greeted her with a devastating smile. In one hand, he held a cherry red helmet and, in the other, a small, black leather jacket. He set the helmet on the floor and held open the jacket for her. Unable to resist, she reached out and touched the fine leather, which felt as if it might melt beneath her fingers like soft butter. “It’s beautiful, Ethan, but I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”
He stepped closer, so close he stole her breath. “Your safety matters.”
Her legs went weak as he helped her into the thick jacket. It fit perfectly. She turned about to face him. He gently cupped her cheek and pressed a slow, soft kiss to her lips.
Her breathing quickened. He smiled down at her when he pulled away. “Let’s get you to work.”
She swallowed hard as his strong hand encircled hers. He led her out the door. Together, they rode into the city with the autumn moon high in the night sky and longing coursing through her veins.
∞∞∞
“Wicked man candy,” Matty said, peering through Bake Off’s storefront window at Ethan riding off down the narrow North End street. Matty whirled around and looked at her with demanding eyes. “Who was that?”
Angel felt her skin warm as she pretended to be very preoccupied tying her apron. “His name is Ethan, and I told him you would drive me home after my shift. Will you?”
“Of course. Now, answer me already. I can’t handle the suspense. Who’s Ethan?”
She shrugged. “He’s a friend.”
Matty crossed his arms over his chest. “Angel Sullivan don’t you dare bullshit me. Who was that god?”
She began refilling the cinnamon dispenser, still refusing to make eye contact with him. “I’m not bullshitting you, Matty. Ethan’s a friend.”
“Angel, you and me—we’re friends. Do you know how I know that?”
She shook her head, biting at her cheek to keep from smiling and revealing all
the hope building within her that was ready to burst out in a fireworks-display of emotion.
“I saw him kiss you just now. You and me—we don’t kiss like that.”
Unable to hold it back, her smile spread wide. “No, we don’t.” Then her hands flew to cover her face.
“Holy shit! Hell has actually frozen over. Angel, you’ve got the hots for a guy.”
She felt him tug on her hands.
“Come on. Confess. I want details.”
“I can’t,” she pleaded.
Finally, Matty yanked her hands away from her face. She had no choice but to look at him dead on, but Matty’s smile faltered. He reached up and touched her bruised cheek. In a flash, his countenance changed. Matty was a total queen, but he was also a strong and protective man. “Did he do this to you?” He stormed toward the door, clearly intent to see if he could still catch Ethan before he drove off.
Her eyes widened. “No, Matty. It wasn’t him. Ethan saved me.”
He stopped and turned, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have two minutes to convince me that your new man is not a raging, misogynistic asshole.”
Angel confessed all. She told Matty about Ethan first approaching her on the Zakim, about her car being a goner, and how Ethan saved her from being raped and beaten, maybe even killed the night before.
“So, he’s attempted to rescue you twice, then totally saved your life last night?”
“That about sums it up,” she said, plugging in the largest mixer. “Did the shipment of flour come in?” Being the center of attention always made her feel uncomfortable.
“No way,” Matty said, yanking the plug out of the wall. “We’re not done here. You have to tell me if you’re going to let him be the first?”
Angel refused to look at her friend. “Come on, Matty. We’ve got buns to get in the oven.”
“Oh, that reminds me. You know about condoms, right?”
She laughed and threw a handful of flour at him. “Don’t start, Matty.”
Chapter Nine
Angel gasped for breath. She stood with her back pressed against a cold brick wall. There was only hazy light and creeping shadow. Towering buildings surrounded her, growing taller with every breath she took. Shadows raced at her from every direction, lashing out with stinging fists and jabs, catching her face, her stomach. She tried to shield herself from the blows. “Leave me alone,” she cried, but the faceless villains taunted and laughed, mocking her fear. Terror choked the breath from her body. The darkness was closing in around her. She screamed, but then she froze.
A cool breeze, crisp and clean and good, lifted her hair off her shoulders.
“It’s alright. I’m here,” a deep voice said. His words echoed around her.
She turned, searching the darkness. “Ethan?” she whispered, her heart quaking.
“I’m here.”
She whirled around and glimpsed him emerging from the shadows.
“Ethan,” she shouted and ran to him, collapsing in his open arms. The alley faded away. Nothing remained but the two of them and soft, dewy light.
“I will always chase away the darkness,” he promised.
She stared at the sensual curve of his mouth. She was so hungry for his full lips. He pulled her close. “You are mine now.” His lips seized hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. Her body ached. His fingers wove through her hair as he kissed her so hard, stealing the breath from her body. His tongue plunged into her mouth, caressing, teasing, stoking her need. He pulled away and tore her shirt over her head. Then his fingers hooked her bra straps, easing them down her shoulders, freeing her small, pert breasts. Her nipples hardened, aching for his touch. He bent his head and flicked his tongue over her soft, pink skin. Then he drew her nipple into his mouth. She groaned. “More, Ethan. I want more.”
