When she looked up and found Hawk watching her, her heart hesitated and then beat too quickly. He seemed to see right through her to the blood racing in her veins.
Once, when he had touched her cheek with his hard fingertips, she had thought he was going to say something. Surely he had seen the rapid beat of her pulse beneath her throat.
But he had said nothing, simply looked at her, and a feeling of longing had swept through her like sunlight through stained gla.s.s, transforming her. She found herself holding her breath, antic.i.p.ating the next time his fingers would brush over her skin. Then she found herself watching him, wondering with strange urgency what it would take to make him smile.
For Hawk had never smiled in the time they were together. Not once.
Perhaps when he catches his first salmon, Angel thought. Perhaps then he will smile.
No one can resist the flashing beauty of the fish, the thrilling power vibrating up through the rod, the moment of capture when the net explodes with rippling silver energy.
The phone rang, startling Angel out of her thoughts.
It didnat ring a second time. Hawk had picked it up before she could do more than look at the extension in her studio.
Angel glanced at the wall clock. Nine-thirty. A bit late for London. The call was probably from one of Hawkas limited partners in the United States. Later in the day Hawk would usually talk to Tokyo, long calls that left him irritable, restless, liked a caged thing ready to lash out at whatever was within reach.
But not today. Today they were going fishing if Angel had to grab Hawk and drag him to the boat.
First, though, Angel had to take care of her own obligations. She glanced at the partially unloaded box.
The gla.s.s can wait. Mrs. Carey canat.
Angel pulled off her gloves, grabbed her purse, and left the room at a half-run, eager to have everything done so that she could be out on the water. She stopped long enough to poke her head into Hawkas suite of rooms.
As she had expected, Hawk was on the phone. His head was resting against the back of the leather chair, his long legs sprawled across the beautiful Chinese rug. Tension and fatigue were clear on his face. Eyes closed, he was listening without speaking.
Angel knocked lightly on the door frame. Hawkas eyes opened. They were startlingly clear, as intense as focused sunlight.
aGo ahead and talk,a Hawk said to Angel, his voice rough. aHis d.a.m.ned secretary lost the last offer. Theyare looking for it right now.a aCan I have your car keys for a minute?a Hawk looked surprised, then reached into his slacks for his key ring. As he shifted, the slacks pulled tightly across his lower body, revealing every masculine line of him.
Angel closed her eyes, but it was too late. The image of Hawk was etched behind her eyelids as surely as if she had done the job herself with acid and flashed gla.s.s.
Keys jingled in front of Angelas face.
aThanks,a Angel said, her voice tight. aYour car is blocking mine. Iall give you back the keys as soon as I move it.a aDonat bother. Just take my car.a aWhat?a asked Angel, barely hearing his words.
Hawk had unb.u.t.toned his shirt when he sat down for the round of morning calls. Tanned, powerful, with a wedge of curling midnight hair, the lines and textures of Hawkas chest between the crisp white edges of his shirt appealed to both the woman and the artist in Angel. It was all she could do not to grab her sketch pad and go to work, capturing him.
Or to lean over and tangle her fingers in the rough silk of his hair, capturing him in a different way.
aTake my car,a said Hawk. aI wonat be needing it.a His eyes roamed over Angelas face, lingering on her moist, slightly parted lips. Antic.i.p.ation flooded through his body in a wave of heat.
She was just within his reach.
With very little effort he could pull her between his legs, hold her against the growing ache of his arousal, the ache that came whenever he was with her for more than a moment.
h.e.l.l, Hawk admitted angrily to himself, I get hard just thinking about her soft mouth and haunted eyes, and what it will be like to hear and feel her pa.s.sion.
When Hawk spoke again, his expression was impa.s.sivea"and his voice a caress.
aTake it, Angel. Itas easy to handle.a Then Hawkas voice changed.
aNo, Jennings,a he said into the phone, aI didnat mean you.a Hawkas mouth curled up at the left corner. aI wouldnat give you a saucer of warm spit, and you know it.a Angel heard the blast of laughter that came from the phone. She took the keys from Hawk and hurried out of the room, wondering if he had noticed her staring at him.
And if he had, what he thought about it.
Angel was drawn to Hawk as surely as waves were drawn to the sh.o.r.e. She wanted to be with him, to touch him, to talk with him, to enjoy his quick intelligence and even his abrasive wit.
Yet she didnat know if he was attracted to her in the same way. There was no reason he should be. There was no lack of women for Hawk.
Women wanted him. It was that simple.
Every time Hawk walked down a street or into a restaurant, women looked, and then looked again, drawn by the maleness that radiated from him as inevitably as color radiated from stained gla.s.s.
