Fallen Angels: Beguiled\Wanton\Uncovered (24 page)

She shook her head.

“I know you wanted me.” Again he tried to look at her, wanting confirmation, and again she resisted. “I mean, with the way you were kissing me and moving against me. And your nipples were—”

She groaned, and quickly nodded.

“Then why not, honey? We're both adults. I wouldn't hurt you, if that's what you're afraid of.”

She thumped him again, indignant. “I'm not afraid of you.”

She heard the smile in the way he answered. “Yes, you are.”

“Well, only sometimes.” She sniffed once more and wiped her eyes on his T-shirt, keeping her face close so he still couldn't look at her. She wasn't ready to face anyone yet, not herself, certainly not him. “You try to make me afraid.”

“No.”

“Yes you do. You try to make everyone afraid.”

His fingers tangled in her hair and began massaging her scalp. She still felt aroused, but now she felt sleepy, too, utterly drained and strangely protected. She hadn't cried much since finding out her fiancé was a slimeball using her to hurt her family and hoping to get rich in the bargain. She'd refused to allow herself that luxury. But crying now had felt good, sort of cathartic and cleansing. She drew a slow deep breath, and ended up hiccuping.

Alec kissed her temple. “Celia, why don't you want to make love with me?”

The way he said that made her want to throw him on the bed and do unspeakable things to his hard, gorgeous body. She started shaking again and he held her a little closer, lending his quiet support. Finally, unable to figure a way out of it, she shamefully whispered, “I'm not like most women.”

That gave him pause and she could feel him thinking, coming up with so many ridiculous, off-base ideas. She shook her head. “I don't mean…I'm not physically different. Well, that is…”

“Just tell me straight out, honey. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it.”

A nervous, almost hysterical giggle escaped her tight lips. Oh, she had no doubt he'd love to deal with it. Raymond certainly hadn't objected, though he'd occasionally taunted her with her weakness. After he'd been found out, Raymond had taken great pleasure in telling her how easy she'd been, how she'd offered no real challenge at all. Well, she would never be easy again, though Alec Sharpe surely did wear on her convictions.

Her mind froze up with that ugly, painful thought and she jerked away from Alec's hold, turning her back and making a zigzag, awkward path around the cluttered floor to the bathroom. She paused in the open doorway, keeping her back to him. “I want you to leave now.”

Two seconds passed, and he said, “Not until you tell me what's going on.”

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. He was right, after the way she'd just behaved with him, he deserved the truth. Her throat felt swollen from her recent crying jag, and her head pounded as she forced out the awful words. “I have a…a sexual problem.”

Alec didn't say a word. There was such complete suffocating silence that she couldn't bear it. She darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, then leaned back against it and covered her face with her hands. Now he knew the truth. He'd likely leave in disgust, wanting nothing to do with her, and her chances of helping Hannah would diminish to almost zero. How could she help anyone else when she couldn't even help herself?

A hard pounding rattled the door, making her spring away with a short scream. She whirled, one hand clutching her heart.

“Goddammit, Celia, open this door right now!”

She stared, unable to even blink. He was angry?

The door trembled again, threatening to splinter, as Alec hammered on it. She jumped back another cautious step.

“I'm giving you to the count of two, then I'm opening the door my own way.”

Celia gawked.

“One!”

He wasn't going to give her much time to consider her options, she thought. But then, there was really only one option anyway. She reached for the doorknob.

A
LEC WAS SO MAD
he could barely see straight. He opened his mouth to shout “two” and heard the lock click open. He propped his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes, waiting for Celia to present herself. Ha, what did she think, that she could make a crazy statement like that and then just tell him to get lost? Fat chance.

He figured Raymond Stern had something to do with her little bombshell revelation, and he regretted his noble decision to let the law have him. If he could go back and do things over, he would.

“Get your butt out here, Celia.”

Reluctantly she opened the door. Her face was ravaged, blotchy red from her tears and with makeup everywhere. His heart softened, making his entire system go on alert. Damn, but he would rather take a beating than see her cry. His jaw worked for a moment while he fought his natural instincts, to lift her in his arms, toss her on the bed, and prove she had not a single problem in the world. Hell, he wanted her so bad, they'd burn up the mattress in record time. And then he'd start on round two. He figured he could make love to her all night long and not get his fill. But judging by her expression, she wasn't up to a sexual marathon at the moment. Right now, she needed him rational, not ruled by an overactive libido.

He hadn't had urges this strong since he'd been a teenager, and back then, he'd had his pick of girls to handle the problem. This time, though, he didn't want anyone but Celia. And he'd wait—for just a little longer.

He drew a long breath, reaching for a modicum of control, but unwilling to let her know what a strain it was. “I want you to take a shower and change.” There. That had sounded calm enough. Despite the fact that that damn dress she wore was keeping his need on a razor's edge.

