Читать книгу: «Fallen Angels: Beguiled / Wanton / Uncovered»

Lori Foster
Fallen Angels

To Ashley Carter.

What a wonderful, sweet and very beautiful young lady you are.

I’m so glad you’re a part of our lives!

Love ya,

Lori

CONTENTS

BEGUILED

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

WANTON

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

UNCOVERED

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

BEGUILED

PROLOGUE

HARSH WIND THREW icy crystals of snow down the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. He raised his collar, then shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, resisting the urge to touch the gravestone. The grave was all but covered in white, making everything look clean, but Dane Carter didn’t buy it. Not for a minute.

He’d missed the burial by almost four months. His family was outraged, of course, but they’d never really forgiven him for past transgressions, so he figured one more didn’t matter. Except to himself.

His face felt tight, more from restrained emotion than from the biting cold. The death of his twin was a harsh reality to accept, like losing the better part of himself even though he and Derek hadn’t been in contact much lately. Dane had been away from the family, disconnected from the business, for quite a few years now. He deliberately took the cases from his P.I. firm that kept him out of town as much as possible. Though his office was only an hour away, he’d been out of reach when his brother had needed him most.

Though everyone seemed to accept Derek’s death as an accident, concerned only with keeping the news out of the media to avoid a panic with the shareholders, Dane couldn’t let it rest. He wouldn’t let it rest. He had a nose for intrigue, and things had begun to smell really foul. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, just a gut feeling, but his instincts had held him in good stead as a private detective for several years now—ever since he’d left the family business in his brother’s capable hands.

He hunkered down suddenly and stuck one hand through the snow to the frozen ground. “What the hell happened, Derek? This was a lousy trick to play on me. I never wanted this, not the company, hell, not even the family most of the time. You left too damn many loose ends, brother.”

The wind howled a hollow answer, and disgusted with himself, Dane drew his hand back and cupped it close to his face, warming his fingers with his breath. “And what about this Angel Morris woman? I got a letter from her, you know, only she assumed you’d get it. Seems she doesn’t know you’re gone and she wants to pick up where the two of you left off. I believe I’m going to oblige her.”

His mind skittered about with ramifications of deceit, but he had to cover all the bases. According to the records he’d uncovered, Angel Morris had been seeing Derek on a regular basis until the takeover of her company. Derek had used information Angel gave him to make the takeover easier, and Angel had gotten fired because of it. She had plenty of reasons to despise Derek, and he certainly deserved her enmity. Yet now she wanted to see him again. After so long, he had to wonder if Angel had assumed Derek was dead, but with Dane’s return, she felt she had unfinished business. After all, no pronouncements had been made.

As far as the outside world was concerned, Derek Carter was still running the business. Only a select few knew of his demise. The family had thought it best if Dane filled in for a while. If he pretended to be Derek no one would start rumors about a company without a leader, or a family with a scandal. All in all, Dane wasn’t sure which possibility worried his mother more. The company was her life, and the Carter name was sacred in her mind. She wouldn’t want either one damaged. And if Derek had been murdered, if the accident wasn’t an accident at all as Dane feared, it would certainly hit the news.

But that wasn’t why Dane had agreed to come back, why he was filling in for his brother. No, he wanted the truth, no matter what. And he’d damn well get it.

If Angel knew anything, if she was involved with Derek’s death in any way, even peripherally, Dane would find out. He may have disassociated himself from the family, but he could be every bit as ruthless as the best of them.

Dane shook his head. “I’ll be seeing her first thing tomorrow, alone, away from the family as she insisted. I’ll let you know how it goes.” With that banal farewell, he turned and trod back through the snow to the road where his car sat idling, offering warmth, but no peace of mind.

What a laugh. Dane Carter hadn’t had peace of mind since he’d walked out on his family, regardless of what he told them, what he insisted to himself. Maybe Angel, if she wasn’t an enemy, could prove to be a nice distraction from his present worries. His brother had always had excellent taste in women.

CHAPTER ONE

ANGEL TRIED TO METER her breathing, to look calm, but her heart felt lodged in her throat and wouldn’t budge. She hated doing this, had sworn she’d never so much as speak to the man again after his last, most devastating rejection. But she’d been left with little choice.

With her shoe box tucked beneath her arm and one hand on the wall, offering support, she made her way down the hall to Derek’s office. She still felt awkward without her crutches, but she knew better than to show him any weaknesses at all. When she reached the open door, she straightened her shoulders, forced a smile, and tried to make her steps as smooth as possible.

Derek sat behind his desk, his chair half turned so that he could look out the window at the Saturday morning traffic. The rest of the building, except for the security guards, was empty, just as she’d planned.

He was still as gorgeous, as physically compelling as ever, only now he looked a little disheveled, a little rumpled. She liked this look better than the urbane businessman he usually portrayed. The only other time she’d seen him relaxed like this was right after he’d made love to her.

That thought licked a path of heat from her heart to her stomach and back again, and she had to clear her throat.

His chair jerked around and his gaze pierced her, freezing her on the spot. Even her heartbeat seemed to shudder and die. Only his eyes moved as he looked her over, slowly and in excruciating detail, as if he’d never seen her before and needed to commit her to memory, then their eyes met—and locked. For painstaking moments they stayed that way, and the heat, the intensity of his gaze, thawed her clear down to her toes. Her chest heaved as she tried to deal with the unexpected punch of reacting to him again. It shouldn’t have happened; she didn’t care anymore, wasn’t awed by him now. Her infatuation had long since faded away, but seeing him with his straight brown hair hanging over his brow, his shirtsleeves rolled up, made him more human than ever. His gaze seemed brighter, golden like a fox, and she tightened her hold on the shoe box, using it to remind herself of her purpose.