Yet Hawk didnat look back at the women who looked at him. Either he didnat notice, or he didnat care.
Angel slid behind the wheel of Hawkas black BMW. A quick study of the dashboard told her everything she needed to know. She started the engine and drove confidently, enjoying the responsiveness of the car. As Hawk had said, it was easy to handle.
She wished that the caras owner was half so easily managed. But he wasnat.
All Angel could be sure of was that Hawk had made no unmistakable overtures toward her as a woman. Until he did, she could only a.s.sume that he wasnat interested.
Despite her attraction to Hawk, she would not chase him. It not only wasnat her style, but she had a deep feeling that he had been too often chased and never caught.
Not really. Not for more than a night or two.
That wasnat enough. Whatever Angelas feelings were toward the enigmatic Hawk, they were too complex to be satisfied in a few nights.
10.
Angel parked in front of a small house that had been built forty years before. The other houses on the street were more recent, having been built after Mr. Carey died and his widow was forced to sell the small farm in order to pay death taxes.
After Angel retrieved the two bags of groceries from the trunk, she walked carefully up the cracked sidewalk to the front porch. On either side of the walkway, once-elegant roses were going to seed.
Next time Iam here, Iall have to have a go at the roses with the pruning shears.
Mail stuck out from the box by the doorbell. Angel pressed the b.u.t.ton with her elbow, then braced a grocery bag against the brick house long enough to grab the mail in the box.
aMrs. Carey?a she called out. aItas Angie.a aComing,a said a faint voice from inside the house.
Angel waited without impatience, balancing the bags of groceries and the mail in her arms.
After a few minutes the door to the small house opened. A tiny, gray-haired woman smiled up at Angel and retreated a few steps to allow her to enter. The womanas walker squeaked slightly on the flagstone entryway.
aCome in, Angie. My, youare looking lovely this morning. Such a pretty color youare wearing.a aThank you,a said Angel, smiling.
The sea-green pullover sweater she wore matched her eyes exactly. The rest of her outfit was strictly functionala"faded black jeans and sneakers, plus a rumpled black felt fishing hat that kept hair and sun out of her eyes. Shead forgotten to put on the hat, though. It hung rakishly out of her hip pocket.
aYouare looking very nice too,a Angel said. aHowas it coming with the walker?a Mrs. Carey made a small face as she rested against the U-shaped steel support that had made walking possible since the cast had been removed from her hip. More like half of a cage than crutches, the walker offered a security that crutches did not.
Even so, it was obvious that Mrs. Carey was less than pleased at having to use a walker.
ad.a.m.ned contraption hasnat thrown me yet,a she said, both proud and defiant.
Angel concealed her smile. Mrs. Carey was one of Angelas favorite people. The old womanas astringent, uncomplaining approach to hardship was refreshing.
aYou go on ahead,a continued Mrs. Carey. aIall catch up with you in the kitchen.a aThanks. Iam running kind of late this morning.a Quickly Angel walked to the kitchen and began to put away the groceries she had bought for Mrs. Carey early that morning. She noticed the tea service set out with a tin of biscuits and knew that Mrs. Carey had hoped to spend some time with her over a cup of tea.
Angel glanced at the kitchen clock, hesitated, and shrugged. A few minutes more or less wouldnat matter. If she and Hawk left by ten-thirty, they would be anch.o.r.ed in Needle Bay well before dark.
The rubber stoppers on Mrs. Careyas walker squeaked on the linoleum floor as she walked slowly over to Angel.
aIall put away the rest, dear,a said Mrs. Carey. aYouave done more than enough.a Angel looked at what remained to be unloaded. She could do the work faster herself, but she knew how much being dependent on anyone for help bothered the proud Mrs. Carey. Swiftly Angel set on the counter a few items that she knew went into easily reached cupboards.
aIf you take care of these,a Angel said, gesturing to the pile of tins on the counter, aweall have it under control in no time at all.a Angel finished with the second sack just as Mrs. Carey placed the last tin of biscuits in the cupboard.
aTeamwork,a murmured Angel, folding the empty sack triumphantly. aThatas all it takes.a aDo you have time for a cup of tea?a Mrs. Carey asked hesitantly. aI donat want to keep you ifa"a aYouare a lifesaver,a Angel interrupted gently, smiling. aI was in such a rush this morning that I didnat have tea.a Mrs. Carey walked slowly toward the breakfast table, shaking her head vigorously.
aNothing is more important than a cup of tea, young lady.a Discreetly Angel looked at the kitchen clock as she sat at the table. But her impatience faded while she sat and drank tea, listening to Mrs. Carey talk about children and grandchildren, the crabapples that were almost ready to be made into jelly, and the berries that would come in later in the summer.
