"So, dude, just us," Dillon added, following Lulu's lead into the house. He carefully passed a gourmet shopping bag into Jamie's hands, hesitating until he was sure Jamie had hold of the parcel. "Sorry; no Dom Perignon this time. We did bring some good wine, though."
But you didn't bring my Sunshine. All he could do was blink back at Kate, trying to understand why Sunny would've stood him up. Even if it wasn't a date, they'd had plans for the party.
"Why didn't she want to come?" he asked, trying to keep his tone bland.
"I honestly don't know, Jamie." Kate shook her head slowly, a meaningful expression in her eyes. Had Sunny told her something about him?
He'd spent the past days aching to see Sunny again, fighting the compulsion to go after her, to beg for a way they could be together. Only his absolute respect for her and her wishes had held that plan at bay. Then he'd woken exhilarated this morning, his first thought that he'd be with her again today. The whole morning had been a study in finding ways to expend his nervous energy.
First, a six-mile run that had done almost nothing to calm his libido. Next, several hours spent reading one of the volumes about the Grigori, the fallen angels mentioned in the Apocrypha. He'd read page after page, searching for any hint that Sunny might find a way to become mortal, some loophole where they could be together without it being a grave sin.
His reading had yielded no hope whatsoever. Just like all the other lore he'd studied for the past few days.
So at last, he'd pinned all his anticipation on the simple act of getting to spend time with her. It was a gorgeous, unseasonably warm New Year's Day and he'd planned to walk her down to the dock. He already had one of their most expensive vintages from the wine cellar chilling in a cooler down there—along with a pair of his grandmama's silver wine goblets. He'd even brought out a hand-crocheted lace tablecloth for them to sit on. It was truly what Sunny Renfroe deserved—the full-court press.
Full-court press. He'd thrown the words out to her the other day in jest, and here he stood in khakis and a button-down and polished loafers and . . . she simply wasn't coming.
Kate stared up at him, searching his face; he had no doubt that his extreme disappointment showed in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she said with surprising sympathy. "I tried."
He nodded, scuffing one of his shoes against the hardwood floor of the entry. "I guess she didn't . . ." He couldn't even finish the statement.
I guess she didn't care about me, didn't want to be near me. I guess I was wrong about what happened between us. . . .
Even though he knew better—Sunny had been more than obviously attracted to him. The stakes between them were just too high, and he got that.
Kate stepped close and rose onto the balls of her feet, whispering in his ear, "Go after her, Jamie. She's well worth pursuing."
She stepped back, giving him a conspiratorial smile, then followed in Dillon's footsteps.
Sunny lay on her sofa, Kleenex box in hand, watching When Harry Met Sally. Perfect. A movie about friends.... Well, at least they'd started out that way. Why didn't she possess the strength of will to take Jamie up on his offer of friendship?
Because, just like Harry and Sally, she knew that she and Jamie would wind up falling in love.
She couldn't really see someone as strong-will ed and eager as Jamie Angel wasting much time without going for what he wanted, either.
"Kiel," she whispered, fresh tears starting, "am I being tested? Is that it? Why else would I have to hurt like this?"
No answer. Kiel came to her only at the most important of times, and apparently one lowly guardian's tears didn't qualify as urgent. She dabbed at her eyes and tried to focus on the movie, but was interrupted by the front doorbell. Who would be dropping by on New Year's Day? Her mama might be out walking around downtown—and if it was her mother, she'd instantly notice Sunny's mood and teary eyes and want to know every detail of what was troubling her daughter.
After "adopting" Sunny when she was sent to Earth—her parents had no clue about her true nature or age—her mama had always been overprotective, loving Sunny all the more because she felt so blessed to have her.
Tiptoeing to the door so that whoever was on the other side wouldn't hear her, Sunny looked out the peephole of her apartment door.
"God, help me," she whispered, and, wiping her eyes one more time, began unlatching the door.
Jamie waltzed right into her apartment as if his arrival on her doorstep were an everyday thing. As always, he dwarfed her, but somehow in the cramped space of her apartment, he seemed even taller and more broad shouldered. And she'd have sworn that the man was even handsomer than the last time she'd seen him.
As they walked together into her living room, she assessed him as inconspicuously as possible.
Whereas the other day he'd been in grungy jeans and a T-shirt, today he wore a dark purple Polo button-down, one that made his green eyes more vivid than usual. He also had on neatly pressed khaki pants that emphasized his very fine physique. Oh, how she'd fibbed when she'd claimed he looked wimpy. Everything about Jamie Angel's physique spoke of power and strength, and she'd spent several long nights imagining what it would feel like to have that body atop her own. To have him deep inside her, loving her.
And she'd spent the days repenting for such wicked desires.
When they reached her living room, he turned and faced her. His expression was like granite, full of determination. "I've decided there has to be a way."
In the background, Meg Ryan was faking her orgasm, and Jamie lifted one eyebrow. "Perhaps you should take that as a sign about you and me. About what could happen, the pleasure—"
"Stop!" She held up both hands, desperate to silence him. "Just stop right now, James Dixon."
He reached out and caught one of her curls between his fingertips, stroking it languidly. "You caught my full name when my sis used it, huh?"
"It apparently works when one needs to be forceful. Or get your attention." She swatted his hand away from her hair.
He smiled his fallen-angel, sinfully gorgeous smile. "Oh, you've got my full attention, baby. But you already know that." Once again, his hand found its way to her hair, his eyes narrowing in pleasure as he stroked first one soft curl, then another.
She gaped at him. "I thought you were worried about burning in hell!"
"I thought you responded to my kiss in a very human way." He drew one long curl to his lips, kissing the end of one tendril. "It's just your hair, Sunshine."