She saw some indiscernible emotion cross his face, and then he stood. “Angel.”

His voice was low and deep. As he rounded the desk his eyes never left hers, and she felt almost ensnared. She retreated a step, which effectively halted his approach. He lifted one dark eyebrow in a look of confusion.

Idiot. She didn’t want to put him off, to show him her nervousness. That would gain her nothing. She tried a smile, but he didn’t react to it. Moving more slowly now, he stepped closer, watching her, waiting.

“Can I take your coat?”

She closed her eyes, trying to dispel the fog of emotions that swamped her. When she opened them again, she found him even closer, studying her, scrutinizing her every feature. He lifted a hand and she held her breath, but his fingers only coasted, very gently, over her cheek.

“You’re cold,” he said softly. Then he stepped back. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee?”

Angel nodded, relieved at the mundane offer. “Thank you. Coffee sounds wonderful.” Walking forward, she set her shoe box on the edge of the desk and slipped out of her coat, aware of his continued glances as he collected two mugs from a tray. She didn’t mean to, but she said, “You seem different.”

He paused, then deliberately went back to his task. “Oh? In what way?”

With one hand resting on the shoe box, she used the other to indicate his clothes. “I’ve never seen you dressed so casually before. And offering to pour me coffee. Usually you—”

He interrupted, handing her a steaming mug. “Usually I leave domestic tasks to women, I know.” He shrugged, gifting her with that beautiful smile of his that could melt ice even on a day like today. “But you insisted no one else be here today, so I was left to my own devices. It was either make the coffee, or do without.”

Angel fidgeted. “You know why I didn’t want anyone else here. Your family would have asked questions if they’d seen us together.”

He nodded slowly. “True.” Then he asked in a low curious tone, “Why are you here, Angel?”

Flirting had never come easy to her, but especially not these days. She smiled. “I’ve missed you, of course. Didn’t you miss me just a little?”

He stared a moment longer, then carefully set his mug aside. “Most definitely,” he said. He took her coffee as well, placing it beside his, then cupped her face. Strangely enough, his fingers felt rough rather than smooth, and very hot. He searched her every feature, lingering on her mouth while his thumb wreaked havoc on her bottom lip, smoothing, stroking. “Show me how much you missed me, Angel.”

Now this was the Derek she understood, the man who always put his own pleasures first, the man who had always physically wanted her. That hadn’t changed. Without hesitation, surprised at how acceptable the prospect of kissing him seemed when all day she’d been dreading it, she leaned upward. He was much taller than her, and her leg was too weak for tiptoes, so she caught him around the neck and pulled him down.

When her mouth touched his, tentative and shy, she felt his smile. She kept her eyes tightly closed, mostly because she knew he was watching her and she felt exposed, as if he’d guess her game at any moment. It had been so long since she’d done this, since she’d kissed a man, and she was woefully out of practice and nervous to boot. If necessity hadn’t driven her to it, she’d have gone many more months, maybe even years, without touching a man. Especially this man.

But now she was touching him, and shamefully, to her mind, it was rather enjoyable.

Tilting her head, she parted her lips just a bit and kissed him again, more enthusiastically this time, nibbling his bottom lip between her teeth. His humor fled and he drew a deep breath through his nose. “Angel?”

“Kiss me, Derek. It’s been so long.”

The errant truth of her words could be heard in the hunger of her tone, something she couldn’t quite hide. His answering groan sounded of surprise, almost anger, but kiss her he did. Wow. Angel held on, stunned at the reaction in her body to the dampness, the heat of his mouth as he parted her lips more and thrust his tongue inside. His body, hard and tall and strong, pressed against hers. It had never felt this way, like a storm on the senses. Her heart rapped against her breastbone, her stomach heated, her nipples tightened, and he seemed to be aware of it all, offering soft encouragement every time she made a sound, every time she squirmed against him. She wasn’t being kissed, she was being devoured.

“Damn, Angel.”

“I know,” she said, because everything was different, somehow volatile. “I didn’t plan on…this.”

He paused, his lips touching her throat, then raised his face to look at her. He said nothing, but his hand lifted and closed over her breast, causing her to suck in her breath on a soft, startled moan. Oh no. She was so sensitive, and she hadn’t realized. “Derek…”

He kissed her again, hard, cutting off her automatic protest, then backed her to the desk. His groin pressed against her, making her aware of his solid erection, of the length and heat of it. Her plans fled; there was no room in her brain for premeditated thought, not when her body suddenly felt so alive again, reacting on pure instinct. His hand smoothed over her bottom, pulling her even closer, rocking her against him. Her leg protested, but she ignored it, an easy thing to do when his scent, his strength, filled her.

“How long has it been, Angel?”

She clutched his shoulders, her head back, her eyes closed, as he kneaded her breast with one hand, and kept her pelvis close with the other. Surely he knew as well as she did, so she merely said, “A long time.”

“And you’ve missed me?” He nibbled her earlobe, then dipped his tongue inside. “Why didn’t you call?”

Even in the sensual fog, she saw the trap. “After the way you acted last time?” She was astounded he would even ask such a thing!

He hesitated, then asked, “How exactly did you expect me to act?”

She stiffened as she pulled back. “Not like you couldn’t have cared less! And after the way you’d betrayed my trust! You got me fired, you—”

“Shhh.” He kissed her again, lingering, and his hand started a leisurely path down her body, measuring her waist, which thankfully was slim again, then roving over her hip. Her thoughts, her anger, turned to mush. She caught her breath with each inch he advanced. His fingers curled on her thigh, bunching her skirt, then moved upward again, this time underneath, touching against her leggings. He cupped her, startling her, shocking her actually. But she didn’t move and neither did he. She tried to remind herself that this was what she’d hoped for, but it wasn’t true. She’d stupidly hoped for so much more.

