Fallen Angel (4 page)

Geneva belatedly noticed the slow darkening of his thickly lashed, hazel eyes. She noticed, too, the muscle that ticked high in his jaw. Her gaze shifted briefly to his long–fingered hands before returning to his face. And certain she was a fool, she let herself fantasize for the briefest moment about what it would feel like to have those hands on her body. Her insides quivered with a sensation akin to anticipation that shook her to her soul.

Then, she lost control of her thoughts and wondered about his ability as a lover. Although she lacked experience with men, save for one relationship while in her early twenties, Geneva Talmadge understood herself well enough not to deny the sensuality that was intrinsic to her nature. She kept it under wraps, but she sensed a certain futility in using that tactic with Thomas Coltrane.

Oddly, the woman who had concealed herself behind the mask of polite shopkeeper now seemed determined to come out of hiding. With Jamal dead and buried, her prison term had ended.

Her late father had once warned her about passion, saying that the right man would come along someday and she wouldn’t know what had hit her. She was, he’d insisted, like her mother, but Geneva only vaguely remembered Erin Talmadge, while Patrick had waxed poetic about the remarkable woman he’d loved and then lost to neglect. Geneva hadn’t understood his comments at sixteen. She did now.

Geneva wondered if Thomas was tender or aggressive in his passion with a woman, or some combination of the two. Would his heart race or would he always remain in control, as he was now? Was he all skill and finesse like any practiced lover, or did his emotions overwhelm him and his heartbeat throb in his fingertips when he made love?

He signed, "You have remarkably expressive eyes."

She blinked in surprise, then chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to veer off on such an erotic tangent. A sigh escaped Geneva, a hollow, shaken sound that spoke of loneliness too long endured, of fantasies never fulfilled, and of the longing embedded in her soul.

The sound spoke to the man who watched her, although she didn’t realize it. His eyes darkened even more. "You arouse my curiosity, Geneva Talmadge."

She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.  "Why?"

"It’s hard to explain." His gaze snagged briefly on her lips. "I have the feeling you’re as lonely and isolated as I’ve been in recent years."

"You’re assuming a great deal," she whispered.

"Am I wrong?"

Honesty and self–defense warred within her. Honesty won. Almost. "I’m committed to my work."

His expression became bleak. "Ditto. It’s not enough, is it?"

She trembled, fighting the pull of his presence and his unexpected candor, fighting the desire stirring within herself, fighting
him
even though he seemed unaware of the chaotic emotions he inspired.

"I… " she began.

"You don’t have to say anything," he signed without speaking. He smiled, as though sensing her wariness and wanting to dispel it. "And I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention." His hands stilled for a long moment. "I’d like the chance to get to know you."

She stared at him, confused, unnerved, and hungry. Hungry?  Damn him for making me want what I can’t have. Damn him!

"Is that possible, Geneva?"

"We’ll be working in the same building."

"I was thinking more along the lines of friendship."

"Why?"

"You’re an unusual woman."

Geneva stiffened, old reflexes making her prickly. "I’m hearing impaired, and I own a business. There’s nothing unusual about me."

"That isn’t what I meant, and you know it."

She suddenly craved space and privacy. "Enjoy your new life, Thomas Coltrane."

"Don’t run from me. There’s no need."

"I’m not running." She glared at him. "I do not run from anyone or anything."

"Aren’t you running right now?"

She met his gaze, catching a glimpse of the compassion she’d seen earlier. It began to melt her resistance.

"Aren’t you?" he asked a second time.

Before she could speak, he looked past her. The transformation of his features—from compassionate stranger to steely–eyed adversary—gave her pause.

Geneva stilled when a hand settled on her shoulder a second later. Discomfort turned to relief when she turned to the person who’d touched her. She stepped forward into his arms without hesitation. She held fast to him, as though he represented a lifeline.

Thomas recognized the man, too. He knew better than to overreact, even though it bothered him to see Geneva in his embrace. He had no rights where Geneva Talmadge was concerned, especially not the right to be jealous. But he was, and the emotion stunned him.

