My Special Angel (6 page)

Nadia ignored the impressive view of the gardens, which were not as spectacular as some of the scenery found on her own ranch. She owned crystal-clear streams flowing with trout and water so pure you could drink it. There were meadows overflowing with wildflowers in a kaleidoscope of colors, and the majestic Smoky Mountains climbing halfway to heaven in the distance. Who would want to look at the well-manicured grass of a golf course when she had all that?

She glanced at Owen and started to relax for the first time that night. She had liked George and was pleased to see their table was partly hidden from the curious glances of the blue-blooded clientele by huge plants. “So that’s what you do.”

“What?”

“Work in construction. I was wondering how you stayed so fit.” She flushed to the roots of her hair and took a hasty sip of water. Why don’t you just come right out and tell the man you’ve been drooling over his body?

Owen grinned. “I don’t believe it. Ms. Kandratavich actually paid me a compliment.”

“I give compliments all the time.” Her brows pulled together in a frown.

“Ah, but never to me.” He was beginning to love the way she blushed. His gaze slid down her throat to the softly rounded neckline of her dress to where just a trace of cleavage showed, and he wondered exactly where the blush started. Were the softly rounded breasts concealed by her dress the same delicate pink as her throat? Would her nipples darken?

“Excuse me, sir.”

Owen came back to earth with a thud. He glanced up at the waiter standing next to the table. “What?” he snapped.

The waiter held out a deep-red leather-bound menu. “I asked if the gentleman would like to see our wine list before ordering.”

Owen took the wine list and willed away the flush that was stealing up his face. Never in all his years of dating had he sat in a restaurant and stared at his date’s cleavage. For Lord’s sake, he was a grown man, not some hormone-driven teenager on his first date. He glanced at the list, snapped it shut, and handed it back to the young waiter with an order for an expensive bottle of white wine.

“Thank you, sir.”

Owen watched the waiter leave with a frown before jerking his gaze back to Nadia. “I’m sorry, Nadia.” He felt the flush threaten to overcome him again. “Is wine all right, or would you prefer something else?” Where in the hell had all his social skills suddenly gone?

“Wine is fine.” A smile teased the corner of her mouth at Owen’s obvious discomfort. “I’m not much of a drinker. Two glasses of wine and I’d be standing on some table singing Neil Diamond numbers.”

Owen chuckled at the mental pictures flashing through his mind. Half the ladies dining would faint dead away, the gentlemen would probably secretly cheer, and Foxchase Country Club would revoke his membership. He glanced around the stuffy room and realized he wouldn’t have cared if they did. He only came here because of their great French chef and to please the haughty clients who were paying him outrageous sums to design their homes. Tonight he had brought Nadia, hoping to impress her with his style, wealth, and charm. It had been an error: He should have taken her to Belle’s and showed her the best fried chicken this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.

He reached up and tugged at his tie. “Neil Diamond, hmmm?” His voice was teasing soft as he leaned across the table and whispered, “What would you do if you had three glasses?”

Nadia felt herself relax into the chair. This was the Owen she had wanted to get to know tonight. If she was only going to allow herself one date with him, she wanted it to be perfect. A wide grin spread across her face as she whispered back, “I’m told I do a great impersonation of Madonna.”

Owen’s rich laughter caused more than a few heads to turn and stare at the couple halfway hidden by lush green leaves.

* * *

Nadia leaned against the screen door and smiled up at Owen. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

He placed one palm against the metal doorframe above her head while the fingers on the other hand gently played with a thick dark curl lying against her shoulder. “You’re welcome.” He tenderly cupped her chin and studied her face in the light illuminating the porch. Even under the harsh glare of the yellow bug light, she was breathtakingly beautiful. “Have dinner with me tomorrow?”

She tried to look away, but his fingers wouldn’t release her chin. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“The next night?”

Nadia shook her head. “Please, Owen, don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His brown eyes held nothing but confusion.

“Don’t end this evening with an argument.” She took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. “You’re very nice, Owen, and I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“But?”

