Angel Be Good (9 page)

Leonard smiled. "You couldn't be anyone but
you. Don't worry, Daphne. Have faith."

Then, with a twinkling of his eye, his form
faded until all that was left were wisps of white cloud, then
nothing. Daphne glanced at Nat. He was still intent, making jots
and notations, apparently not even noticing that she'd been
gone.

"Nat?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up.

"What's happening?"

He lifted his head and met her eyes.
"Happening? I'm making plans for when the stores and banks open. I
don't want to forget anything."

What a contrast. He was making plans for his
life, his future, while she prepared to leave hers behind.
Intellectually, she could accept the idea that it's the soul that
defines a person, but it seemed so peculiar to separate herself
from the body she'd always known, the container of her soul. She
was lucky to have the chance to go on. From what Leonard had said,
it didn't happen often. But she'd love to take a moment to whine,
to pray that somehow, someway, she'd be able to remain as she was.
However, it wasn't to be. Even she could see that what Leonard and
the Council had planned was best for all parties. But she didn't
have to like it or look forward to it.

She grabbed the lemonade and downed it in
one large gulp, the bittersweet taste fitting her mood in a way
nothing else could.

"Nat, I know I told you I didn't want
anything, but I would like a favor."

"What do you need? Money? A house?"

She shook her head. "I told you, I'm not
staying here, my body is only temporary. It's just that I'm worried
about my parents. Could you—would you make a note in your book to
check on them?"

She looked into her empty glass. "I'd feel
more comfortable knowing that someone would look after them, make
sure they're okay."

When she glanced back at Nat, she knew her
eyes had filled with tears but she was hopeless to stop the flow.
"It's unlikely I'll ever see them again."

"You got it."

She gave him their names and the address of
their farm in Arkansas. He made a note. "So, you're Daphne
Jones?"

"No, that's my stepfather's name."

He waited. "So, are you going to tell me
yours?"

She shook her head. There was no way on
earth she'd tell him her last name. It was too humiliating.
Oppenwiedski wasn't a name that could pass without comment. "I
think Leonard would prefer I keep it to myself."

Nat shrugged. "Anything else I can do for
you?"

"No. Checking on my folks is more than
enough." She wiped her face with the back of her hands. "Thank
you."

"It's a small price to pay for what you've
given me."

"I haven't done it, Nat. Only you can change
yourself. I'm just here to help in case you need someone while
you're reexamining your life. And you've helped me as well."

"Me?" Nat seemed surprised.

"You have!" She leaned forward. "I wouldn't
have been ready to accept my new life if I hadn't had this time
with you. Reevaluating is good for the soul, and I'm discovering
myself in the process. Before, I thought I had a pretty good idea
of what was important. Now I know and can take that with me. I
guess I'm saying that you're my friend and I'll miss you."

"Having a friend is new for me, Daphne. I
just wish you didn't have to leave, could stay with me always."

"Why? So you can chase me around your
office?" She giggled. "I think I could do without that part."

"Very funny." Nat gave her a serious look,
so intent she could feel it down to her toes. "I wish you could
stay. Always. I don't think I can do this without you. I need you.
Can't you ask Leonard?"

"It's not his, or my, choice to make."

"If it was yours, what would you decide?"
Did she see in his gaze a mixture of expectancy and hope?

Daphne, for one of the few times in her
life, felt shy, bashful. "I think I'd like to stay, too."

Nat rewarded her with a melting smile, one
she'd never seen on his face before. The wide curve of his
masculine lips revealed tips of white teeth in stark contrast to
his tanned face. His smile washed through her and touched her in
the one place he hadn't previously gained access. It touched her
soul.

She gasped in a gush of air. The clarity of
the moment was unlike any she'd experienced in the past. Now she
knew the consequences of their time together, now she knew the real
danger.

Nat reached her on many levels and she was
in serious danger of losing her heart. It was hard enough to leave
before, but how could she blithely go when she'd be saying goodbye
to him forever? Had she exceeded what the Angelic Council asked of
her? Had she given Nat her love?

