Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait) Page 5

  Looking at her now, content on the hip of one of the most stunning blonds Sam had ever seen, even though he’d never had much of a head for math, this was one case in which he had no trouble putting two and two together. Not only had his old pal found a perfect playmate for Katie, but for himself.

  No wonder Jonah’s scowl was deeper than that old fenced-off, flooded quarry they used to sneak dates to back when they were teens. Jonah knew full well that, no matter how much of a positive change this looker had made in his and Katie’s lives, she belonged to another man—another child. A man and child who at this very moment were probably going out of their minds with worry.

  “Honestly, Jonah,” Angel said in a teasing scold as she opened the cabinet beside the sink. “Next time we’re expecting company for a meal, let me know. I could’ve already set an extra place.”

  “No need.” Jonah didn’t look up from the sink. “Sam’s not staying.”

  “Sure I am.” Sam lurched forward, offering to take Katie from Angel’s arms.

  “Thanks,” she said with an easy smile. “As much as I love her, I think I must still be a tired from the accident. My arms are sore.”

  “I’ll bet.” Sam tickled Katie’s still too-skinny tummy.

  “Jonah, honey, why don’t you and Sam go ahead and take your seats?” Having added an extra place setting and silverware on the table, she hustled to the stove to stir a bubbling pot of grits. “If you start in now, maybe at least something’ll still be warm.”

  Sliding Katie into her high chair, Sam let out a low whistle. “This is a pretty fancy spread.”

  Angel beamed. “My guy’s worth it, don’t you think?”

  As Jonah took the seat farthest from hers at the table, she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. Strands of her long buttery hair swept forward, sweeping Jonah’s neck. To Sam’s bachelor eyes, her hair looked cashmere-soft. Baby-bunny-soft. The kind of soft he’d only seen on fancy shampoo commercials aired during prime-time TV.

  Swell. Baby-bunny-soft. Now, that was one heckuva fine piece of detective work.

  Still, he thought, savoring an unbelievably tasty bite of buttermilk pancakes, who was to say great hair wasn’t a clue? It could mean Jonah’s angel was from the big city, where women spent more money on their hair than on mundane things like vet bills and Kool-Aid. Or, it could just mean she had naturally nice hair. End of story. Back to square one.

  Sighing, Sam reached for a fifth strip of bacon.

  Angel fought for all she was worth to maintain her bright smile.

  Why was Jonah being so cold? He’d hardly even look at her, let alone touch her.

  After filling the men’s mugs with steaming coffee, then giving the baby a rubber teething ring she’d cooled in the freezer, Angel joined the guys at the table. Swallowing her pain, more determined than ever to ride out this rough patch in her marriage, she served herself two pancakes and a strip of bacon. “So tell me, Sam,” she said, in what she hoped was a light tone, “are you married?

  “Nope.” He grinned, saluting her with a forkful of scrambled eggs. “Which makes this meal all the more delicious.”

  “Thanks.” While she’d spoken to Sam, Angel’s gaze never left her husband. His impenetrable brown eyes, those stern lips and handsome, angular cheeks badly in need of a shave. Lord, how she loved him, hooded gaze, whiskers and all. “I’m glad you could be here to share it with us. But since you’re not married,” she finally turned her attention to their guest, “then you can’t possibly understand how devastating it was for me to have almost lost not only my child but this man.” She reached one hand to Lizzy and the other to Jonah. He tried pulling free but she wouldn’t let him.

  Sam looked to his plate, eyed it a good long while, then pushed it back. “You’re right. I can’t imagine a hurt like that.”

  “That being the case…” she released Lizzy and Jonah’s hands to dab the corners of her lips with a white cloth napkin “… hope you won’t mind my being blunt.”

  “O-okay.” The big man actually gulped. “Shoot.”

  “Here’s the deal. My husband spends his every waking moment down at that diner of his—which is fine. It means a lot to him. But that does make every second he has left to spend with me and Lizzy that much more precious. Not that I’m not always happy to meet one of Jonah’s friends but, while I may have temporarily lost my memory, I haven’t lost my mind. And one thing I’m sensing loud and clear is that something’s simmering between you and my husband that neither of you are too keen on sharing.”