“I never should have accepted this date. It’s all wrong.”

“Why didn’t you cancel it, then?”

“I tried three times.” She glanced over his shoulder at the moon and the gentle swaying branches of the giant oaks in the distance. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

His fingers tenderly stroked the satiny texture of her cheek. “Why couldn’t you?”

“To be perfectly honest with you, I find you extremely attractive.” She frowned at the loose knot of Owen’s tie and gathered all her strength. “I just can’t see you again. It’s too tempting.”

His arms fell to his side, and he jammed both of his hands onto his hips. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You aren’t seeing anyone else, you find me extremely attractive, you had a wonderful time tonight, but you won’t go out with me again.”

It sounded stupid even to her own ears. She tried a new approach. “We just aren’t meant for each other, Owen. I’m sorry.”

He jammed his fingers through his hair and paced to the other end of the porch. He glanced toward the heavens and muttered either a curse or a prayer before storming his way back to her. His gaze locked on the delicate trembling of her lower lip. The same lip that had been tempting him all night with its lush redness and sweet promises.

Nadia felt her whole world shake as his finger gently traced her lower lip. She should leave and go into the house, but her feet weren’t receiving the urgent message her brain was sending. The traitors were listening to her misguided heart. Heat scorched her lungs, making breathing an impossibility, as he moved closer. The forthcoming kiss was in his eyes. She could see its heat, practically taste its sweetness, and feel its power. She wanted that kiss. Even as her brain was shouting, Run, her body was leaning forward.

Owen tenderly cupped her face and lightly covered her mouth with his own. His body shook against the restraint he had forced upon it.

Nadia melted under his tender onslaught. Her hands rose of their own accord and encircled his neck. She pressed herself against his strength and deepened the kiss with a seductive stroke of her tongue. One moment he was as gentle as a newborn kitten, and the next, the untamed hunger of a wild lion broken free. Nadia reveled in the uncivilized side of Owen. She met him stroke for stroke, kiss for kiss. The more he demanded, the more she gave. Her breasts swelled with need, and liquid heat pooled in her stomach and overflowed to the juncture between her thighs.

She felt his warm hands tenderly cup her hips and pull her closer. A groan escaped her throat as his arousal pressed against the gentle swell of her abdomen. Hell itself couldn’t generate this much heat. Passion throbbed between her legs as she broke the kiss and moaned his name. “Owen?”

He strung a line of kisses up her jaw to the edge of her ear. He nipped lightly at the delicate lobe and toyed with the small golden hoop earring with his breath. “How could you say we aren’t meant for each other?”

Nadia lowered her head to his chest and willed the tears not to come. She could feel the rapid hammering of his heart through the white silk shirt and knew hers was just as fast. What had she done? She never should have kissed Owen. It could only complicate matters. She backed out of his arms and gripped the handle of the screen door behind her. She needed something to hold on to. “I’m sorry, Owen. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did.” His breathing was harsh, and his eyes glimmered with frustration. What was she running from? “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.”

Nadia kept her gaze pinned to his billowing chest as she pulled open the screen door and twisted the knob of the inner door. It was safer not to answer that question. “I have to go in now.” The blackness of the kitchen engulfed her as she stepped over the threshold.

Owen gripped the frame of the screen door but didn’t follow her in. “I’m not giving up, Nadia.”

She sadly shook her head and started to close the door. “I won’t change my mind.”

He scowled at the closed door and muttered, “We’ll see.” How could she be so blind as not to see what was happening between them? He gently closed the screen door and thought. Whatever was bothering Nadia had to do with the mysterious comment she made yesterday about being bad. What could she possibly have done that was so terrible—cheat at tarot cards, fail crystal-ball reading, or misread someone’s palm? Whatever it was, he just didn’t care. He wasn’t about to walk away from the best thing that had ever happened to him. He scowled once more at the closed door before walking back to his car and driving away.

