Angel Wings (10 page)

Her world narrowed to the moment, to the meal spread before them, to the man, or rather, the angel, seated across from her, wearing his captivating black clothes. Her gaze settled on the skin exposed by his open collar.

“Tonight we drink to flying,” Gabe said, handing her a glass of red wine.

“To flying,” she said, clinking his glass.

Her senses heightened, as each taste satisfied . . . yet filled her with cravings. The spice of the salad invited her to savor and swallow each morsel with bliss. The flesh of the potato mingled with the sour cream and dissolved on her tongue. And the steak—the juicy, rich, mouthwatering flavor surpassed anything she’d ever eaten before.

When the meal was finished, Gabe stood. “There’s one more thing we need to do,” he said.

“Are we going to fly?”

“Yes, because you want to, and one more thing besides.” He walked around the table and took her hand. “I’m here to teach you one more thing.”

The music changed, shifting to a flirty tempo, inviting a dance. Jessibelle was positive she didn’t own this music either. It belonged to Gabe.

He led her to the living room and stopped in front of the window. The sun had gone down but the hues of sunset lingered, rippling over the sky and the water.

Then she was in his arms again, moving with the dance. He held her close, caressing her back, and pressing his fingers tightly into her skin, massaging away tension she didn’t know she had.

Outside, across the bay, the sounds of distant thunder rumbled and reverberated.

When the song ended, the music changed to light, ethereal tones, and he kept holding her with his head nestled to her neck. “I love smelling your hair,” he said.

And she loved everything about him. She inhaled, deeply, feeling relaxed and alert at the same time, and curious about what he would do next.

She liked hearing him talk about his senses. “Don’t angels get to have senses?”

He lifted his head and brushed his chin over her hair. “Only when we take human form.” He released her, took her hand and led her to the couch.

They sat a moment, side by side, touching. Outside, the dark sky showcased a storm forming out on the water. Sheet lightning flashed over the bay.

She hadn’t known a storm was in the forecast but she felt safe and snug, sitting right beside Gabe. She didn’t care about what he was going to teach her. At this point, she only wanted to be here, in this moment, with him.

He reached for her ankle.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off your shoes.”

She felt his strong hands moving over her feet. “Why?”

“I’m helping you to relax.”

“I am relaxed.” At least, she thought she was.

He smiled, slowly. “You will be more relaxed,” he said, and he finished removing her shoes. Then, letting himself lie on the couch, he pulled her down beside him.

Warmth and safety collided with risk and daring. And, at the back of her mind, a little voice wondered, is he supposed to be doing this?

She ignored the voice, because lying next to Gabe felt . . . right.

“I love feeling your body pressed close to mine,” he said, as he wrapped one arm under her shoulders, and laid his other hand on top of her, covering the silk rosettes at the bodice of her dress.

The voice in the back of her mind grew louder. “Gabe? Are we supposed to be doing this?”

“Yes.”

“But—” She found it almost impossible to censor her thoughts around him. “But what if I fall in love with you?”

“It’s not allowed.”

“But what if I do?”

He watched her eyes, and she looked deep into his.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This is a training exercise.”

“I still feel like I could fall in love with you.”

“Good,” he said. “Now we have to get you relaxed.”

“I . . . am . . . relaxed,” she said, sinking deeper into relaxation, feeling like she’d been drugged.

He adjusted his arm under her neck and draped his leg over top of hers. “At first, it will feel like you’re dreaming. You won’t be able to move.”

“Why?” she asked, hardly caring.

“Because when you’re dreaming, you’re paralyzed. So you don’t act out your dreams.”

She felt like laughing, and like she could open her arms wide if she wanted to, and float up into the clouds. “Is this a dream of flying, or are you really taking me flying?”

“What’s the difference?”

“But—”

He touched a finger to her lips. “Jessi.” He waited, and she kept silent. Then he pressed his hand firmly over top of her waist, holding her tightly.

“I’m going to teach you how to kiss.”

“What?” She felt herself lift out of her relaxed state.

“I heard what Rodney said about—”

She tensed in Gabe’s arms, and she struggled to sit up. She didn’t want to hear about Rodney and what he’d said. Not now.

“No spark,” Gabe said, restraining her. “No passion. No earth moving.”

“I—”

“Relax. This is practice, remember?”

“Practice?” He was going to kiss her. She knew it. Her hands braced against his chest. She didn’t want him to know she couldn’t kiss. At least not with any skill or mastery. Or, passion.

And then she felt herself go limp.

“Because in a dream you can’t move,” Gabe said, in a voice that was so reassuring she almost melted.

His lips hovered above hers. She watched his deep brown eyes with the green lines in the irises, and she fell into their depths.

Then he slowly brushed his lips across hers, barely touching.

She could feel his arm around her shoulders, and she could feel his hand resting below her breasts, and she could feel the full length of his body pressed next to hers.

“Lick your lips,” he said.

She did. It was the only movement her body could make.

“Now,” he smiled, “lick mine.”

She felt her head tilting up to him. She touched her tongue to his lips and then his mouth was on hers, sealing over her lips, and—

Day replaced night, and they were flying, soaring over the bay and trailing along gilded currents of light. Gabe held her from behind, with his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to his body. “Spread your arms open, Jessi. Feel the wind.”

She did, and she felt the warm air ruffle her dress as they slipped through sun-filled clouds, whirling with a flock of seagulls, hearing the birds cheering them on.