His fingers felt hot even through her clothes, but he was still, just holding her, watching her again. “Why now, Angel? Why this secret arrangement?”

She decided a partial truth would serve. “There’s been no one but you.”

“And you needed a man, so it had to be me?”

“Yes.” That was true, too. She didn’t know who to trust, who to fear, so for what she needed, no one else would serve. But she hadn’t planned on her own honest participation. Her body reacted independently of her mind; she felt shamed by her response to a man she should have loathed, but overriding that was some inescapable need, swamping her, causing her whole body to tremble. Maybe the pregnancy had altered her hormones or something, but she’d never in her life felt like this, and it was wonderful.

She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body felt tightly strung, waiting, anticipating. She dredged up thoughts of the past, of all the reasons she had to despise him, why his touch could never matter…

He seemed a bit stunned as she moaned softly and her fingers dug into his upper arms. He held her close, his own breathing harsh while his mouth moved gently on her temple. In all her imaginings, she had never envisioned this scenario, allowing him to touch her there, with her half-leaning on his damn desk, her face tucked into his throat. His heartbeat drummed madly against her own, and she grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away. “Derek, no.”

Her voice shook with mortification, freezing him for an instant.

“Shhh.” He dropped her skirt back into place and softly rocked her, soothing her. She bit her lip to keep her tears from falling, but even now she was painfully aware of his scent, his warmth. And the delicious, unexpected feelings didn’t leave now that his touch was removed, they only quieted a bit.

She put one hand on his chest and lifted her face. He didn’t smile, didn’t ask questions. She couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what came over me.”

“Am I complaining?”

She shook her head. No, he looked pleased, but not really smug. Not as she’d expected. “That’s never happened before. I don’t understand.”

“What’s never happened?”

“Between you and me. Usually everything was just so…controlled. And uncomfortable. I’ve never felt…”

His face darkened, and she hastened to explain. “I don’t mean to insult you, but Derek, you know yourself that sex between us was…well, you seemed to like it okay, but I was a little disappointed. Not…not that it was all your fault. It’s just that I didn’t…it wasn’t…”

He smoothed her hair, his jaw tight. He seemed undecided about something, and then suddenly he clasped her waist and lifted her off her feet. He sat her on the edge of the desk, roughly spreading her thighs and stepping between them in the same movement. Pain shot through her and she gasped, curling forward, her hand reaching for her leg, wanting to rub away the sharp pounding ache. Her breath had left her and her free hand curled into his biceps, gripping him painfully. Derek froze, then growled, “What the hell?”

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, but God, it hurt, and with more gentleness than she knew he possessed, Derek lifted her into his arms and headed for the leather couch.

Nothing was going right. “Derek, put me down.”

“You’re as white as a sheet.” He looked down on her as he lowered her to the sofa cushions, and she flinched at the anger in his eyes. “I noticed you were limping a little when you came in, but I didn’t realize you were hurt.”

“I’m not,” she protested, the issue of her leg meant for another day. “Really, I’ll just…”

“You’ll just keep your butt put and tell me what’s wrong. Is it your hip? Your leg?”

Before she could answer he reached beneath her long skirt and caught at her leggings, hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging downward. “Derek!”

With his hands still under her skirt, his eyes locked on hers, he said, “After what we just came close to doing, you’re shocked?”

Flustered was more apt, and appalled and embarrassed and…“Derek, please.” But already he had her tights pulled down to her knees. She felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. He explored her thighs, being very thorough, and it was more than she could bear. “It’s my lower leg,” she snapped. “I broke it some time back and it’s still a little sore on occasion. That’s all.”

He stared at her, and she had the feeling he didn’t believe a single word she’d said. “Let me get your shoes off.”

She sat up and pushed at his hands. “I don’t want my shoes off, dammit!”

“At the moment, I don’t care what you want.” And her laced-up, ankle-high shoes came off in rapid order, then her tights. As he looked at her leg, at the angry scars still there, his jaw tightened. “Damn.”

Angel bristled, her only defense at being so exposed. “It’s ugly, I know. If it bothers you, don’t look at it.”

One large hand wrapped around her ankle, keeping her still, and the other carefully touched the vivid marks left behind by the break and the subsequent surgery. “A compound fracture?”

“So you’re a doctor now?”

He ignored her provocation. “This is where the break was, and this is where they inserted a rod.” His gaze swung back up to her face, accusing.

Disgruntled, but seeing no way out of her present predicament, she said, “I’m fine, really. It’s just that when you sat me on the desk, you jarred my leg and it…well, it hurt. It’s still a little tender. I only recently got off crutches.”

His gaze was hot with anger. “And you’re running around downtown in the ice and snow today?”

“I wasn’t running around! I came to see you.”

“Because you needed a man,” he sneered, and her temper shot off the scales.

“Damn you!” Struggling upward, pulling herself away from his touch, she pointed to the shoe box still sitting on his desk. “I came to bring you that.” Then she added, “Whether you wanted it or not.”

He turned his head in the direction she indicated, but continued to kneel beside the couch. “What the hell is it?”

Angel came awkwardly to her feet and limped barefoot across the plush carpeted floor. She picked up the box, but then hesitated. She hadn’t planned to raise hell with him, to anger him and alienate him. She had to move carefully or she’d blow everything. She closed her eyes as she gathered her thoughts and calmed herself. She hadn’t heard him move, but suddenly Derek’s hands were on her shoulders and he turned her toward him.

“What is it, Angel?”