"Nicholas," she whispered.

Thomas heard the relief in Geneva’s low voice. The resentment he felt stabbed at him like a sharp blade as he met and held the gaze of the newcomer.

"How are you, little one?" Nicholas signed once she stepped back from him. Then he assessed Thomas, his expression steady.

"Adjusting." Her attempt at a lighthearted quip sounded strained, and it drew a frown from both men.

Thomas watched her struggle for composure. He understood how she felt, although for very different reasons.

"You’ll be fine," Nicholas assured her. "You’ve always been tougher than you look."

Unwilling to back down, Thomas stepped forward and extended his hand. "Thomas Coltrane."

"Rose’s nephew," Nicholas confirmed as they shook hands.

"That’s right."

"San Diego attorney–at–law, if I’m not mistaken."

"Former San Diego attorney and returning Cedar Grove native."

"Nick Benteen, longtime resident of Cedar Grove and sometime author," he offered.

You’re a hell of a lot more than that, Thomas thought, his gaze direct and unflinching.

Geneva watched the two strong–willed, single–minded men silently assess each other in a manner unique to their gender. She’d learned long ago about the territorial nature of males, and nothing they did surprised her any longer.

While Geneva felt strengthened by Nicholas’s presence, she experienced a moment of compassion for Thomas, then a surge pleasure because he seemed un–intimidated by her self–appointed guardian. Most people felt compelled to turn tail and run if Nicholas paused to scrutinize them, but not Thomas Coltrane.

"Welcome back to Cedar Grove." Nicholas automatically signed in order to include Geneva in the conversation. "I understand you’re one of my new tenants."

Thomas signed as well, despite his surprise at the news that the building they stood in was owned by Nicholas Benteen. "That’s right. I signed the lease yesterday."

Geneva decided it was time to step in. She didn’t question the impulse; she simply acted on it. "Where are Hannah and the baby today?"

Nicholas smiled at the mention of his wife and infant daughter. "They’re still with the pediatrician." He glanced at his watch. "Time for me to head in that direction. I had a couple of minutes, though, and I wanted to check on you." His gaze swept over her.

Geneva knew the drill, so she humored him. "One day at a time…" she began, reciting the motto Nicholas had insisted she adopt soon after the loss of her hearing.

"…and life works," he finished for her.

Geneva found comfort in the familiar patter. The words they spoke might have sounded clichéd to some people, but they symbolized the philosophy that guided her life.

Nicholas extended his hand to Thomas for a parting handshake. "Good to meet you. If you have any problems with the office space, let the property manager handle them for you. And Geneva’s a great resource when it comes to the local business community. She was the president of the Business League last year."

Geneva’s smile slipped. Nicholas normally didn’t encourage anyone to seek her out. Why had he made an exception with Thomas Coltrane? Her smile reappeared when Nicholas tapped the end of her nose with his fingertip. She felt his affection, the depth of his friendship, and the courage he so willingly shared in the playful gesture.

Returning her attention to Thomas once Nicholas departed, she signed, "I need to get back to work. I’m hip–deep in invoices and the like."

"I understand."

She paused, then expressed a sincere thought. "I hope you’ll be happy with your new life."

"I’m counting on it."

"You are, aren’t you?"

He nodded, his expression that of a man who wanted and needed to make major changes in his life.

As she looked at him, she felt a surge of compassion for Thomas Coltrane. She grasped the challenges inherent in making real changes in one’s life. Grasped them far more than she wanted to admit to anyone, including herself.

"You’ll make it happen," she encouraged.

"Wish me luck?"

"Luck," she finger–spelled.

"Thank you."

She nodded, smiling faintly. Thomas, by simply walking into her store that morning, had reminded her that she needed more than a small circle of friends and a successful business. She needed what she’d dreamed of so often, what her father had called a partner of the soul—a man capable of being a lover, friend, ally, and confidante.

