Kiss an Angel (45 page)

Her shoulders slumped, and he knew he'd won, but he felt no satisfaction.

"I don't love you anymore," she whispered. "I don't love you at all."

His throat closed. "It's all right, sweetheart. I love you enough for both of us."

23

Alex drove Daisy to the small house on a narrow street in a working-class neighborhood not far from the zoo. The house had a plaster statue of the Blessed Mother in the tiny front yard, along with a sunflower pinwheel guarding a bed of pink petunias. She rented a bedroom in the back with a view of a chain-link fence, and while she packed her meager possessions, he slipped away to settle up with her landlady, only to discover that Daisy had already paid her rent for the month.

From the chatty woman, he learned that Daisy worked as a receptionist at a beauty shop during the day and waited tables at a neighborhood tavern at night.

No wonder she seemed so tired. She had no car, so she either walked or took a bus everywhere, and she was saving all her money to get ready for the baby.

The fact that his wife had been living in penury while he had two luxury cars and a house filled with priceless art pounded another nail into his coffin of guilt.

As they set out on the road, he briefly considered taking her to his home in Connecticut, only to reject

the idea. She needed more than physical healing; she needed emotional healing, and maybe the animals she loved would help him give that to her.

* * *

It was all so familiar that Daisy experienced a moment of well-being as the truck swayed to a stop. She and Alex were on the road, making a jump to the next lot. She was in love and pregnant and—she jolted awake as reality crashed in on her.

He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door. "I have to get some sleep before I run us into

a bridge abutment. Wait here while I check in." He climbed out of the truck and closed the door behind him.

She leaned back against the seat, and as she shut her eyes against the gathering dusk, she also closed

her heart to the gentleness she had heard in his voice. He was filled with guilt, anyone could see that,

but she wouldn't be manipulated. The lies he'd spoken earlier had undoubtedly made him feel better,

but believing them would only trap her. She had a child to protect, and she could no longer afford the luxury of such foolish optimism.

He'd told her that her father and Amelia had tampered with her birth control pills and apologized for not trusting her. More guilt. She shut him out.

Why couldn't he have left her alone? Why had he forced her to come back with
him?
For the first time in weeks, the tide of emotions she'd worked so hard to repress rose inside her. She pressed her knuckles to her lips and fought the feelings back until she once again slipped behind the comforting barrier that had kept her functioning this past month.

For as long as she could remember, she had been a woman who had run on emotions, but she hadn't been able to continue to do that and survive. Pride is everything, Alex had told her, and now she knew he was right. Pride had kept her going. It had enabled her to answer the phone and shampoo heads all day, then spend her nights carrying heavy trays loaded with greasy food that made her stomach heave. Pride had kept a roof over her head and let her lay money aside for her future. Pride had kept her running

when love had betrayed her.

And now what?
For the first time in weeks, she experienced a fear that had nothing to do with making

her rent. She was afraid of Alex. What did he want with her?

The biggest threat to a young tiger is an older male tiger. Tigers don't have
strong family bonds like lions and elephants. It isn't unusual for a father tiger
to kill his own cub.
She fumbled for the door handle only to see her husband stalking toward her.

* * *

Alex pulled a chair back from the table where the room-service waiter had set out the meal he had ordered. "Sit down and eat, Daisy."

He hadn't chosen a sleazy highway motel. Instead, he'd booked them into a luxury suite in a shiny new Marriott located along the Ohio River at the Indiana-Kentucky border. She thought of the way she used to count pennies when she grocery shopped and gave him lectures on extravagance when he bought a bottle of good wine. How he must have been laughing at her.

"I told you I wasn't hungry."

"Keep me company, then."

It was less work to take the chair he held out for her than argue. He tightened the knot on the sash of

the white terry robe he'd put on after his shower and sat across from her. His hair was still damp, and

it curled a bit at the temples. He needed a haircut.

She looked down at the huge quantity of food he'd ordered for her: a dinner-plate-size salad, chicken breasts smothered in mushroom sauce, a baked potato, a side order of pasta, two rolls, a large glass of milk, and a slab of cheesecake.

"I can't eat this."

"I'm starved. I'll eat some of it for you."

Although he enjoyed food, he wasn't a big enough eater to put a dent in all this.

She felt her stomach pitch. She'd had more trouble holding food down since she'd left him than she'd had during her entire

first trimester.

"Try this." He lifted a bite of lasagna from his own plate and held it to her lips.

When she opened her mouth to refuse, he shoved it inside, forcing her to chew.

"I told you I didn't want to eat."

"Just a sample. Good, isn't it?"

To her surprise, once the initial shock had passed, the lasagna did taste good, although she wasn't going

to tell him that. She took a sip of water. "I really don't want anything else."

"I'm not surprised." He pointed toward her chicken. "That looks dry."

"It's covered in sauce. It doesn't look dry at all."

"Trust me, Daisy. That chicken is dry as shoe leather,"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Give me a taste."

She jabbed her fork into the chicken, and as she cut a piece, the juices spurted out. "Look at this." She poked her fork at him.

He obediently pulled the chicken off with his teeth, chewed, and grimaced.

"Dry."

She snatched up her knife, cut a piece for herself, and ate it. As she had predicted, it was just as

delicious as it looked. She ate another. "There is nothing wrong with this chicken."

"I guess the lasagna affected my taste buds. Let me try some of your pasta."

Irritated, she watched him twirl his fork in her pasta and slip it into his mouth.

A moment later, he delivered his verdict. "Too spicy for you."

"I happen to like spicy food."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

She jabbed at the pasta and dribbled some sauce on the tablecloth as she carried it to her mouth. The sauce was mild and flavorful. "It's not spicy at all."

She began to reach for another forkful only to check the motion in midair. Her eyes flew to his as she realized she'd let him trick her, and she set down her fork. "Another power play."