Had she done the unthinkable? Had she fallen
in love with a man she was destined to leave? Surely not, she tried
to convince herself. Surely it was just the enforced intimacy of
their situation, the sharing on a level most people don't
experience outside of marriage. Surely it was illusion and not real
love at all.

But what if she were wrong? What if she
loved him? Daphne struggled with her emotions, determined to check
them, bring them into control. This couldn't be love. Love was what
her mother and stepdad had, in the small looks and blushes, the way
they held hands, the knowing that you're a better person because
you have the other.

If this wasn't love, it sure was a close
imitation. Jumping from her chair, Daphne moved restlessly about
Nat's office, hoping to distract her thoughts. If she didn't admit
it, there was a chance it would go away when she gained time and
perspective to look at things.

*

Nat threw down his pen and stood up. There's
no way he'd admit it to her, but he'd noticed that she'd left. At
first, a desperation had seized him. She'd given up, left him, and
he was alone. Again. He'd railed against the angel who could so
lightly introduce Daphne into his life and then take her away,
erasing all traces except the decorated office tree.

Even the tree had looked forlorn.

Then, somehow, someway, he'd felt his fears
evaporate. He'd known Daphne would come back to him. Where she
belonged. When she'd returned, he'd known it by her fragrance, the
scent that wrapped around his senses—alluring, enchanting and
impossible to ignore.

He hadn't wanted her to know. So, he'd made
a show of writing in his planner. But he couldn't resist her any
longer.

Walking over to reach her side, he pulled
her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face
in her soft curls. It couldn't be wrong that he needed her, needed
to feel her yielding curves against the hardness of his body,
needed to know that she belonged to him.

So he lowered his lips to hers. Her mouth
was hot, lush, welcoming. Ambrosia to a man who'd never tasted
anything but ashes.

"Leonard's not around, is he?" Nat asked
between kisses.

"No. He won't be back for awhile."

Nat didn't reply; he didn't need to. He let
his hands splay against her back, pulling her closer. Running his
lips down her cheek and neck, he nibbled at the soft hollow at the
base of her neck. She had to be flesh and blood, just like any
other woman, for he could feel the blood rushing through her body,
could hear her soft exhalations.

This wasn't some temporary body. It was real
and true and Daphne. Daphne, whom he wanted to love in every way
possible between a man and a woman.

Groaning, he brought his lips back to hers.
His fingers gently slipped the thin strips of fabric off her
shoulders and slowly lowered the neckline of her dress.

She whimpered, and he knew it wasn't from
fear but from passion. "I need you, Daphne."

"I need you, too."

"You belong in my arms, in my bed, in my
life." He lowered his palms to cover her firm breasts, felt her
nipples harden at his touch, felt her breathing become ragged. He
whispered, "I need you, Daphne. Promise you won't leave me
again."

She gasped for air. "I don't want to go.
I'll stay as long as I can, Nat. But this—we—what we've become,
isn't meant to be. It's just madness, the way we've been thrown
together. It can't last."

"How can I risk everything I've believed in
if it's not supposed to last? Tell me that." He wrapped his arms
around her. "I'm feeling things I've never felt before and you say
it's not real?"

Daphne looked at him sadly. "I don't have
any answers."

"I want you so much I ache, Daph. That's got
to be lasting."

Pulling back, he saw that her eyes had
puddled with tears. "I don't care what Leonard said. You have to
stay. There has to be a way to make him understand."

She shook her head. "Oh, Nat. I never
thought you'd believe in something you can't see. You do believe,
don't you?"

"I think I believe." He pushed away from
her. "And what's it getting me? A woman I can't have. What's the
point? Getting kicked in the heart? If this is what Leonard and
your Angelic Council wanted, they can take a flying leap."

Daphne reached out and took his hand,
running it across her soft face. He gazed into her eyes, looking
for answers and finding they all hurt. If he believed in love, he
was certain he'd love her more than he'd ever love another woman.
Wasn't that enough? She was as good as they came and she couldn't
stay in his life?

