My Special Angel (15 page)

His arms tightened around the woman curled upon his chest as all his blood rushed to his loins.

Nadia wiggled slightly as he grew inside her, stretching the walls of her womanhood with a sweet ache. She slowly rocked her hips and smiled dreamily as he clutched at her thighs and turned to solid hardness deep inside her. Her breath feathered his neck as she reached up and nibbled on his ear.

Owen groaned. “Nadia.” He told his body to behave, but his hips bucked upward. “Are you asleep?”

“Shhh ...” Hundreds of kisses covered his face and throat. “If I am, this is the most wonderful dream I ever had, and I don’t want to be awakened.” She rocked her hips faster and arched her back.

His gaze fastened on her pale breasts jutting outward. His fingers guided her hips into a wilder pace as his mouth reached for the protruding, rigid nipples.

Nadia felt his mouth tug at her breasts and went over the edge. The spiraling climax left her reeling and clutching the only solid thing she could reach: Owen.

Her name was a hoarse shout—“Nadia!”—as he thrust upward and spilled his release deep inside her.

He tenderly cradled her damp body onto his chest as she collapsed. He had to wait until his breathing returned to a semblance of normal before he could jokingly ask, “Are you asleep now?”

“Shhh...” He could feel her smile against his collarbone. “I just had the most spectacular dream.”

He chuckled and brushed a handful of her now- dried hair away from his face. The exquisite tresses slid through his fingers like fine silk. “You, my little Gypsy, are definitely a witch.” His lips kissed her smooth forehead. “A gorgeous, seductive, and lovable witch.” It was the closest he would come to saying he loved her. He knew that any words of commitment would have her bolting like some frightened rabbit.

Nadia nestled closer and smiled. “I do believe I love that word.” She closed her eyes and gave a delicate little yawn.

Owen’s arms tightened fractionally for a few minutes before they naturally slackened as sleep overtook him. They both fell asleep, in the heat of the night, still joined.

* * *

Nadia slowly opened her eyes and squinted at the daylight streaming in through the windows. She noticed two things immediately. One was the light sheet covering her, and the other was the soft pillow under her head instead of Owen’s solid chest. She preferred Owen’s chest. She wiggled her nose and took a deep whiff of air. Somewhere close by was coffee! She turned her head and sat up. Owen was standing in front of her bureau studying the aged black-and-white photographs she had stuck into the frame around the mirror. The only thing he was wearing were the faded, tight jeans he had on last night. He had pushed aside some of her stuff and made room for the tray loaded down with two cups of coffee, a jar of strawberry preserves, and a basket full of Aunt Sofia’s famous muffins. She frowned at the muffins for a moment before asking, “Is the coffee still hot?”

Owen quickly turned around and grinned. She was as breathtakingly beautiful as when he had left the bed a half hour earlier. Her hair had dried into a wild mass of curls tumbling past her shoulders, her mouth was still red and ripe from their lovemaking, and her eyes were as dark and mysterious as ever. His gaze slid downward and hotly admired the creamy fullness of her breasts. He chuckled as she hastily pulled the sheet up to her throat. “I just made it.”

She glanced at the tray. “Did you make the muffins too?”

“Nope.” He picked up the tray and carried it toward the bed. “I can’t take credit for them.” He placed the tray on her lap, walked over to the other side of the bed, dropped his pants to the floor, and carefully slid under the sheet.

Nadia steadied the tray as the bed shifted under his weight. “May I be so bold as to ask you where you found a basket full of Sofia’s muffins?”

“You may ask me anything you want.” He picked up a muffin, sliced it through the middle, and spread globs of homemade strawberry preserves over both pieces. He handed one to Nadia and grinned. “She gave it to me.” He bit into the muffin and moaned with delight.

Nadia stared at her half. “When did you run into Sofia?”

“When I was downstairs making us coffee.” He took another bite. “All I could find was instant. I hope it’s okay.”

“All I have is instant.” She glanced at Owen as he polished off the rest of his muffin. “Are you saying Sofia was in the kitchen when you went down?”

“Nope.” He cut into another muffin. “She knocked on the door while I was down there.”

