Kiss an Angel (10 page)

She smiled politely and wished Alex felt that way.

Only after the second show was well under way could she close the ticket window and watch Alex's act. She hoped that seeing it again would dilute the impact of last night, but his skill seemed even more impressive. Where had he learned how to do such things?

It wasn't until the show had ended that she remembered the mess she had left behind in the trailer. She hurried back and had just opened the door when Jill came up to her with a conspiratorial smile on her face. Frankie was once again perched on her shoulders, and at the sight of Daisy, he immediately began to shriek and cover his eyes.

' 'Hush, you stinker. Come on, Daisy, I have something to show you."

Daisy hastily closed the trailer door before her new acquaintance could see the mess inside and discover what a terrible housekeeper she was. Jill took her arm and began leading her along the line of trailers. Off to her left, she could see Jack Daily, the ringmaster, talking with Alex as the workmen began stacking the bleachers.

"Ouch!" Daisy gave a shriek as something yanked hard on a lock of her hair.

Frankie cackled.

"Naughty boy," Jill cooed, as Daisy leaped out of paw reach. "Ignore him.

Once he discovers he can't get to you, he'll leave you alone."

Daisy decided not to voice her doubts about the probability of that happening.

They rounded the end trailer, and she gasped with surprise when she saw the performers, still in costume, surrounding a card table holding a rectangular sheet cake with a bride and groom in the center. Madeline, the showgirl she'd met earlier, stood nearest the cake, along with Brady Pepper and his sons, the youngest Lipscomb boy, several of the clowns, and many others she'd met earlier. Only Heather remained off to the side.

70 Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Smiling widely, Jack Daily drew Alex forward while Madeline lifted her hands like a choir director. "All right everybody. Congratulations to you!

Congratulations to you!"

As the group sang, Daisy's eyes grew misty. These people barely knew her, but they were extending the hand of friendship. After the coldness of the wedding ceremony, the intimacy of this moment touched her. In this gathering of Alex's friends, she felt as if she were attending a real celebration, an acknowledgment that something intensely personal had happened, something that wasn't a punishment meted out by her father but a cause for happiness.

"Thank you," she whispered when the singing came to an end. She fought back tears. "Thank you all so much."

She turned to Alex, and her happiness evaporated as she saw his face, rigid with displeasure.

The crowd gradually grew silent. They took in his reaction and knew something was wrong.
Please don't do this, she thought. I want these people to
be my friends. Please pretend to be happy.

A few of the women looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. The assumption that Alex was a happy bridegroom rapidly faded, and she watched several sets of eyes drop to her waistline to see if she was pregnant.

She forced herself to speak. "I don't know when I've had a nicer surprise. Do you, Alex?"

There was a long silence before he gave a terse shake of his head.

She lifted her chin and fixed a smile on her face. "The cake looks delicious. I'll bet everyone would like a piece." She gazed directly into Alex's eyes, beseeching him. "Let's cut it together."

The silence seemed to drag on forever. "My hands are dirty. You go ahead."

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she stepped behind the card table, picked up the knife, and began cutting the cake into squares. As the silence grew more pronounced, she tried to pretend nothing was wrong. "I can't believe you put all this together so quickly. How on earth did you manage it?"

Madeline shuffled uncomfortably. "It—uh—wasn't hard."

"Well, I'm impressed." Cheeks aching with the effort of smiling, Daisy extracted the first piece, set it

on a paper plate, and handed it to Alex.

He took it from her without a word.

The silence grew more deafening. Finally, Jill broke in, her eyes darting nervously between the bride and groom. "I'm sorry it's chocolate. We did this on short notice, and the bakery was out of white cake."

Daisy regarded her with gratitude for trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Chocolate's my favorite."

Alex set his paper plate down on the table so abruptly the untouched piece of cake flipped off and landed icing side down. "Excuse me. I have to get back to work. Thank you all."