His long, lean fingers curled around her wrist, and he looked at her with a concern she didn't believe

for a moment. "Please, Daisy. You're so thin you're scaring me. You have to eat for the baby."

"You have no right!" Pain rushed through her. She choked back the rest of what she had been about to say and retreated behind the icy barrier that kept her safe.

Emotion was her enemy. She would think

only about what was best for her child.

Without a word, she returned to her meal, eating until she couldn't eat any more. She ignored his attempts at conversation and took no interest in the fact that he ate hardly anything himself. In her mind, she escaped to a beautiful meadow where she and her baby could roam free, both of them guarded by a powerful tiger named Sinjun who loved them and no longer needed a cage.

"You're exhausted," he said when she finally set down her fork. "Both of us need sleep. Let's make an early night of it."

She rose from the table, gathered her things, and went into the bathroom, where she treated herself to a long shower. When she finally came out, the suite was dark, lit only by a faint light seeping through a crack in the draperies. Alex lay on his back on the far side of the king size bed.

She was so tired she could barely stand, but the sight of his bare chest kept her from moving closer.

"It's all right," he whispered through the darkness. "I won't touch you, sweetheart."

She stayed where she was until she realized that it made no difference whether he touched her or not.

No matter what he did, she would feel nothing.

* * *

Alex shoved his hands into the pocket of his windbreaker and leaned against the hurricane fence that marked the far edge of the lot where they'd be spending the next two days. They were in Monroe County, Georgia, and the October air of midmorning carried the crisp hint of autumn.

Brady approached him. "You look like hell." "Yeah, well you don't look so good yourself."

"Women," he snorted. "Can't live with them. Can't murder 'em in their sleep."

Alex couldn't even summon a smile. Brady might be having trouble with Sheba, but at least his relationship with Heather was going well. The two of them spent a lot of time together, and Brady

was a more patient trainer than he'd been in the past. It was paying off, too, because Heather's performances were improving.

He and Daisy had been back for ten days, and the entire circus knew that something was drastically wrong with her. She didn't laugh anymore or flounce around the lot with her ponytail bouncing. She

was polite to everyone—she was even helping Heather with her schoolwork—

but all the special

qualities that had made her who she was seemed to have been extinguished.

And everybody expected

him to fix her.

Brady pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and slipped it into his mouth.

"Daisy's been a lot different since she got back."

"She's adjusting to being pregnant, that's all."

Brady wasn't fooled. "I miss the way she used to be. She was always nibbing in my business—I guess I don't miss that—but I sure miss the way she cared about everybody. Now it doesn't seem like she cares about anything other than Sinjun and the elephants."

"She'll get over it."

"Yeah, I guess."

They watched in silence as a truck dumped a load of hay. Alex saw Daisy pick up one of the long-handled brushes and begin scrubbing Puddin'. He'd told her he didn't want her working, but she

said she'd gotten used to work. Then he'd tried to order her to stay away from all of the elephants

except Tater, fearing that one of them would swat her. She'd looked right through him and done exactly what she wanted.

Brady crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you should know—I saw her curled up in Sinjun's

cage again last night."

"Damn it! I swear to God I'm going to handcuff her if she doesn't stay out of that tiger cage!"

"It scares the shit out of me, I'll tell you that. I hate seeing her like this."

"Yeah, well you're not the only one."

"Why don't you do something?"

''Just what do you suggest? I had one of my cars brought down from Connecticut so she wouldn't have

to ride in the truck, but she said she liked the truck. I've bought her flowers, and she ignores them. I tried to order a new RV, but she had a fit when she found out about it, so I had to cancel. I don't know what else I can do." He shoved his hand through his hair. "Why am I telling you this? If you knew anything about women, you wouldn't be hanging around Sheba."

"You're not getting any argument out of me."

"Daisy's going to be fine. It's just a matter of time."

"Sure. You're probably right."

"Damn right I am."

If he repeated it enough times, maybe he could make it come true. How he missed the way she had been. She never cried anymore. Her easy tears had been as much a part of her as the air she breathed, but now she seemed to have anesthetized herself to emotion. He remembered the way she used to throw herself into his arms from the top of the truck ramp, the sound of her laughter, the brush of her hand in his hair. He ached for her in a way he had never ached for anyone, and last night, it had pushed him over the edge.

He winced at the memory.

He'd dreamed she was smiling at him in that way she used to, her whole face lit up, offering herself to him. He'd awakened to find himself pressed against her.

It had been so long, and he wanted her too

much to let her go.

He slid his hand along her hip and over the sweet thickening at her waist. She'd awakened immediately, and he'd felt her stiffen as he caressed her, but she didn't pull away. She didn't even resist when he spread her thighs and moved on top of her. Instead, she lay passively while he added one more sin to the list of those he'd already committed against her. He'd felt like a rapist, and this morning he hadn't

been able to look himself in the eye when he'd shaved.

"She still talks to Heather," Brady said. "But not the way she used to. Heather's as worried as the rest

of us."

* * *

Heather finished the tacos Sheba had made for her and wiped her fingers on her paper napkin. "Do you want to hear what Dad said to me last night?"

Sheba looked over from the sink. "Sure."

Heather grinned, then puffed out her chest. "He said, 'Damn it, Heather, get your crap off the couch.

Just because I love you doesn't mean I want your makeup plastered all over my ass.'"

Sheba laughed. ' Your old man sure knows how to sweet-talk."

"That day at the airport..." She blinked. "He had tears in his eyes, Sheba."

"He loves you a lot."

"I guess I know that now." Her smile faded. "I feel sort of guilty being so happy and everything when Daisy's all screwed up. Yesterday I said shit right in front of her, and she didn't even notice."