Christmas Angel (18 page)

“I did stop, actually, though I couldn’t have been there much longer than it takes to play a game of checkers.”

“Come again?”

“Long story short. There was this antique shop,” he began as he stood and peered down the hall. The bathroom light shone beneath the closed door. He’d have given his right arm to be in the tub with her. He walked away and forced his mind back to business. “I saw this dress and went in, thinking it might fit Angel.”

“In an antique store? Must be quite the find. Did it come with a mothball necklace?”

He walked to where the ornate dress lay over the chair. The strange old man’s words echoed in his mind.
“Not just any woman could wear something so fine.

But on the right woman, it would be a vision.”

“It’s an heirloom. One of a kind.”

“Hmm, for someone whose furnishings come from discount marts, I’m impressed. What’d this guy take you for?”

He swiped his hand through his hair. “I told you. I won it by playing a game of checkers with the elderly owner by the name of Burt Fesuvius.”

“Wait a minute. You’re serious? You won an heirloom gown over a game of checkers? If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’d been dipping into the whiskey a bit too freely, my friend.”

“It’s true, every word.” He frowned. “Thing is, I’ve been down that block a million times and I swear I never saw the place before,” Shado continued, as baffled as his friend at his seeming stroke of good luck. “He was a nice old guy, who was probably hoping for future business or simply looking for a way to pass the time. Guess he was in a generous mood, probably being so close to Christmas and all, you know.”

“I’ll say. It’s not every day you hear about someone walking into a store and the clerk says, ‘Hey, I’ll play you a game of checkers for it.’”

Shado hung on Gleason’s words, seeing the improbability of it. Yet, he couldn’t deny what happened. “Yeah, but that’s pretty much how it went.” He shoved his hand in his front pocket and realized he must have had some change, but when he pulled out a chain with a blood red gem at the end, he discovered something of far greater value—and the situation may have gone from improbable to felonious. He held it up and immediately recognized it as the garnet necklace the silver haired storeowner had shown to him.

How the heck did it get into
his
pocket? He was certain—well, nearly—he hadn’t touched it. He studied its old-fashioned elegance, and his eyes darted to the dress. True, the garnet would be stunning lying against Angel’s fair skin, and the dress would make his vision complete. Maybe he’d run down in the morning and ask if he could rent it for the evening.

“Hey, one other thing. Did you happen to notice anyone else in the shop?”

He shook his head. “No, the place was crammed with antique stuff everywhere, and he made it a point to let me know it was just the two of us in the store.”

“He sounds like a weird duck, but probably harmless. Still, keep your eyes open. You want us to put a watch on the place for a few nights?”

“Nah, I just wanted you to be aware of what was going on at this end.”

“Yeah?” His friend’s tone implied he knew he wasn’t hearing the full story, and he was right, but Shado wasn’t going to delve into details until he figured out a few more things for himself.

“Okay, I’ve got a warm bed to get back to. Double check those rickety-ass locks.”

Shado held the necklace in his palm, weighing it in his hand. For a hermit bachelor, he suddenly found himself surrounded by a great deal that was precious and valuable.

I’m curious to know how much they’re worth to you—the dress and the

woman.

“Talk to you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone and placed the necklace on the skirt of the gown, reminding himself to show Angel in the morning.

Angel
. If he had the power to conjure from thin air a woman who possessed every quality he ever imagined in a partner, a lover—she would come close. Maybe he held because she was perfect. Or was the aging shopkeeper right—was she too good to be true?

***

Angel barely opened one eye, buffering her view with her hand from the brilliant sun glinting off the snowy windowsill. She pushed off the heavy coverlet, following her nose to a pot of freshly brewed coffee waiting in the kitchen. She found her favorite mug and poured a cup of the steaming brew, holding it up to breathe in its rich aroma. What a wonderful device it was, able to brew and keep warm an entire pot of coffee. She leaned against the counter and, glancing at the clock on the radio, realized it was after ten. She stepped into the hallway, noticed Shado’s bedroom door ajar, and debated whether to go wake him. They hadn’t spoken, not since…perhaps for the best. She fought an ache in her chest. Until she knew more about her past, or whether she could return, it was better not to get involved. A note attached to the icebox by a square rubber piece advertising a pizza parlor caught her attention. She walked closer and read it.