He sounded suspicious, an edge of danger in his tone. She’d always known Derek could be formidable, his will like iron, his strength unquestionable. But she’d never sensed this edge of ruthlessness in him before. She shuddered.

“I don’t mean to shock you, Derek. And I realize you weren’t all that interested when I told you, but I was hoping you’d feel different now.”

His arms crossed over his chest and he narrowed his eyes. “Interested in what?”

She drew a deep breath, but it didn’t help. “Our baby.”

Not so much as an eyelash moved on his face. He even seemed to be holding his breath.

“Derek?”

“A baby?”

She nodded, curling her toes into the thick carpet and shivering slightly, waiting.

“How do you know it’s mine?”

She reeled back, his words hitting her like a cold slap. After all she’d been through, everything that had happened, not once had she suspected he might deny the child. That was low, even for him. She had to struggle to draw a breath, and once she had it, she shouted, “You bastard!” She swung at him, but he caught her fist and the box fell to the floor, papers and pictures scattering.

“Miserable, rotten…” Her struggles seemed puny in comparison to his strength, but he had destroyed her last hope, delivered the ultimate blow. She wanted to hurt him as badly as she’d been hurt, but he was simply too strong for her and finally she quit. He hadn’t said a word. Panting, shaking from the inside out, she whispered, “Let me go.”

Immediately, he did. Keeping her head high, refusing to cry, to contemplate the hopelessness of the situation in the face of his doubt, she went to the couch and sat, snatching up her tights and trying to untangle them so she could get them on.

Even though she refused to look at him, she was aware of him still standing there in the middle of the floor, fixed and silent. When he squatted down to pick up the contents of the box, Angel glanced at him. His face was set, dark color high on his cheekbones. He lifted one small photo and stared at it.

All Angel wanted to do was get out. She jerked on her shoes, pulling the laces tight, fighting the tears that seemed to gather in her throat, choking her. She’d humiliated herself for no reason. She’d allowed him to touch her for no reason. He wasn’t going to acknowledge the baby.

“I’m sorry.”

She glanced up as she shrugged on her coat. Derek still crouched in the middle of the floor, a single photo in his hand, his head hanging forward.

Angel frowned. “What did you say?”

He slowly gathered up the rest of the things and came to his feet. “I said I’m sorry. The baby looks like me.”

“Oh, I see. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have believed me. In all the time you’ve known me, I’ve proven to be such an execrable liar, such an adept manipulator, it’s of course natural that you would have doubts. Well, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have my coloring then, isn’t it? You’d never know for sure.”

“Angel…” He reached a hand out toward her, and there was something in the gesture, a raw vulnerability she’d never witnessed. In fact, too many things about him seemed different, some softer, many harder edged. Had something happened to him in the months since she’d last seen him?

She shook her head. She would never be drawn in by him again. “Those things are yours to keep. They’re duplicates. Records, photos, a birth certificate, which if you notice, has the father’s name blank.”

“Why?”

He sounded tortured now and she frowned, tilting her head to study him. “You weren’t interested, Derek, though I admit I was hoping you’d changed your mind by now.”

“I’m interested,” he growled.

She thought of the last time she’d called him, the hell he’d put her through. “When we spoke on the phone, you rudely informed me you didn’t want any attachments to a baby. You told me I was completely on my own, not to bother you.”

He actually flinched, then closed his eyes and remained silent. But she had no pity for him, not after all that had happened. “That’s not why the name is blank, though. Remember what you told me about your family? Well, I love my son, and I won’t lose him to anyone, not to you, not to your damn relatives.”

He looked blank and her irritation grew. “Your mother is a damn dragon, determined that everyone live according to her rules. You said that’s why your brother left, why he became so hard. Your family frightens me, if you want the truth. Especially your brother.”

His golden eyes darkened to amber. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You said he was the only one strong enough, independent enough to leave the company without a backward glance, to go his own way and tell the rest to go to hell. You said he was the only one who could make your mother nervous or your sister cry. You said he could do anything he set his mind to.”

“No one makes my mother nervous, and my sister is a younger replica of her. Nothing touches them.”

Angel buttoned her coat. “You’ve changed your mind then, but I won’t. I won’t take a chance that they’ll try to take him away from me. I don’t want them to know about my baby.”

“Our…” He stopped and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Our baby.”

This was a point too important to skimp on. She went to him, holding his gaze no matter that he tried to stare her down. She pointed at his chest and forced the words out through stiff lips. “I don’t know what new paternal mode you’re in, but don’t try to take him from me, Derek. I swear I’ll disappear so quick you’ll never find me or him again. I can do it. I’ve made plans.”

“No.”

She was incredulous. “You can’t dictate to me! Not anymore. Whatever power you held over me, you gave up months ago when you rejected my pregnancy.”

He didn’t shout, but his near whisper was more effective than any raised voice could be. “Is that right? Then why are you here?”

She had to leave, now, before she tripped herself up. She turned toward the door. “There’s an address in with the papers and photos. A post office box.” She slanted her gaze his way. “I’m sure you remember it. You can get in touch with me there.”

“Give me your phone number.”

“I don’t think so. But I’ll call you soon.”

“You’re playing some game, Angel, and I don’t like it.”

She had her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned. “It’s not a game.” As she stepped through the door, she said over her shoulder, “And I don’t like it either. Think about the baby, Derek, what you’d like to do, and I’ll call you tonight. We can talk then, after you’ve gotten used to the idea.”

He took two quick steps toward her. “What I’d like to do?” He frowned. “You want me to marry you?”

“Ha!” That was almost too funny for words. As she pulled the door shut, she said, “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

And she knew he’d heard her ill-advised words, because his fist thudded against the door.

