Angel Be Good (10 page)

"I can't believe how much I want you," he
said, his voice husky. "I want to taste and feel every inch of
you."

He ran his hand down her thigh and she
thought she'd come unhinged. Leaning forward, she allowed him to
unzip her dress, then slowly pull it over her hips. It landed in a
red puddle on the floor beside the sofa. His gaze, hot before, was
a wildfire, devouring her body and soul.

She unbuttoned his shirt, then made a game
of slowly pulling it off his wide shoulders. His torso rippled with
well-developed muscle. When had he had time, during the long hours
he'd spent making a fortune, to build such a perfect masculine
body? A light sprinkling of hair dusted his pectorals, his nipples
were as hard as nails, his entire chest forming a perfect vee
leading down to a narrow waist and hips. She traced the vee with
her thumbs, felt his slight tremble from her touch.

"Love me, Nat."

He smiled, a wicked delightful smile, then
leaned forward. Kissing her neck, he tenderly removed her bra. Then
his mouth closed over a breast and she cried out as an entire
squadron of liquid fire shot through her body. She shook with
uncontrolled need.

As he continued suckling, his hands circled
her waist, then roamed lower, over her hips, then lower still. He
thrust against her thigh and in spite of the rough texture and
thickness of his trousers, she could feel evidence of his
desire.

A quiver racked her abdomen, a reaction
quick and natural as breathing. She needed him so badly. Rightly or
wrongly, she wanted him. Feelings so strong couldn't be wrong. She
loved him.

When his hand closed between her legs, it
was all she could do to keep from screaming with pleasure. In one
swift movement, he slipped away the panties separating them.

She didn't think she could breathe. He felt
so good and she ached furiously. His mouth came up to claim hers
again, while his fingers worked their magic.

Heat coursed through her, so intense she no
longer remembered anything except Nat and the way he made her feel.
She clutched his shoulders tightly, wanting him. Now. She couldn't
wait any longer. "Hurry, Nat."

"Be patient, Daph. I'm going to love you as
you've never been loved before." He stood and pulled off his
clothes.

Daphne sucked in her breath when she saw the
rest of him. The strength of those narrow tapered hips and the hard
shaft that promised to relieve her need. She marveled at how much
she wanted him and how satisfying the anticipation was. His thighs
and legs were like a sculpture. In fact, his whole body was.
Masculine, strong, and exquisitely proportioned.

Nat took a seat beside her on the sofa, then
ran his fingertips gently over her face. "You're so beautiful."
Then he leaned down and tenderly caught her lower lip between his
teeth.

He skimmed his hands down her thighs and up
again, raising goose pimples on her skin. Surrounding her with his
minty masculine aroma, he lowered himself, wrapping her in a cloud
of longing.

In a quick stroke, he entered her and she
was on fire again. His hips thrust against hers then pulled back,
again and again. She strained to meet him, thrust for thrust, need
for need.

Abruptly, her world erupted into a zillion
tiny splinters of kaleidoscopic color, like a prism burst upon the
world, shards of crystal and hues so glaring that even a blind man
must be able to perceive them.

Nat chanted her name as he swelled and
exploded inside her. Her body tightened to welcome his release, and
the knowledge filled her with joy.

He collapsed atop her, although she realized
that even then he didn't allow her to take his full weight. They
remained joined together, spent, sated, and yet neither willing to
pull away.

She wanted to be with him always and
forever. Moments trickled by; Nat's breathing calmed, evened,
almost like the endless tick-tocks of a clock. Time. Oh, God.
Time.

What had she done by allowing herself to be
swept up by lust for him? By the desperation of knowing they'd soon
be parted? How could she leave, knowing that more than anything in
this world, she wanted him to love her again and again, wanted him
to share his burdens with her, wanted him to look at her with eyes
brimming with passion.

As he nestled against her, she wondered if
she'd completely abandoned her mission. Sure, she'd taught him
about love, but he'd taught her even more about lovemaking.
Somehow, she didn't think the Angelic Council had that in mind when
they'd sent her here.

