For you. The way she said it struck him to his core. As if she was so utterly devoted to him. To saving him. To being what he needed. No. No. Jane had proven just how faithless women could be. This one was no different, no matter her pretty words and her pretty voice. No matter how much he wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to become an angel to have a better life than the one she’d left behind.
And would you give that life to her, Tony? You don’t even know her.
This was taking a dangerous turn. And he couldn’t let it.
He had to push her away. Get her out of his life, before she tried to make herself a fixture. This…this insane need to protect her, to ease the pain her past life had caused, would just get him into trouble. He wasn’t normally the type. He didn’t like to be needed.
But then again, he’d never met a woman who cared that sometimes…sometimes Tony needed comfort, too.
“Did she really hurt you that much, Tony?” Rebecca asked. “That you think everyone is just like her?”
“Stop. Just stop prying into my brain. If you’re reading my thoughts, you know I want you out of here.” He turned back to her and eyed her, curling his upper lip. “Besides, if you’re an angel, where are your damned wings? Or did you forget to pick those up at the thrift store?”
She flushed. “I—I don’t have my wings yet. If I succeed in saving you, I’ll earn them.”
Tony snorted. “You look like you’d fall over under their weight.” He pictured her with an arching wingspan of shining white feathers—until his imagination ran away with him and replaced a chaste white robe with a black bra and matching lace panties, and that demure posture with a swaying runway strut as she twirled and posed for the cameras.
“Wrong kind of angel,” she said flatly. “I don’t even shop at Victoria’s Secret. Are you quite done?”
Tony’s face burned. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Her color was high, her eyes fierce. “First a stripper, now this? Do you think about anything else?”
“Sometimes.” And he tried. Very hard. He thought of rose petals again, but only pictured her slender fingers stroking over them. Damn it, he needed his coffee. Thick black Colombian, bitter and dark, with just enough sugar and creamer to take the edge off and a good, hard shot of caffeine to the brain—
“That’s better.” Rebecca gave him a measuring look, then pressed her lips together. “Real wings are invisible until they catch the sunlight. Almost like a dragonfly’s wings, or dewdrops on your roses. Mortals can’t see them, or touch them.” She raised a hand to her throat, and fingered the simple gold cross resting there. Her eyes turned pensive. “I’ve been told they’re made of the light of God’s grace…and once you have them, you can’t live without them. To lose them is worse than to lose your life.”
“How could you lose them?”
“By committing a sin. Engaging in faithless acts.” Her eyes darted to him, then away. “Giving in to temptation.”
Temptation? Tony studied her. She was still blushing, and her fingers tightened on the cross. “Does that count for rookies who haven’t earned their wings yet?”
“Especially for rookies. Screw this up, and I won’t get my wings.” Her voice hardened. “But I won’t screw up.”
“Especially since there’s nothing for you to screw up. Since this is all just a misunderstanding. I won’t kill anyone, you’ll get your wings, and you’ll get the hell out of my life.”
Tony edged around the boxes and toward the kitchen. Rebecca shot to her feet and made it two steps after him before she tripped on a skein of packing wrap and tumbled. Tony dove to catch her. She was light and delicate in his arms, fragile. Soft. Warm. Her skin was smooth under his hands, enticing, and his palms ached where they touched.
So this was what she meant by temptation.
She stared at him, her blue eyes large and confused, her lips parted. Tony straightened and quickly set her on her feet. On her feet, and away from him. Damn it. He was breathing too hard, and more than his face felt hot.
What the hell was this freak woman doing to him?
“Stop calling me a freak,” she said. Her voice trembled. Her fists clenched. “And abnormal. And strange. If you think I’ll leave if you hurt me enough, you’re wrong. I’m good at what I do. And I’ll prove it to you.”
She pushed away from him and stalked to her bags. He stared after her, helpless.
“Rebecca,” he tried. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s not my fault you hear thoughts you aren’t supposed—”
“So stop thinking so loud.” She took a ragged breath. “It doesn’t make it less cruel just because you didn’t say it out loud. Even if I couldn’t hear your thoughts, you’d still be a jerk for thinking them.”
Damn it. He should not be feeling guilty for this. She’d barged into his life. He’d never asked her to be here. “Then leave. If I’m such a jerk, I’m not worth saving. I think I’ve proved that. So go waste your time on someone who deserves it more.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I said no.” Her back was stiff, her voice firm.
Tony growled. What the hell could he do to convince her, short of picking her up and dumping her bodily on the front step?
You could give in to temptation.
And she was tempting. Even now, with her back turned to him. Her graceful curves drew his eyes over her body. Her red hair made him want to fist a handful of it and tilt her head back to claim her stubborn little mouth. Her—
“Stop that,” she whispered.
Tony stilled. So she’d heard that, too.
Good.
He drew closer. Close enough that he could smell her, soft and feminine. The top of her head barely came to his chin. He skimmed a fingertip over her shoulder, and she trembled. “So it’s not so easy for the rookie to resist temptation,” he murmured. He nuzzled her hair and breathed her in. “Maybe I should prove to you that you’re no angel…and neither am I.”
She held so perfectly stock-still. Almost as if she was afraid of him. “I know what you’re doing.” Her voice broke. “It won’t work. I can see your soul. I know you aren’t as dark and terrible as you think you are.”
“And I know you aren’t as pious as you’re trying to be, Rebecca.” He curled his finger in the strap of her tank top.