Well, that hadn’t gone off quite as planned. Actually, nothing like she’d planned. She’d hoped to seduce him, to regain his interest. She needed his help, his protection, and that was the only way she could think to get it. Sex had been the only thing he’d been interested in before, so it was what she’d planned to offer him now.

Only it felt as if she was the one seduced. Damn, why did he have to have this effect on her? Her body was still warm and tingling in places she’d all but forgotten about, and all because of a man she thought she’d grown to hate.

A man who had never affected her so intensely before.

Damn fickle fate, and whatever magic had made Derek Carter into a man her body desired.

CHAPTER TWO

DANE HIT THE DOOR once more for good measure, vexed with himself and the turn of events. Dammit, he hadn’t meant to touch her. He had intended to get close to her, but not that close. He’d wanted to learn about her, to discover any involvement on her part, whether or not she could provide a clue to his brother’s death. But he’d also planned to keep his hands to himself.

She’d made that impossible.

He’d wanted her the minute he’d seen her. She was lush and feminine and seemed to exude both determination and vulnerability. He’d also been stunned because Angel Morris looked nothing like the usual polished, poised businesswoman his brother tended to gravitate toward.

And then she’d demanded he kiss her.

Without knowing the exact nature of her relationship with Derek, he couldn’t take the chance of turning her away without raising suspicions. And at the moment, given everything that had just transpired, he needed to keep her close, not drive her away.

He’d suspected she was there for a purpose, but God, he’d never considered a child.

Stalking across the office, he picked up the phone and punched in a quick series of numbers. His hand shook as he did so, and he cursed again. He could still feel the tingling heat of her on his hand, still pick up the faint hint of her scent lingering in the office. Angel might have been sexually aroused—her first time with him, to hear her tell it—but he felt ready to burst, not only with lust, but with a tumultuous mix of emotions that nearly choked him.

If not for her injured leg, he had a feeling they’d have both found incredible satisfaction. He’d have taken her and she would have let him. He grunted to himself, disgusted. Making love in his brother’s office, on a damn desk, with a woman he barely knew and whose motives were more than suspicious. His own motives didn’t bear close scrutiny.

“Sharpe here.”

“Be ready,” Dane barked, frustrated beyond all measure. “She should be leaving the building any second now.” After receiving Angel’s note, Dane had gone through her file, learning what he could about her, which wasn’t much. When he’d first decided on the tail, he’d been reacting on instinct, his life as a P.I. making decisions almost automatic. Now he was driven by sheer male curiosity, and the possessive need to keep what was his. She had his nephew, and that formed an iron link between them that he wouldn’t allow to be severed.

“Description?”

All his agents were very good, but Alec Sharpe, a brooding, almost secretive man of very few words, was the best. Dane trusted him completely.

“Blond, petite, probably limping a little. Wearing a long wool skirt and a dark coat.”

“Got it.”

The line went dead and Dane sighed, putting the phone down. Alec would contact him again using the cell phone once he was sure of his lead. He figured it would take Angel at least a few minutes to maneuver out of the building. If she was parked in the lot, that would take even more time. If she hailed a cab, no telling how long he’d be left waiting.

Alec knew he was still checking out the circumstances of his brother’s death, but no one else did. So far he’d found only enough to raise his concerns, but not enough to form any conclusions.

His brother’s home had been discreetly searched, his papers rifled through. And Derek had some unaccounted time logged in his otherwise very orderly date book that made Dane think he’d had meetings best left unnoted.

Dane settled himself back behind his brother’s desk and began going through the papers and pictures Angel had given him. The first picture of the baby had shaken him and he stared at it again for long moments. It was a photo taken at the hospital of a tiny red-faced newborn that looked almost identical to the twin photos his mother still displayed on her desk. The shape of the head was the same, the soft thatch of dark hair, the nose. He traced the lines of the scrunched-up face and a tiny fist, then smiled, feeling a fullness in his chest.

The next picture was more recent, and the changes were amazing. As plump as a Thanksgiving turkey, the baby had round rosy cheeks, large dark blue eyes, and an intent expression of disgruntlement that reminded him of Derek. Dane wanted to hold the baby, to touch him, make sure he was real. He was a part of his brother, left behind, and Dane knew without a doubt he’d protect him with his life. He hadn’t even met the baby yet, but already the little fellow had found a permanent place in his heart just by existing.

Dane turned the picture over and found the words, Grayson Adam Morris. A very recent picture, only a week old. And the name, it was respectable, solid, except that it should have read Carter, not Morris. Dane intended to see to that problem as soon as possible.

There were also copies of the birth records, and the baby’s footprints, not much bigger than Dane’s nose. He made note of the hospital Angel had gone to, the name of the doctor who’d attended her, and considered his next move. He shook his head, then looked impatiently at the phone. As if he’d willed it, the phone rang and he jerked it up.

“Yeah?”

Without preamble, Alec said, “She’s getting on a bus and she has a baby and some tall guy with her.”

Dane went still, then shot to his feet. The baby had been here with her? “Are you sure it’s a baby?”

“Bundled up in a blue blanket, cradled in the guy’s arms. I don’t think it’s her groceries.”

“Who’s the guy? Are you certain he’s with her?”

“Tall, dark hair, sunglasses. Wearing a leather bomber jacket and worn, ragged jeans. He’s holding her arm, they’re chatting like old friends. You want me to find out?”

“No.” His hand clenched iron-hard on the phone, and Dane decided he’d figure that one out on his own. “Just concentrate on the woman. You can see if he goes home with her, but other than that, ignore him.”

“I’m on it. I’ll get in touch when we reach a destination.”