It couldn't be love. It was self interest,
surely? She made him feel good, like he had it in him to be a
wonderful, caring, giving person. A person who could be looked at
with respect. She made him hot. Hotter than he'd ever been for
another woman. Hot enough to make him long to be whatever it was
she wanted him to be, because he'd find salvation and redemption in
her arms, in her body, and in her soul. Dammit. Why couldn't he
love her, even just a little, if that would make it all real.

Why couldn't she stay and let him love her
as a woman should be loved by a man? He wanted to spend hours
learning her body, making her respond to his touch, making her
scream in delight from their lovemaking. He wanted her to be near
him when he did something good so he'd know it pleased her. He
wanted her to laugh at his jokes and make him chuckle from her
sassy attitude.

She was a woman in a million and, dammit, he
wanted to believe in love so he could love her.

But if it was transitory—impermanent as she
said it was—would it be so wrong to pretend for a few minutes, a
few hours? To taste the nectar of her love and pretend anything was
possible?

He'd never have to pay the price for taking
her love. If she loved him, she wouldn't leave. She'd find a way to
stay. If love was real it was forever, and not just for a few
hours.

She was right. It couldn't be love but it
was as close as he'd ever come in this lifetime and he'd be a royal
idiot if he passed it up.

He led her to the sofa and pulled her down
to join him on the soft pillows. "Love me, Daphne."

~~~~

Chapter Six

Daphne did love Nat. Impossibly, stupidly,
blindly—she loved him. She wanted him as she'd never wanted another
man. It didn't matter that she'd be leaving within hours. Right
now, this moment, she was filled with the love she could give
Nat.

She snuggled into the gap between his neck
and shoulder, a spot as secure and perfect a fit as if it had been
exactly designed for her. He smelled of mint and perspiration—and
desire.

He kissed her, at first tender and gentle.
Then he bit gently down on her lower lip, dragging it into his
mouth to suck. His tongue came forward to claim hers and she was
lost. Her body screamed yes, her hearted screamed yes, and she
heard herself whispering yes.

If she was to go on to another life, she'd
know Nat's passion first. It was there in each feature on his face,
in his expression when he looked at her, in the way he played her
body like a harp. She loved the way he stroked her skin, as if she
were precious to him.

His fingers worshiped her breasts, gliding
over her nipples until they budded. He lowered his lips, and she
felt his heated tongue through the lace on her strapless bra,
licking then nibbling each breast in turn.

He lifted her hand and licked her
fingertips, then took each one into his mouth and sucked lightly.
Her stomach tightened in response. Desire for him had robbed her of
softness, had seized each of her muscles in preparation and
anticipation of so much more.

Turning her hand palm up, he looked directly
in her eyes as he kissed the tender spot at the bottom of her
wrist, sending sparks shooting throughout her body. His lips
caressed her palm, an incredibly sexy action and yet so simple. Her
body arched toward him, aching with her need. He took her other
hand and gave it the same tender caresses, the evaporation leaving
trails of magic in the soft breeze created by his breath.

His lips worked up the inside of her arm,
then claimed the soft spot at the base of her neck. She exhaled,
her breath surprisingly dry. His soft moan was erotic, filling her
with a sense of her power over his response. Fireflies danced
inside her, sending out zings of static along her spine.

She ran her hands over his torso, feeling
the steel core beneath his shirt, wanting to memorize the feel of
him. Slipping her hand between buttons, she sizzled at the impact
of her skin upon his chest. He was so hot, burning up for her.

His breath now came in gasps, his desire for
her tangible. She could almost hear his pulse throb through his
arteries. The texture of the hair on his chest was crisp, spring
like, ribbed with minute traces of dew. His skin smooth and supple,
yet unyielding. Running her fingers through the web of hair, she
pulled slightly, encouragingly.

Her other hand explored his back. His
muscles flexed, fascinating her until she met his eyes and saw the
blatant, greedy way he looked at her. He ran his arms behind her
back and lowered his hands to cup her hips and draw her ever closer
to his unyielding masculinity.