“No…” Jonah moaned. “Not now…”
Looking dazed, lips swollen and eyes looming even bigger and bluer than usual, Angel said, “I’ll get her.”
“No, let me.”
“Okay. But come right back.”
“I will.” More than a little dazed himself, he kissed her again.
In the kitchen he found Katie crying with the lid on her face. He couldn’t help but smile. When she’d first come home as a newborn, he’d gone through the house baby-proofing. Back then, he’d still had that rush that comes from being a new dad.
And now, thanks wholly to Angel that wondrous feeling had returned.
Scooping up this new and improved Katie, who’d rolled onto her back and wiggled her arms and legs like an upside-down turtle, he brought her to his chest, loving the feel of her actually snuggling into him for comfort. Angel had dressed her in fuzzy pink footie-pajamas and she smelled like pink baby lotion and that yellow baby shampoo.
A rush of happiness surged through him, taking him completely by surprise at the notion that, all in one night, he’d had to worry about his kid making too much noise, then getting herself into trouble. This amazing kid of his who—just a week earlier—wouldn’t even eat, was now turning into a hellion. And he loved it—her—so much that he laughed. Right there in the middle of his kitchen, out loud for the world to hear.
For the first time in he couldn’t remember when, Jonah McBride was happy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You’re kidding, right?” Saturday night, finally back at his office, seated behind his desk with the phone tucked into the crook of his neck, Sam sighed.
No way.
No freaking way that after finding not a single lead for a week was he now going to be faced with this. And here Jonah was, thinking Angel was his savior when, if Detective Neil P. Mercoup of Boudreaux Parish, Louisiana, was right, Angel might be his worst nightmare—hell, all their worst nightmares.
“No suh. If your gal’s same as ours, she’s a bona fide she-devil.”
“Can you email me a picture?”
“Not tonight.” Static crackled through the line. “We got us a storm raging down here. Everything’s out ’cept for the phone and emergency lights. Shoot, t’only reason I’m here is ’cause my muthah-in-law’s down from Shreveport.”
Lord almighty, Sam hated doing this. What if he was wrong, and Jonah’s Angel wasn’t this crazy Mary Peters?
Yeah, but what if she is? You really want your friend and his baby hanging out with a psycho even one more hour? The only way he’d know for sure was by checking her for a hatchet tattoo behind her left ear.
Expression grim, Sam said a quick thanks, made his good-byes, then grabbed his hat. Good thing Ed’s Tire had been fast with fixing his car.
“What’s so funny?” Angel leaned against the kitchen archway.
“Nothing. Everything.” Jonah spun to face her, drinking in her just-kissed smile and luminous aquamarine gaze. He felt about like a kid making puppy eyes at his first dog, asking his parents if he could keep her. “I can’t get over what a difference a week makes.”
She hugged him with Katie stuck in between them, fisting his T-shirt.
“Dinner’s probably all dried up,” she said, voice muffled by the baby and his chest. Her words felt all breathy and warm against him and he couldn’t tell where Katie left off and Angel began.
For all he knew, maybe they were one.
Maybe all this was a crazy dream.
Maybe he should quit worrying and go with it—her.
“I don’t care,” he said, hugging both.
“You will when you’re chewing pot roast that has the consistency of week-old bubble gum.”
He blanched. “You’re right. You’d better focus on cooking. Need help?”
“Nope.” On her tiptoes, she kissed him, then the baby. “You tuck in, Lizzy. It’s already thirty minutes past your bedtime, isn’t it, my little cutie patootie?” She tickled Katie on her belly and she grinned.
Grinned!
Jonah snatched Katie’s tiny hand in his and waved. “Good night, Miss Angel.”
“Miss Angel?” She scrunched her nose. “Mommy will do just fine.”
Because in the week she’d been there, she was already more of a mother to Katie than Geneva had ever been, Jonah wholeheartedly accepted. Trouble was, the same old problem kicked him in the ass every time he got the slightest bit comfortable around Angel. That niggling issue of her most likely belonging to another man, and definitely another baby.