Again Dane hung up the phone, only this time he used a little more force than necessary. Damn her, had she been lying all along? Why would she bring the baby and a boyfriend with her when she claimed to have missed him—Derek? Didn’t she think that was a bit risky, considering he could have followed her out?

He seethed for almost a half hour before Alec called him back with an address. The guy with Angel had in fact gone into the same building, and the building was located in one of the less auspicious areas of town. Dane pulled on his coat and put everything back into the shoe box, tucking it beneath his arm. He couldn’t risk leaving anything behind where his family might find it. He locked the office on his way out.

Angel Morris thought she knew how to deal with him, but she was judging her moves on how Derek would react. Dane wasn’t a game player, never had been and never would be. His family had figured that out too late; the sooner Miss Morris figured it out, the quicker they could get things settled. He intended to explain it all to her this very day.

WITH THANKSGIVING not too far off, many of the houses had Christmas decorations already up. All the shops he passed had their front windows filled with displays. But as he neared the address given to him by Alec, the spirit of Christmas melted away. Bright lights were replaced with boarded-up windows. Graffiti rather than green wreaths decorated the doors. None of it made any sense. Dane knew Angel had lived in a very upscale apartment complex while working for the Aeric Corporation. He knew from her file that she’d lost her job there after Derek had taken information from her to assure the success of a hostile takeover. But surely she wasn’t destitute. She’d made a good yearly wage.

Wary of the denizens in the area, Dane parked his car in a garage and walked the last block to Angel’s home. The bitter November wind cut through his clothes and made him shiver, but filled with purpose, he easily ignored the cold. When he reached the brick three-family home that matched the address Alec had given him, he gave a sigh of relief. Calling the house nice would be too generous, but it was secure and well-tended, located on a quiet dead-end street of older homes. Angel and his nephew should be relatively safe here.

At least until he moved them.

The front door wasn’t barred. He entered a foyer of sorts and looked at the mailboxes. There was no listing for an Angel Morris, and he frowned. Then he saw an A. Morton and his instincts buzzed. Going on a hunch, he figured that had to be Angel. Why would she hide behind an alias, unless she had a reason to hide? He recalled his purpose in first starting this ruse. Though it was obvious she knew nothing of Derek’s death, he couldn’t discount the possibility that she might have helped set him up for the fall, even innocently. She certainly had plenty of reason to hate him and want him out of her life, and she professed to fear his family, so why then had she approached him today? Because she was surprised he wasn’t dead? Did she have contact with an insider who had informed her of his resurrection? Very few people were privy to the fact of his and Derek’s relationship.

The apartment number listed was on ground level and he went to the door, then knocked, bracing himself for the sight of her again. She’d really thrown him for a loop with her sensual response to him. And he knew in his gut her reaction hadn’t been feigned. Just remembering it made his every muscle tense.

“Come on in, Mick.”

Dane tightened his jaw and his temper slipped. So the guy who’d been with her, Mick, was welcome in any time? Did she respond as hotly with Mick as she did with him? Dane turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

Angel was lying on a sofa, her injured leg propped up on pillows. She wore only a flannel shirt and loose shorts cut down from a pair of old gray sweats. Thick socks covered her feet. She shoved herself half upright and stared at him in undiluted horror.

Dane looked at her from head to toe, and as a man he appreciated the earthy picture she presented. But he’d use caution from here on out. Angel seemed to vacillate between fear and awareness. Dane decided that either way he’d use her emotions against her to find out for sure what her purpose might be.

Her fair hair was tousled and spread out over the arm of the sofa. Her breasts beneath the worn flannel looked soft and full, without the casing of a bra. Her legs were very long and pale. He saw the vicious scars on her left leg, still angry and red, and his simmering temper jumped in a new direction.

He closed the door quietly and her incredible green eyes went wide and wary. “Derek.”

He indicated her cushioned leg. “You’re hurt worse than you let on.”

Color washed over her face as she started to rise from the sofa. Dane was beside her in an instant. He caught her shoulders, pressing her back down, feeling the narrow bones beneath his hands, aware of her smallness, her softness. “Be still. It’s obvious you overdid it today. You shouldn’t have been up and around.”

He perched on the sofa cushion next to her, feeling her apprehension while he examined her leg, trailing his fingers gently over her smooth skin. Just seeing the scars left behind made him wince in sympathy.

She seemed to gather herself all at once. “Just what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.”

“How? How did you find me?”

“I had you followed.” His gaze swung from her leg to her outraged face. “Why use an alias?”

Angel paled a little. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mailbox.”

Rather than answer, she tried bluffing her way with anger. “That’s none of your business. And why do you care anyway?”

He was good at lying when it suited him. “Because I have the feeling you’d never have let me get this close. But I second-guessed you, didn’t I?” He waggled a finger in her face, bringing back her healthy surge of angry color. “I think I’ll keep close tabs on you from now on.”

She gasped and he added a not-too-subtle warning. “You can keep your secret, Angel—for now. But when I’m ready, I will know what’s going on.”

Her lips firmed and her look became obstinate. But beneath it all, he saw a measure of pain. “You’re not completely mended yet, are you? Were you hurt anywhere else?”

She gave him another stubborn frown and his attention dropped to her body. Holding her gaze, he asked quietly, “Would you like me to find out for myself?”

She jerked and her arms crossed protectively over her breasts. “All right! I also had some bruised ribs and a few cuts and scrapes—all of which are now healed.”

He continued to look at her, and she turned her head away. “My shoulder was dislocated, too.”

“Good God. What the hell happened to you?”

Even before she spoke, he knew no truths would cross her beautiful lips. Amazing that he could read her so easily after only knowing her such a short time, but he could.

Her chin lifted and she said, “I fell.”

“Down a mountainside?”

