Stowaway Angel Page 4

  Her lids raised and she focused those unusual blue eyes on him. Something in his chest fluttered. “That’s okay.”

  “Do you have a headache?” he asked.

  She licked her lips. “Either that or there’s a little guy with a jackhammer inside my skull.”

  “The doc said you could have some Tylenol. I’ll get it for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He went for water, shook a couple of capsules out of the bottle and secured the childproof lid.

  “How’s Meredith?” she asked.

  “She’s just fine.”

  “She didn’t get any bumps?”

  “No.”

  “What about the truck?” Her eyes held grave concern.

  “In the ditch. Snow up to the wheel wells. It’s not going anywhere.”

  “I was afraid of that. Was it still running?”

  “Yes, I shut it off and took the keys.”

  “Did you lock it?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s not going anywhere, and the roads are closed. Nobody’s going to be on that highway.”

  She tried to sit up. “Oh, boy, I’m dizzy.”

  Charlie knelt beside her and reached an arm behind her back to help her sit. He had to help her hold the glass, too, because her hand was shaky. She smelled like a blend of powder and spice, exotic and feminine, and her fingers beneath his were slender and soft. He experienced the same trouble breathing that he had in the restaurant when he’d first seen her.

  He lowered her back to a lying position. “I’ll get you some pillows and covers,” he told her. When he returned, he went to the end of the sofa. “Can I take your boots off?”

  She raised one foot.

  He reached inside her pant leg and unzipped, then tugged and the black leather boot came off, revealing a slender foot in an ordinary white sock. He unzipped and removed the other boot, opened the blanket and covered her up.

  The shoulder of her pink sweater was soaked with blood. “I’m going to get you a clean shirt. I’ll bring a pan of water and a cloth. You can clean up and change. Can you do that?”

  She glanced down at her sweater. “Sure. I didn’t get blood on your furniture or carpet or anything, did I?”

  “No. You may have some inside the cab of your truck, though. I don’t really remember. I was in a hurry to get you both out.”

  He found the smallest sweatshirt he owned, which happened to be a faded gray and emblazoned with Iowa Hawkeyes, filled a pan with warm water and suds and handed her a washcloth. “I’ll be in the other room. Call if you need me.”

  He helped her sit up and left.

  Meredith would be getting hungry. He should think about finding something to eat. He opened a cupboard and listened to the sound of water splashing behind him.

  “I don’t know if this stain will come out,” she called. “Would you mind soaking it?”

  “I’ll give it a shot. Looks like a nice sweater.”

  “My dad gave it to me. He likes me in pink.”

  He doubted there was a color of the rainbow she didn’t look good wearing.

  Closing the cupboard, he opened the refrigerator and stared inside. Why had he thought that? He was going to be cooped up with her for the time being; he’d better control his thoughts.

  “Your name’s Charlie?” she called.

  “Yeah.”

  “Charlie, I’m finished.”

  He went to get the sweater, warm from her body, and the pan of sudsy water. She swam in his gray sweatshirt, and had pushed the sleeves up to reveal slender forearms.

  Back in the kitchen, Charlie used the same pan to fill with cold water and soak her sweater. First he rinsed the soft fabric under the faucet until the water stopped running pink, then he plunged it down in the water.

  “Add a little salt,” she called.

  “Salt?”

  “It’s supposed to help take out blood stains. I read that somewhere.”

  “Okay.” He poured a teaspoon in and swished it around. Martha Stewart, he wasn’t.

  Meredith appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Can I talk to the angel lady now?”

  “Her name is Starla. Can you call her that, please? And while you’re at it, maybe you should tell her you’re sorry for making her come back here in a snowstorm.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  He dried his hands and stepped to the doorway. Meredith crossed the living room and paused beside the sofa.

  Starla’s blond head moved as she turned to look at the little girl. “Hi,” Starla said. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay. Did the doctor do that to you?” Meredith pointed to Starla’s forehead.

  “Yes. Does it look pretty bad?”

  Meredith nodded. “Does it hurt?”

  “No, he gave me a shot of novocaine before he stitched it. Do you think I’ll be able to play the violin after they take out the stitches?”

  Meredith eyes widened. “I don’t know. Daddy?”

  Charlie chuckled and joined them, sitting on a chair. “It’s an old joke, honey. I’ll bet Starla didn’t play the violin before she hit her head.”

  “Were you tricking me?” Meredith asked.

  “Yes, I was.” Starla turned her attention to Charlie. “You didn’t happen to grab my phone, did you?”

  He shook his head.

  “I need to call my dad. He’s expecting to hear from me, and he’ll be worried, especially if he calls and my phone just rings and rings.”

  “No problem.” Charlie grabbed the cordless phone from the counter between the kitchen and living room and handed it to her. “Use mine.”

  “It’s long distance,” she warned.

  “And you’re here because of me,” he replied in the same tone.

  She took the phone and punched in numbers.

  “Come on, Meredith, I’ll fix a snack.”