She nodded her head, suspiciously submissive for the moment.

“When you're done,” he said, watching her closely, “we're going to talk.”

“I thought you wanted to leave right away.”

“Later. Maybe even in the morning. For now, just get yourself comfortable, all right?” A thought struck him and he added, “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

“No.”

No what?
No she hadn't eaten or no she wasn't hungry? He decided to make the decision himself, which was what he should have been doing all along. He'd order up some sandwiches and coffee, feed her, then get a few things settled with her.

He sighed again. “Where are your clothes?”

“In the suitcase in the closet.”

She stood docile while he opened the case and yanked out jeans and a T-shirt, then handed them to her.

“I need panties, too.” She wiped at her eyes with a shaking hand, removing some of the mascara that was smudged there. His heart thumped again, and that damn tenderness threatened to bring him to his knees. Turning back to the case he grabbed up a pair of pale pink nylon panties and thrust them at her. She sniffed, turned her back, and went into the bathroom without a word.

As soon as the door clicked shut Alec thrust both hands into his hair and pulled. Christ, she was making him crazy. First fighting him tooth and nail, refusing to give so much as an inch, and now acting like an obedient child. He wasn't at all certain which he hated worse. Celia was constantly taking him off guard; he thought she probably did it on purpose just so he'd never know how to react.

He heard the water start, pictured her naked in the shower, and slammed one fist against his thigh.

To keep his mind off bare, wet, feminine skin, he called and ordered room service. Even in such a rundown rat motel, they had an attached bar with a fairly varied menu and he ordered two sub sandwiches, a pot of coffee and pie. While he was waiting for that to be delivered, he called Dane.

The line was answered on the second ring.

“Yeah?”

Alec heard feminine giggling in the background. He should have known, given the time of night, Dane would be preoccupied. He rolled his eyes. Dane's marital bliss was about enough to choke a lesser man, but Alec could take it—barely. “I found your sister.”

He heard a shuffling, and the next words were muffled. “Shh, just a minute honey. It's Alec.” Then into the receiver, “Good job. I never doubted it, Alec. Now I'm kind of busy—”

“She was dressed like a tramp, hanging out in a bar trying to pick up Jacobs.”

Dane uttered one short, crude word.

“Yeah, that's how I figured it. I got her out of there, but she's determined to go back. She has some damned vigilante attitude about saving Hannah Barrington.” Alec couldn't quite keep the disgust from his tone, but every time he thought of Celia putting herself on the line for the Barrington girl he wanted to rage against the injustice of it.

Very quietly, Dane said, “I'm glad she's concerned, despite how you feel about it, Alec. But I don't want her involved in that mess.”

“I threatened to fire her if she didn't back off.”

Dane cursed again.

With a wry twist to his mouth, Alec said, “I see you already guessed how she reacted to that.”

“You're slipping, buddy.”

“Like hell. I'll drag her home if I have to. But I'm not leaving her here alone to tangle with Jacobs.”

“Why are you so worried if you really think there's no problem for Hannah?”

Alec stilled as he realized he'd backed himself into a corner. Even Dane didn't know his complete reasoning for wanting no part of this particular case, but being Dane, he was likely making some pretty damn astute guesses. Alec tried for a bluff. “Hannah's probably having the time of her life. But your damn sister alone is trouble waiting to happen.”

“Celia's not as fragile as you think.” Alec heard a voice in the background, heard Dane whispering, and then he said, “Angel wants to talk to you.”

“No! Damn it, Dane, don't you dare—”

“Hello, Alec.”

Alec sighed. When he got Dane alone, he was going to strangle him. “Hi, hon. How're you feeling?” Angel didn't seem to have any problems carrying this baby, but like Dane, Alec would feel a lot better if she took things a little easier. The trauma she'd gone through with her first son, Grayson, was still fresh in everyone's mind—except maybe Angel's.

“I'd be feeling a lot better if you'd quit trying to bully Celia.”

“Well—”

“I've gotten rather fond of you, Alec, despite my first impressions. And Grayson adores you. But if you don't stop pushing Celia around, she's going to kill you.”

“Well—”

“Not only that, but I'd think you could be a little more understanding. She's trying to start a new life, which means putting the old life behind her. But you won't help her at all! All you keep doing is telling her that she can't possibly do it.”

“Well—”

“I've finally gotten Dane to lighten up on her a little, and what do you do? You step in and pretend to be her father and big brother and husband all wrapped into one.”

Alec held the phone away from his head and stared at it, appalled. He sure as hell didn't feel like a blood relative where Celia was concerned, and he'd be damned if he'd ever be a husband again. He was a man who learned from life's little lessons, and that one in particular was one he'd never forget.