Daisy's hand trembled on the plate she was passing to Madeline. Someone snickered. Daisy lifted her head and saw that it was Heather.

The teenager shot her a triumphant smirk and ran after Alex. "Do you need some help?"

"Sure, sweetheart." His voice, warm and full of affection, carried over the night air. "We're having some trouble with the winch on the spool truck. You can help me check it out."

Daisy blinked her eyes hard. She was an easy crier, but if she cried now, she'd never be able to face these people again. "Let me get you some cake." She pushed a piece toward a man with shaggy blond hair and aging California surfer looks. She remembered he'd introduced himself as Neeco Martin, the elephant trainer, when he'd stopped by the red wagon.

He took it without a word and turned his back on her to say something to one of the clowns. Madeline stepped forward to help Daisy, apparently deciding it was best to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. The performers picked up their cake and, one by one, drifted away.

Before long, only Jill was left. "I'm sorry, Daisy. I thought this was a good idea, but I should have known Alex wouldn't like it. He's very private."

So private he hadn't bothered to mention to any of these people that he'd gotten married.

Daisy forced another stiff smile. "Marriage is an adjustment for anybody."

Jill picked up the remains of the cake on its cardboard tray and pushed it into Daisy's hands. "Here. Why don't you take this?"

Daisy could feel the bile rise in her throat as she accepted the cake, even though she didn't ever want to see it again. "Gracious, it's getting late, and I have a million things to do before bedtime."

She fled.

* * *

For the next few hours while the big top was being packed up for its move to the next town, she dragged herself through the motions of putting everything back in the cupboards and storage closet. She was overcome with a sense of despair and so weary with exhaustion she could barely hold her head up, but she kept working.

Dirt streaked her expensive slacks, and her blouse stuck to her skin, but she didn't care. She had wanted these people to be her friends, but that would never happen now that they knew how little regard Alex had for her. And how little regard he had for their marriage. The cake ceremony had been a small sacrament, and he had treated it with contempt.

Alex entered the trailer shortly after midnight. The place still looked as bad as it had when she'd first arrived. Although she'd finally gotten everything put away, she hadn't had either the time or the energy to clean anything other than the cupboards. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and the same crusty pan sat on the stove.

He slammed his hands on his hips and surveyed the messy counters, the dusty table top, and the crumbling remains of their wedding cake.

"I thought you were going to get this place cleaned up. It's still filthy."

She clenched her jaw. "The cupboards are clean."

"Who cares about the cupboards? Can't you do anything right?"

She didn't think. She'd worked for hours, her marriage was a mockery, and she'd been publicly humiliated by a man who'd sworn before God to cherish her. With one sweep of her arm, she picked up the decimated wedding cake and flung it at him.

"You jerk!"

His hands automatically shot up to ward it off, but he wasn't quick enough. The cake caught him in the shoulder and erupted.

She watched the wreckage with a curious detachment. Bits of cake and icing flew everywhere. White frosting splattered his hair and eyebrows, even his eyelashes. Chocolate lumps clung to his jaw, then dropped onto the shoulder of his T-shirt. Her detachment came to an abrupt end as she watched him turn red.

He was going to kill her.

He reached up to clear his eyes at the same time that he moved toward her. She sidestepped and, taking advantage of his temporary blindness, ran out the door.

She glanced frantically around, searching for a place to hide. The big top was down, the smaller tents had disappeared, most of the trucks had pulled out. She ran across a stretch of dry weeds and shot into a narrow space between two of the vans. Her heart slammed against her ribs with sickening dread. What had she done?

She jumped as she heard a man's voice and slipped deeper into the shadows only to bump up against something solid. Without looking to see what it was, she leaned back and tried to catch her breath. How long would it take him to find her? And what would he do then?

A growling sound came from just behind her ear.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood, and an icy trickle slithered down her spine. She whirled around. And stared into a pair of pale golden eyes.

Her body grew paralyzed. She knew what the beast was. She understood she was looking at a tiger.

