The Cowboy and the Angel
Page 4
“Okay.” She straightened and walked towards the office door, all the time completely aware of his presence behind her. As big as he was, he could certainly move silently.
“At least you managed to pick something better to wear to work than you chose for my brother’s party,” his deep voice came from behind her.
Angel stiffened, but didn’t look at him or acknowledge the comment as she opened the door.
“Still scared, kitten?” he drawled with apparent humor.
“He’s waiting.” She was surprised that she didn’t stutter that out, because the man made her so nervous that she could barely breathe. She swore she saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth before he stepped past her and through the doorway. Why does he have to smell so darn good, she thought to herself as his cologne wafted into her nostrils.
An hour later, she was still waiting for her sister to pick her up. Everyone else had already gone home, including Red Soames, the other lawyer in the office, and his secretary, Margo. She was a heavyset black woman who Angel adored. She was very good at her job and managed to mother everyone in the office, and she gave her and Red dating advice whether it was necessary or not. She was the one who constantly referred to Alex as that “walking hunk of sex”, among other comments that Angel couldn’t possibly repeat.
She glanced at her watch impatiently. It was almost six o’clock. Prissy was nearly an hour late. Unfortunately, Alex was still in the office with her boss, and she really didn’t want to be the only one out front when he emerged. The way he’d acted around her lately made her uneasy. Feelings she didn’t know existed began to surface when he was near. Then there was the way her sister kept pulling these little episodes when he was around. She really didn’t approve of the criticism he gave her sister, despite her faults. Oh, Prissy, hurry up, she thought to herself.
Angel didn’t drive and Priscilla didn’t work, and their father had told Prissy she could at least pick up her sister from work every day, but sometimes she was late. Normally, she didn’t mind, but Priscilla had to be late today, of all days, with Alex in the other room. Lately, he seemed to be freer with his comments to her, and of course, there was the way he’d kissed her the other night. Now she could hardly look at him without remembering his touch, and it brought back those new feelings of desire. He hadn’t mentioned it or tried to kiss her again, though. Had he found it to be an unpleasant experience? Maybe he had, and that’s why he resolved to goad her instead. Glancing at her watch, then at Jason’s closed door, she began to feel anxious. She would’ve waited outside, but it was late August and the weather was a little chilly, and she only had a light coat. Also, Prissy could be hours late.
Angel cringed inwardly as the door to her boss’s office opened and Alex stepped out. The two men shook hands, and Jason gave her a polite, curt nod.
She’d hoped to be long gone before Alex came out of there. The things he’d said to her over the past two days had unsettled her, and then there was the way her body reacted when he was around. It was tough before, but now it was worse. She seemed to have lost control of her senses. Her breathing would quicken along with her heart rate, and even her sense of smell seemed to increase. She could detect the faint odor of leather and expensive cologne whenever he was around. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Oh, what the heck, she thought, maybe I’m just nuts.
“I’ll see you the Saturday after next for some fly fishing, Alex,” Jason said with a wave.
“Sure thing,” he said, turning away from Jason as he shut his office door.
Alex began to leave, and she began to thank God for him not saying anything, but his silence didn’t last. To her surprise, he stopped and turned to look at her. She was leaning against the front of her desk with her jacket slung over one arm.
“Working late?” He already knew she wasn’t. She’d been getting ready to leave before he went in to see Jason.
Angel shrugged a slender shoulder. “Prissy is late,” she said, shyly averting her gaze.
He frowned, not wanting to be right about things like this. Angel should be the last person to wait for anyone. She was as sweet as they come. “First she abandons you at the hardware store, and now she makes you wait after work?”
Prissy had told her that she went to the garage to fix a flat tire while she’d been in the hardware store. She’d told Alex that on Saturday after she’d handed his phone back to him, but he hadn’t believed the story. “She didn’t actually—”
He interrupted, not giving her a chance to explain. “Sure, she didn’t.” His expression darkened. “Is this normal?”
She glanced at him. Except for Saturday, this was the first time in a long time that he’d actually spoken to her without ridicule or contempt in his voice. Unfortunately, although she’d tried to convince him otherwise about Prissy, he was getting angrier by the second. “Sometimes,” she said truthfully.
He stared at her for a long moment. Angel thought her heart was jumping around before, but now it beat frantically in her chest. Every time he looked at her with those intelligent eyes of his, she felt so vulnerable—so naked. Then there was the overpowering sense of masculine perfection he gave off. His stance was relaxed, yet he radiated self-confidence. It was obvious to her why his men didn’t hesitate to obey him when he barked orders in their direction—and why women trailed after him endlessly.
“Get your purse, I’ll take you home,” he finally said in a tone that wasn’t a request or meant to be disobeyed.
“I’ll phone my dad. He’ll come get me,” she said quickly, trying to ignore the tingly sensation his scrutiny gave her.
He cocked a brow. “You’ll have George drive forty-five minutes into town to pick you up just to avoid riding in the same vehicle as me?”
“No,” she lied. “I just don’t want to put you out.”
