Enticing An Angel (20 page)

"Will you help me find my phone?" she
whispered.

It was two AM and the lovers were still
awake. Melanie was cuddled up to Michael and they were talking
non-stop. After revealing the rape, Melanie decided on a simple
tactic—in for a penny in for a pound. She began to tell him all
about her life and past boyfriends. Michael didn't have a problem
with any of it.

When the roles were reversed, Michael told
Melanie about past girlfriends, wild parties at college, and very
stupid stunts as a young man.

"I'm amazed you and your brother's are still
alive," she said as she played with his fingers.

"Well, we've had some close calls," he
answered. "Once, we even emptied all the powder from our Fourth of
July fireworks into a small metal container and blew it up."

"Oh, how did that go?"

"Not well," he chuckled. "Brian has a scar
from the incident."

"I can see that happening," Melanie
smiled.

After a few moments pause, Melanie
saddened.

"Michael, you have to apologize to your
mother," she said.

"What?" he cried as he sat up and put his
back against the cold brick wall.

She turned to him and put her head on his lap
while gazing up at him with her innocent smile.

"I will not come between you and your
mother," she stated. "You must apologize."

"I think it's the other way around," he said
as his hand went to her hair and he began to stroke her.

"Do you really think she will apologize?
She's a mother, they don't do that."

"Melanie, she called you a tramp," he
stated.

His lover startled with the news and then
calmed and shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

"I've been called worse," she said.

Michael just shook his head, looked out
across the loft, and down to Melanie's work area. Her canvas was
well lit; he found that he liked leaving the light on so he could
stare at her easels and supplies from the heightened position. To
that end, he had flipped the switch to the on position after she
had turned it off for the night. Taking a deep breath, he thought
about her words.

"How about we concentrate on us for the
moment?" he asked. "Let's see how we do, and then I will address my
mother as needed. Besides, it's only been a day. Knowing my mother,
she will need a few more to think about what she's done."

"Will that matter?"

"Nope," was the quick reply, "But I'm still
angry, so a few days will calm my nerves."

Melanie continued to look at him and smiled.
She thought about his response and decided a few days would be
fine.

"Michael," she said cautiously. "Where is
this going?"

Michael looked down to her and his eyes
widened. "Isn't it a little early to be having this talk? We've
know each other less than two months."

"Just asking?" she said mischievously.

Michael chuckled and stroked her hair. After
a moment, he smiled and then addressed her as if relating a
story.

"You know I had another part of the present
from last week. I wasn't sure if I should tell you, and I'm still
unsure. Of course, now that you've burned the sketch you may have
to suffer."

"I didn't burn it," she said.

Michael looked to her and raised an
eyebrow.

"It was too beautiful to burn so I framed it.
It's hanging above the couch."

Michael's face went blank and he crawled
across the bed forcing Melanie to move off him. When he reached the
edge of the loft, he looked down to the couch. There, above it, in
a simple frame, was his sketch. How he had missed it earlier, he
couldn't guess. But it must have been there all this time, unless
gremlins had magically appeared and hung it in the last few
seconds.

He stared at it and the bright reflections
that bounded off it. The light from her workstation gave it an odd
appearance as if it were permanently caught in the flash of a
camera. Lying down on his stomach, he put his hand to his chin and
his mouth swished about as he thought. Melanie joined him at his
side with a flop on the bed. Her small frame made it more of a soft
plop than a heavy flop.

"So the other half of the present was an odd
thing that happened at work," he started to say. "When I showed the
clients the sketch, they liked the design. When they asked me where
I got the idea, I told them that I stole it from my wife."

Melanie's eyes widened and Michael turned to
her. Their heads were at the foot of the bed, but Michael didn't
care. He turned to his back, stretched out his arm, and Melanie
curled up to him, allowing him to bend his arm around her.

"I caught a lot of hell from my co-workers
after that. They all wanted to know when I got married, and they
wanted all the details. I had a lot of clean-up with that one."

"What did you tell them?" she asked.

"Serious?" he asked in disbelief. "After I
drop a bombshell like that you want to…"

Melanie turned to him and gave him a glare.
Michael shut up and shrugged his shoulders.

"I told them that it was a figure of speech,
and that I was not married, but I was dating a wonderful girl. They
were placated."

"Ah," she said.

Michael watched her carefully, but she didn't
say anything else.

"Melanie?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Have you ever done something, or created
something and you just know it feels right."

"All the time, but it usually feels wrong,"
she said. "Look at my canvas."

She whipped around and they both turned to
her work. It was nearly complete, and it was stunning.

"It felt wrong for the longest time. I didn't
know why, but then I changed it, and it just feels right. So, I
guess my answer is yes. I know what you mean."

Michael looked at her as she turned her head
away from the canvas. She was teasing him and they both knew it.
His comment about her being his wife would not be addressed, but it
also would not be ignored, not completely anyway. Melanie smiled
and kissed him.

"Hey, we should get some sleep sometime
tonight, don't you think?" she asked

Michael rolled his eyes playfully. "If we
must," he said.

For the next few days, Michael and Melanie
were practically inseparable. Tuesday morning, they woke up, went
to work, and immediately afterwards Michael picked her up from
work. The two of them had decided on a peaceful setting away from
the city, so starting that first evening they spent their time at
Michael's home.

Melanie enjoyed herself and insisted on doing
the little things like cooking and cleaning, which she made certain
Michael helped with. Then they would watch a movie or listen to an
album together. Michael took the time to introduce her to his
neighbors, and while Michael found the act to be commonplace,
Melanie appeared enthused.