Coffee’s made. Didn’t want to wake you.

A bittersweet smile played on her lips. He obviously didn’t want to confront her after last night.

Squad car stationed outside. Captain needed me to come in for an important meeting. See you later. Party starts at seven-thirty. Need to pick up suit from cleaners. Do not answer the door. Stay put. P.S. No leaning out of the window.

She studied the note a moment before placing it and her cup on the kitchen table. Unease about being alone after the incident the night before pushed her to the front window. The sky was clear, a bright blue, which gave the sun free reign to bathe the freshly fallen snow in a display of glittering white. The winter beauty lifted her dampened spirits. Shading her eyes to the glare, she saw, as he’d indicated, a black and white car parked not far from the entrance.

She sighed and turned from the window with the prospect of another day alone and realized it was not fear of the intruder that had managed to turn her inside out, but the very man she lived with. There was no one to protect her from him. Following a routine she’d created to keep from going stir crazy, she made up her bed, tidied the kitchen, and stood in the hall looking at his bedroom door.

His unemotional response after their lovemaking last night had not affected her as she’d thought it might. Everything she’d given him was issued from a pure intent, a willingness to offer him sanctuary for his loneliness, to be someone he could trust to stay when life became too difficult. There was no humiliation in caring about him. For whatever the reason, their paths had crossed, she’d bared her soul, and had no regrets.

Deep down, if she had one wish before their lives eventually went their separate ways, it was that he would realize he needed someone like her—and for a chance to be his someone she’d give up her searching and make her home here with him. But for the moment, such a thought seemed as real as the idea she’d traveled through time to find love.

Angel pushed open the door, eyeing his room and finding it in its usual disarray. Her first thought was to check the window at the fire escape and make sure it was secure. Shado had shown her where he wedged the old broomstick handle along the side so the window couldn’t be opened without breaking the glass. She scanned the area below, checking the alley for any signs of someone lurking about and saw no one. The footprints left behind on the snow-packed fire escape sent a shiver ran through her.

She pulled down the shade and did a quick sweep to straighten his bedcovers, noting the dress still lay on the chair. Ridiculous as the notion might be, if he insisted on taking her to the dance, she was going to make certain she had his full attention.

Something fell to the floor, and she stooped to retrieve the object. Holding the chain between her fingers, she dangled the beautiful red gemstone, dazzled by its sparkling beauty. He hadn’t mentioned the necklace, but the fact it was with the gown surely meant they were to be worn together. Anxious to try on the delicate lace and parade around in something more feminine than boxer shorts and sweatpants, she shucked off her clothes and slipped the gauzy creation over her head. It slid down her body, perfectly hugging her moderate curves. She had not the bosom or luscious hips of some women she’d seen on his television, but she was proud of her figure. She stepped up to the door where a large rectangular looking glass hung. Turning from side to side, she piled her hair atop her head and studied the view. It had been a long time since she’d worn something quite so beautiful. The neckline fit her shoulders perfectly, dipping with a slow drape in back and plunging into a deep V-shape in front that worked well on her, allowing just enough view to be tantalizing and not tawdry. The fine fabric lay seductively over her flesh, gliding against her thigh each time she turned and took a step. If she was looking for his approval, this would be the attire to wear. She stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the potential to make it a night Shado wouldn’t soon forget, but she would need help—a feminine touch. Picking up the necklace, she clasped it around her neck then lifted the hem of her gown, and leaving the door ajar, walked across the corridor. She rapped softly, careful to not wake her if she was taking her afternoon nap. “Miss Brisbee?”