Trying to see his face, her eyes crossed and
she kissed the tip of his nose. The clock on his desk sent a guilty
reminder of the few hours they had left. Dread snared her. It was
nearly time to show Nat the future, and then she'd leave. Why did
time have to move so quickly?

Loving him couldn't be a mistake. And if, as
Leonard had assured her, neither she nor Nat would remember
anything, then there was little reason to feel guilty for loving
him now. She'd loved him in every way she could. It wasn't a poor
decision. It was her only choice.

Amazing how that could hurt. In her past,
life had occasionally been painful but it had never prepared her
for this feeling of being torn from the only life she wanted.

When their time together was over, she had a
feeling that leaving was going to cost more than she'd ever
imagined.

*

Nat watched her through passion-sated eyes.
She was so beautiful and making love with her had been
extraordinary. So why did he feel guilty? He reminded himself she
planned to leave. So why did making love to her make it seem worse?
After all, it was just a bodily urge. It had to be.
Procreation.

The idea of planting his seed in Daphne's
womb filled his mind. It felt so right, like it was the answer to
all the questions that had plagued him since meeting her. If ever a
woman was to gift him with a child, it had to be her. And she was
leaving.

The thought nearly strangled him. He
wrenched himself from her arms. Without a backward glance, he
grabbed his pants and swiftly dressed. Willing his mind to remember
that he'd used her before she could him, he couldn't summon up the
belief, couldn't dismiss his guilt. He'd used her and she’d never
intended to use him, just help him.

What was it about him that made him want to
destroy every good thing that came into his life? Daphne. Percy.
Even the few employees who'd seen behind his facade of
indifference. He’d wanted them all to hurt.

It could stop now. He'd never reveal the
truth to Daphne, never tell her that he still couldn't believe in
love because if he did, he'd hurt her like the others. The pain
would destroy her and every hope she ever had of finding love
again.

Logic. He had to get back to rational
thought. There was every indication that Daphne was exactly who she
said she was: sent by Heaven to save his soul by teaching him where
he'd gone wrong in his life. Okay, it was stretching it, but he
could accept this was possible.

So, he'd change – in fact he already had.
But, and this was a big but, this didn't mean he could love. Some
people, particularly Daphne, probably could feel love. She was
likely the exception rather than the rule. Heaven would find
someone like her, someone who could love, to send out on a mission
like this. There couldn't be too many people like her, though, not
based on the people he'd known throughout his life.

Daphne loved him and this had filled him
with heady power at first but now he felt the consequences of her
love. Dread. Not to mention feelings of responsibility and
overwhelming guilt.

You couldn't just go and get it on with an
angel, or the next best thing to an angel – not if you didn't want
to be filled with overwhelming guilt. What was he thinking? What
kind of man was he?

He was the kind of man doomed to go straight
to hell and he couldn't, he wouldn't, drag Daphne along with him.
She was goodness personified, and assuming that was true, and he
really thought it was, that meant that he, Nathaniel Danvers, was
evil.

Evil. Evil touched by, taunted by, teased by
– love.

If he told her the truth now, that he didn't
love her, that he was incapable of any of the finer emotions, then
his evil would destroy her. If he pretended to love her that also
meant an ever greater pretence – that she'd been successful in her
mission to save him. That he believed in things he couldn't see.
That he believed in goodness.

To a certain extent that was true, because
he certainly believed in her and in so doing, that meant he
believed Heaven existed. His deception about being able to love,
then, wasn't such a big deal. It would only be a little lie. Daphne
would believe she'd been successful in her mission and she'd be
able to move on, helping other people or finding another life to
live. She didn't need to know anything else. He wouldn't hurt her
that way.

When she left, she'd be taking the last
vestiges of his heart and he seriously doubted he could ever find
it again.

They only had a little time left together.
Surely he could pretend that long. Surely he could keep himself
from hurting her. But, he prayed, let this be over soon.

