Like Slow Sweet Molasses (33 page)

“She
kept nothing for herself,” he marveled, filling a glass with cold water and
heading back to her.

Her
eyes remained closed as he sat at her side loving her more and more as his
heart raced wildly. Chance couldn’t resist tracing the outline of her
jaw—imposing his will—for her eyes obliged him and opened. Angela’s illustrious
brown orbs opened wider when he produced the pills for her ingestion and thus,
supported her back as she quietly obeyed.

Love
had a language of its own they spoke very well with meaningful looks and subtle
touches. Neither thought words necessary when he peeled down to his undershirt
and slipped out of his boots and jeans, getting ready to join her under the
covers. Their eyes connected as he traversed around the bed to enter from the
other side and pulled her to him until he conformed to her posture, all in
preparation for their broad daylight nap.

Shadows
were absent from the room when Angela awakened a nose length from Chance who
lay on the same pillow. His look was one of an earthly peace as he slumbered on
indifferent to her close-up examination. He had a head of thick, wavy hair reminiscent
of any conceited male model without the self-important characteristic for he
was not afraid of getting it mussed. The dark eyebrows and rakish beard were
Venus flytraps to females if ever she recognized the look. What immobilized the
captives was the green-fire sparkle that fired from behind his long lashes,
disabling the prisoners and enslaving them until exonerated by him. Exactly
like his gaze did now causing her to blush profusely at her boldness.

“Don’t
look away,” he encouraged. “It gives me hope you’ve forgiven me for being a
dunce. I mean,” he massaged the crinkle on her nose, “this means you like me,
again, right?”

“You’ve
spoken to somebody. Who was it?”

“I’ve
never lied to you, Angela.
 
I won’t start
now.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Philip Haperiski called today…concerned
about you.” He waited for her to blowup.

“So,
you know I agreed to help him,” she whispered.

He
rectified her statement. “I learned you underwent the marrow extraction which
escalated to a more involved procedure.” He locked his arms around her when she
tried to back off. “That you dubbed yourself a physician with the risky move of
self-discharging one day after the surgery.”

“It
was minor.”

“Anesthesia.
Scalpels. A tube inserted directly into a vein in your chest cavity.” Chance’s
voice drummed, deepened in anxiety. “You might have complicated your recovery,
Angel, leaving so soon.”

Chance
fussed at her, in her bedroom, in her bed. “I did what I went to do,” she
excused her decision. “I..I thought…” she began then clamped her mouth shut.

Chance’s
elbow dug into the pillow as he propped up to see her better, a fist under his
chin. “What? That I wouldn’t find out?”

“No,”
she balked. “I thought I’d surprise you on Thanksgiving.” She rolled to leave
the bed.

He
trapped her by the bend of her arm.

“Ow!”
she moaned and pulled to loosen his grip. He only tightened his hold. “You’re
hurting me.”

Chance
piled the pillows behind his back as he pushed the sleeve of her nightshirt to
her upper arm. “Crap, Angela! Look at that bruise!”

“I
know how it looks, Chance. I see them every time I change my clothes.”

“Them?”
he shot back. “Let me see!”

“There’s
nothing you can do. They’re fading.”

“I
want to see, Angela.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Please.”

Chance
allowed her to have her own space while she decided whether to honor his
request. “You can look for a moment. No disagreement when I determine the peep
show is over. Agreed?”

He
bargained, “Agreed.”

She
rolled up the other sleeve for his inspection, watching his lips disappear into
his beard as his mouth pursed. The chest incision was what she hated most to
reveal since it still oozed a little and was ugly to see. But, Angela tugged
the neck of her shirt down anyway and turned her cheek to one side for his
benefit. Her ears intercepted his faint growl, low and haunting… and the
deadliest sound she ever heard. Her neckline popped back in place when she
released the material.

“Thanksgiving
night. The shakes. Were they due to the harvesting?” He selfishly hoped so. “Or
remnants of what you endured at my place that day?”

“I
don’t want to talk about your intimacy with your ex-wife, Chance.”

“Angela,
we weren’t intimate. I swear on my life, we weren’t.”

“You
looked pretty chummy at the mall,” she accused, jealousy playing a part of why
she moved farther from him.

“I
promise you we can’t stand one another. We fight all the time if forced to be
in the other’s company.”

“Sometimes
that’s when the head stops thinking and physical attraction sizzles.”

“You’re
forgetting two things.” He paced in front of her now.

“What’s
that?”

“Kelsy’s
presence for one. And…I slept at Aunt Belle’s that night.”

“All
I know is, Chance, I wanted to be with you for the holiday.” She let her voice
trail off.

Angela
zapped him silly with her declaration. His hands glided up and down her arms as
he tried desperately to talk sense into her. “I can prove how serious I am
about loving you to the exclusion of all other enticements that come my way.
Will you let me do that?” Chance petitioned.

“Our
problem is trust,” she contradicted. “We don’t trust each other. You and your
ex. Me and the mystery voice.” Knocking his hands down, Angela fled downstairs
and over to the fax machine.