She also needed, as Nicholas had pointed out, to release herself from the bondage of self–restraint and reserve that had ruled her existence for so many years. Still, could she really find the acceptance and mutual trust she sought? The possibility of rejection haunted her. It had fallen to Thomas Coltrane to make her aware of the enormous risk inherent in revealing the truth of her past.

"What’s wrong, Geneva?" he signed.

She flushed. "Nothing, really. Help yourself to the preserves if you’d like to sample our wares," she invited, summoning her shopkeeper–dealing–with–a–customer smile. "We’re known for our natural ingredients."

"I’m a good listener, if you’d like to talk."

"Thank you, but I…"

"I know how tough it can be to confide in anyone, let alone a stranger, but I’m available if you change your mind."

"I know you mean well, Thomas…"

"I do, but I also have a motive."

"Which is?"

"I meant what I said earlier. I’d like to get to know you."

Be honest, she told herself. "I’d like to get to know you, too, but…"

"…slowly?" he supplied.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I won’t push you," he said. "Your pace, your rules."

He means it, she realized.  "I’m like a snail."

He laughed. "I’m not, but I’ll adapt."

"Take care of yourself."

"You, too."

Geneva began to turn away, but she paused when she felt his fingers encircle her wrist. She darted a glance in his direction. As before, the warmth of his fingertips lingered long after he released her.

"Are you really alright?"

"Of course." Something in his expression told her that he didn’t completely believe her.

"You’re a beautiful woman."

Startled, she said, "Thank you."

Other men had made the same observation, but she’d always dismissed them and their interest in her. This time, Geneva didn’t want to dismiss anything associated with this particular man.

He smiled. "You’ve known Benteen for some time, haven’t you?"

She nodded, a protective kind of wariness filtering into her.

"He’s very protective of you," Thomas continued.

"He’s my friend."

"I’m glad. Real friends are few and far between."

That surprised her. "So is his wife. My friend, I mean," she said, clarifying a situation that seemed to puzzle many local townspeople. "Nicholas is the big brother I never had. I… I trust him."

"Trust is important."

Geneva nodded. "It’s everything."

"It’s an integral element of any successful relationship."

"I agree," she said.

"I want your trust," he signed.

She felt her heart stutter to a momentary stop. "Why?"

"Because I want to know you."

"Trust takes time, especially between men and women."

"Will you give me the time?"

He’s asking for more than time, she realized, but she couldn’t bring herself to deny him outright. She wanted time, too. Time to get to know him. Time to figure out if she was reacting to him out of pure loneliness. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation.

"I’m not sure if I can," she finally said. "You’re asking for more than you really understand."

"I’m asking for an opportunity, that’s all."

To do what? she wondered. Seduce me? "You have something of a reputation where women are concerned."

He grinned, the boyishness of his expression reaching into his hazel eyes so that they almost sparkled with mischief. "You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids."

"I was referring to things Rose has told me about you."

"Damn. Spoke too soon."

"Tabloids?" she asked.

"I’m afraid so."

Geneva sobered. "I’ve been alone for several years."

His humor faded. "Me, too."

"I don’t want to…"  Make a mistake in judgment, she almost said, but she managed to still her tongue before she could sound like a pre–adolescent trying to protect her dignity.

Thomas seemed to read her thoughts. "I don’t want to make a mistake, either. It’s why I haven’t gotten emotionally entangled with anyone since my divorce."

He doesn’t want to be hurt, either, she realized.

"Think about it, please."

He clasped her slender hand between both of his.

His warmth seeped into her skin. Again.

Her pulse raced. Again.

He trailed his fingertips over the inside of her wrist. She knew by the slight flaring of his nostrils that he felt her response to his touch. She exhaled, the shaky sound far too revealing.

"I’ll think about it," she agreed.

"Please do," he said.

Geneva withdrew her hand, grateful that he was gentleman enough not to push her any farther. She followed his gaze as it traveled over the store. Additional customers had arrived, but Rose didn’t seem overwhelmed.

"This place reminds me of my mother’s pantry. Only much larger, of course."

"You have good memories of your childhood, don’t you?"