Not Quite an Angel (Harlequin Superromance No. 595)

by Bobby Hutchinson

  BERNIE AND FRANCES WERE on their way to the benefit when they picked Sameh up at the bus stop. Because of their detour to collect her, they all arrived after the event had already begun.

  Bernie had somehow wangled her a seat at the back, and Sameh sat in the darkened theater, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched and listened as Adam accepted a check and then made a short speech about street kids, a plea so heartfelt and powerful she could see the auras of those around her vibrating in empathy.

  She was overwhelmed by the way he looked in his tuxedo. The stark contrast of formal black and white played up his tanned skin, the ruggedness of his features. Most of all, she was aware of the total honesty he projected. Adam had learned to speak and feel from the center of his soul, and she rejoiced.

  Love and pride and eagerness to be with him burst inside her like the sudden blooming of a flower. She got up to follow him when the clapping faded and he disappeared backstage. It took her a while to convince the burly guard in the outer hallway to let her follow him up the stairs.

  The maze of corridors and dressing rooms up there was confusing, and Sameh had to stop and concentrate now and then, in order to visualize Adam and the route he’d taken, before she arrived at the closed door of the right room. For some reason the door was locked from the inside, but locks were easy.

  She shut her eyes and opened the lock.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “SAMEH?”

  Adam’s voice sounded smothered, and no wonder. He seemed to be wearing a voluptuous woman with short-cropped ebony hair and a tight silver dress. The dress was hoisted up past her curvaceous thighs, which in turn were pressed against a part of Adam that Sameh considered her exclusive territory. She turned her head, gave Sameh an insolent stare, and in a cultured voice said, “How did you get in? This happens to be a private party, dear.”

  Sameh hadn’t felt such a rush of primitive anger since the last time she’d been in the twentieth century. Without a moment’s hesitation, she used the mental abilities she’d perfected, although perhaps not in the precise manner her tutors had intended.

  The woman peeled off Adam as easily as a piece of lint. She floated above the ground, wailing and flailing her arms, and Sameh stepped out of the way as she sailed past her and out the open door. She picked up speed as she traveled down the hall and landed with a satisfying thump and a most uncultured grunt on the uncarpeted floor.

  Sameh stuck her head out the door in time to see this latest exercise in teleportation scramble to her feet, shrieking as if all the demons in hell were after her, and make a mad dash for the stairs. Then she moved back into the room, slammed the door shut and locked it.

  She turned, in slow motion, to look at Adam.

  For a long heartbeat, he stood propped against the wall, unmoving, and stared at her. Then he straightened and came toward her. He made a sound deep in his throat, and at last she was in his arms again.

  He held her locked tightly against him with one arm, while with the other hand he stroked her hair, ran his fingers over her face and glided a thumb across her lips. He let his hand slide down her shoulders, tracing her waist, the swell of her hips, as if he thought she was smoke and might disappear at his touch, but he encountered only solid, warm flesh, and at last he let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “It’s you. My God, Sameh. Your hair’s longer, but it’s really you.” He put his hands on her waist then and held her away from him, abrupt and a little rough. He stared down into her face, a frown creasing his forehead. “So how long are you here for this time, Sameh Smith?” His voice had become harsh and cold.

  She looked up into his green eyes. She was planning to tease him just a little, because of the woman, but when she saw the anguish on his face, the pain in his colors, the very real fear in his eyes, she just couldn’t do it.

  “Only for the rest of this lifetime,” she said as casually as she could manage.

  He went still, and then with a groan he pulled her into his arms again, crushing her against him until breathing was difficult. Had he become stronger since she last saw him, or had she forgotten how muscular he was? She really didn’t mind being squeezed breathless. It felt better than anything she had experienced since the last time she’d been in his arms.

  “You’re going to marry me, then. Damn it all, Sameh. Will you marry me this time?”

  There was that same impatience, the same vexation in his gruff tone that she remembered so well. She pretended to think it over. She tipped her head to the side, frowned and considered the question, then shook her head a little against his chest. “Marriage? I don’t know. It’s such an archaic custom, Adam.”

  His large body grew still. She saw the temper building by the rosy sparks shooting from his aura, and she had to hide her grin against his chest.

  “Listen, Sameh, don’t give me any damned song-and-dance routine right now about our so-called customs, all right? Can’t you, for once, say a simple yes without a lecture about how superior your civilization is?”

  “But it’s not an easy question,” she countered, wondering how far she dared go with this before he exploded. On the other hand, the black-haired woman was very attractive, and he hadn’t been fighting for his honor quite as hard as he might have done. “Marriage involves the concepts of equality and trust and mutual sharing, Adam. We really shouldn’t have to have a ceremony to validate those doctrines, should we?”

  She tilted her head just enough to look up into his face and decided maybe she’d gone far enough when she saw his expression. “Of course,” she added as if the idea had just struck her, “if we were going to have children, then I might change my mind.” She thought-read the next question before he could articulate it. “And since I had my birth sterilization reversed before I came back this time, you should be aware that babies are a very real possibility.”

  It was too soon to tell him just how many babies Kendra had foreseen when she studied their probable reality. The idea of such a large family might be too much for him to adjust to on such short notice. But the state of his lower body, pressed against her, told her he wasn’t considering diapers and applesauce at all at this point. He was obsessed with the procreative process.

  His lips found hers, tasting, exploring. His hand moved, cupped her breast, slid around and down and urged her hips closer still to his hard heat. “I’m all for having babies, Sameh,” he murmured against her lips.

  She shivered and kissed him back, tasting his essence, her tongue as reckless as his, letting his touch heal the emptiness she’d lived with for so long. She loved this man. She’d left her homeland and Kendra and all that was familiar and dear to her to come back to him.

  The kiss deepened.

  From far away came a long burst of applause, music, and then voices and the sound of feet hurrying past in the corridor. Someone tried the door. “Hey, all my clothes are in there! Open up.”

  Adam ignored it all. He went right on kissing her until at last, as unwilling to end it as he was, Sameh pulled away a little, aware of the increasing ruckus outside the door. She reached up and traced the new lines at the corners of his mouth, beside his eyes. Her beloved. Her good, honest man. They would age together.

  “The ceremony’s over, Adam. Bernie and Frances will be looking for me. Bernie said they wouldn’t leave until he knew I was safe with you. And Janice is here—I want to tell her hello. And someone wants in here.”

  “I asked you a question and you still haven’t answered me, Sameh. Damn it all, I love you, woman. Will you marry me? Will you live with me and have my children?”

  A new, more officious knocking began at the door. “Security here. Open up in there.”

  Adam scowled and cursed and then hollered in a savage tone, “Get the hell away from the door, you idiots. Where were you when I needed you, I’d like to know?”

  Sameh giggled. She looked up at this irascible, primitive man who loved her and she had a vision.

  For a moment, the corridors
of time stood open and she saw herself with Adam, together for centuries past, joined for those still ahead, their entwined destinies like a rich mosaic, filled with promise, filled with loving and laughter and tears and pain, with children, and children’s children, before this moment and after it, on and on until the time of her birth in that far off century she’d left for love of him.

  “Of course I’ll marry you, Adam.”

  She saw eternity and truth. She saw the frailty and the power of human love, and it was good.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8401-6

  NOT QUITE AN ANGEL

  Copyright © 1994 by Bobby Hutchinson.

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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