Twisting in the air, they glided down, skimming over the waves of the ocean, hovering a moment and then lifting to the sky again. Radiance filled the world, cloud puffs slipped past them as they sailed, and passion pulled her tight all the way up from her toes.

Then, slowly, the world became insubstantial, and suddenly she found herself lying next to Gabe on the couch. He looked down at her, with pleasure beaming over his face.

“Now that’s a kiss,” he said. “You don’t need any practice.”

She touched his cheek, tracing her fingers over his face. “I don’t care,” she said. “Let’s practice some more.”

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Jessibelle woke up in her bed to the sound of seagulls wheeling through the sky. Sunlight filtered through her pink Chenille curtains and her bedroom door was open. She turned her head to see her clock.

Seven o’clock of a perfect spring morning.

She touched the clothes she wore, discovering pajamas. Her pajamas. She couldn’t remember going to bed, but at least she hadn’t fallen asleep in her clothes again.

But what had happened last night?

All she could remember was kissing Gabe and Gabe kissing her. She’d never forget the way it felt to be in his arms, whirling and soaring in a whole new reality.

She caught sight of her dress, the red chiffon and silk draped over her chair. Her shoes were lined up on the floor next to it. On top of the dress, her red lace panties puffed in a ball.

Had he undressed her?

Her body tingled with the thought. But, it was strange that she couldn’t remember. And, also, strange that she didn’t care.

She inhaled a deep satisfied breath, feeling more rested than she had in her whole life. Stretching, she rubbed her shoulders into the mattress, marveling at the way her skin felt.

And then, holding still, she listened, as music drifted into her bedroom. Her radio was playing in the kitchen.

Was Gabe making her breakfast?

Feeling an immediate urge to hug him, she flung back the covers, hopped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen.

But, she found it empty—the kitchen, the living room, even her grandmother’s big round cherry wood dining room table. The deep brown hardwood with its hint of dark red gleamed in the morning light from the windows and not a single dish remained from last night. The candles were gone too, and the roses.

In the galley kitchen, all the counters were clear and every dish was put away. But the radio was playing, tuned in to the Seraph Morning show, with the announcer talking about the freak spring storm last night that had doused the town in heavy wet snow.

Jessibelle walked to the window beside the dining room and looked outside at the world seventeen stories below. Snow crystals coated the trees, sparkling in the early morning light. Some shrubs, loaded down with snow, bent under the weight. And even now, the branches were springing back up, catapulting sprays of melting snow into the still air.

Stepping back from the window, Jessibelle felt a wave of loneliness wash over her. And then she caught herself, surprised at how the deserted apartment made her feel.

The radio still played in the kitchen, advising motorists to take extra caution this morning and then the traffic report concluded and a song started, about new love waiting to be found. About possibilities and promise.

Where was he?

Ever since he’d arrived on Monday, Gabe had been here in the mornings. Where was he now?

She glanced down at her grandmother’s table, hearing her grandmother’s words in her head.
You’re never really alone, dear. Not when someone loves you
.

But Gabe couldn’t love her. It wasn’t allowed. He was an angel, not a lover.

Except for last night. And even last night, that didn’t count. That was practice, he’d said. He didn’t love her, at least not the way she loved him. He was helping her to practice—

Wait a minute. The thought crashed into her awareness.
Did
she love him? Was she in love with her angel?

Not possible, she told herself. Never mind, not allowed. She blew out a frustrated breath and walked back into the living room.

And then she saw, lying on the carpet in front of the big living room window, a scatter of rose petals.

· · · · ·

After a breakfast of toast and marmalade and tea, Jessibelle got ready for work. It was Friday of a very strange week.

As she locked her apartment door, Mrs. Hartfield came out of her unit wearing her pale blue raincoat and carrying her huge red purse. “Oh, good morning, dear. That was quite a storm we had last night, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” Jessibelle agreed, though she’d missed the storm and could only see its results this morning.

She left Mrs. Hartfield at the bus stop and continued her walk, marveling at the sunlight dancing on the snow that dripped from the trees and shrubs. Cherry blossoms blinked through the white and, where the snow had already melted, the blossoms glowed fresh with fat drops of water glistening on them.

When she was almost at City Realty, Jessibelle felt an urge to look over her shoulder.

She turned around, and he was there, wearing his black jeans again and the same black T-shirt he’d worn on Monday night when she’d first met him. The solid black one. Only the T-shirt, no jacket, and he didn’t appear chilled by the cool spring weather.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Gabe!” She rushed toward him.

But he took a step back, holding up his hands in a gesture to stop her. “You can’t touch me this morning,” he said.

Perplexed, she decided it must be some angel thing, but she still wanted to hug him. “Why can’t I touch you?”

“I don’t have much time,” he said, coming closer to her.

“What do you mean?” Then she noticed his serious expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m studying you,” he said. “I’m committing you to memory.”

Then, without touching her with his hands, he leaned down and kissed her. A light quick meeting of their lips, right there on the street, as the world of white shone around them.

He drew back, looking into her eyes again. “Remember me, Jessi.”

“Remember—? What are you talking about? Are you leav—”

He kissed her again, longer this time, but still without touching her with his hands.

She closed her eyes, and felt his kiss travel through her, charging her with energy, making her forget what he’d been talking about, making everything right again.