Arms of an angel
by
Linda Boulanger
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
TreasureLine Publishing on Smashwords
Arms of an Angel
Copyright © 2011 by Linda Boulanger
All rights reserved.
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the authors, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
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The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, to factual events or to businesses is coincidental and unintentional.
* * * * *
There are certain people
who will cross your path.
They’ll change the course for the good or bad.
Those who change it for the better –
you have to wonder if they were sent by God.
Those are the people we call angels.
Perhaps an earthly angel of sorts…
that’s who he was to Claire.
* * * * *
Sometimes it’s hard to tell where one set of wings ends and the other begins…
Claire wasn’t exactly the type of girl a guy would normally choose to take home to meet Mamma. Yet there she was, on her way to meet Garrett’s parents. Her heart slammed against her chest hidden, in part, by the sweetheart neckline of her blue Carin Morrow. It was the most modest dress she owned and, still, it showed an ample amount of flesh. She’d tried to cover a bit more with a simple sweater, but wasn’t at all sure if she’d been successful. Her wardrobe had been purchased to enhance and show off her assets, not hide them. Dressing to meet parents was not a priority…at least it hadn’t been until now, and in such short notice! Drag her out of bed and tell her to get ready to go to his parents’ farm! Claire teetered between anger and disbelief; all of it mixed with fear. She was sure Garrett’s parents would see right through her. The thought of their disapproving faces filled her with an even greater sense of dread. She wasn’t fit for any man, let alone one as virtuous as Garrett. He was her angel. He’d saved her, yet she didn’t deserve him. Or, perhaps, he didn’t deserve to be saddled with a woman like her. Claire leaned back against the seat, her mind wandering as the passing view changed from steel and concrete to green hills and pastures.
Unwise decisions. That’s what Claire seemed best at making. Incidents in her own life were what she’d chosen to blame - two to be more precise. She lost her parents in a car accident and battled cancer, both at the sweet age of nineteen. Not only did she find herself alone, the cancer had left her without the body parts to ever carry her own child, furthering her sense of being forsaken and useless. She’d blamed God and turned as far away from Him as she could. Fast men and free liquor had been her choice as she’d commenced to working hard at partying through her inheritance.
For four years, one indulgence after another had been sought in an attempt to make the hurt inside subside. Nothing seemed to work. Oh, she’d come close a time or two. On occasion, her senses numbed to where she felt little more than a dull ache, but the piercing pain always returned after too short a time. Hope vanished as did her desire to go on. She’d decided life was no longer worth living, and that’s the point where Garrett had come into her life.…
* * * * *
Claire could feel him watching her in the mirror, knew his eyes were assessing her, undressing her. She didn’t mind. Knowing men desired her made her feel alive, worthwhile…most of the time.
He looked away as she turned her face toward the front of the limousine, though his gaze returned as soon as he realized her focus was not on him. She was pensive - an unusual disposition for this particular client. He smiled. Unusual was the perfect word to describe Claire, regardless of her mood. Of all his filthy rich, high society clients, there was none who could compare to Claire Orion. Of course, there weren’t many who had allowed him the liberties she had, either…none, actually. The thought of their last encounter left him yearning. He was hungry, yet she wasn’t biting. He’d tried to engage her several times throughout her afternoon shopping spree to no avail. He wondered what had captured her. She was definitely a woman looking within.
Claire moved from his line of vision as she leaned toward the passenger side window. The driver couldn’t see the look of pain that pulled her finely arched brows toward her beautiful blue-gray eyes. He didn’t see her hand press against the tinted window as she watched a little girl walking hand in hand with her father. He didn’t know Claire well enough to know how much she’d yearned for acceptance from her own father or how it had affected the woman she had become. Ranauld, like most, only knew the larger than life persona in the pretty little package that his passenger most often presented to the world. There were few with even an inkling of a notion that beneath her flawless exterior lay a woman with scars she believed incapable of healing.
Ranauld missed Claire’s heavy sigh as he focused his attention on the circle drive in front of her historic building. With the ease of a man used to handling the large automobile, he maneuvered through the traffic and pulled to a stop outside the large double doors. By the time he opened the door for her, Claire had masked her bitterness. Her father was gone. There’d been no one to bridge the gap between them; no one he respected enough that was willing to step in to help.
“Perhaps I can be of service to you later, Ms. Orion? I could make arrangements to see that you make it home safely this evening.” Ranauld’s eyes begged as he helped her from the limousine.
Claire smiled in that mischievous way that made her nose crinkle; the one that should have alerted a man he was about to be toyed with. “Why, Mr. Ranauld, I’m afraid you’ve made a dreadful error. I can’t imagine what would make you think I’m planning to go out?”