And that hurt like someone stabbing him with shards of glass—blunt-tipped screwdrivers, pitchforks, and hoes.
“Thought you were going to tuck in Lizzy?”
He looked up with a start. “Right. I’ll be right back.”
Angel sighed, watching her husband mount the stairs two at a time. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to slow down with the baby, but he hadn’t taken kindly to her advice over at the diner this afternoon, so she doubted he’d appreciate her counsel on the fine art of walking as opposed to jogging.
Dare she hope he was hurrying to return to her?
Fingertips to her lips, she closed her eyes, savoring the memory of their kiss. Just thinking of Jonah made her breasts ache and much lower parts hum. Would tonight be the night he once again became her husband in every sense of the word?
Unable to bear the thought that she was getting her hopes up for nothing, she reasoned that even if Jonah didn’t make love to her tonight, at the very least that kiss had been something to celebrate. There had been nothing chaste or even remotely innocent about what happened between them. It’d plain and simple been the kiss of a man wanting a woman.
A happy woman.
She allowed herself a jubilant squeal and quick hug, then focused on dinner.
If food was the way to a man’s heart, then, by the end of the night, she’d have her course to Jonah mapped out. Pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. Steamed green beans and for dessert, blueberry pie—still warm from the oven.
“Sure smells good in here,” Jonah said.
She jumped. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. Truth be told,” he stood beside her at the stove, “back in the living room, you—that kiss scared me. I shouldn’t have—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “It was wonderful. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing. Help me get these green beans on the stove, then as soon as they’re done we’ll eat.”
Not five minutes after they sat down to dinner, a knock sounded at the back door.
Her husband shot the door and the shadow lurking behind the calico curtain a dirty look. “Wanna pretend we don’t hear whoever it is?”
The shadow knocked again.
Angel sighed and pulled her cloth napkin from her lap to set it on the table. “Great idea, but looks like whoever it is, is persistent.”
She started to get up, but Jonah beat her to it. “Let me,” he said. “Hopefully it’s just Esther wanting to borrow milk or sugar. I’ll load her up, then send her packing.” He winked before opening the door.
“Do I have a knack for showing up at the right time, or what?” Sam smiled at them both, hoping this night went better than he feared. “Mmm, mmm. I could smell that pot roast all the way out at the car.” He removed his hat on his way through the back door, parked it in its usual spot atop the fridge, then shook Jonah’s hand. Looking over to the prettily set table brimming with home cooked food, Sam cast Angel his biggest smile. “Don’t suppose I could charm you into setting an extra place for a friend?”
“No.” Jonah slammed the back door.
“Honey?”
Sam didn’t miss Angel giving her temporary pretend husband one of those shame-on-you looks only a wife could pull. Interesting.
To Sam, she said, “Of course, I’ll get you a plate.”
“Let me.” When she’d started to stand, Jonah placed his hand on her shoulder.
>
“I promise to eat fast,” Sam said when Jonah plunked a plate, knife and fork on the table. He drew out the chair beside his hostess and across from his glowering host.
“No need to hurry.” Angel smiled, forking a bite of green beans. “Maybe later we could even play cards.”
“I’m pretty beat,” Jonah said. “No way I could stay up for cards.”
Sam caught Angel passing her husband another look. Either she was awfully polite, or Sam figured he’d interrupted way more than dinner.
Aw, man, his old pal Jonah wasn’t stupid enough to have actually fallen for her, was he?
Sure, she was gorgeous, seemed sweet—she was even a damned good cook—but there was also a good chance she was a natural born killer. At the very least, she was already married. The more time that passed without him digging up info on her only added to his already bulging list of suspicions.
Housewives didn’t just up and vanish. Which meant if Angel wasn’t someone’s long-lost wife and mother, for Jonah’s sake, Sam had to at least explore the possibility she could be Louisiana’s homicidal Mary Peters—not wanting to be found.
