thought of her naked. Hell, it wasn’t as though he’d never seen a naked woman…just not in a very long time.
“You needn’t go to the trouble. I can go without them.”
Great. He closed the door, his libido yelling at him for the insanity of thinking he wouldn’t be affected by her staying with him. He’d felt a sucker punch to his gut the first time he laid eyes on her in that flimsy dress and those ridiculous old boots? Yeah, maybe Gleason was right. Maybe he was in denial.
Chapter Four
Angel dipped the spoon into the rich, beefy broth and raised it to her lips. Feeling it needed more of a kick, she twisted off the lid of the cayenne pepper, tapped it into the chili mixture, and gave it a quick stir. Another taste set the tip of her tongue on fire, confirming she’d accomplished her goal. Shado was an adequate cook, she’d discovered, for a man. His specialties over the last few days comprised of eggs in varied forms, something he called “pizza,” and cheese between two slices of bread fried in a skillet. All palatable, but being cooped up all day in the apartment while he ran back and forth to his work made her restless. Then again, after the episode in the bathroom, being closed up in the apartment with him made her equally restless. The only thing able to divert her mind from either was watching old western shows on his television or experimenting in the kitchen. He had made a comment about his neighbor lady’s chili and how great it smelled in the hallway, and so after he left the next morning, she’d snuck out of the apartment and tiptoed down the hall to talk with the elderly woman.
***
Angel waited patiently after knocking gently, peering over the railing to be sure Shado hadn’t forgotten something and would return. She would have to make it quick in case he brought back more of the books that were beginning to make her head spin. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and realized she wore a pair of Shado’s woolen socks on her feet.
The door opened a crack, and a wrinkled face peered through the chained opening. “Oh, it’s you. How lovely.” The door closed and she heard the rattle of a chain before it reopened to the old woman’s smiling face. “Come in, my dear. What a pleasant surprise. I was making myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
Angel smiled as she entered the room. “That sounds nice. Thank you.” She took in the apartment, decorated so very differently from Shado’s. It was, she noted, comfortable in a very familiar way. There was a rose-colored lamp sitting atop a crocheted doily on a polished wood table between two upholstered chairs. A rolled arm settee in worn, dark red velvet was flanked by two floor lamps with fringed shades. Freshly pressed white doilies were on the back of the settee and on shelves and tables scattered about. “You have a beautiful home,” Angel stated. She glanced down at the black and white hooked area rug, splattered with deep red roses and green leaves. There was an odd familiarity to the woman’s home, as though she’d been in a place where she’d seen similar things.
“Have a seat, my dear. I’ll be right out.”
Angel chose a rocking chair by a trio of windows overlooking the front street. She moved the lace curtains aside and noted the spot where Shado kept his car was still empty. She sat back down, taking in the comforting decor. In one corner stood a round table, covered with a lace cloth, featuring a tiny Christmas tree festooned with shiny colored balls and crocheted snowflakes. Its tiny colored lights reminded her of a time when she helped decorate a fresh cut pine. It was for her father in anticipation of his returning home—
“Here we are.” The elderly woman placed the tray on the table between them.
Angel blinked and smiled. “I was admiring your tree. It’s very pretty.”
The woman moved slowly with grace as she poured the steaming water from a teapot painted with delicate
“You needn’t go to the trouble. I can go without them.”
Great. He closed the door, his libido yelling at him for the insanity of thinking he wouldn’t be affected by her staying with him. He’d felt a sucker punch to his gut the first time he laid eyes on her in that flimsy dress and those ridiculous old boots? Yeah, maybe Gleason was right. Maybe he was in denial.
Chapter Four
Angel dipped the spoon into the rich, beefy broth and raised it to her lips. Feeling it needed more of a kick, she twisted off the lid of the cayenne pepper, tapped it into the chili mixture, and gave it a quick stir. Another taste set the tip of her tongue on fire, confirming she’d accomplished her goal. Shado was an adequate cook, she’d discovered, for a man. His specialties over the last few days comprised of eggs in varied forms, something he called “pizza,” and cheese between two slices of bread fried in a skillet. All palatable, but being cooped up all day in the apartment while he ran back and forth to his work made her restless. Then again, after the episode in the bathroom, being closed up in the apartment with him made her equally restless. The only thing able to divert her mind from either was watching old western shows on his television or experimenting in the kitchen. He had made a comment about his neighbor lady’s chili and how great it smelled in the hallway, and so after he left the next morning, she’d snuck out of the apartment and tiptoed down the hall to talk with the elderly woman.
***
Angel waited patiently after knocking gently, peering over the railing to be sure Shado hadn’t forgotten something and would return. She would have to make it quick in case he brought back more of the books that were beginning to make her head spin. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and realized she wore a pair of Shado’s woolen socks on her feet.
The door opened a crack, and a wrinkled face peered through the chained opening. “Oh, it’s you. How lovely.” The door closed and she heard the rattle of a chain before it reopened to the old woman’s smiling face. “Come in, my dear. What a pleasant surprise. I was making myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
Angel smiled as she entered the room. “That sounds nice. Thank you.” She took in the apartment, decorated so very differently from Shado’s. It was, she noted, comfortable in a very familiar way. There was a rose-colored lamp sitting atop a crocheted doily on a polished wood table between two upholstered chairs. A rolled arm settee in worn, dark red velvet was flanked by two floor lamps with fringed shades. Freshly pressed white doilies were on the back of the settee and on shelves and tables scattered about. “You have a beautiful home,” Angel stated. She glanced down at the black and white hooked area rug, splattered with deep red roses and green leaves. There was an odd familiarity to the woman’s home, as though she’d been in a place where she’d seen similar things.
“Have a seat, my dear. I’ll be right out.”
Angel chose a rocking chair by a trio of windows overlooking the front street. She moved the lace curtains aside and noted the spot where Shado kept his car was still empty. She sat back down, taking in the comforting decor. In one corner stood a round table, covered with a lace cloth, featuring a tiny Christmas tree festooned with shiny colored balls and crocheted snowflakes. Its tiny colored lights reminded her of a time when she helped decorate a fresh cut pine. It was for her father in anticipation of his returning home—
“Here we are.” The elderly woman placed the tray on the table between them.
Angel blinked and smiled. “I was admiring your tree. It’s very pretty.”
The woman moved slowly with grace as she poured the steaming water from a teapot painted with delicate
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