“My apologies for the assumption. I was thinking of your shopping, the packages…they usually accompany an evening out.” He continued to fish. “So you’ll be home? Alone?”
“I didn’t say that.” She knew what he wanted. He knew she knew. She ran her hands through her dark hair in a way that reminded Ranauld of how it felt to have his hands entwined in the soft lushness of her beautiful curls. Her eyes danced as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before continuing. “But…I’ve got your number. I’ll call if the need should arise. A woman can’t be too careful about who she lets take her home…or who she lets stay…”
The building doorman chuckled as he held the door for her before retrieving her packages from the wilting chauffer. “Perk up, man.” The older gent clapped Ranauld on the back as he took Claire’s bags. “She’s got your number.”
Charlie went away laughing, wondering how many other hearts were hurting over the unpossessable Claire Orion. He wasn’t sure if that was a word even. What he did know was that Claire Orion was her own woman. The only man who’d ever had a hold on her had been her father and he’d never given her an ounce of anything except heartache. He snorted thinking of the number of times she’d left the building crying over something he knew that man had said to her. A quick death behind the wheel of a
car was too good for him. It was far better than he deserved after the way he’d killed Claire’s dreams and sense of worth. It was more than he’d given his daughter who had been dying inside for a good many years.
Charlie could only hope she’d live long enough to learn to believe in herself. She was a beautiful woman with a heart of gold and a generosity to match, but the way she lived…He shook his head and looked up toward the heavens. Claire needed to find her place in this world. She needed someone to help her, and fast.
* * * * *
Claire caressed the bottle of pills, feeling a wave of euphoria as she placed them on her nightstand and patiently dressed, taking great pains with every detail of her appearance. She wanted this last meal to be special. She wanted all eyes at the restaurant to be on her. She wanted to look spectacular when she was found.
Her mouth watered as she thought of the titillating array of scrumptious delicacies that awaited her with her last minute reservation at the extravagant Minuet. It had surprised Claire that she was able to get in on such short notice. The Maitre d’ had assured her when she’d called and he’d taken her name that she need not worry.
“I’ve got it right here. Check and double check,” he’d told her.
Claire had decided it was an omen. The meal was to be the beginning of her end. She smiled as she went down to meet the cab Charlie had called for her. She hadn’t wanted Ranauld returning – hadn’t actually desired his services earlier in the day either, though a cancellation by Mr. Donovan in 3C had placed him at her disposal.
She arrived at the restaurant dressed in her finest. Black Fuarento cocktail dress straight from the racks of Italy, black lace hose, black designer heels in the latest French fashion. Heads turned as she walked by. Claire Orion looked good and she knew it.
“Table for Orion,” she smiled disarmingly at the man who immediately recognized her voice from the phone.
He eyed her appreciatively. “Check and double check,” he said as he asked if she’d like to be seated or wait.
“Hmm.” Claire ran a painted nail across her lips bringing attention to their fullness as she flirted with the Maitre d’. “If I’m to eat, I shall need to sit, and preferably at one of your finely set tables.” She trailed the same finger along the buttons of his tailored jacket causing his voice to catch as he answered her. Claire smiled as he offered her his arm.
“Away we go then, my lady.” He escorted her to a cozy table toward the back.
“Perfect!” Oh how Claire loved the fineries of life. If only she could enjoy them with out the pain.
Claire ordered appetizers and wine: calamari, sautéed zucchini, and a nice California Pinot Noir - the best money could buy. Sitting back, she scrutinized the other table occupants as she waited for her hors d'oeuvres. People watching without seeming overtly rude and obvious. It was a pastime she’d managed to perfect through years of being hauled from one boring event to another at the side of one parent or another.
An older couple, undoubtedly celebrating an anniversary, sat nearby holding hands across the table. Claire smiled as she watched the gentleman bring his love’s aged fingers to his lips. There was an edge of regret knowing she’d never experience such love. After all, what good was a woman who could not have children? She was good for one thing only and Claire was quickly growing tired of the revolving door of partners who offered little more than momentary diversion. Oh, she’d have liked to have found one who looked at her, even for a moment, as the older gentleman was looking at his wife but the ones she’d been with were all the same. They cared only for what she could offer them at the moment she was with them.
Claire shrugged. Se La Vie - such was life. And for Claire, it was over. She returned to the people around her, finding one level down and several tables over, a group of business colleagues discussing strategies, their hard driving boss, and their annoying counterparts in various companies and even within competing groups within their own organization. Claire was thankful she’d been well provided for and able to avoid the doldrums and politics of the work-a-day world.
She had just turned her attention to another table where a man sat with two women when Anthony, as her waiter had introduced himself earlier, returned with her pre-meal delicacies. She smiled knowing he was appreciating the view, leaning toward her just a bit more than he needed as he placed her platters and filled her wine glass.