“And you opened it!” Great, just great! “Didn’t it ever occur to you about how that must have looked?” She shook the muffin at him, sending crumbs scattering across the sheet. “You answering my door, half dressed, the first thing in the morning?”

He casually reached for his cup of coffee. “She already knew I was here.”

“How did she know that?”

“My car has been parked outside your door all night.” He took a sip of coffee and studied Nadia. He hadn’t been real thrilled when Sofia came knocking, but the choices were either ignore the knock and make a fool out of himself, Nadia, and Sofia or confront the situation. He had decided to confront the situation.

Nadia finally bit into her muffin. “What did she say?”

“She said that you liked strawberry preserves on your muffins and that you take your coffee with cream, no sugar.” He couldn’t prevent the grin that was teasing his mouth. He watched, entranced, as Nadia finished the muffin and slowly licked the strawberry preserves that had coated her fingertips. His gaze turned feverish as he thought about what else they could do with strawberry preserves.

“She didn’t say anything else?”

“She said lots of stuff.” He moved in closer and prepared another muffin for her. His coarse thigh brushed against her smooth, naked one. He owed Sofia a big, heartfelt thank-you the next time he saw her. Breakfast in bed had been her idea. When she had knocked, he was in the kitchen quietly searching in vain for a coffeepot for himself. He was going to allow Nadia all the sleep she wanted. He hadn’t liked the dark circles that had appeared under her eyes recently. But Sofia entered the kitchen like a whirlwind, gathering up a tray, finding the jar of instant coffee in the back of the refrigerator, and explaining how Nadia took her coffee. It appeared Sofia had been on the right track. What woman wouldn’t love breakfast in bed?

“What kind of stuff?” She finished her coffee and the remaining muffin.

“I don’t know.” He swallowed hard as the sheet slid farther down. The gentle slope of her breasts came into full view, and her nipples appeared to be dark shadows under the light sheet. He took the tray and, leaning over Nadia, placed it on the floor. His finger dipped into the preserves before sitting back up. “Half of what she was saying was in some foreign language. I think Russian.”

Nadia watched his jam-smeared finger as it softly stroked the curve of her breast to her nipple, leaving a trail of strawberry preserves behind. He ran the back of his finger down the other breast, giving it the same treatment. Her gaze followed his finger as it lifted to his mouth, and he licked the tip clean. “Owen, what are you doing?”

“Having breakfast in bed.”

A smile played at the corner of her mouth. “We already had breakfast in bed.”

“No, we didn’t.” He pulled the sheet lower so that it fell onto her lap, leaving her breasts bare to his gaze. “That was an appetizer.” His tongue licked the gooey trail of jam from her breast before his mouth captured one strawberry-coated nipple and sucked it clean. His hungry gaze shot up to hers. “This is breakfast.”

Nadia melted under his tender assault. Her arms reached for him as she whispered, “I’ll take one of everything on the menu.”

Owen glared down at Nadia’s father, lying in the hospital bed, and raised his voice slightly. “You will stay in that bed until the doctor says you can get up.” He gently pushed Milosh back down. “If I have to tie you to these rails, I will.”

“I go home now,” said Milosh.

“Not tonight.” His eyes sympathetic, he sadly shook his head. “You heard what the doctor said.”

“Doctor, shmoctor, what does he know? He’s only a young kid.”

Owen pulled the chair he had been sitting in earlier closer to the bed and sat down. “Listen, Milosh, I know this is hard for you, being in the hospital and all, but it’s for your own good.”

“Going home will do me better good.”

Owen chuckled, “You’re thick-headed, Milosh.”

“So the kid doctor told me when he took those fancy pictures of my head.” Milosh grinned and rubbed the side of his head where a huge lump had formed.

“He said that steel beam should have killed me, not just dented my head a little bit.”

Owen frowned, quickly stood up, and marched over to the window. He didn’t want Milosh to see the emotions tearing through him. The father of the woman he loved had almost been killed at his construction site. For two weeks he and Nadia had been lovers, spending every night together. He knew they were growing closer, but now there was this. When he had seen Milosh’s crumpled, unconscious body lying on the ground, he had wanted to die. How was he ever going to explain to Nadia that her father died working for his company? The hardest thing he’d ever had to do was to call Nadia from the emergency room twenty minutes ago and explain about the accident. She and her mother should be here in about ten minutes.