  Jonah choked on his latest sip of coffee.

  Sam toyed with his spoon. “Mind telling me what that something might be?”

  She brushed crumbs from Jonah’s shirt before admitting, “I don’t have the foggiest. Just an uneasy feeling that my husband’s hiding something from me.”

  Jonah said, “Come on, Angel, give me a break.”

  “No, you give me a break, Jonah. Earlier—not that I was eavesdropping—but I heard you on the phone. At the time, I couldn’t imagine who you were talking to but, now, I’m guessing it was Sam.” To their guest, she said, “I mean, I know I’m a decent cook, but why else would you sit here shooting the breeze with us when I’m sure you have much more important police business to handle than my lost car? Am I right?”

  “Well…” Sam glanced at the ceiling.

  Jonah pushed back his chair and headed for the sink.

  “It’s okay,” Angel said. “Whatever this big secret is, I’m strong enough to take it. In my accident…did I hurt anyone? Is the car totaled? For that matter, where is the car? And my purse? And how far did I have to walk before finding my way to the diner?”

  From the sink, Jonah said, “None of that matters.”

  “Not to you, maybe,” she said, “but I want to know if I hurt someone. I need to know.” After scooping Lizzy from her high chair, Angel cradled her close. “I mean, you two are sweet to want to shelter me from whatever is obviously bad news, but sooner or later I’m going to have to hear the truth. And if it’s not such bad news, then please, Sam, go ahead and spill it so the three of us—Jonah, Lizzy and me, can enjoy what little time my husband has left before he needs to get to work.”

  Sam cleared his throat, casting Jonah a good, long look.

  “Well?” Angel glared at the both of them, more convinced than ever that she was on the right track.

  “It’s like this,” Sam said. “Jonah did call me this morning, but I looked you up—I mean, your, ah, accident, but found squat.”

  “Wait a minute,” Angel said with a slight shake of her head. “You mean to tell me you didn’t find a single mention of an accident happening anywhere in our county?”

  “The county, hell—I didn’t find mention of a single vehicular accident with a missing driver anywhere in the state. Lots of abandoned cars, but nothing remotely within walking range of Blue Moon.”

  “How about missing persons?” Jonah asked.

  Angel looked sharply his way. “Why would you want to know that? I’m not missing anymore, am I?”

  Jonah looked down. “Guess not.”

  “All right, then,” Angel, still cradling Katie, said. “That settles it. Case closed. Jonah and I will return to life as usual and the insurance company will have to take my word for it that our car is gone.” A shadow crossed her normally serene features. “The car was paid for, wasn’t it?”

  “Sure.” Again, Jonah and Sam exchanged glances, but it was Jonah who said, “Believe me, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  Sam’s gaze narrowed, but Jonah didn’t care. The least he could do for Angel after all she’d done for him and Katie was put her mind at ease while she was in his home—for however long that happened to be. Sure, he could tell her the truth, but what good would that do?

  It might do wonders in helping her regain her memory.

  Jonah pushed the thought from his mind.

  Index fingers to his throbbing temples, he closed his eyes and rubbed but, a
second later, warm, slender fingers moved his aside. Angel had put down the baby to comfort her husband. To his everlasting shame, Jonah enjoyed her touch entirely too much.

  “Have you always had headaches?” she asked.

  He opened his eyes in time to catch Sam’s scowl. “Nope. Never have them. This one popped up out of nowhere.”

  “Guess I’d better be on my way.” The police chief slapped on his hat. “If I hear anything, I’ll give you two a holler.”

  “Thanks.” Angel now massaged the back of Jonah’s aching neck, shooting streaks of warmth across his collarbone and down his spine. It took everything in him not to moan. His face grew hot. Other unmentionable places also grew. Damn this woman. Didn’t she have a clue what havoc her sweet touch wrought? “Jonah and I both appreciate your—”

  A knock sounded on the back door.

  “That Doc?” Jonah stepped free of Angel’s unwittingly seductive touch to rub his face with his hands.