When he cautiously returned the receiver to his ear, he caught Angel in mid-tirade, still going strong. The water shut off in the bathroom and Alec quickly interrupted Angel. “I gotta go, sweetie. Tell Dane not to worry. I'll take care of things.”

“Wait a minute!”

He sighed again, feeling very put upon. “What?”

Angel wasn't the least put off by his surly tone. “Will you stay there and help Celia or not?”

Tonight appeared to be his night to reason with unreasonable women. “It's dangerous, Angel. She could get hurt.”

“Not with you there to watch over things. Dane says you're the very best. I know you can handle this and make sure Celia stays safe.”

He felt cornered, damn it, and his tone lowered to a growl. “I don't
want
to stay here and make sure she's safe. It's a wasted trip.”

“Celia doesn't think so.”

The soft way Angel spoke made him feel guilty. Was he being insensitive to Celia? Was it really so dangerous that he couldn't indulge her, or was it just his own personal prejudice against this case that was deciding him?

It took him less than two seconds to realize it was both.

Angel wasn't done laying on the guilt. Funny how all women seemed to instinctively know the shortest route to manipulating a man, even a man they couldn't claim as their own.

Why the hell didn't Dane step in and provide some distraction?

“Alec, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah.”

“If you're not going to stay, then I can't possibly go off on a trip and leave Celia alone. She'll need someone who understands and supports her.”

Alec wondered if offering understanding and support would soften Celia a little, help remove that damn “no” from her vocabulary.

Dane's hard tone interrupted his musing, blaring into the phone even though Angel still held it.
“He'll stay.”

Giving in to the inevitable, now that he'd admitted to himself he
could
keep Celia safe, Alec echoed with a sigh, “I'll stay.”

“Good.” There was a second's pause, just enough to prepare him, before she added, “We love you, Alec.”

He heard Dane snicker in the background and felt his entire face heat. He hated it when Angel did that, got all mushy on him, and Dane damn well knew it, which was probably why he encouraged her in that melodramatic crap. He didn't want her to say the words and he sure as hell didn't want her to feel them. Not for him. He could do without love, just as he always had. In fact, he preferred it that way.

Of course, what he preferred never seemed to matter much once Angel had her mind set on something. And she'd made him a part of their family, which meant she was determined that he accept her love. Unaccountable female.

Trying not to sound too surly, or worse, like he was embarrassed by her affection, Alec muttered, “Yeah, well, good night.” He hung up quickly, just as Celia opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

She had on faded jeans that fit her slim legs to perfection and a soft, thin T-shirt that draped over the small mounds of her breasts. She looked great dressed up, but he found her just as appealing when she dressed down, maybe even more so.

The first thing that clearly registered in his beleaguered brain was the fact she was braless. Then he took in her bare feet, her scrubbed pink face and slicked-back, still-wet hair, and everything in him tightened. Brother, father, husband hell. He wanted to be her lover.

He stood slowly, unable to pull his gaze away from her. “I ordered up some food. It should be here soon.”

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. She had that killer dress and the high heels in her arms and she laid them aside on the dresser. As she moved, Alec noticed her limping slightly and he scowled.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He stepped closer, just about sick of her playing so timid. On some level, he enjoyed scrapping with her, though he'd never admit it to her. But fighting with Celia was, in many ways, more enjoyable than having sex with other women. It surely heated his blood more. Of course, everything to do with Celia heated his blood.

He caught her chin and lifted it. “Don't ever lie to me, Celia. You're limping. Did you hurt yourself when you jumped out of my truck?”

Her lashes were still spiky from the shower. She blinked slowly, her hazel eyes bright, and a slight flush pinkened her skin. “My feet are sore. I'm not used to wearing high heels anymore.”

He moved his thumb, gently brushing it back and forth over her small rounded chin. Her skin was so soft, he wanted to touch her all over, rub himself naked against her, feel that softness under him, accepting him. He took a steadying breath. “I'll rub your feet for you.”

Her eyes widened and she nervously blurted, “I want to make a deal with you.”

One brow lifted high. He was about to tell her he'd stay and help her with the damn Barrington case, just so she could relax and stop being so jumpy, but now she had him curious. He led her over to the edge of the bed, urged her to sit, then knelt before her. He lifted one small foot into his hands, and as he started rubbing, pressing his thumbs into her arch, he said, “So? What's the deal?” Her toes curled in his hand, making him smile.

“I need your help if I'm going to be able to do any good with this case.”

“Yes, you do.” He flexed her foot, heard her small groan and began rubbing each small, pink toe. She had nice feet, as intrinsically female as the rest of her. They were so small, so narrow and smooth and pale, they seemed swallowed up by his large rough hands.