Kiss an Angel(46)

“Are you kidding? I’ve been working with her since she got here, and she still stinks!”

“Is it any wonder?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you might be a great performer, but you’re a lousy teacher.”

“Hell I am! I’m a great teacher.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “I taught my sons everything they know.”

“Matt and Rob are as hard-headed as you. It’s one thing to teach two rowdy boys, but it’s another to work with a sensitive young girl. How can she learn anything with you snapping her head off all the time?”

“What the hell do you know about sensitive young girls? From what I hear, you used to suck arsenic straight from your mother.”

“Very funny.”

“Try telling me your old man mollycoddled you when he was teaching you to do the triple.”

“He didn’t have to mollycoddle me. I knew he loved me.”

His mouth thinned into a belligerent line. “Are you saying I don’t love my daughter?”

She slammed her hands on her hips. “You stupid jerk. Didn’t it ever occur to you that it’s more important for you to be Heather’s father now than her coach? If you’d stop pushing her so hard, she might be able to perform better.”

“All of a sudden I’ve got f*cking Ann Landers here.”

“You watch your filthy mouth!”

“Look who’s talking. I’m warning you, Sheba, don’t screw with Heather. She’s having a hard enough time as it is without you trying to turn her against me.”

He stalked off, bristling with animosity.

She watched him for a moment, then unlocked the door of the red wagon and stomped inside. She and Brady had rubbed each other wrong from the beginning, but there was also a powerful sexual awareness between them that kept her on guard. Brutal experience had taught her to be careful about the men she chose as lovers, and the day she’d married Owen Quest was also the day she’d committed herself to never again going to bed with a man she couldn’t control. She had a self-destructive streak when it came to men, and twice it had nearly destroyed her: first with Carlos Méndez and then, far more brutally, with Alex Markov.

She’d made Carlos Méndez pay for what he’d done to her, and now she reminded herself that Alex had gotten his punishment, too. She went over to the window and saw Daisy Markov struggling with a bale of hay. Sheba almost felt sorry for her—if it had been anyone else, she would have—but Daisy was the instrument of Alex’s punishment. How humiliating this must be to him.

She was almost certainly pregnant; there was no other reason for him to have married such a useless woman. But as much as she hated Alex, the circus meant everything to Sheba, and it seemed obscene that the blood of the Markovs—one of the most famous circus families in history—would be passed on through that pampered little thief. Every time she looked at her, Sheba wondered how she could have held her head up if the truth about Daisy hadn’t come out.



Later, Daisy couldn’t remember how she endured the next week and a half as the circus meandered through North Carolina and then crossed over into Virginia. During the day, she and Alex were only together in the truck, and when he condescended to speak to her, she felt as if she were being pricked to death with icicles. They didn’t even share meals. Alex usually opened a can of something while she was in the bathroom getting ready for spec and then left a plate of food out for her while he dressed. He never asked what she wanted to eat or suggested she cook dinner for them, not that she had any energy left for cooking.

Sometimes she thought she’d dreamed that passionate kiss they’d shared. They no longer even touched except on those occasions when she fell asleep in the truck and woke up snuggled against him. When that happened, she would jerk away, only to feel the sexual energy pulsing between them, as palpable as the breeze that blew through the truck.

Or maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe she didn’t appeal to him at all. How could he find anyone attractive who had blistered hands, a sunburned nose, scabby elbows, and lived in filthy work clothes? Sometime in the past week, she’d stopped putting on makeup until she had to get ready for spec. During the day, she snagged her hair in a ponytail, with the uneven wisps that escaped the rubber band trailing down her neck and across her cheeks. In the space of two weeks, the grooming habits of a lifetime had been broken. She didn’t even know who she was when she looked into a mirror.

And she was always exhausted. She fell asleep on the couch before midnight, but once Alex came into the trailer, it was nearly impossible for her to go back to sleep. She’d toss and turn for hours, finally tumbling into a fitful dreamlike state only to have him growl her awake long before she was rested. She was drained, confused, and incredibly lonely.

Since everyone believed she was a thief, the members of the company continued to avoid her, and her relationship with the elephants hadn’t improved, either. Tater still acted as if she’d betrayed him. Several times Daisy had considered spraying herself with perfume, but she was more afraid of his affection than his dislike. When Neeco and Digger were around, the elephant left her alone, but if they weren’t in sight, he looked for opportunities to swat her, and he’d knocked her down so many times that she had bruises everywhere.