Thursday night, after spending several
minutes with a very boring neighbor, at least to Michael's
estimation, Melanie began making something in the kitchen, all
while dancing around with her ear buds firmly in place. She stopped
suddenly when an odd thought occurred to her. She cried out to
Michael, and he was soon at her side.

"You called?" he asked as if she were a
queen.

"Where's my ring?" she asked.

"You're what?"

"My ring," she repeated. "You know. R. I. N.
G." she spelled.

Michael nodded his head. "I know what a ring
is," he said.

"Great, well if we're going to talk about
marriage, then where's my ring?"

"You do realize that we still have a long way
to go before that?"

"Oh, don't freak out," she said as she
continued her preparations and began searching for some odd
ingredient.

"We still have to talk about kids, and where
to live, and which side of the bed I will allow you to have," she
was joking, and Michael smiled.

She found her ingredient and continued her
preparations. Michael didn't say anything, he merely smiled and
watched; he was just pleased that she had bothered to remove at
least one ear bud in order to have this conversation.

When he didn’t answer her, she turned to him
and gave him a funny smile.

"I think you're correct," she said to
him.

"Oh, about what?" he asked

"This just feels right."

Michael went to her and gave her a hug. He
kissed the top of her head and gave her a squeeze.

"Tell you what," he said. "This weekend we'll
go shopping for rings. We'll take it slow and see if we like
anything. Then if and when we decide to move forward, I will
propose properly and have the ring all picked out."

"Oh no, Michael Angel. If you think I'm
getting some store bought ring then you're crazy," she said as she
pushed him off her.

Michael was confused and queried her about
her comment.

"I will design my own ring, thank you very
much," she said, and after a moment's thought, her eyes glazed over
and she left the kitchen.

Michael knew that look, he was still becoming
accustomed to it, but he had enough experience to turn around and
shut off all the burners and anything else that might be turned
on.

When he next found Melanie, she was on the
couch with one of his sketchpads in her hands; the spatula she had
been holding was unceremoniously deposited on the armrest. He
chuckled quietly, retrieved the spatula, returned it to the
kitchen, and returned with paper towels to clean the couch.

She appeared frustrated as she used a pencil
to sketch out designs. The pencil she had was limited in its
applications, and it took only a moment for him to retrieve his
wider assortment of drawing supplies. She didn't notice when he
deposited them, but she did use the implements without questioning
their magical appearance.

"How about you design mine and I design
yours?" he asked from behind her.

He had taken to his knees behind the couch
and was looking over her shoulder. Michael was uncertain whether
she would even hear him, but she must have; without looking up from
her work, she spoke.

"Nope," she said shaking her head lightly.
"I'll probably get some square symmetrical piece with a Koehler
toilet," she finished, and Michael had to laugh.

"Okay," he said as he went to grab a pad for
himself along with templates, rulers, protractors, and other items
that he would need. He soon joined her on the couch and began to
draw. She freehanded her work; he used his tools.

"How about we design them together?" he
asked. "We can make drawings until they feel right."

Melanie paused, looked up, and stared at him.
Her face was blank, and she blinked only once. Michael found it all
amusing. She was thinking hard about the idea.

"No diamonds," she said as she pointed her
pencil at him.

"Okay," he shrugged. "How about Jade?"

"Ooh, I love that," she said as her eyes went
wide. "Or maybe black pearls. Can you cut pearls into segments and
imbed them around a band?"

Michael had no idea and shrugged his
shoulders. Melanie didn't take too much time considering it and
soon went back to her drawing. Michael began to chuckle.

"What's so funny now?" she asked without
looking up.

"Nothing, it's just that this is a great
story. The first thing that you and I collaborate on are wedding
rings," he said, and then turned his attention to his pad. He
continued to chuckle as he did.

"Well, have a good laugh, funny man. These
things are going to cost you a fortune," she said.

"Screw it, we'll have your asshole dad pay
for them," he said.

Melanie suddenly looked over to Michael. His
hand moved with precision, drawing quickly on the pad. He was so
damn cute with that tablet, and his comment about her father was so
flippant that she found it endearing. She threw her tablet to the
side and went to his left side, pulling her knees up to her as she
stared at him.

"Is there something I can help you with,
sweetie," he said without taking his eyes of his drawing.

"Nope, I just wanted to say I love you," she
said with a large smile.

Michael looked up and stared blankly at her.
She smiled widely and gave him that cute innocent look.

"That's pretty bold," he said.

"Yep, but it feels right," she responded.

"Well, I guess someone had to be the first to
say it," he chuckled and turned back to his drawing.

"Oh, Michael, you already told me you love
me," she stated as she wrapped her arms around his forearm.

Michael turned to her quizzically. "When did
I do that?"

She just cuddled up to him tighter.

"And I'm the flaky one," she laughed as she
shook her head at Michael's confusion.

The following night a loud knock on the door
garnered Melanie's attention and she went to it quickly. There was
no compunction about opening it, it wasn't her house, but she felt
comfortable enough to treat it like it was hers; Michael saw to
that.

"Brian," she said when she saw an Angel
brother towering over her.

"Melanie," Brian stated coldly. "Is he
here?"

"Yep," she said. "Come on in."

Brian passed Melanie and waited in the front
living room while Melanie left to find Michael. It wasn't long
before she returned with Michael in tow. The confused look on the
eldest Angel's face was understandable. Brian certainly knew where
all his brothers lived; he just chose not to visit with them.

"You owe mother an apology," Brian
stated.

"Do I?" Michael asked.

Before anyone could say anything else, Brian
punched Michael rapidly with a fist he had kept at the ready. The
jab was quick, but hit home. Michael fell backwards a step and
spread his arms which encountered the entryway walls to the
kitchen, and as Brian moved forward, Michael regained his
balance.