Fallen Angel

by Laura Taylor

  "This isn’t a good time, Thomas," she said. "Perhaps you should…"

  "Will there ever be a good time?" he asked.

  She started to respond, seemed to reconsider, and then simply stepped aside and motioned him indoors with an elegant sweep of her hand.

  Thomas silently thanked the impulse that prompted her grudging hospitality. After handing her the wine bottle, he shed his heavy jacket and boots.

  Geneva remained silent as she led the way to the kitchen. Her silence persisted as she placed the wine bottle on the countertop. Once she located a cork remover and two long–stemmed goblets for the wine, she stepped back.

  Thomas felt her wary gaze as he uncorked the white wine and poured it. He congratulated himself on his restraint, because all he really wanted to do was draw her into his arms and indulge himself with the taste and fragrance of this woman. Instead, he handed her a half–filled wineglass, followed her to the table in the nook adjacent to the kitchen, and settled into a chair opposite her.

  "How are you?"

  Polite conversation. It’s a start, he reminded himself. "Busy with work. Like you, I imagine."

  She nodded, then took a sip of wine. "Very nice."

  "I own the winery. This particular blend of grapes is one of my favorites."

  "Are you hungry? I can fix you a sandwich or a bowl of soup."

  "Not necessary. I’ve already had supper. Rose is single–handedly making up for all the years I’ve been away."

  "She’s happy to have you home, and she enjoys spoiling the people she loves."

  "I’ve picked up a few pounds, courtesy of her home cooking. I’m having to spend more time in the gym to stay even."

  "I had the same problem when we first became friends."

  Thomas relaxed a little. "How’d you solve it?"

  "Simple. Smaller portions." She smiled.

  "Sneaky," he said with an answering grin.

  "Intelligent," she countered. "I didn’t want to have to buy a whole new wardrobe, and there was no way I’d risk offending Rose."

  A sudden movement drew his attention. Thomas shifted his gaze to the view of the backyard visible from the wall of glass behind Geneva. A family of foxes, each one seemingly oblivious to the motion sensors that sent bright light spilling across the landscape, cavorted around the base of a snow–dusted tree stump.

  As he watched them, Thomas reflected on how much he’d missed Geneva in recent days. The absence of her smile had begun to remind him of an absent sun on a summer day.

  "Those little guys visit almost every night," she remarked when she noticed the activity that had drawn his gaze. "They’re like the Three Stooges."

  Thomas looked back at her. "I’d forgotten sights like that. I’d forgotten a lot of things, I guess." He shoved his fingers through his short–cropped dark hair.

  "You seem a bit distracted tonight."

  "Maybe a little," he conceded. "I’ve spent most of the day wrestling with how to handle a new case."

  "You have more than one client now. That’s wonderful."

  "I have a half dozen clients," he told her, signing effortlessly.

  Geneva briefly pondered his announcement. "You’ve become very proficient at signing in recent weeks."

  "I’m highly motivated."

  Glancing away, she absently smoothed a single fingertip up and down the stem of her wineglass.

  Thomas waited for her to look at him before speaking. "It’s important to me to be able to communicate with you, Geneva. If I hadn’t known how to sign because of my mother, I would have enrolled in a class."

  She sank back in her chair. "I don’t know that you should bother."

  "I think you’re worth the effort, or don’t you agree?"

  "Thank you," she said, not really answering him and looking a little dazed by his bluntness. "I’m glad about your clients, Thomas. It appears that you’ll be able to eat this winter."

  He chuckled. Even without his new clients, he could afford to feed himself and the entire population of Cedar Grove for the next hundred years. "So it seems."

  "Are they challenging? The cases, I mean."

  "More than I expected them to be, but I’m on the opposite side of the legal fence these days. It takes some getting used to."

  "I don’t understand. It seems logical to assume that you’d be able to anticipate the tactics of your adversaries, so you’ll have an edge in court."

  "I don’t doubt my abilities. It’s the people. I’m representing real people for a change. Average people who actually need me."

  "I assumed you always had."

  "Not really. I handled a series of major corporate cases, and people counted only in a statistical sense with most of the legal work I’ve done. This feels more…" He paused, searching for the right word.

  "Personal?" Geneva finger–spelled.

  Thomas nodded, pleased that she understood. He remembered the manner in which his parents had often completed each other’s sentences and thoughts. He’d never experienced that degree of closeness with a woman, not even his ex–wife. It was then that he realized that being with Geneva was his only hope of ever finding the inner peace he’d searched for in vain during the last several years. Without her, his decision to make a new start would end up a hollow victory.

  "Very personal, and far more important. This is the kind of law my father practiced. It’s the kind of law I’d originally planned to practice."

  "And now you are," she reminded him.

  "Better late than never." His voice sounded harsh, and he wondered if he’d ever get beyond his conviction that he’d wasted far too many years on meaningless causes.

  "From what Rose has told me, you’ve been involved in some very high–profile cases involving the corporate world. Cases that involved a great deal of money."

  "Yes."

  "I have to admit that what she described often sounded somewhat cold–blooded to me."