He gave her a sideways look that told her he didn’t believe her. “Angel, get your damn purse. I’ll take you home. If you’re worried about me manhandling you like I did last week, my hands will be busy driving.” Then he suddenly grinned as his eyes dropped to her mouth. “Although it is tempting. Now get your things.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” she protested, blushing clear down to her toes.
“Well, well. It’s good to see you have a little spunk in you,” he said, letting his eyes run over her slowly. “And sure, you weren’t. You’re jumpy. You act like a rabbit that just got discovered by a hungry mountain lion. “
Well, she thought, that isn’t far off. Why was it that she blushed every time he spoke to her or looked at her? Reluctantly, she nodded, and did as he said.
Being so close to him in the truck was nerve wracking. For whatever reason, it was even worse than it had been the other day when he’d given her a ride. She glanced at him every now and then, and couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his masculine profile. Her eyes memorized his strong, square jaw, straight nose, and perfect masculine lips. She forgot herself once and stared a little too long, and he noticed her attention, even though he wasn’t looking at her. It was probably because women stared at him a lot, and he recognized the familiar feeling of feminine interest.
“Do you see something you like?” He cast her a wry look.
“No, I mean—No,” Angel denied unconvincingly. She turned her head away, completely embarrassed at being caught.
“You’re very pretty when you blush,” he said quietly.
She snapped her head back in his direction, catching his gaze with hers. What did he just say? Alex Harrison had complimented her. Furthermore, he claimed she was pretty, and she didn’t think she was at all. She felt warmth gush in her belly over his simple statement.
Then he went and ruined it.
“It’s too bad you dress like a spinster.”
“I don’t!” she protested.
“Hell yes, you do,” he said, glancing at her navy suit. “That thing is buttoned to the neck, it shows nothing of your figure, and you look twice as old as you are in it.”
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br /> “These are the latest fashions!” she claimed, looking down at her clothing.
“For an old lady,” he finished, not the least bit affected by her defensiveness. “Maybe if you wore decent clothes, you’d get a date. Stop shopping at the same store your mother goes to.”
“Th-that’s not what they’re for,” she argued. “And I don’t shop where my mother does!”
“And where the hell do you hide your breasts?” His eyes slid to her chest. “I know you have them somewhere. I’ve seen you in a swimsuit.”
Her eyes popped wide and she gasped in shock. “Do you not have a filter? You don’t talk about a woman’s body like that.”
“I do when I have something to say. I know you have a healthy chest, Angel. It’s nice enough to be displayed a little better, not hidden in miles of fabric.”
“Some things just shouldn’t be said!”
Ignoring her, he reached into his coat pocket and fished out his pack of smokes, acting as if she’d said nothing. “Here, light one of these for me,” he said, tossing the pack on her lap along with the lighter.
She was so angry that she just did as he asked, not wanting to argue with him anymore. Unfortunately, she accidently inhaled some of the smoke and ended up coughing while handing the lit cigarette back to him.
“Jesus, you are an innocent,” he said, taking the cigarette and casting her an amused glance with his dark brows arched. He tucked the smoke between his chiseled lips and smirked as he returned his attention to the road.
“Just because I don’t smoke doesn’t mean I’m innocent,” she said, alternating between coughing and glaring at him.
“You’re twenty and you’ve never tried smoking? That’s definitely innocent.”
“Not all girls are as adventurous as the ones you’re used to,” she replied, sparing him a glance after another muffled cough.
“I suppose,” he agreed easily, glancing at her again. “Still, it’s surprising. I wonder what else you haven’t tried.” Her cheeks turning pink was his answer, and his eyes didn’t miss that clue. “No wonder you dress like you’re sixty and act like you’re virginal.” Once again, he’d said something personal as though it was no big deal, taking a draw off his cigarette while watching the road. “No wonder you don’t date.”
“I don’t see you with a woman hanging off your arm,” she said, trying to redirect him. It was a stupid thing to say because she knew darn well he didn’t have any problems there, but he had her all flustered. Why he kept bringing up her chastity, she’d never understand. She didn’t ignore men because she wasn’t curious about them. She was, especially about Alex’s body. However, she believed in love before sex, and she hadn’t met the right man yet. Well, maybe it was more appropriate to say the right man hadn’t noticed her yet.
He cast her a somber glance. “I don’t have a woman because I choose not to. You, on the other hand, don’t have a man because you look like a lady who’s resigned herself to growing old with her cat.”
Angel gasped in anger this time. “I don’t have a cat!”
“You will.”
She flared. “You presumptuous—”
“However, you have a nice figure under that outfit,” he continued, ignoring her outburst as if he’d handled a thousand of them. “You may dress like you’re washed up, but I’m experienced enough to see that there’s a young woman under there.”
“W-what?” Her eyes must look like saucers. No one had ever spoken to her so bluntly before in her life, and to hear this from him astonished her.
“You should dress like you’re twenty, not sixty.”
“Oh God, doesn’t it bother you to be so discourteous?” she blurted out defensively.
He ignored her again. “I’d take you shopping, but I’m too much of a selfish bastard to spend time looking at clothes with a woman.”
