Fallen Angels: Beguiled / Wanton / Uncovered

“What I’m up to? Well, all right. Let’s see. I want to help you. I want you to trust me again—”

“Ha!”

“—and I want to be with you.” He said that last part with a small smile, and his fingertips grazed her chin. She ducked her face away. “I want to be a part of Grayson’s life and be a father to him. I want to show you that I can be responsible and honorable and that I’m not a total jerk. I want…a lot of things.”

She stared at him hard, unnerved. “You’re an alien, right? Derek was zapped into space and you were sent to replace him? That’s the only thing I’ll believe.”

He laughed, but his eyes looked sad. “Would you like that, if the real Derek was gone for good?”

None of this, most especially his somber tone, made any sense. Angel dropped her head against the back of the couch and sighed. “I never wished you any harm, Derek. Not even when I thought I hated you, when you suggested we’d both be better off without the baby. I just didn’t want to ever see you again.”

“But you invited me back into your life. I may be trying to take up more of that life than you’re comfortable with, but I won’t hurt you again. I promise.”

Without lifting her head from the couch, she turned her face toward him. In a soft whisper, she said, “Do you actually believe I’d ever trust you again?”

“Yes.” He said it without hesitation. His eyes were dark and sincere and intense, probing into her mind, trying to read her thoughts. “I can get you to trust me again.”

The mere possibility scared her half to death. She could never leave herself that vulnerable again; her baby’s well-being depended on her strength. “And then what? You’ll steal my baby away from me?” Her chest squeezed tight with the thought and she knew her voice shook. She couldn’t help it. She’d known the risks involved when she contacted him, but Mick was right. She couldn’t handle things on her own anymore. The threat was there and it was real and she was afraid, not so much for herself, but for Grayson. He relied on her, and she had to protect him. That’s what mattered most.

If it was Derek’s family behind the awful threats, as she suspected, he might well be the only person who could protect her.

Derek stood, giving her his back. His fists rested on his hips and he looked angry and frustrated and somehow heartsick. “I would never take him from you,” he said, the words low and raspy. “I’d swear it to you, but I realize my promises mean nothing—yet. All I want to do is help.”

“But you never wanted to help me before. You made it clear you wanted no part of me or the baby.”

She heard him swallow, then he turned to face her. He looked angry, and almost confused, a bit desperate. “I was an ass. An idiot and a bastard. I’m here now, Angel. Don’t shut me out.”

She really had little choice in the matter. It was difficult to say the words, but he seemed so different, not at all like the man she’d known. Her reactions, her feelings toward him, were different, too. He touched something inside her that the old Derek hadn’t gotten close to. She supposed anyone could change, and she knew how Grayson had affected her life, the impact he’d made on her.

As if reading her mind, he whispered, “Grayson hit me like a punch in the heart. A tiny little person, part of my blood.” His eyes narrowed. “You said it yourself. How holding him made you feel.”

“But I carried him and went through all the changes the pregnancy caused. I got sick in the mornings, stayed awake at night as he kicked, stayed tired all the time. I felt him grow and I saw him born. I saw him take his first breath, give his first cry.”

“You think I don’t regret missing all that?”

He sounded so sincere, but she just didn’t know. Unless he planned to take the baby from her, she could see no reason for an emotional deception. She searched his face, but it was a futile effort; whatever he felt was well hidden. Damn, she had so few choices in this. “All right.”

He let out a gust of air, ran a hand through his hair, rubbed his chin, then smiled. “Okay. Shew, I’m glad that’s settled.” He looked much relieved, his shoulders no longer so tense, his eyes no longer worried. “Okay. On to the next battle. I want to move you someplace else.”

Angel could only stare at him in disbelief. “You’re nuts. I give ground on one little thing and you want to take over!”

“Come on, honey, you can’t like living here.”

She wanted to shove his condescension back into his face until he choked on it. “I most certainly do like it,” she lied, knowing Mick to be the only redeeming factor of her present residence. “I’m close to the downtown businesses and I do transcription at home for a lot of the offices and the students. I make enough money to keep the rent paid and my health insurance active. It’s convenient and I enjoy the people and I’m not moving.”

He pursed his mouth and studied her, then must have decided not to push his luck. “I’ll let that go for now.”

“You’ll let it go forever!”