  "It was. I was," he admitted. "The ultimate chess player orchestrating a high–stakes game. With tens of millions of dollars at stake in that kind of litigation, I had no other choice."

  "I find it difficult to believe that you’ve ever been cold–blooded. You’re a very… passionate and intense man when you set your sights on a goal."

  "I know." He studied her briefly. "I’ve destroyed the hopes of a lot of people over the years."

  "Because you won most of your cases? Because you did your job well?"

  He nodded.

  "Let go of the guilt, Thomas. You can’t change what’s already happened."

  "Words of wisdom?"

  Geneva shook her head. "Hardly. Just advice from a friend, that’s all."

  "What would happen if I suggested that you follow your own advice?"

  She paused for a few seconds before answering him. "Believe it or not, that’s what I’m trying to do."

  "Is that why you asked me to leave the other night?"

  "I was frightened," she said. "Very frightened."

  "Of me?"

  "Of course not!" she exclaimed.

  "Geneva…"

  She searched his face before conceding, "A little, maybe."

  "Why?"

  "Because I know who and what I am, and you don’t."

  "I’m unshockable at this point in my life, or haven’t you figured that out yet?"

  A sad smile lifted the edges of her lips. "I wish I could believe that."

  "Try, Geneva, for both our sakes," he urged.

  "I’m not willing to be a notch on your bedpost, Thomas. I know all about your conquests."

  Her sudden and deliberate shift in conversation amused him, but only to a point. "You’re dwelling on my past history."

  "Am I? Do you remember that old cliché about leopards and their spots?"

  "You’re trying to manufacture a smoke screen. I know, because I’ve done it often enough in court, so I grasp the mechanics of the process, Geneva. I just don’t understand your motives, although I’d like to."

&nb
sp; She shook her head. "There’s really no point in having this conversation."

  He watched her get up from her chair, pole–axed when he saw the stubborn resignation in her face. She must truly believe what she’d just said to him, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. There was every point in pursuing their conversation. Every point.

  Thomas snagged her hand as she attempted to walk past him. "Don’t run away from me, Geneva. Not this time."

  After reading his lips, she glanced down at his hand before lifting her gaze to his face.

  He released her. Reluctantly.

  She put some space between them before she turned to look at him. "Running isn’t necessary in my own home."

  He surged to his feet, but he didn’t approach her. He sensed the futility of touching her right now. "I care about you, damn it!"

  "And I care about you." She spoke softly, her voice an erotic caress, her features filled with regret. "But that doesn’t change some basic facts about my life."

  "Facts you refuse to share."

  She remained silent.

  "Then let’s try another approach."

  "What do you mean?"

  "A straight–forward affair."

  She stared at him.

  "At least it would be honest, especially if we define the terms at the outset. Perhaps we’ll even manage to de–mystify our attraction to one another, not to mention taking some of the edge off the desire we both feel. Then, maybe you’ll be a little more rational."

  Shocked, Geneva repeated, "Rational? Are you completely nuts?"

  "I don’t think so. If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t think of this the other night. It’s the perfect solution."

  "I can’t…"

  He lifted a hand to stop her. "Before you discard my suggestion out of hand, listen to what I’m actually proposing. We’re both intelligent people, so why be stupid enough to ignore a potential solution to our problem? Neither one of us is involved in another relationship, so no one is negatively impacted by any choices we might make. We’re both in excellent health, so we don’t pose a danger to each other. The sexual tension between us is volatile. Simply put, I want you and you want me. There’s no way to get around that little reality, so let’s damn well do something about it."

  She stood there, and she didn’t say a word. She couldn’t, so she didn’t bother to try.

  Her stunned silence prompted an admission that surprised even Thomas. "Rose was right. I have known a lot of women. They all knew the score where I was concerned. The sex was good. Hell, sometimes it was great. But those relationships were little more than an emotional vacuum, and I finally stopped having them a few years ago because they were dissatisfying. I didn’t like how empty I felt after they ended. I want more. I need a hell of a lot more, especially at this point in my life."

  "Thomas, we can’t just use each other. It wouldn’t be right."

  "This isn’t about using, Geneva. It’s about substance. It’s about mutual respect and admiration. It’s about having balance in our lives. It’s about feeling empowered and strengthened as individuals. It’s about being happy and together, instead of lonely and alone. It’s about honest caring between two adults."

  "You are crazy."

  "Only with wanting you," he ground out.

  "I’m not the right woman for you."

  "You’re the woman I want." And you’re the woman I will have, he thought. "You’re the woman who belongs in my life and in my bed."

  "Listen to me!" she exclaimed.

  "I am listening, Geneva, and all I’m hearing is fear and apprehension. And no explanations about why you’re running scared."

  "Of course, I’m apprehensive. Who wouldn’t be? I don’t want to get hurt."

  "You care about me."

  "Of course, I care, but… "

  "Another smoke screen, Geneva?" he countered relentlessly.

  "Stop this!" She closed her hands into fists, glaring at him.

  "Deny it if you feel you must, but you care about me in ways that surprise and terrify you. And I care a hell of a lot about you. We’d be making love, not just having sex. Tell me I’m wrong," he invited. "And then tell me you don’t want me."