  “I’ll let him in,” Sam said. “Good thing he showed up before I left. It’ll be interesting to hear his take on this.” He opened the door. “Hey, Doc. Good to see you.”

  The slump-shouldered man, with most of his white hair on his soup-strainer mustache, as opposed to the top of his head, opted to wave his battered black bag instead of mouthing an actual greeting. Not five seconds after Sam shut the back door, the man most folks just referred to as Doc zeroed in on Katie. “In all my days,” he said with a sharply exhaled breath. “If I wasn’t seeing this with my own eyes, I never would’ve believed it.” He crossed to the grinning infant’s high chair, scooping her into his arms. “What happened?” he asked Jonah. “She finally take a liking to formula?”

  “Formula?” Angel said. “Lizzy’s still breastfeeding. Isn’t that what’s best?”

  “W-well, yes, but—” As if only just now seeing the patient he’d been summoned to examine, the old country doctor narrowed his gaze. “I’m presuming you’re our mystery woman?”

  Jonah cringed.

  Angel laughed. “I suppose you could call me that, but I prefer the title of Mrs. Jonah McBride.”

  Doc vaulted his bushy eyebrows high enough to serve as a toupee. After casting questioning glances to both Jonah and Sam, he said, “Well, then, guess I’d better get on with giving you a good head-to-toe look-see. Gentlemen, a little privacy…”

  “Oh—sure.” Jonah took Katie from the doctor’s arms, then ushered Sam into the living room.

  Easing into a rocker too small for his frame, Sam said, “If this doesn’t beat all.”

  “Yeah, especially the part about you coming on to her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard right.” Jonah skimmed Katie’s golden hair. “I’ve got enough on my plate around here wondering who Angel is, who’s about to show up to claim her, and what Katie’s going to do once she’s gone. Last thing I need is my best friend coming on to my imaginary wife.”

  Sam laughed, a great big belly-snorter, but then, as if remembering there was a registered voter in the next room, he toned down his reaction considerably.

  “Glad at least one of us sees the humor in all this.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Think it’s funny that some gorgeous Looney Tunes thinks she’s my wife and my baby’s mom? Uh, no.”

  “Yeah, well, I sure as hell do. In fact, this reminds me of that time you and me dated those twins from Batesville. What were their names?”

  Jonah sat hard on the edge of the sofa, shifting Katie to his left knee. “Carol June and June Carol.”

  “Right. Crazy as loons—both of ’em.”

  “Best I can recall, their folks were off, too.”

  Sam nodded. “Remember how their grandma kept asking what size suits we wore? To this day I’m not sure if she was measuring us up for a wedding or a funeral.”

  Voice quiet, Jonah said, “That’s kind of how I feel at the moment.”

  “How so?” Sam rocked forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.

  “One minute it’s like Angel is a saving grace. Like we’ve known each other forever and she really is my wife. Like we could make it official with a big church wedding and all that that implies.”

  “Meaning a big wedding night?”

  Jonah sharply looked his way. “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, but now that I’ve seen your Angel, I’d be thinking you weren’t human if you hadn’t had all of those thoughts and more.”

  “Yeah, but I shouldn’t.”

  “Give yourself a break, man. You’ve been through more in these past few months than most folks have in their entire lives. So you harbored a few idyllic fantasies, a few lustful thoughts—big deal. As long as you don’t act on them, you got no problems.”

  Yeah, right. No problems? That’d be the day.

  “And the funeral part?” Sam asked.

  Turning Katie to face him, Jonah held her by her hands, bouncing her on his knee. She giggled, and the sound was the sweetest he’d heard since Doc first told him Geneva had had a girl. His own melancholy grin fading to a frown, Jonah said, “The funeral part scares me. Bad. I mean, think about it. If Katie had this sudden a turnaround when Angel came into her life, it only stands to reason she’ll fall just as suddenly when Angel leaves. And we both know it, Sam—she is leaving.” Though his buddy had the decency to give him a vague nod, as opposed to a definite yeah, you’re right, it wasn’t too hard to see Sam agreed.

