Tony just looked at her. At that lovely blush, and her plush mouth. If she—this luscious but untouchable thing—could torment him by barging into his life, he could torment her right back. He envisioned himself pulling her into his arms and sweeping her off her feet. He could almost feel the heat of her breaths when, in his imagination, he dipped his head until his lips hovered a mere inch from hers. Would he kiss her? Or would he let her go?
The imaginary Rebecca let out a soft moan of yearning. The real Rebecca stared at him, her eyes clouded and dark, her lips parted, her breaths shallow, a mixture of terror and longing painting her face. God, she was so fragile. If he wasn’t careful, he’d hurt her. Or, more likely, she’d hurt him. She knew what she wanted out of life.
He was the only one floundering around like a fool.
Tony forced his attention sharply to last week’s Cowboys game. Safe enough. Working his jaw, he waited until she jerked and, swearing under her breath, turned away from him to snatch up a dish rag.
“I can’t help it,” Tony said. “Don’t curse me because you tempt me.”
“You’re a son of a bitch.”
That stung. He smiled, but his mouth felt like frozen plastic. “As I’ve been trying to show you all along.”
“You can keep trying. It won’t work.”
He raised a brow. “Is that an invitation?”
“No!” Rebecca flung the dishrag down and whirled to glare at him. “Look, I know I’m not perfect. I’m not an angel yet. But I’m trying. You don’t have to keep making it harder than it has to be! I want to help you, damn it. Why does that bother you so much?”
She was breathing hard, and her bed-tousled hair framed her like the fire of her anger. Tony lingered on a single lock that curled against her cheek, its tip tickling the corner of her lovely mouth. His gaze rose to her eyes, stormy blue and alive with fury.
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he murmured.
She turned and walked out.
Tony smiled to himself. This was turning out to be more fun than he’d imagined possible. He just might like having an angel around.
No, he liked having Rebecca around.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so freely. Maybe he’d been a bit of a drag lately. No wonder Miranda always looked so serious.
Tony rose and followed Rebecca into the living room. She’d flung herself down on the couch, and stared sulkily at the TV. Miranda was on the floor with her nose practically pressed into the screen, while bright lights and music tumbled across the display.
“Miranda, back away from the TV. You’ll hurt your eyes,” Tony said.
“Daddy.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be silly.” But she scooted back a few feet and sprawled out on her belly, next to Rebecca’s feet. Rebecca pulled her legs away and tucked them up onto the couch.
Tony leaned against the doorframe. “Rebecca,” he said. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t even acknowledge him, but he caught the tightening of her jaw. “You didn’t answer me. What do we do now?”
She shot him a sidelong look. “You can start by going out to find a job. That was your plan, wasn’t it? To try to get your old job back.”
“Yeah.” Not that he wanted to be an accountant again. And he definitely didn’t want to go crawling back to his old boss to beg favors, especially if it meant working the kind of brutal hours he had before. Even the schedule in plumbing hadn’t been so bad, and hadn’t taken him away from his family so often. “…if I show up there, will I even get the job?”
“I’m an ang—” Rebecca threw a furtive glance at Miranda. “I’m not a fortune teller.”
Tony sighed. “Fine. Hey, can you watch Miranda?”
Rebecca finally looked at him, her eyes suspicious. “You trust me to do that?”
“If you are who you say you are, you’re the best person for the job.” Tony crossed the room and leaned down to ruffle Miranda’s hair. “Rebecca’s going to stay with you while Daddy goes out, sweetheart.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Miranda mumbled without even looking away from the screen. He chuckled.
“Be good. I’m going to shower.” And dig up a suit in the mess of boxes in his room. If he could find his lucky tie and lucky boxers, even better. He frowned and moved down the hall, trying to remember if his dress shoes had ended up in a moving box or in a Dumpster. He was almost out of earshot when Rebecca’s voice trailed after him.
“You put them in the box with your tie clips and replacement razors. Almost all the way on the bottom,” she muttered grudgingly. “And stop thinking that about the shower. No one wants to see that.”
Tony fought back a smile and kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t been picturing anything about the shower.
She’d done that all on her own.
…
Rebecca smiled at Miranda and bent over the girl’s little toes. Her toenails were a blinding red that contrasted painfully against Miranda’s baby-pink fingernails. It was Makeover Day in the Weis household—Miranda’s very first. They’d spent the morning picking out their prettiest clothes, and just the right shade of lipstick. Rebecca’s toes and fingernails were bright, sloppy pink, courtesy of Miranda. She had more polish on her cuticles than on the nails themselves, and there were a few red streaks on the arm of the living room couch. She hoped Tony didn’t mind. For Rebecca, Miranda’s happy face more than paid for the mess.
Miranda’s smile was worth everything to Rebecca—and that alone unsettled her.
The past few days she’d spent with Tony and Miranda had made her doubt her choices in life. It was too tempting to feel like a part of their family, when she wasn’t. She wasn’t part of anyone’s family, and she wasn’t meant to be. She didn’t need things like a clean apartment, a cute kid, or working air-conditioning.
She didn’t need a perfect life.
She’d never known anything like this. Hers had been a life of regret and disappointment, and if she failed in her mission, she’d end up right back in that gutter. She’d been alone for too long. Years. Years in a decrepit studio apartment that she could barely afford with her pay as a waitress at a small diner. She’d gone into a real downward spiral after her parents died. Depression. Apathy. Irrational behavior. Her grades had fallen, and her friends had left her, one by one. Eventually there’d been no one left who cared.