  "This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had with a man!" she protested. "It ends right now."

  Determined to make some kind of tangible inroad with Geneva, Thomas didn’t let himself overreact. Too much was riding on her willingness to participate in what he knew was a shocking solution to the impasse they’d reached. Overt, no holds barred seduction, he’d finally concluded, might be his only way to begin dismantling the invisible barriers around her heart.

  For his part, Thomas intended to do whatever he deemed necessary, up to and including lulling her into a false sense of emotional safety, because his ultimate goal was an honorable one. He wanted a commitment from the lady herself. A commitment that he knew she was capable of making if she would risk trusting him.

  "I consider it to be an enlightened and intelligent approach to our dilemma."

  "We do not have a dilemma. The only thing we have is your refusal to accept my reluctance to complicate our lives. That’s not a dilemma. That’s you being pigheaded."

  He waved his hand dismissively. "Call it whatever you like, but I want you and you want me. And you still have the problem you won’t discuss with me. I respect you too much to unearth the truth through my own sources, but we both know I’m capable of doing just that if you force my hand."

  She gave him a look that sizzled with outrage. "You’d have me investigated? How dare you!"

  "I’ll dare anything to stop your misguided attempt to slam the door on me, all because of some unknown problem. The solution is obvious. We circumvent the problem and move forward. We make love. We share our lives. We do this until you decide to trust me or until you get bored with having me as your lover. If either one of those things happens, we wish each other well and we remain friends."

  "That’s so cold–blooded."

  "There’s nothing even remotely chilly about what I want from you, Geneva. It’s hot, combustible, and damn near about to drive me over the edge. You belong in my life and in my bed. It’s obvious that an affair is all you’re willing to offer me. So be it. I accept your terms."

  She blinked in surprise.

  He took a tactical left turn. "We’ll have an affair, since that’s what you want, but no more hedging and no more games. I won’t play them any longer. I’m forty, not fourteen. I take you seriously, and I take the situation between us even more seriously. I expect you to afford me the same courtesy."

  She appeared close to fainting. "I do want you, Thomas. I’m barely sleeping through the night, I want you so much," she blurted out in that seductive low voice that echoed in his head whenever he was alone.

  Finally! "Are you afraid of me?"

  Although she seemed off–balanced by the question, she shook her head.

  "Good. We’re finally making progress. Now, are you tired enough of the loneliness to do something about it?"

  Geneva hesitated.

  "Are you?" he pressed.

  "Yes, but I…"

  Thank you, God, he thought. "Then why hesitate now?" he hammered right back.

  "What if one of us falls in love?" she whispered.

  I am falling in love. Oddly enough, he felt no apprehension, just a profound sense of certainty that he’d found his mate. "Why don’t we cross that bridge if and when we actually come to it?" he suggested, the self–confident and deadly calm litigator much in evidence now.

  "I need to think about this."

  "Fine. Think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow at the store. You can give me your answer then."

  Still looking stunned, Geneva preceded Thomas to the front door. Although he wanted to reassure her that she could trust him and his motives, he refrained. He knew she was reeling emotionally at the moment, and he’d never been the kind of man to overplay his hand. He loved her enough to take any and all risks, however.
r />   After shrugging into his jacket and stepping into his boots, he turned, drew her into his arms, and molded her to him so that she would have no doubt about his desire for her. Clasping her face between his palms, he kissed her. He kissed her at his leisure, as though he had all the time in the world to spare, and then some. He kissed her possessively, passionately, and with the kind of claim–staking thoroughness that spoke of the depth of his feelings for her. He released her with great reluctance, studied her for a lingering moment, and then jerked open the front door of the chalet.

  As he strode to his car, he knew without glancing back that she still had her fingertips pressed to her lips, her body quaked with arousal, and her emotions were in complete disarray.

  Thomas’s intention had been to shock Geneva, and he knew he had. Hell, he’d shocked himself, but he could no longer abide the secrets she insisted on keeping, the very same secrets she used to hold him at a distance.

  As far as Thomas Coltrane was concerned, tomorrow wouldn’t arrive soon enough.

  8

  A heavy gust of icy wind pummeled Geneva as she made her way from her car to the shop the following morning. The cold air and single digit mercury reading promised additional snow before the end of the day.

  Shutting the front door behind her, Geneva deposited her purse on the counter and unbuttoned her heavy coat. When she spotted Rose, who came bustling out of the storeroom at top speed, she smiled.

  "Good morning. You’re here bright and early."

  Rose nodded. "I certainly am, and it’s a good thing. Those people from the Whitney Group in New York never look at a clock before they call us. They wanted to confirm their meeting with you for tomorrow morning. I told the secretary you’d ring them back if anything interfered with the schedule."

  "I’ll call and confirm with them first thing." Geneva’s smile widened to a grin. "I still can’t quite believe the negotiations have proceeded this far, but I’m definitely ready to see Talmadge, Inc. transformed into a nationwide chain."

  Rose pressed her hands together, her usual smile absent.

  Geneva noticed her worried expression. "What’s wrong? I thought you approved of all my plans for the business."