But she couldn't absorb the reality of it.

The animal was so close she felt its breath on her face. It bared its teeth, stiletto sharp and lethal. She smelled its scent, heard its low menacing growl grow in volume, escalating into a vicious barking roar.

Her paralysis ended as the animal sprang for the iron bars that separated the two of them, and she

leaped backward.

Her spine slammed up against something very solid and very human, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the tiger. A terrible ringing sounded in her head. At that moment, the beast seemed to be the manifestation of all that was evil, and she felt as if every bit of that malevolence was directed at her.

Somehow, on this feral South Carolina night she had met her destiny.

She spun around, unable to bear the force of those golden eyes any longer. As she turned into the solid warmth behind her, she knew she'd found sanctuary.

Then she felt the squish of frosting beneath her cheek. The fear, the exhaustion, the life-shattering events of the past two days overwhelmed her, and she whimpered.

His hand, surprisingly gentle, tilted up her chin. She gazed into another set of pale, golden eyes so like

that tiger's that she felt as if she had journeyed from one beast to another.

"Sinjun can't hurt you, Daisy. He's in a cage."

"It doesn't matter!" Hysteria threatened her. Didn't he realize that a cage couldn't protect her from what she'd seen in the tiger's eyes?

But he didn't understand and she could never explain her fleeting sense of having come face-to-face with her own fate. She drew away from him. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm being foolish."

"It's not the first time," he said grimly.

She gazed up at him. Even speckled with cake and frosting, he looked fiercely magnificent and utterly terrifying. Just like the tiger. She found herself fearing him in a new way, one she didn't entirely understand except to know that it had a dimension that went beyond the threat of the physical. It was more elusive than that. Somehow she feared he would damage her soul.

She had reached the limits of her endurance. There had been too many changes, too much conflict, and she had no more fight left. Her weariness reached all the way to the marrow of her bones, and she could barely find the strength to speak.

"I suppose you're going to threaten me with something terrible now."

"Don't you think you deserve it? Children throw things, not adults."

"You're right, of course." She shoved a shaky hand through her hair. "What's it going to be, Alex? Humiliation? I've already had a big dose of that tonight.

How about contempt? Lots of that, too. Dislike? No, that won't work; I've gotten numb to dislike." She paused, her voice faltering. "I'm afraid you'll have to come up with something completely different."

As Alex gazed down at her, she looked so unhappy that something inside him loosened. He knew she was afraid of him—he'd made sure of it—and he still couldn't believe she'd found the nerve to throw that cake. Poor little feather head. She hadn't yet figured out that snapping those baby-cake eyes at him and going after him with those kitten claws wouldn't do her a bit of good.

He felt her shiver beneath his hands. Her claws were sheathed now, and her eyes showed only despair. Did she know she wore every one of her feelings on her face?

He wondered how many men she'd had. She probably didn't even know.

Despite that open-eyed innocence, she was a natural pleasure seeker. She was also a scatterbrain, and he could well imagine her ending up in more than one playboy's bed with only the vaguest idea how she'd gotten there.

At least that was one thing she'd be good for. As he watched her, he had to fight the sudden urge to pick her up and carry her back to the trailer, where he would lay her on his bed and satisfy every one of the questions that had begun to nag at him. How would those flyaway curls feel spread out like dark ribbons against his pillow? He wanted to gaze at her naked in the rumpled sheets, see the paleness of her flesh against his darker skin, test the weight of her breasts in his hands. He wanted to smell her and feel her

and touch her.

Just yesterday at the wedding ceremony, he'd told himself she wasn't the kind of woman he'd choose

as a sexual companion, but that was before he'd glimpsed her round bottom peeking out from under the bottom of his T-shirt as he woke her up. That was before he'd watched her in his truck, crossing and uncrossing those sweet legs of hers, dangling that silly little sandal from her toe. She had pretty feet, small and well-shaped with a high, delicate arch and nails painted the same red as the gown on a

Signorelli madonna.