“Hey, boss man,” called Milosh, “tell me again about the ambulance ride.”

Owen chuckled as he pulled his mind off Nadia and her reaction to the phone call. He had explained over and over again how Milosh was going to be all right, but somehow he got the impression that she didn’t believe him. Whatever happened to a thing called trust? He walked back over to the bed and sat down. “Let me see.” He rubbed at his chin. “First they strapped you to this board, and then they put this huge neck-brace thing around your neck. They strapped an oxygen mask on you, and then they loaded you into the ‘meat wagon’ like a huge sack of potatoes.”

Milosh’s booming laughter filled the room “What a story this will make.”

Owen smiled. Everything was a story to Milosh and the rest of the family. By the time Milosh expanded it, revised it, and totally distorted it, he’d have the paramedics picking up body parts and sewing them back on. “If you promise to behave and do what the doctor says, I’ll tell you what the guy who was next to you in the emergency room was screaming about.”

“The one behind the yellow curtain?”

“That’s the one. I was talking to his wife while you went and had all those fancy pictures taken.”

Milosh’s eyes widened, and his face paled. He glanced around the room, fearful of prying ears. “Is he dead?”

“Nope.” Owen grinned. “They sent him home already.”

Milosh was just about to ask another question when the door to the room burst open. Nadia and her mother came hurrying into the room, followed by twenty-eight members of her family. Yurik was still at the construction site getting some answers on the accident. Owen spotted Sonia cradling little Liberty in her arms and tried to refigure his math. He gave up. All he knew was, there were one hell of a lot of Kandrataviches crowding into the small hospital room. Babies were crying, the older children looked scared to death, the women were all wailing and crossing themselves, and the men were arguing back and forth between themselves in Russian. Owen shook his head and wondered how they had managed to get past the nurses’ station. He worked his way over to Nadia and her mother.

He reached Nadia and pulled her into his arms. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. He tenderly wiped them away. “What are you crying for? I told you he was going to be fine.” He glanced at Milosh and winked. “It’s going to take more than one steel beam to do him in.”

Nadia looked at her father lying in bed with his wife clinging to his hands, wailing her grief in Russian. He looked a little pale, but otherwise fine. “If he’s well, why can’t he come home?”

“It’s called a concussion. The doctor wants to keep him overnight, just as a precaution.” He pulled her back against the far wall away from the crush of people. “I don’t mean this the way it’s going to sound, but why did everyone come?” He was surprised that the staff hadn’t called security yet, with all the noise everyone was making.

“They came out of respect for my father.” She softly smiled at the man lying in bed consoling his grieving wife.

“Are you aware there’s a rule about how many visitors each patient can have in his room at a time?”

“How would I know that?” Nadia glanced around the room. The wailing had turned into a few sniffles when the women realized that Milosh was not at heaven’s gate. The men’s arguing had quieted down, and only Liberty was still voicing her displeasure at having her afternoon nap disturbed. “I’ve only been in a hospital once, and that was to pay my final respects to my grandfather.” Nadia shivered slightly and leaned closer to Owen. “He died that night in his sleep.”

“I’m sorry, love.” He held her close and kissed the top of her head. No wonder Milosh wanted to get out of here and the family was in such an uproar. He should have listened more closely to what she had told him the other week when Liberty was born, but it still wouldn’t have changed anything. Milosh was his employee, and he had needed medical attention. There was no other place to go but a hospital. “Your father was hurt, Nadia, and I did what I thought was best for him.”

“I know you did, Owen.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

“He’s a tough old boot.” He chuckled softly. “But he grows on you.”

Howe Cartland, the construction-site supervisor, stuck his head into the room, waving to Milosh and motioning to Owen. He acknowledged the gesture and then gazed down at Nadia. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed her quickly and wove his way through her family to get to the door.

Nadia frowned. Something was up. She squeezed her way through two of her aunts and kissed her father. “I’ll be right back, Papa, you behave yourself.” She quickly followed Owen.