Nadia heard his car pull away and wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. She had no right to feel sorry for herself. She knew it would never work from the beginning. It was better to end it now than later, when Owen would despise her. Her hand swiped at another tear. He had absolutely no right to kiss her like that. He was a southern gentleman and should have kissed like one, all stuffy and formal, not as sweet as heaven and hot as Hades.

She had more important things to think about than dream lovers and unquenched desires. She had her music. She leaned against the door, closed her eyes, and willed the music to soothe her tattered soul.

Five seconds later her eyes flew open. She glanced around the darkened kitchen, terrified. Her mind was a complete blank. There were no serene sounds or tranquil melodies. No magical lyrics or foot-tapping tunes bombarding her mind for a song of their own. There was only an emptiness. Her mother and Sofia had been right. The music had stopped. Owen had stolen her music.

Owen glanced up from the stack of papers scattered across his desk as his study door opened. A huge grin spread across his face at the woman ducking under Sebastian’s arm and sprinting into his office. “Nadia!” He jumped to his feet. She had come to him.

“Sir, I’m terribly sorry for this...” said the embarrassed-looking butler.

“It’s okay, Sebastian. Ms. Kandratavich is welcome anytime.” Owen raised his eyebrows in astonishment at the woman standing in front of him. “How did you slip past Sebastian?” The butler had been with the family for more than thirty years, and she was the first person who had ever managed to make it past him. The stiff and imposing Sebastian had always reminded Owen of a formidable guard dog, but he obviously cared very deeply for Aunt Verna.

Nadia glanced at the stone-faced butler and offered a small smile. “I used one of your football plays. I faked left and went right.

Owen suppressed his chuckle as Sebastian bowed slightly to Nadia in acknowledgment and asked, “Is there anything else, sir?”

“No, that will be all. Thanks.” He dismissed the butler and concentrated on the fiery woman in front of him. Her hair was long and flowing, and the flush of excitement tinted her cheeks with a warm glow. She looked vibrantly alive and happy. “Nadia?”

She turned to Owen’s voice, and her smile instantly died. A fierce crease pulled at her brow, and she placed both hands flat on the desk and demanded, “I want it back, immediately!” Playing dodge-the-butler with the formidable-looking Sebastian had been fun, but now it was time to settle up on some business.

Owen blinked. “What back?”

Nadia clenched her teeth together and leaned in closer. “My music.” Five days of total silence had driven her to this. Five days of nothing but eerie silence. Not one note, one fleeting melody, or one inspiring line of a cute lyric had crossed her mind in five endless days and sleepless nights. She had no idea how he’d taken it, only that he had. The music had been there during dinner, and even on the drive home she could remember the melodies mixing with the cool summer night’s breeze and Owen’s deep laughter over some silly story she had told him from her childhood. The music had been there until he had stolen it with a kiss.

“What music?”

She raised her voice and shouted, “My music.” Was he deaf?

Owen frowned and sat down in the soft leather chair he had just vacated. “You lost your music, and you think I took it.”

“I don’t think, Owen, I know.”

“When did you lose it?”

“I had it when I went to dinner with you the other night, but it was gone after you dropped me off.”

He ran a tired hand over his face and thought. “Don’t panic, Nadia. It has to be around somewhere. What was it, sheet music, a cassette, what?” He reached for the phone. “I’ll call the restaurant and see if someone has found it.” He started punching out numbers. “Maybe you dropped it in my car, and it slid under the seat.” He jabbed the last number. “Why in the hell were you carrying something that valuable on you?” His voice trailed off as Nadia’s finger reached over the desk and pushed the button to disconnect the phone call.

Nadia glanced at his puzzled expression and wondered how in the world she was going to explain about the music. With a heavy sigh she said, “Put down the phone, Owen. The music’s not at the Foxchase Country Club.” She slowly walked over to the French doors and stared out across the slate patio. Precision-cut hedges partially obscured the view of the sparkling swimming pool on the right, huge potted plants overflowed concrete urns, discreet benches dotted the lawn, and the high chain-link fence could be glimpsed off to the left, marking the tennis courts. Owen’s home was more of a country club than Foxchase.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the door and closed her eyes. “The music was in my head.”