After a moment, the door opened and Rosalee’s face lit up with the splendor of a light bulb. “My goodness, what a vision you are, my dear! Come in, come in.” She ushered Angel inside.

“Turn around.” A quiet sigh of admiration followed. “My heavens, child. That poor young man won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

A smile touched Angel’s lips. It felt good to get another woman’s opinion on such things. “Do you think so?”

Miss Brisbee cocked her head and eyed her. “Do you want him to?”

Angel worried her lip. Apart from the powerful sexual attraction they shared, there was so much uncertainty between them, things they might never resolve.

Yet, if this were the only time they had together, why not make the best of it? Why not make it something she could take with her, wherever she might go?

She shook her head, admitting to herself she wanted to be the only one he looked at tonight. “That’s why I came over. I need your help and hoped you might have a little cheek powder and perhaps help me with my hair?”

Miss Brisbee covered her mouth, overjoyed it seemed with Angel’s request. “Cheek color—yes, just a smidge, and a little lip rouge, I think. Let me go to the powder room and get them.” She stopped halfway across the living room and looked at Angel’s bare feet. “What about shoes?” She eyed Angel in a way, which implied she had a great many other questions to ask but chose to be polite about it.

“Shado brought home the dress home in a big box with gold wrapping and a red bow.” She twirled once and smiled. “I thought that alone was quite a

Christmas miracle.”

Rosalee nodded, shrugging her bony shoulders. “It’s no secret the boy could use a lesson or two in social skills, certainly.” She waved her hand and toddled down the hall. “Where are you two taking this gorgeous outfit, by the way?” she called from the other room.

“He called it the Policeman’s Ball,” Angel answered. Unsure whether to stand or sit, she chose to stay where she was.

A moment later the elderly woman entered the room with an armload of toiletries. “I thought you’d like to put your hair up. Very elegant…besides,” she grinned, “a man can’t resist messing up a good coif.”

“Miss Brisbee, really.” Angel’s cheeks warmed. Were her feelings for Shado so transparent?

She dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “I never married, it’s true, but I had my share of men who came courtin’.” She ushered her to sit down. Angel did as instructed, and Rosalee’s stunned gaze traveled to the deep
V
accenting Angel’s curves. “If you don’t get his attention, the boy is plumb blind.”

An hour later, Angel took off the gown, hung it on the bedroom door, and slipped on one of Shado’s button up shirts and a pair of sweatpants until time to get ready. She brought the necklace with her into the living room, laid it on the table, and picked up the remote to find her favorite western show,
Gunsmoke
.

As she stood in the living room, she caught her reflection in the small mirror mounted by the front door. She turned to look at herself, amazed by what she saw. Although Miss Brisbee had kept the face paint to a minimum, her skills with a brush and color had transformed her into someone she barely recognized. Her face was radiant with a slight blush to her cheeks and lips. And her eyes, framed with a bit of something Rosalee called “mascara,” stared back at her with a luminescent sparkle. Her friend had tried to tell her she was only accentuating the glow radiating from within—something that illuminates a woman’s face when she is in love. Angel had denied it, of course, keeping her true feelings at bay, fearful to let her hopes get too built up.

She dropped the remote on the couch, picked up one of the criminal photo books, and settled in on what had become “her end” near the lamp. She drew the afghan across her legs to ward off the chill and began flipping through the hundreds of pages. Her mind was focused neither on the book nor on her show. Shado teased her about her love of the old westerns, which showed on something that he called the “classics” channel, but for some reason she found a connection with the people in the small Western town. There was a sad familiarity to Miss Kitty and Marshal Matt Dillon which intrigued her, and she’d come to the conclusion after several episodes, that there existed something real between the two main characters. She saw between them a love doomed to fail because of the social prejudices surrounding Miss Kitty’s profession. Then there was Marshal Dillon with his fierce loyalty to his job.