Kiss an Angel(28)

She busied herself trying to adjust the T-shirt. “I want my clothes.”

“I woke you in plenty of time to get dressed.”

“I mean it, Alex. This isn’t funny. I’m practically naked.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

Maybe if she’d had more sleep, she wouldn’t have felt so snappish. “Am I turning you on?”

“Yep.”

She hadn’t expected that. She thought he’d give her one of his put-downs. Recovering from her surprise, she glared at him. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m not interested. In case you haven’t heard, the brain is the most important sexual organ, and my brain isn’t interested in having anything to do with you.”

“Your brain?”

“I do have one.”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“Your tone implied it. I’m not stupid, Alex. My education may have been unorthodox, but it was amazingly comprehensive.”

“Your father doesn’t seem to agree.”

“I know. He likes telling everyone I’m badly educated because mother used to take me out of school so much. But if she was going on an interesting trip, she believed I’d benefit if I went along. Sometimes a few months would pass before she’d remember to send me back. Even then, she didn’t always return me to the same school she’d taken me out of, but she still made sure I was learning.”

“How did she do that?”

“She’d ask whoever she was visiting or entertaining to spend some time with me and teach me a little of what they knew.”

“I thought your mother hung out with rock stars.”

“I did learn a lot about hallucinogenics.”

“I’ll bet.”

“But she spent time with a lot of other people, too. Princess Margaret taught me most of what I know about the history of the British royal family.”

He stared at her “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. And she wasn’t the only one. I was raised around some of the most famous people in the world.” Only the fact that she didn’t want him to think she was bragging kept her from mentioning the rather spectacular scores she’d received on her SATs. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making your little digs about my intelligence. Anytime you want to discuss Plato, I’m game.”

“I’ve read Plato,” he said, with a gratifying degree of defensiveness.

“In Greek?”

After that, they rode in silence until Daisy eventually dozed off. In her sleep, she searched for a comfortable pillow and found it on Alex’s shoulder.

A stray lock of her hair flipped up in the breeze and grazed his lips. He let it play there for a while, brushing across his mouth and jaw. She smelled sweet and expensive, like wildflowers growing in the middle of a jewelry store.

She was right about last night. He’d acted like an ass. But the whole thing had taken him by surprise, and he didn’t want any kind of public celebration of something he was trying his best to minimize. If he wasn’t careful, she’d get it into her head to take this marriage seriously.

He didn’t think he’d ever met a woman who was so much his opposite. She’d said he was like a robot, without any human feelings at all, but she was wrong. He had feelings, all right. Just not the ones she thought were important, the ones experience had taught him he was incapable of having.

Even though he told himself to keep his eyes on the road, he couldn’t resist looking down at the small, slender body snuggled so warmly against him. She’d tucked one leg under the other, displaying the soft curve of her inner thigh, and his old T-shirt had lost the battle to keep her covered. His gaze fell on the meager strip of ice blue lace that passed between her legs. As the heat gathered in his groin, he looked away, angered by his self-inflicted torture. God, she was beautiful.

She was also silly and spoiled, vain beyond belief. He’d never seen a woman who could spend so much time looking into a mirror. But despite her faults, he had to admit that she wasn’t quite the selfish, self-centered socialite he’d originally thought her to be. There was a sweetness about her that was as unexpected as it was disturbing because it made her so much more vulnerable than he wanted her to be.



As Daisy came out of the truck-stop rest room where she’d managed to bum a cigarette from a female driver, she saw that Alex was flirting with another waitress. Even though he’d made it plain that he had no intention of committing himself to their marriage, the sight depressed her. As she watched him nod at something the waitress said, she realized she had a perfectly good excuse to turn her back on the vows she’d taken. Between the awful scene with the wedding cake and what he’d said afterward, he’d made himself quite clear. He had no intention of upholding his vows, so why should she?

Because she had to. Her conscience wouldn’t let her escape.

She garnered her courage and, plastering a smile on her face, headed toward the orange vinyl booth. Neither the waitress nor Alex paid any attention to her as she slid into her seat. A name tag shaped like a teapot identified this particular woman as Tracy. She was overly made up but still undeniably attractive. And Alex was Mr. Charm, complete with a lazy grin and wandering eyes.

He finally pretended to notice her presence. “Back already, Sis?”