“Thank you, Anthony. Perhaps you should consider returning a thank you to me as well.” Claire laughed as the man’s cheeks burned and he realized he’d been caught.
“I’m so sorry…” He wrestled with the words of his apology. Undoubtedly he could see his tip and perhaps even his job disappearing.
Claire winked at him. “No harm in being appreciated. The dress was chosen for such. Simply be more discreet in the future. There are those women who are not nearly as kind about it as I am. Some are flattered. Some are not. Some will make a scene merely because they can.” He nodded, smiled graciously, thanked her, and walked away.
Claire turned her attention back to the other table as she tasted the calamari. Splendid, she thought. The eyes of the man at the table with the two women echoed that thought about her. Claire had indeed succeeded at the one thing in life; making herself desirable. It was all a woman like her could be. Without the ability to give a man children, she’d be nothing but a playmate; certainly not a proper wife.
The woman on the opposite side of the table from Claire’s admirer suddenly realized he was flirting with someone besides her friend. She glared at Claire and then the man before kicking him under the table. Claire could not suppress quiet laughter as his flirtations turned to painful surprise. She shrugged her bare shoulders and smiled as the woman again looked at her and shook her head as if it was all Claire’s fault. Perhaps his female counterpart should try being less talkative and more attentive to her own appearance. He braved another glance in Claire’s direction as his date’s friend busied herself with finding something in her bag. Claire pretended to drop her napkin and leaned over to retrieve it. She may as well make his risk worthwhile.
As she righted herself, her attention was captured by the Maitre d’ chattering away to a rather attractive gentleman as they neared her table. She’d missed his hasty, breathless arrival and attempt to “pretty himself up” as he’d rushed in, late as usual. He was surprised when the Maitre d’ had told him his date had already arrived; especially since not so many minutes before she’d called to let him know her baby was feeling poorly and she simply couldn’t leave just yet. Poor thing must have gotten better rather quickly.
“You’re a lucky man, Mr. O’Bryan, to have such a lovely wife.”
They stopped beside Claire’s table. Garrett’s brows dipped. Claire stared up at the two men in confusion. The Maitre d’ smiled.
“Is there a problem?” Claire asked, though her words were partially covered over by Garrett’s voice.
“Wife?” he said in surprise. “I’m not married.”
Now the other man’s face registered confusion. He looked from Garrett to Claire and back again.
“You’re sure she’s not your wife?” he asked hopefully. Garrett shook his head. “O’Bryan?” He turned back to Claire in despair. She shook her head.
“Orion,” she answered trying hard to suppress her mirth. It was obvious now why she’d gotten a table so easily.
The Maitre d’ closed his eyes, undoubtedly shuffling through options. The house was packed with no available tables. His musings were interrupted by Garrett’s cell phone.
“Donna? Where are you?” Garrett asked the unseen. “Oh. Right. I’m sorry to hear that. Okay. Yes. Another time, perhaps. Well, if she’s still ill, of course you must stay and take care of her. Good-bye.” He placed the phone back in his pocket then looked at the two sets of eyes that watched and waited.
“Well, Mr. Ballard. It looks as if it’s your lucky evening. My date has had to cancel. I won’t be needing my table after all.”
Obvious
relief washed over Mr. Ballard’s face.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your dining experience, Ms. Orion.” Garrett nodded to her as he started to leave.
“Mr. O’Bryan?” she called, the caress of her voice causing him to turn back. He raised his brows in answer and waited. “Since you’re already here and undoubtedly haven’t eaten yet, would you care to join me? My treat. It’s the least I could do for taking your table.”
Garrett studied the beautiful woman as he contemplated her proposal. He felt eyes on him from all directions and knew there wasn’t a man in the place that didn’t wish he was in Garrett’s shoes.
“Well?” she smiled. She knew it too.
“I’d love to.” He returned to the table. “And, you’re right. I’m starving.” He slipped into the seat across from her.
“Perfect. Shall I pour you a glass of wine or request a bottle of champagne to add to the conversational fodder?” she asked in her most conspiratorial tone. He glanced around and eyes quickly turned away.
“Oh champagne , of course. We shall toast our unique beginning…” he played along to her delight.
“You heard the gentleman, Mr. Ballard. The finest that you have to offer and quickly before the magical moment passes by.”
“Of course! And on the house,” the Maitre d’ told her as he rushed away.
“Our meal will be free as well, no doubt. Oh don’t worry,” she said at his look of concern. “I’ll leave a tip that will more than make up for whatever might come out of our dear Mr. Ballad’s own pocket.” Claire laughed freely.
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