  “But I didn’t getta say it yet.”

  “Say it after she makes her call.”

  She followed him to the kitchen.

  For once when he would have welcomed Meredith’s chatter to cover the conversation in the other room, the child remained silent. Bits of Starla’s side of the conversation floated to them as she explained what happened. “I’m all right... I know...well, I don’t know...how long it will be before they can get here to pull it up... The highway’s closed, anyway... I’m so sorry...make it up some other way. Maybe if I call... I know what this meant to you... Yes, I’m perfectly fine...yes, it’s just a truck...some other way... Daddy....”

  Charlie got the impression that something more than a few days’ travel was at stake. Was she in some kind of trouble?

  He put together grilled cheese sandwiches and mugs of hot tomato soup, and carried a tray into the other room.

  Starla sat up, but she only took a few bites. She sipped the cup of tea he brought her, then nestled back down into the covers.

  “Starla?” Meredith said timidly.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I got in your truck and made you get in a accident.”

  “The accident wasn’t your fault, honey. They call them accidents because they’re nobody’s fault.”

  Meredith didn’t seem reassured by those words, but Charlie stayed out of the dialogue.

  “It’s okay,” Starla said, somehow understanding the child needed forgiveness. “I’m not mad at you.”

  Meredith nodded. “Okay.”

  Meredith picked at her food and Starla drifted into sleep. After cleaning up their dishes, Charlie held his daughter on his lap.

  “It’s time to talk now,” he told her.

  She nodded gravely and raised innocent wide eyes that immediately filled with tears. “I did a naughty thing, huh, Daddy?”
<
br />   “Yes, you did. It was a dangerous thing. There are rules about strangers and about going anywhere by yourself, and the rules are to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. To her credit, she didn’t use an excuse. “I’m very, very sorry.”

  “What do you think is a fair punishment?”

  They’d had similar conversations in the past, so she understood the concept. “I shouldn’t get to play with something I really like for a whole year.”

  Time was a concept she had a problem with, however. “I think a week will do. What should that favorite thing be?”

  She glanced aside, then up at him. “My angel book.”

  She loved that book, so not having it for a week would be stern punishment. “I think that’s fair.”

  “I must have left it in the angel lady’s truck.”

  “We’ll get it tomorrow.” She nestled her head against his chest and he rocked her. “I love you with my whole heart.”

  “I love you with my whole heart, too, Daddy.”

  He picked up a book and read it to her, then just held her until she fell asleep. Eventually he carried her to her bed and tucked her in, pausing to touch his face to her cheek and smooth her dark hair.

  He wouldn’t have been able to go on living if anything had happened to his Meredith.

  Back in the living room, the woman still slept. Charlie added a log to the fire and sat across from her. She had a few dark streaks on her cheek and in her hairline. He got a wet cloth and dabbed it on her face.

  She opened her eyes. That incredible blue gaze wreaked havoc with his senses every time she turned it on him.

  “There was still some blood,” he explained.

  Her eyes drifted shut.

  He removed the dried blood gently, smoothing her hair back from her temple with the cloth. Her hair was so pale and fine; it darkened visibly when it got wet. The skin of her temples seemed almost translucent, and her brows were fair and shaped like wings. Her golden lashes lay against her cheeks in soft curls.

  He’d never seen anyone so exquisite—there was just no other word for her—beautiful didn’t cut it, couldn’t describe those striking cheekbones and hair that begged to be touched. His fingers itched to learn just how silken and soft it would be.

  Charlie wiped his palm against the thigh of his jeans.

  In the firelight, her hair shimmered like gossamer threads of silver and gold. He touched it then, just to move it from under her cheek and make her more comfortable. It was cool and satiny in his fingers. He drew a breath that came from his toes and curled a hitch in his chest.

  Her eyes opened.

  His breathing stopped.

  “Charlie,” she whispered sleepily.

  It was the most romantic word in the history of language. “What?”

  “Is it still snowing?”

  He roused himself from his visual trance to go peer out the window into the night. The moon revealed swirling flakes still falling to blanket the countryside. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Charlie,” she said again.

  If he didn’t guard his reactions to every sigh and word and each flutter of her lash, he was going to lose all self-respect. “Yes?”

  “Do you suppose I could have a bath? I’m kind of achy.” She brought her open hand to her chest. “Probably from the seat belt, but I’m thinking a warm soak would feel good.”

  “You’re in luck, then. I just happen to have a whirlpool in my master bath.”

  “Oh, that would be heaven.”

  “Let me help you. Are you dizzy?”

  She sat up and brought a hand to her temple. “A little.”

  “Wait while I go fill the tub.” He hurried to run hot water and turn on the jets, add Meredith’s bubble bath, then returned for Starla. He slid one arm around her waist, and she wrapped hers around him and steadied herself. They walked that way, hip to hip to the hallway, and then he guided her ahead of him with both hands on her shoulders.