Watching as she struggled back into her
dress, he couldn't make himself say anything, some reassurance,
some gesture to comfort her.

He'd changed, he'd grant her that. He'd
learned the ramifications of his own behavior and how it affected
the world at large. From this day forward, he'd think of others
besides himself. He'd remember the innocents like the children
beneath the bridge and little Laura's smile.

There was only one flaw in Daphne's logic.
To love, you have to have it in you and Nat knew now more than ever
that he didn't.

He couldn’t love. He was a cold-hearted
bastard and she was the dearest thing who ever lived. Just don't,
he prayed, let her find out the truth. Don't let her discover he'd
taken her love and her body because it would be the closest he'd
ever come to having a heart of his own.

"I love you, Daphne."

She couldn't believe her good fortune. "I
love you, too, Nat. I've experienced love before, but nothing like
this."

He smiled, sending a shaft of warmth right
to her heart.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"What does it mean?"

"It means you can now believe in something
you can't see. Leonard will be thrilled." She was so excited, she
decided to call for the angel. She suspected he'd be as delighted
as she. She called out, "Leonard!"

Nat turned his head in the direction in
which she'd called Leonard's name. "Oh, hi, Leonard. Are you ready
to hear Daphne's good news?"

Why was he talking as if the angel was in
the room with them? Leonard hadn't arrived—or had he? Maybe she'd
lost the ability to see him, some kind of weird transference
between her and Nat?

"Do you see him?" Her voice came out
whispery, excited.

"Oh, ah, yeah. Don't you?"

No. That didn't make sense. Leonard still
had to take her to claim a new body. Of course she'd be able to see
him. It wasn't as if she'd stopped believing.

Understanding abruptly dawned on her. Nat
was lying.

He didn't see Leonard because Leonard wasn't
here. And if Nat was lying about that—then he was lying about
everything. Surely not. Surely not everything.

"I don't see him. I don't think he's here,
Nat. Why do you think he's here?" She held her breath, hoping Nat
had a good explanation.

"I thought maybe that was him over there. I
thought I saw some wispy smoke or something. You never told me what
to look for."

Her heart almost broke. He wasn't telling
the truth and if he wasn't truthful about Leonard, that meant he
wasn't honest about—

He didn't love her, Daphne realized as she
tried and failed to catch his gaze. She knew it as surely as she
knew her own name. The fact was clear because he couldn't look her
in the eye.

She wasn't exactly sure why he was lying.
Maybe he didn't want to hurt her, maybe he had come to care at
least a little bit about her or he wouldn't bother. But not
enough.

She wouldn't cry. He couldn't help it any
more than she could help the sun rising in the morning. He couldn't
help it any more than she could help loving him.

If only she could have reached him. She'd
hungered for his redemption, knowing she must leave and yet hoping
that her heartache would be worthwhile. The Heavenly Council had
sent her because they thought she could get through to him—and
perhaps it was still possible.

It wasn't too late. Maybe she had expected
too much too soon. The best thing was to continue with the agenda
Leonard had laid out and keep the faith.

"It's time again." Sighing, hoping that
something in the future would bring about the change Nat needed,
she leaned over his desk to flick on the switch that would fire up
his computer. She wasn't quite sure which was the correct button to
press, and besides, she didn't want him to see the way her hands
shook. "I can't figure out how to turn it on."

"What? Not the VCR?"

"Leonard's nothing if not diverse."

He didn't look happy about it, but he
punched the button firing up his computer nonetheless. Daphne was
curious about this computer. It was so small. When she'd been
alive, they were just starting to come up with tiny enough parts to
allow something smaller than a mainframe. But this was compact. It
was in color. It played music, for heaven's sake.

The refrain from Beethoven's Fifth filled
the room, emanating from the computer on Nat's desk. If Leonard
hadn't explained that there had been incredible advances since her
lifetime, she would have thought it angelic magic as well.

"What now?"

She bit her lip, trying to recall Leonard's
explicit instructions. "Go to File Manager and click on Angel." She
was pretty sure that was right.