Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [44]
He didn’t seem surprised, for some unknown reason. “Okay, go ahead. Wait a minute and I’ll open the door for you. Be careful because the overhead light is burned out. Stay in the car till I come and get you.”
Angela raced back to the Porsche and turned on the ignition.
Charlie closed and locked the front door then put the chain back in place. He padded to the garage and opened the door, his pajama bottoms starting to slip down his hips as he reached up. He stood back, holding up his pajamas, as Angela guided the luxurious sports car into the space next to his old Chevy. Quickly he lowered the garage door and locked it. He helped Angela from the cramped driver’s side and guided her into the kitchen, then excused himself for a moment and left her sitting at the butcher-block table while he went upstairs for his robe and slippers.
When he returned, Angela had a pan of milk warming on the stove and was about to pour cocoa into it. “I’m making us some hot chocolate.”
How about that. Charlie sucked in air. Now she was making “us” hot chocolate.
“Great.” He didn’t know what the hell else to say as he sat down at the table and waited for Angela to place the heavy mug in front of him. He hated hot chocolate almost as much as he hated lukewarm black coffee. He didn’t remember where the tin had come from in the first place or why he still had it.
Why was he doing this? Why didn’t he just tell her to shut up and leave? Why had he let her put her car in the garage? Why was he letting her get to him like she was? Something about her that made him feel like trusting her. Charlie couldn’t afford to trust anyone.
“Here you go.” She handed him a mug of steaming cocoa. “I’m really sorry I woke you up, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“It’s okay,” Charlie answered without thinking.
“In case you had insomnia, instead of just me waking you up, you will now sleep like a baby.” She turned around and gave the kitchen a final once-over. “I’ve been looking around and you keep this place pretty neat for a guy,” she commented.
Now she was complimenting him. She wanted him to sleep like a baby. He didn’t have a clue. Charlie brought the mug to his lips and sipped at the hot chocolate.
“Not too bad.” Angela drained her own cup. “Okay, point me in the right direction. Where do I bunk down? We’ll work out the money details tomorrow. Right now, I’m so tired I could sleep standing up.”
“Uh—upstairs. Second door on the left. The bathroom is across the hall,” Charlie said testily.
“Okay, see you in the morning.” Angela bent over and dropped a light kiss on Charlie’s forehead. “Thanks again,” she said softly before she fled the kitchen.
Charlie watched her go. He felt a strange glow encompass him. He rinsed the mugs and put them on the draining board, then sat back down on the kitchen chair. He fingered the kissed spot on his forehead. The strange glow stayed with him for a long time. When he looked at the kitchen clock it read 4:30. He finally climbed the stairs to go to bed.
Angela was right. He slept like a contented baby.
Angela dozed fitfully as dawn broke over the quiet street outside her window. She rolled over and assumed the fetal position. She heard a noise and burrowed deeper into the covers. She half felt and half heard Charlie creep into the room. A deep sigh escaped her. She wasn’t the least bit alarmed; Charlie would never hurt her. She didn’t know how she knew that, she just knew. She was safe with him, until her sixth sense told her otherwise. It had a way of fading in and out. But right now, in this bed in this house, she felt safe. One sleepy eye opened when she felt a feathery touch on her cheek. In the twilight of her sleep, she smiled.
Charlie returned her smile. He didn’t know why he’d felt the need to check on her. But he was glad he had. Real glad. Damn, he felt good, and it had nothing to do with sex. It was going to be a hell of a good day; he could feel it in his bones.
Angela rolled over onto her stomach, another sleepy sigh escaping her