Gently Angel refused a second cup of tea. She stood and carried her dishes to the sink.
aIall call you in a few days to see what youare out of,a Angel said, rinsing and setting aside her cup.
aOh, donat worry. I donat eat much.a aIf you need anything before I get back, call Mrs. Schmidt.a Angel bent over and hugged Mrs. Carey gently. aSee you in a week.a aI donat want to bother youa"a began Mrs. Carey.
aNo bother,a Angel said honestly. aI have to shop for myself and Derry anyway.a aI feel like a clumsy idiot.a Angel smiled.
aJust unlucky,a Angel said, bending and giving Mrs. Carey another light hug. aYouall be back to shopping for yourself in a few weeks.a aBlasted cat.a The cat in question chose that moment to meow at the back door. Mrs. Carey went slowly to let in the old tom, muttering every step of the way about the stupidity of the cat that had tripped her and caused her to break her hip.
Struggling not to smile, Angel watched. She knew that so far as Mrs. Carey was concerned, the sun rose and set on that scruffy cat.
Angel gave another glance at the kitchen clock, then let herself out the front door.
She made a concerted dash through the grocery store to get everything that she had missed that morning in her headlong rush to get back in time for the arrival of the gla.s.s. The unexpected delivery had disrupted her carefully planned morning.
It was more than worth it, though. The gla.s.s was exquisite. Already designs were forming in Angelas head, mountains and the sea and a manas hidden smile.
From the store it was just a short drive to the Ramsey house. Angel hurried anyway, eager to get out on the water. Although she and Hawk had taken out his big powerboat several times before, this would be their first real fishing expedition. Up until today their trips had been more sightseeing excursions than anything else.
Today, however, Angel was finally going to get to show Hawk what it was really like to go in quest of the silver salmon. Privately, she was sure that Hawk would succ.u.mb to the lure of the beautiful, powerful fish.
And, perhaps, to her.
Angel grabbed three bags of groceries from the trunk and rushed up the front walk. Juggling bags, leaning against the door, she groped for the front door handle.
The door opened suddenly, throwing Angel off balance. She grabbed at the bags desperately. Before she lost either the groceries or her balance, strong hands clamped around her arms, holding her upright until she was steady again.
Angel knew it was Hawk who held her even before she looked up. If the strength of his fingers hadnat told her, his clean, male scent would have.
Does he taste half as wonderful as he smells?
The intensity of Angelas curiosity disturbed her. Since Grantas death, she hadnat wanted to touch or be touched by men. Not like this, a sweeping hunger and a breathless heat.
Hawk had slid by Angelas fears and defenses as easily as sunlight sliding through gla.s.s.
Yet Hawk didnat seem to know it, or care.
aIa"thanks,a Angel said, her voice strained, her thoughts chaotic.
aYou wouldnat be any good to me in a cast,a Hawk said, releasing her.
Though Hawkas words were indifferent, almost curt, his fingers slid all the way down to Angelas buffed nails before he let her go.
Angelas breath caught again, caught between Hawkas impa.s.sive exterior and the hunger she sensed beneath, a hunger like hers, a yearning toward the warmth and beauty that a man and a woman could give to each other. She had caught tantalizing glimpses of that feeling with Grant, sweet moments of pa.s.sion before he pulled back and sat without touching her because he wanted to wait until they were married.
But Grant had died before they were married.
Angel wrenched her thoughts into the present as Hawk took the grocery bags from her arms. She followed him into the kitchen, admiring the silence and power of his movements.
aWhereas Derry?a she asked as Hawk set the sacks on the counter and began unloading items.
aStudying.a aOrganic chemistry?a Hawk shrugged. aAll I saw was a formula as long as my leg.a aOrganic chemistry,a confirmed Angel.
She began putting away food as fast as Hawk unloaded the bags.
aThatas the course that separates the ones who will be from those who might have been,a Angel said.
aDerryas intelligent and disciplined. If he wants to be a doctor badly enough, heall be one.a Only if you buy Eagle Head.
But the words went no further than Angelas mind.
She looked toward the kitchen clock, wondering if they were going to miss the evening tide at Indian Head, which was just below Needle Bay. Even when she stood on her tiptoes, Hawkas shoulders blocked her view of the clock.
Without thinking, Angel grabbed Hawkas wrist and looked at his watch. She leaned around his arm to see the face of his watch.
aWeare going to miss the tide unless we run,a Angel said.
Hawk said nothing.