Jonah cleared his throat. “Been a long day, Sam. Mind getting to the heart of your visit?”
“Got a few questions,” Sam said.
“About my car?” Angel set her fork on her plate. “I thought we’d been all over this. Jonah, you told me you called the insurance company.”
“He did.” Sam jumped to his friend’s defense. “Trouble is, nobody—not me or the insurance company—can find hide nor hair of your vehicle. And that’s not all. Every time I try digging up info on this case, either my computer goes dead, the tires blow out on my car, or my email prints out all kinds of crazy shi—stuff.”
“And this is our business how?” Jonah asked. “’Cause seems to me all this equipment trouble should be taken straight to the Boy Mayor.”
“Already done.”
“What’d he say?”
“The usual. Send my deputies out to catch more speeders and the department will have more money.”
“Sounds like him.”
“Okay, so wait…” Angel pressed her fingers to her temples. “What does any of this have to do with my car? Shouldn’t it be on the side of the road somewhere, clogging a ditch?”
“That’s what I thought.” Sam helped himself to a generous serving of pot roast, then buried it in gravy. “Trouble is, it isn’t.”
Eyes narrowed, she asked, “What do you want me to do about it?”
“I s’pose nothing.” He toyed with a roll. “On the other hand...”
“What?” Jonah snapped.
“Maybe Angel knows more about the car than she’s letting on. Maybe—”
“That’s enough.” Jonah rode his proverbial white horse to Angel’s defense faster than Sam would’ve liked. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”
Sam shrugged. “In my line of business that’s something that can’t always be helped.”
“Sure it can…” Jonah leaned forward, planting his forearms against the table. “All you have to do is shut up and tell my wife how good her pot roast tastes.”
“Your wife?”
“Yeah. My wife.”
“Jonah… You know I love you like a brother, but—”
“But what?” Angel damn near shrieked. “Just say it! What horrible thing is it you think I’ve done?”
Jonah placed his hand over hers, “Sweetheart...”
“No, I want to know, Jonah. He barges in here uninvited, and even though we’ve offered to share our meal—not to mention our friendship—I can’t help but feel he’s not my friend.” Pushing her chair back from the table, she added, “For that matter, maybe he never was yours.”
Working his jaw, Jonah looked from his best friend to the woman to whom he owed his baby’s life. One allegiance was strong, but the other…
They were talking Katie’s life. He couldn’t let Sam ride all over Angel this way. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Still, there had to be some way to settle this peacefully. “Angel, honey,” he finally said, “please, sit back down. I’ve known Sam all my life. I’m sure he didn’t mean—”
“Yes, Jonah, I did.” Sam pushed his chair back, too.
“You can’t be serious.”
“H-have I committed some kind of crime?” From her reflection in the kitchen’s bay window, Jonah watched Angel’s complexion turn waxen. “Because if I have, I have rights. You can’t just—”
Sam sprang from his seat, stepping deep into Angel’s personal space. “Barge in here and haul you down to the station for questioning? As a matter of fact, yes, I can.”
“Jonah? Do something.”
He was already on his feet, hands fisted, ready to blow. “That’s it, Sam. Get out.”
“Not until I—”
From upstairs came the sound of Katie’s cries.
“I’ll get her,” Angel mumbled, already halfway across the room.
Jonah let her go, glad for the time alone with his one-time good friend. “Mind telling me what the hell’s this about?”
Sam sharply exhaled. “There’s no good way to say this, Jonah, so I’m just gonna spill it. Angel—she, well, I just heard some news from a detective down in Louisiana who says she just might be the devil herself. If your Angel’s the woman he thinks she is, she’s wanted for armed robbery, kidnapping, grand theft auto…The list goes on and on.”
“This is bullshit and you know it.”
“No, bud, I don’t. Which is why I’m here. If she is this Mary Peters, do you really want her spending one more second alone with your kid?”
