A Season of Angels Page 0,15

do you insist upon doing this?" Monica demanded, straightening her shoulders. She forced herself to look directly ahead and away from him, because looking at Chet caused her stomach to flutter as if she were coming down with the flu.

"Hey," he said, raising both hands, "I'm paying you back for what you did the other day."

"I was trying to help you."

"You were a major pest. Now you know how it feels."

"If you're looking for me to apologize, then - "

"No, thanks." He walked all the way around her once more, then stood directly in front of her, hands on his hips. "You know, you might really be something in the looks department if you ever decided to wear makeup."

Monica ignored the comment.

"A little blush and eye liner aren't tools of the devil, you know."

She pursed her lips to restrain herself from chastising him the way he deserved.

"My, oh, my, look at that sour puss. I was right the first time."

"About what?" she demanded before she could stop herself.

"What you really need is to be kissed, and sweetheart, I'm the man to do it."

Chapter 4

Chet never intended to kiss Monica. He'd taken delight in teasing her and she was easy game. Her face flushed with color, brightening her cheeks, and her eyes snapped with outrage, challenging him. Chet was ready to laugh and walk away when a Metro bus came rushing down the street, the thick tires spraying the sidewalk with a shower of icy, muddy water.

Monica, standing as close to the curb as she was, would receive the brunt of the spray. Thinking quickly, Chet caught her by the shoulders and whirled her around. The bus passed and the muddy water sprayed him against the back of his legs. He grimaced as the icy liquid soaked through his trousers at his calves.

"What are you doing?" Monica demanded.

Her back was against the brick building and she was breathing hard. Her breasts rose up and down and her hands clenched at the lapels of his trench coat as though to push him away. When she moistened her lips as if she fully expected him to follow through with his threat, it was his undoing. He felt as if a fist had been plowed into his gut. He didn't want to kiss her any longer, he needed to.

"No, please," she blurted out, sounding as if she were near panic.

"Relax," he whispered coaxingly. "This isn't going to hurt in the least."

She jerked her head to one side but he caught her by the chin. By all that was right he should have released her then, but the temptation was too strong, too sweet and piercing to ignore.

Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers with the confidence of years of experience. His lips cut off her gasp of protest, and the strong pressure of his mouth opened hers to him. She tasted good, damn good, a hell of a lot better than he expected. When his tongue entered her mouth, her nails dug into his coat, and then she amazed him and quite possibly herself with a soft, womanly sigh of pleasure. Chet slanted his head and kissed her with months of pent-up passion.

He didn't mean to be so demanding, but he couldn't stop himself.

With effort, Chet forced himself to break off the intensity of the kiss and wean himself away from her with a series of short, nibbling ones. With a reluctance he didn't dare question, he lifted his mouth from hers. He would have enjoyed continuing this experiment and given the opportunity, a hell of a lot more.

Monica's chest was heaving and her eyes were closed. Her head was slightly lowered but not enough to disguise the soft, feminine look about her. He noticed that half the pins were missing from her hair so that it fell haphazardly over one shoulder. Hell, he didn't even remember doing anything more than plowing his hands into the thick fullness and positioning her head so he could kiss her properly.

Her eyes slowly opened and she looked slightly dazed and definitely pale. She gazed at him steadily for just a moment and then quickly lowered her eyes. Her slender throat moved up and down as she swallowed and it seemed that she was getting ready to speak.

"I . . . wish you hadn't done that."

"No, you don't," he returned, sounding far more cocky than he intended. Insolence was part and parcel of his job. He didn't like it in himself, but he didn't know how to