  Tired of his friend’s accusatory stare, tired of the grandfather clock’s persistent tick, reminding him how little time remained before Angel learned the truth, Jonah took Katie upstairs to change her diaper, even though it didn’t really need changing. When he’d finished, she seemed fussy, so he tucked her belly-side-up into her crib. She kicked herself into a pint-sized fit, then settled, right before his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

  Most nights he wrestled for hours just to get his eyes to shut, but she had this knack for drifting off instantaneously. Usually it worried him, but today her expression was one of profound peace. Her skin, instead of its usual grayish flush, had taken on an adorable rosy hue. Beneath paper-thin closed eyelids, her eyes moved. Her cherry red lips suckled.

  “Dreaming of Angel?” he whispered, trailing his finger along the ridge of her button nose. “If you are, can’t say I blame you.” Let’s just hope this dream doesn’t turn into a nightmare.

  Chapter Nine

  “Oh, this is just great.” Geneva glared at the screen. “Now Blondie’s taken over my baby’s every waking moment as well as her sleeping ones?”

  “You don’t know that,” Teach said. “What if Katie’s dreaming of you?”

  “Not bloody likely. And hey,” she narrowed her gaze. “How come you don’t know what she’s dreaming about?”

  “Do you?”

  “No, but then, I’m not Mr. Expert-at-Everything.”

  “Point of fact,” he adjusted his robe, “even I can’t see into your daughter’s dreams. Not even Mr. Big Himself can do that.”

  “For real?”

  “Have you ever known me to lie?”

  “Well, no, but… Is this some kind of trick? You know, like a twisted mind game?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ve already told you, I don’t do kink. However, since we are on the subject of games, I’d like you to play one with me.”

  “Okay, but this better not involve stripping. I’ve had enough of that.”

  “As if…” He raised his already snooty patrician nose a good two inches higher.

  “You don’t have to be insulting. I’m still pretty perky for a dead woman.” She thrust out her chest, pleased to see him blanch. “In fact, the night I died, Talon—you know, the bassist for Puke and Die—took a body shot right off this tit.”

  Geneva was beyond pleased to see old Herc shudder. “If you’re quite finished with your exhibitionist display,” he said, “I’d like to get on with our game.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Tell me what come
s to mind when I mention the name Katie.’’

  “Failure.”

  “Jonah.”

  “Miserable failure.”

  “Geneva.”

  “Miserable drunken failure.”

  He sighed. “Seeing the same pattern I am?”

  Up from the bench, she resumed her limited pacing, careful not to catch sight of the giant flat-screen still zoomed in on her baby. “Look,” she finally said. “It’s no big secret I was a screw-up at the game of life. Isn’t that why I’m now stuck with you?”

  “True, but what I’m trying to get at here is your exasperating lack of desire to change your old patterns. You’re here to better yourself, yet in the time you’ve been under my tutelage all I’ve gotten from you is the same moan and groan routine. ‘I’m a failure. I suck. I’m a screw-up.’ Newsflash—” he twinkled garish jazz hands right in her face “—Mr. Big doesn’t make screw-ups, which means somewhere deep, deep inside of you, Ms. Geneva Kowalski-McBride, is a thoroughly decent woman longing to break free.”

  Onscreen, the picture flashed back to the living room. To Jonah warily eyeing Blondie, as that old quack doctor ushered her in, then fussed over helping her into a chair.

  Sam pushed himself out of his cramped rocker and did his part in making the princess comfy by fluffing a pillow the doctor placed behind her back.

  Geneva’s only saving grace was seeing that at least Jonah still had his wits about him. Good old stoic Jonah. He wouldn’t even look at Blondie.

  Obviously he still held tight to the memory of his only recently departed wife.

  Obviously he was a gentleman.

  Sam, on the other hand, Geneva had never given two figs for. Sure, he might have a bod carved from solid stone, but ever since he turned her down that time, making her feel like a two-bit tramp, all because she was lonely and looking for a little Saturday night action while her husband slaved away at that stupid, smelly diner. And then—