“Now, about therapy.” Angel rolled her eyes, which didn’t even slow him down. “I’ve known people with compound fractures. It can take months to heal with proper treatment, and you’ve not had that.”

“I have a very good doctor.”

“Who no doubt told you that you needed therapy.”

That was true, but it had been out of the question. Not only did she not have anyone to watch Grayson, but she had no way of getting back and forth each day to the therapist and her insurance would have only covered a small percentage of the bill. She shook her head at Derek, hopeless. “It’s been almost two months. It’s too late for therapy.”

“Nonsense. I know the perfect person. I’ll have her come here. What would be convenient for you?”

Angel rubbed her eyes. He was coming too fast and too hard, and suddenly she was tired. He’d invaded her life, her emotions. She’d had such a simple plan, and she’d thought for a while it might work. Then he’d held Grayson, and he’d kissed her and taken off his shirt and bought her disposable diapers and lotion and she just couldn’t take it all in. She didn’t have it in her to continue fighting him, at least, not right now. “Derek, please. Let off a little. You’re here. You’ve met your son. My apartment is stuffed with new purchases. Isn’t that enough for now?”

“I have a lot to make up for.”

She certainly wouldn’t argue that point with him. “Well, let’s save it for another time, okay? Right now, I’m exhausted. I worked really late last night finishing up some papers that were due this morning and Grayson still wakes up during the night to be fed. If you’ll take yourself out of here, I’d like a nap.”

“What papers?”

With barely veiled impatience, she explained once again. “I transcribe files or notes for the local offices when one of the secretaries is ill, and I do term papers and such for students at the college. I’m sure you remember I have top-of-the-line office equipment, even if my computer is getting a little dated.”

“You don’t have to continue working. I can give you money.”

Just like that, he expected her to become totally dependent on him. She wanted to get up and smack him, and she wanted to cry. Neither would have brought about the results she needed. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

He stood there, obviously undecided, and she waited. But he only smiled, his look rueful. “Come on, I’ll help you into bed.”

Panic edged into her weariness. She didn’t want him touching her again, getting so close. He’d kissed her, and that brief touch had unnerved her, had made her belly tingle. When he’d taken off his shirt, she’d almost groaned. He’d been her first lover, her only lover. And she’d never found fault with his physique. Though their single night together hadn’t been great, she knew a lot of the blame was due to her own uncertainty. And now, she missed so much the closeness of being with a man, not necessarily sexually, but with gentleness and concern, a special friendship between two people who know they’re destined to be lovers. Or who have been lovers in the past. The intimacy was there for her, whether she despised him or not.

But despising him was no longer an issue. He was too damn different.

“No thank you,” she muttered, shaken by her own revelations, afraid of her own weaknesses. But true to form, he wasn’t listening and had her pulled up close to his side before she could move away. With one hard muscled arm around her waist, the other holding her elbow, he practically carried her into her room. She could feel his heat, his strength, and it felt too good to be coddled, to have some of the burden lifted, even if in a superficial way.

Closing her eyes didn’t help, only made her more aware of the shifting of muscle, the hardness of his body, his incredible heat and enticing scent. The man even smelled different, more welcoming, more comforting. More exciting.

Her bedroom door had been shut until now and when Derek stepped inside he paused to look around. She pulled away from him, her hands shaking, and he took her elbow to assist her to the bed. Her hobbling gait embarrassed her.

“Really, Derek. How do you think I ever managed when you weren’t around?”

Her sarcasm was wasted, judging by his frown. “I’ve been wondering about that myself.” He lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the sheet and blankets over her. “Are you comfortable?”

With him looming over her while she rested in a bed? His shoulders looked hard, his chest broad. When she’d glimpsed him with his shirt off earlier, she’d noticed the remains of a tan. He’d been in warm weather recently, sunning himself.

His hair hung over his forehead, soft and silky dark and a tracing of beard shadow was showing on his face. No, she was far from comfortable. “I’m fine.”

“This is a pretty room. It…suits you.”

The things he said seemed so strange, as if another man had taken over his body. Derek had never before commented on furniture or even noticed it as far as she could tell. Her belongings were nice, but they weren’t picked by an interior decorator as his had been.

Still, they were hers, and she loved them. She’d hated to spend so much of her dwindled savings on movers when she’d left her old place, but she’d been unable to do the work herself, had no friends to call on, and she refused to live on someone else’s furniture.