“Down a long flight of stairs, actually.”

Keeping his hands to himself became impossible. He cupped her cheeks in both hands. Whatever had happened, it had been serious, and talking about it obviously agitated her. “You could have been killed.”

She started, and her eyes met his. For the briefest moment she looked so lost, he wanted to fold her close and swear to protect her. Idiot. Then she shook her head and that stubbornness was back tenfold, forcing an emotional distance between them. “My leg is the only thing scarred. Nasty-looking, isn’t it?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “You have beautiful legs. A little scarring won’t change that.” And it was true. Her legs were long, smooth, shapely. He imagined those long legs wrapped around him while he touched her again, only this time she would climax, holding him inside her so he could feel every small tremor, every straining muscle. He nearly groaned.

He let his hand rest lightly on her knee and moved his thoughts to safer ground. “You’ve no reason to be embarrassed, Angel. The scars will fade.”

“You think a few scars matter to me?”

He did, but he wasn’t dumb enough to tell her that, not when she was practically spitting with ire. She hadn’t forgiven him yet for Derek’s past sins, and for his own, in questioning the baby’s parentage. But she would. He’d see to it.

He put his hand to her cheek and noticed again the way her pulse raced, how she held her breath. “I’m sorry you were hurt.” Then he kissed her. As angry as he was, he needed a taste of her again. She may have decided her little sampling of lust in the office was enough, but he’d found only frustration. He’d barely touched her, barely begun to excite her, and she’d heated up like a grand fireworks display, perilously close to exploding. He was still semi-hard because of it and caught between wanting to bury himself inside her, to see her go all the way, climaxing with him, and wanting to shake her into telling him what her ridiculous game was.

At first she froze, but seconds later her body pressed into his. One small hand lifted to his neck and that simple touch made him shudder. He pulled back, not wanting to test himself. Angel stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Nice place,” he said, hoping to distract her and himself. His gaze wandered around the sparse room, taking in the worn wallpaper and faded carpet. He didn’t really mean to be facetious, but she took it that way.

“You don’t have to like it, Derek, since you don’t live here.”

He dropped his gaze back to her flushed face. With one arm above her, his body beside her, he effectively caged her in. He could tell she didn’t like it; he liked it a little too much. “I want to know why you’re living here. What happened to your apartment?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I lost it.”

“Why?”

“Because I hadn’t paid the rent.”

He sighed. This was like pulling teeth, but she obviously wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Okay, we’ll play twenty questions. Why didn’t you pay the rent?”

Angel stared at him, then put one arm over her eyes and laughed. “God, you’re incredible. Everything is so simple for you.”

Wrapping long fingers around her wrist, he carried her arm to her stomach and held it there. He felt her muscles clench. “Why didn’t you pay your rent?”

In a burst of temper, she slapped his hand away and half raised herself to glare at him. “Because I had no money, you ass! I lost my job, thanks to you, and no one else would hire me for what I was good at. After you finished, I was considered a bad risk. I tried everywhere, and in the process, ran through a lot of my savings. For a short time, I had a job as a waitress, but then I had the accident and was laid up for a while. People won’t hire women on crutches, you know. My savings weren’t so deep that I could afford to stay in an expensive place, keep up my medical insurance, and pay additional medical bills besides, so I moved here. Satisfied?”

Her shout had awakened the baby, and Dane looked toward the sound of disgruntled infant rage. Angel groaned. “Now look what you’ve done. Well, don’t just sit there, get out of my way.”

Her mood shifts were almost amusing, and fascinating to watch—when she wasn’t ripping his guts out with regret for the way his brother had treated her. She started to sit up, and again he pressed her back. “I’ll get him.”

“No!”

He caught her chin and turned her face up to his. “Now or later, Angel, what difference does it make? I want to meet him. I promise, I’ll bring him to you.”

She bit her lip and her eyes were dark with wariness, but she apparently realized there would be no contest if they tried to match strength or wills. At least, not at the moment. He had the feeling, on a better day, her strength would amaze him.

Dane stared a second more, wishing there was a simpler way to reassure her, then went to fetch the baby. He followed the sounds of the cries to where Grayson was making his discontent known. When Dane entered the room he was assailed by the scent of powder and baby lotion, soft soothing scents. Grayson’s pudgy arms and legs churned ferociously, and with incredible care, Dane lifted him to his shoulder. The baby was soaking wet.

Cloth diapers and plastic pants were on top of a dresser, along with a few folded gowns. Dane scooped up what he thought he might need and went back to the main room and the worried mother. Angel immediately reached her arms out.

“No, he’s soaked, which means I’m soaked. No reason for both of us to become soggy. I think if you talk me through it, I can get him changed.”

Angel’s mouth fell open and she stared at him as if he’d grown an extra nose. He smiled at her reaction.

She looked dumbfounded and utterly speechless.

“I know,” he said, grinning, “changing diapers isn’t part of my established repertoire, either. But I’m efficient at adapting.”

In the short time he’d known her, she’d thrown him off balance more times than he cared to think about; it was only fair that he get a little retaliation when and where he could.

He didn’t know a hell of a lot about babies, but he figured now was as good a time as any to learn. “Where should I put him to clean him up?”

Finally managing to close her mouth, Angel fretted, then pointed to a table. “There’s a plastic changing pad there. You can put him on that and change him.”

“Good enough.” Dane shook out the padded plastic sheet with one hand, spread it out on the table, and carefully laid Grayson down. The baby wasn’t pleased with delayed gratification, so Dane hurried. With Angel’s instructions, he got the baby diapered and dried and redressed, all in under five minutes which he considered a major accomplishment. Grayson had stopped squalling, but he still fussed, one fist flailing the air, occasionally getting caught in his mouth for a slurpy suck or two.