What the hell did he mean, he’d take her shopping? Her mouth fell open. “Alex—”
“I meant,” he said as if reading her mind, “that if you actually dressed decently—” His eyes flicked to her hair. “—and did something with that mop, you might be able to compete with your sister and get a date.”
Mop! “Are you quite done?” she said indignantly, deciding she would leap out of the moving vehicle if he continued to embarrass her.
He cast another glance in her direction and noticed her crimson cheeks. “Yeah, I guess.”
How could this man drive her into such embarrassment, anger, and nervousness at the same time? She slouched in the high-back leather seat in uncomfortable silence for the last twenty minutes of the drive to her home, and looked out the window, concentrating on the scenery. When he finally pulled up in front of her house, he turned to her again.
“Tell you what. I’ll take you to the Lavender Art Banquet this Saturday, but you need to do something with your appearance,” he said, running his eyes over her clothes in distaste once again.
Her defensiveness immediately evaporated at the mention of the Lavender Banquet, and she stared at him as a thrill shot through her. Although she didn’t deny that the man affected her and made her too nervous to speak properly, she really wanted to go. The Lavender Banquet happened every two years, and it was very prestigious. She’d never been able to attend it. Tickets usually sold out within a few hours, and her father always refused to pay for her to go.
“You’re going to be a lawyer someday, Angel,” her father always said. “So get your mind off that damn art stuff.” She’d always sighed and said no more about it. Arguing with her father was pointless.
“So?” Alex asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“My father might not like it.”
“I heard,” he said.
That surprised her. “You knew?”
“I know a lot of things about you, Angel,” he said, taking a long draw off his smoke and flicking a gaze to her mouth. “Just like you know a lot about me. We’ve been neighbors for a long time.”
“What do you know, then?” she asked with genuine curiosity. She didn’t think he knew she existed aside from that one incident four years ago. He managed a lopsided smile that almost caused her heart to melt in her chest.
“I know he’s got his little girl’s future planned all the way down to the university she’ll attend and the law firm she’ll work at. Your mother tells my mother things.” Alex smirked. “And she tells us things.” He tapped his head with a long finger. “I know you have an I.Q. that could get you into MENSA.”
She couldn’t help but find it intriguing that he knew so much about her. He’d also said as if it was a compliment, and that was very rare with Alex. “Like you.”
“Ah,” he said lightly, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “I see your mother talks too.”
Could he possibly look any more handsome? “I like art,” she finally said, casting him a shy glance. She was unable to hold those gorgeous green eyes of his.
“I know.” He straightened himself in the seat and lifted his eyes to the tight bun in which she’d confined her hair. Why she wore it that way, he’d never know. She was twenty and her clothing, posture, and hairstyle led him to believe that she wanted to be invisible. “Do you still have that hairdresser friend, Martin—Marty, or something?” he asked, taking another draw off his smoke before absently tossing it out the window.
“His name is Matthew,” she offered, surprised he remembered.
“Ask him to do something with your hair.”
“I like my hair,” she protested, her fingers going to it protectively.
“I don’t. And if you think I’m taking you in those frumpy clothes, you’re out of your tree. Go get a decent gown. I’ll put in a call to my cousin, who owns the La Salle boutique.”
“Alex, I don’t need any help with my clothing.”
“Like hell,” he snapped. “And if you think you’re borrowing some of your sister’s slutty clothes, think again.”
“My God, quit saying things like that about her.” She flushed angrily.
Angel knew that was true beyond any doubt. “No more cracks about my sister,” she insisted, trying to ignore the way her skin burned when he looked at her that way. “What you see isn’t what she’s about.”
“Fair enough,” he said, straightening up again. “I’ll call Sherri tonight. You go see her tomorrow.”
“Fine,” she agreed as she got out of the truck, deciding that she wouldn’t change her hair. She’d get a gown, but like hell would she change her appearance so drastically.
“I meant it about the hair, Angel,” he warned, seeing the defiance in her eyes.
Once again, he seemed to know what she was thinking. Angel cast him a narrowed glance before shutting the door. She didn’t wait for him to drive away before she turned and went up the stairs into the house, but she’d looked long enough to see him laugh. It just added to her mood. She was steaming that she would have to do something about her hair or he wouldn’t take her to the banquet. She wanted to go more than anything! That man was so infuriating. Sexy, yes, but darn infuriating!
She paused outside the door. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, and she could have it done just this once. Part of her completely understood his perspective. Alex could date fashion models or even movie stars if he wanted to, and to walk into such a prestigious event with a dull-looking girl such as herself would be an insult to him. Knowing she should be grateful that he’d invited her at all made her decide to do as he asked. Only this once, she told herself, and that’s it. Angel didn’t want to be accused of changing herself for a man, even if that man was Alex Harrison.
“Was that Alex?” her father asked as he met her at the door, then he glanced at his watch. “Do you know what time it is? Your mother has been trying to keep dinner warm for over an hour.”
“Yes—and yes,” she answered. Even the casual mention of his name made her heart change its pace.