Chance,
caught off-guard by her erratic behavior, managed to get into his jeans in a jump-hop
fashion without crashing into the door or breaking his neck as he sought her
out. Jamming his hand into his front pocket rewarded him with the proof he
needed. “Here.”

It
was an even swap as she, in turn, reached him the contract proving her whereabouts.
“It’s pretty pathetic when two people who claim to have real feelings for one
another…”

“Love
for one another,” he butted in. “We love each other, Angela.” The frown
attacking her forehead as she examined the paper was certainly of a different
variety from the nose crinkle he became accustomed to seeing her sport.

“I
don’t see that this proves a thing,” she contested.

“It
proves I’m willing to do whatever it takes to put your mind at ease about my
lifestyle.” Angela dropped the test results to the table. “What?”

“These
results could be fraudulent and of no consequence based on the date indicated.”
She could tell her meaning escaped him. “It’s before the so-called
visit
.”

“Oh,
crap, Angela.” He tired of explaining. “I haven’t had a woman in over a year as
I’ve already told you a long time ago. I know the voice I heard over the phone
was that half-brother of yours.” Chance laid the contract on top of his results
to stand facing her, deliberately holding her cheeks for a sincere look into
her eyes. “I love you, Angela. I want you to love me back without the troubling
doubts and fears.”

Should
she tell him she’d acted hastily after seeing them together in the mall? How
could she after he just poured out his heart to her—as undeserving as she was.
Her days in New Orleans were numbered. In all actuality, she had fewer than
fourteen of them left. “There’s something you should know about me, Chance.”
She tried clearing her conscience only to have him silence her with his
earth-moving kiss. She made another attempt at honesty with the same results.

“Say
you love me,” he murmured against her mouth. When she wouldn’t, he pressed his
lips into the hollow of her neck. “Say it.” Slated for a battle of wills, he
teased her honeywell and heard her surprised intake of breath. “I’m waiting.”

“That’s…not…fair,”
she complained breathlessly, almost too weak to continue standing as his hand
wreaked havoc. “I-I lo-ve you.”

He
wasn’t satisfied and refrained to continue his assault. “Now, look me in my
eyes and say it just as I’m saying it to you.” He paused. “I love you so very
much, Angela.”

“I
love you, too, Chance. More than I’m brave enough to admit.”

“Then,”
his kisses kept her flailing in anticipation of what might come next, “let me
love you like I’ve never loved anyone else before.”

“That’s
too much to expect,” she breathed. “Just love me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Angela’s
arms lifted, painfully pulling at the sore spots all over her body, to let her
intertwine her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. That way her kisses
would melt any lingering mistrusts between them and fill the gap with
reciprocated love. She got her secret wish when Chance picked her up while
continuing his kiss all the way back to her bedroom where he sealed them off in
their secret world.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Well,
what did you think?” he asked, his words hushed to a whisper in the darkened
cinema.

The
feature film’s credits, all ga-zillion of them, ran, or rather crept up the
screen as Chance and Angela waited their turn to vacate the row. The late
evening showing drew lots of movie-goers as attested by the difficulty in their
finding two reasonably good seats together when they arrived. Chance,
undaunted, asked a couple to move over one seat which cleared a pair for them.
Even in the grayness of light castoff from the screen, the disapproving glances
from some in the large audience punctured Angela’s sensitive skin. A lift of
her chin brushed it off.

The
judgmental looks ricocheted off Chance’s tough hide.

She
no more enjoyed the surprise selection than she would a trip to the dentist
office. But, she wouldn’t tell Chance that for anything in the world. He was
enthused to know she trusted him to plan the activities for their second
official date. He had no way of knowing his choice was one of those
if
you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all
type movie to her. The kind one might
watch in the privacy of their own home, only after it came out on DVD and was
on top of a mile-high stack in the sale bin, and accurately priced, FREE. The
“booty-bobbing”, college life theme had some comic moments but missed its mark
in the category of entertainment, as far as she was concerned.

Angela
one-stepped her way into the aisle with Chance breathing down her neck in
anticipation of her answer. There had to be a diplomatic way to say it stunk
without hurting his feelings. She settled for, “It was interesting,” as she
gauged her footing for the next step since the lights outlining the balcony
access barely threw off any illumination.

“Yeah,
I thought so, too. Sorry.” He held her elbow when he discerned her problem with
the descent. “I hoped it was something light and inoffensive.”

“Oh,
I wasn’t offended, Chance. I’m not that big a prude.” She waved his concern
aside.

The
lobby’s brightness put everyone on display and Chance admired the woman at his
side, casually dressed in midnight-blue blue jeans, a snug fitting cowl neck
sweater topped off with a bolero-cut jacket that accentuated her curvy figure, and
her unaffected manner at being studied like a bug tacked to a board. He, too,
could ignore most of the ill-mannered behavior, with the exception of the way
some Black men issued him a challenge with their hostile expressions. Right
then, he worried things would escalate into some sort of exchange, especially
when a bold instigator crashed into Angela nearly knocking her off her bareback
heels. The apology sounded right after, but, the words were hollow and
blatantly insincere.

Chance’s
eyes narrowed dangerously.