This time when Angel held out her arms, Dane handed the baby to her. The entire right side of his shirt was wet and clinging to his chest.

She looked away, pressing her face against the baby. “He’s hungry.”

“Do you want me to get him a bottle?”

“No.” Angel cleared her throat, then said, “He’s…breast-fed. I just…need a little privacy.”

“Oh. Oh.” Dane looked at her breasts, imagined the process, and didn’t want to take so much as a single step from the room. He also couldn’t bear to hear the baby whimpering. “I’ll, uh, just go in the kitchen and try to rinse out my shirt.”

“You do that. And stay in there while it dries.”

He leaned down and caught her chin. Her eyes opened wide on his and she drew in a deep startled breath. “All right. But don’t always expect me to follow orders, honey. You’re going to have to get used to me being here.” Knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to stop himself, he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her mouth. It felt damn good. He walked out while she sputtered.

He wanted to kiss her again, as a starting point, knowing where they’d finish. He wanted to show her he was no sloth in bed, contrary to her damn misconception. He wanted to find out the truth about his brother’s death and her involvement with him, and he wanted to protect her and take care of her and Grayson. There were a lot of wants piling up on him too quickly and contradicting each other.

Christ, what had his brother gotten into?

He pulled off his shirt and rinsed the damp spot under running water, then wrung it out and hung it over a chair to dry. The apartment, thankfully, wasn’t cold. He scratched his bare chest and looked around.

Her tiny kitchen was all but empty. The cabinets held the essentials, but not much else. With further inspection, he found the refrigerator was in similar shape. Dane frowned, then began snooping. Hell, maybe he should call her Mother Hubbard.

The conclusion he came to was not a happy one. Damn the little idiot, she should have contacted him sooner, before she got in such miserable shape. He immediately snatched that thought back because if she’d tried, she would have encountered his family, and the mere thought made him queasy. She was right to fear them.

He had wondered what she was after, why she’d come to him if indeed marriage wasn’t her goal. Now he assumed sheer desperation had been her motive. She needed financial help, and as the baby’s father, he could give it. She was proud, and she claimed to have already suffered several rejections from Derek, a possibility that made Dane so angry he wanted to howl. But pride was no replacement for desperation, especially with a baby to think about. But if that’s all it had been, then why hadn’t she simply said so? Why come on to him, pretend she still cared?

He sat in a kitchen chair, stewing, listening to her murmur to the baby, hearing the sweet huskiness of her voice. Goose bumps rose on the back of his neck. He called out, “Angel, why don’t you use disposable diapers? Aren’t they easier?”

There was a hesitation before she said, “I don’t like them.”

Which he translated to mean they cost too much. His fingertips tapped on the tabletop, followed by his fist. “Where did you take therapy for your leg?” He hoped it was someplace close, so she hadn’t had to travel too far.

There was mumbling that he couldn’t decipher, then she said, “I didn’t take therapy. And what do you know about it anyway?”

He stiffened. No therapy? With a lot of effort, he curbed his temper. “I’ve seen similar breaks. I recognize the incisions on your ankle and knee where they inserted the titanium rod. It was a hell of a break, so I know damn well therapy was suggested.”

Silence. He almost growled. He did stand to pace. “How long ago were you hurt, Angel, and don’t you dare tell me it isn’t any of my damn business!”

Another pause, and a very small voice. “A couple of months ago.”

It took him a second, and then he was out of the kitchen, stalking back to the couch to loom over her. She took one fascinated look at his naked chest, squeaked, and pulled her flannel shirt over her exposed breast as much as possible. Grayson’s small fist pushed the shirt aside again. But Dane was keeping his gaze resolutely on Angel’s face anyway. In a soft, menacing tone, he asked, “A couple of months ago, as in when the baby was born?”

She gave a small nod. “Grayson was early, by a little more than six weeks. The accident started my labor.”

His insides twisted and he could barely force the words out. “Who took care of you?” He drew a breath and felt his nostrils flare. “Who helped you when you were in the hospital? When you first came home?”

Her gaze shifted away and she smoothed her hand over the baby’s head, ruffling his few glossy curls. The sound of the baby’s sucking was loud and voracious. “There was no one, Derek, you know that. No family, no close friends. Grayson and I helped each other.”

Without meaning to, without even wanting to, he looked at the baby. Grayson’s small mouth eagerly drew on her nipple while a tiny fist pressed to her pale breast. His eyes were closed, his small body cradled comfortably to Angel’s. Dane felt a lump in his throat the size of a grapefruit and had to turn away.

So he’d seen her breast? So what. He’d seen plenty in his day, just never any with a baby attached. He didn’t feel what he should have felt at the sight of her pale flesh, which was undiluted lust. Lust he understood, but this other thing, whatever the hell it was, he didn’t like.

He snatched up his still-damp shirt and shrugged it on, then grabbed his coat. There were a lot of things he had to do today. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He looked at her, his expression severe. “Make sure you’re here when I get back, Angel. Do you understand?”

She hugged the baby tighter, then waved a negligent hand without looking at him. “Go on. Just go.”

“I’ll be back.”

She nodded, more or less pretending he was already gone. Dane didn’t know what to say to her, what to think or feel. He was reaching for the doorknob when a soft knock sounded, and a second later it opened.

It was a toss-up who was more surprised, Dane, or the young man standing in front of him, his arms laden with a large pizza and a wide grin on his face.

That grin disappeared real quick, replaced by a ferocious look of menace. “Who the hell are you?”

Dane, at his most autocratic and not in the least threatened by the rangy youth, lifted his eyebrow and turned to Angel. “I think that may be my question.”