He turned her around and pressed her back against his hard stomach and slipped his hand beneath the waist of her pants. Softly, he stroked her sensitive skin. Then his touch deepened. His finger gently slid inside her. She threw her head back. His lips and tongue made a hot trail down her throat and shoulders, scorching her flesh as he stroked her again and again. The ache continued to build. Her body was so hot and getting hotter and hotter and…
Angel sat up with a start. Her body throbbed from her nearly-fulfilling dream. The intercom buzzer went off, making her jump. She scooted off her bed, realizing the noise must have been what woke her up. She hurried over to the door and pressed the small, black button. “Who’s there?” she asked, hoping it was Ethan.
“United States Postal Service.”
She crossed the room and peeked out the window. A white postal van hugged the curb, and a man wearing the required blue pants stood on her front stoop with a large manila envelope in hand. Pulling on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, she slipped on her chef’s clogs, then headed toward the door. But she paused, remembering to grab her keys. One phone call from Ethan and the super had fixed the lock on the building’s front door.
“Good morning,” the man said in greeting while he held out a black electronic pad for her to sign. After she scribbled out her name, he handed her the package.
“Have a good day,” he said and turned on his heel.
“You too,” she said absently as she examined the envelope.
There wasn’t a return address.
She stepped back into the entryway, but she couldn’t wait to make it up the two flights of stairs to her apartment to open it. Peeling back the fold, she peered inside, spying a flash of silver. She tipped it, and a set of keys and a folded note slid into her cupped palm. She looked at the keys curiously, then read the note. “I painted her cherry red.”
Her brow pinched together. What was that supposed to mean? She looked at the keys again and realized they were her old car keys.
“He didn’t,” she whispered as she headed back outside.
A few spaces away from her front stoop was a car that looked just like her old one, but with a new paint job and killer tires.
“Holy shit!” she squealed and raced over to peek inside. Her mouth fell open when she saw gleaming white leather seats. With her hands shaking, she went to insert the key into the door, then realized she now had keyless entry. Ethan had brought her into the twenty-first century.
She slid into the front seat. It was gorgeous, complete with a new touch screen sound system and automatic windows. Then she spotted another envelope on the passenger seat. She snatched it up and ripped it open, her heart pounding with eagerness.
It read Angel’s Mountain Retreat and included a detailed, hand-drawn map. She skimmed the directions, which clearly led up north.
For a moment, she was wild with delight, but then she hesitated as anxiety crept into her thoughts.
Could she trust Ethan?
What did she really know about him?
So far, he had done nothing to hurt her. In fact, he had saved her life. A cold chill shot up her spine thinking about what would have happened to her in that alley had Ethan not shown up when he did.
Closing her eyes, she gripped the wheel and imagined herself driving north to meet him. It felt so right. She wanted to take the risk. For once in her life, she wanted to be bold. She wanted romance. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.
But she was afraid.
Her shoulders sagged. She let the map fall back on the passenger seat face down, but then she noticed something written on the back.
Take a chance on me.
Kissing Ethan had been the most thrilling experience of her life. She wondered what it would be like to go farther, to go all the way. She wasn’t a virgin still because of a lack of interest. She simply had never met a man she trusted to get that close. Could she take a chance on Ethan? Her heart raced while she considered his request.
Did she dare?
A smile spread across her face. Hell yeah!
She slid from the car and raced back up to her apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. Aft
er she called Bake Off and got her shift covered, she packed a quick bag. Her paycheck should have been deposited into her account, and there was sure to be an affordable place she could stay so that she wouldn’t have to drive home that night. Then she froze. What if Ethan wanted her to stay wherever the map took her? What if it was a hotel? Her heart started to pound at the prospect of staying overnight with him again and what that might lead to. Just the idea made her face warm. What if he asked her to stay? It was not like she knew what to do. What if she was terrible?
“Shut the hell up,” she said out loud, pretending to be Matty. It’s what he would have said to her if he could hear her inner rambling. Maybe she should call Matty and get some tips. He knew what men liked. Her heart and thoughts were beginning to race out of control. She needed to get a grip, or she was going to scare herself out of going.
Just get in the car and drive.
She grabbed her bag, and before she could start another fight with herself, she threw her door open and slammed it shut behind her. With the same determined stride, she stamped down the steps, passing Mrs. T who had chosen a blue flower for her hair that day.
“Why, hello, Angel.”
“Sorry, Mrs. T, I can’t talk today.”
“Go get him,” Mrs. T called after her.
Angel froze and looked back up the steps at the old lady dressed in a blue silk gown. “How did you know where I was going?”
Mrs. T put her hand on her waist, jutting out her hip. “You look elated and terrified, my dear—only a man has that power. Now, go. Run. Don’t stop until you’ve made Ethan yours, or I might consider him fair game,” she said with a wink.
Angel smiled and nodded. Then she turned about, dashed to her car, and started to open the door. The new cherry red paint glinted in the sun. The fine, white leather seats shone crisp and bright. She hadn’t experienced such luxury since she left home five years ago.
She faltered.
In appearance, Ethan seemed like an honest businessman. He was clearly a successful designer and investor. But how could she be certain?