“She’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I know, okay? I’d feel it. Some kind of wild kingdom instinct thing would kick in. I’m Katie’s father, for Christ’s sake.”
“Yeah, you really got a lot of mileage out of that when she refused to eat, didn’t you?”
“Take that back.”
They stood toe to toe.
Eye to eye.
Nostrils flared.
Hands fisted.
Whoa, whoa, time out. Geneva squeezed between the two bruisers, flattening what was left of her vaporous palms against their chests. Each man’s pain shot through her in waves.
“Sam really is looking out for your best interests,” she told Jonah.
“She’s okay,” she told Sam. “Angel’s not that crazy woman.”
“How would you know?” Teach barged in on her big rescue.
“Geez!” Now Geneva was clutching her own chest. “Couldn’t you have at least knocked before popping into my space?”
He shrugged. “Too late now. Anyway, what have you found out about Jonah and Katie’s Angel?”
“She’s a good cook, has rotten taste in wallpaper, and seems to have a genuine fondness for my husband and baby.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean, that’s it? Keeping an eye on Sam is taking every ounce of my time and then some. He never sleeps. Did you know that? Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to zap him when he tries to get outside information on this woman? Then there was his attempted trip to Little Rock. I popped more tires today than a kid with a whole case of bubble gum.”
Teach rolled his eyes. “If you must use an analogy, please at least try to ensure it makes sense.”
“Are you dense? Popped tires? Popped bubbles? What don’t you get?” More than annoyed, she blew him off, returning her attention to Jonah and Sam.
“Get out,” Jonah said to his one time friend.
“Not without checking her neck for a hatchet tattoo.”
“Are you insane? She’s probably up there feeding my child. What kind of gun-toting redneck whores bearing hatchet tattoos do you know who take time from their busy schedules to breastfeed a helpless baby?”
Sam worked his jaw. “All I’m saying is—”
“Get out. I’ve not only seen Angel’s neck, but kissed it. I can assure you, she has no tattoo. You f
ind real evidence, maybe—maybe—we’ll talk. Until then, stay the hell off my property.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t.”
“So it’s come to this? After all the years we’ve known each other, you’re gonna let a woman—a strange woman—come between us?”
Jonah stared his friend hard in the eyes. “Guess so.”
Sam shook his head, eyed his friend one last time, then snatched his hat off the top of the fridge and exited out the back door.
Watching him leave, Geneva released a wall of breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Heck, for that matter she hadn’t even realized she needed air.
Teach noted, “I must say, that could’ve gone better.”
“And I must say… Mind your own damned business. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Which isn’t anywhere near good enough.”
“What do you want me to do? If I let Sam get the goods on Angel, then she’s gone. If I don’t, then she’s gone anyway, ’cause the first second I’m concentrating on Jonah and her becoming a family, Sam’s off on some wild-ass tangent with guys like Buford T. Justice.”
“Who?”
“The sheriff from the Smokey and the Bandit movies. Classics. Burt Reynolds and Sally Fields? They used to date, but—”
He held up his hand. “Enough.” He put that same hand to his forehead. “Never, in over a thousand years’ teaching, have I run across a pupil as difficult as you.”
She preened. “That just proves you need to get out more.”
“Sorry about all that,” her husband said from the open nursery door.
Angel looked up. Lizzy had fallen asleep at her breast and she tugged her bra and his jersey back in place, feeling a sudden urge for modesty. “It’s okay.”
“No,” he crossed to her, “it’s not. This is our home. And in our home I demand my wife be treated with respect.”
It might have sounded old-fashioned, but at that moment with Jonah’s protective words ringing through her head, Angel could’ve swooned. She swallowed hard, tracing her finger along Lizzy’s silken brow. “You really mean that?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” He knelt beside her, cupping her face with his big, strong hands. His warmth, his strength, seeped into her, through her, until the two of them merged into one.
Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait) Page 15