  “Here are towels and a robe.” All he had to lend was his own. He helped her sit on the corner of the enormous tub. “Tell you what. You just sleep in my room tonight. While you’re in here, I’ll change the sheets. Then I’ll take the sofa.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Her hair draped over her shoulder in a silken wave. He opened a drawer and pulled out an elastic band. “Here. It’s Meredith’s.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him. “You’re a sweet guy, you know that?”

  She captured her hair in a loose knot on her head, then, bending to remove one sock, she swayed.

  “Whoa.” Charlie caught her by the shoulders and balanced her. “Here.” He knelt in front of her. “Bending over probably isn’t a good idea.” He picked up her foot and peeled the sock away.

  She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

  After pulling off the other sock, he stared at the mounting bubbles in the tub. “Can you do the rest?”

  She straightened up in her sitting position and nodded.

  “Holler if you need anything.” He backed out of the room and pulled the door shut, then leaned his forehead against the wood for a full minute. When water splashed, he backed away as if the door had jolted him with a high-voltage current. Sheets. He was changing the sheets now. He tucked and smoothed, found an extra clean blanket.

  Charlie saw the room as she would view it. A man’s room. Practical. Simple. He imagined her pale hair against the plain navy-blue sheets and pillowcases, her ivory skin touching the cotton... He didn’t even know her. He’d never seen her before today, but her presence was the most disturbing experience he’d had in...forever.

  He was obsessed. Enchanted. She inspired awe. A purity of admiration he should be laughing at himself for feeling.

  “Charlie?”

  He would change his name after she’d gone.

  Charlie stepped to the door. “Yes?”

  “I’m feeling pretty dizzy. From the hot water probably. I’d better get out. I’ll just be a minute.”

  The door opened and she walked out slowly. “I can’t tell you how good that felt,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “But now I’m so tired again.”

  “You can go to sleep. The bed’s ready.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I didn’t let the water out.”

  “I’ll do it. Do you need some help?”

  He offered his arm and she took it, leaning heavily on him for balance as he led her to his bedroom and the king-size bed with the covers turned back.

  Starla placed her things on a chair, sat on the edge of the bed and tugged the band from her hair. The platinum mass fell over the shoulders of the robe. “Thanks,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll clean up in there and leave you to your rest.”

  After he’d drained the tub and hung the towels, he passed through to find her fast asleep...the robe tossed to the foot of the bed. He’d have to buy a new one because he’d never be able to wear that one without seeing her in it.

  After he changed his name, he would buy new sheets, too—and a different bed. He would never be able to fall asleep in this one again. Not after the most beautiful woman in the universe had slept in it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHARLIE TOSSED AND turned all night. He finally managed to fall asleep around three o’clock.

  It was no wonder that when Meredith made her way to where he slept on the sofa, it was almost eight o’clock.

  “Daddy, SpongeBob is on and I usually eat breakfast during Bubble Guppies.”

  He opened his eyes and blinked. “Already?”

  She nodded. “I’m very, very hungry.”

  Charlie sat up and rubbed his scratchy
jaw. “All right. Give me a minute.”

  His daughter moved up to lean against his knee. “Did the angel sleep in your bed?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you sleep-ded out here in your sweatpants?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Can we have panacakes?”

  “Sure.” He got up and made a trip to the bathroom, looked out the front windows at the falling snow still piling up, then started preparations for breakfast.

  Coffee was brewing and he had mixed pancake batter from a box when Starla came out of the bedroom and approached the bar dividing the rooms. Meredith turned from where she sat perched on a stool and smiled at their visitor.

  Starla had dressed in her jeans and his sweatshirt—he’d have to get rid of it after she was gone, or he’d forever picture her slim shoulders beneath the worn cotton. Her feet were bare and her hair was pulled into a loose knot with Meredith’s band. “Good morning.”

  “’Morning,” Charlie and Meredith chorused.

  Her aquamarine gaze dropped to his chest.

  He hadn’t pulled on his T-shirt. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

  She averted her attention and took the stool beside Meredith. “I did, but I woke with a headache.”

  Immediately, he shook out a couple of capsules and placed them on the counter in front of her, then went to grab a T-shirt and pull it on.

  Meredith had the refrigerator door open when he returned. She withdrew a colorful pouch and proceeded to strip away the slim straw and pierce the juice box with it. She set the drink before Starla. “You can have one of my Mickey Mouse coolers. It’s juice and it tastes like strawberry.”

  “Why, thank you.” Starla picked up the capsules and swallowed them down with a sip through the straw. After tasting the offering, her gaze caught Charlie’s. The drinks were incredibly sweet and appealed to kids. He discreetly set a glass of orange juice within her reach.

  The area around the stitched cut on her forehead was bruised, and even the skin beneath her eye looked tinged with purple.

  At his perusal, she raised fingers to her temple self-consciously. “I look a fright, don’t I?”

  In his opinion, she could still win the Miss Universe Pageant hands down. He poured batter on the hot griddle. “Does it hurt?”