Some Kind of Angel Page 2

  I plucked an Armani suit from the rack that had a bit of fraying around the end of the sleeves. He could take it to the tailor next door and get it mended. It had been sitting in the men’s clothes section of the shop for a month and no man had given it a second look. I could give it to him for half price. I had a feeling he didn’t have any more money than I did.

  He came out of the dressing room wearing the shirt and tie I’d picked out for him under the suit jacket. I took one look and had to catch my breath. Now I knew what Marian meant when she talked about slathering over a good-looking guy. I had to swallow very hard. He was absolutely freaking beautiful. His broad shoulders snugged under the charcoal gray wool as if it was a bespoke suit fitted exactly to him, his narrow waist allowed the tailored pleats to lay flat against his belly just as they should, and his lean legs looked a thousand miles long. His bare feet were incongruous under the once expensive suit, but they were as gorgeous as the rest of him. It was definitely be-still-my-beating-heart time.

  “I hope Mr. Armani does not mind me wearing his suit.” Michael pulled the side of his jacket open and pointed at the label. “His name is inside the jacket.”

  I hid a smile. “If he could see you in it, he’d love having you wear his suit.”

  “I assume the poor unfortunate man died and that is why his suit is available.”

  She didn’t hide her smile this time. “Mr. Armani is still very much alive. He’s a designer of men’s suits. He has hundreds like this one. Now let me see what I can do about those sleeves.”

  I held up Michael’s arm, excited to be almost touching him, and looked at the edge. It was pristine. I stared at the sleeve and then at Michael. “I could have sworn these sleeves were frayed. That’s why this suit has been languishing in the store for so long.”

  “Perhaps it was another suit you were thinking of.”

  “No, it was this one. I’m sure of it.” I might be a klutz, but when it came to the antiques in this store I had an almost photographic memory. When I first applied for the job and was honest with Bernard and told him I had no background in selling antiques, he said he would have no use for me. Then I closed my eyes and gave him an accurate account of his front window display. “There’s a Louie the fifteenth jewelry box in hammered bronze. You have a price tag of three hundred dollars on it. I could get from ebay for one hundred and fifty dollars. The mahogany Victorian Bar server with the marble top…”

  Bernard held up his hand. “Stop.” He dropped his hand and now for the first time, he really looked at me. “I thought you said you had no experience with antiques.”

  “No. I said I had no experience selling antiques. I didn’t say I didn’t know anything about antiques.”

  I turned around to go and counted under my breath as I walked slowly toward the front entrance. Five. He’ll call me back on five. “One, two, three, four…”

  “Leslie?”

  The absolute most syrupy sweet smile on my face, I turned. “Yes?” And that was how I got the job at ANTIQUES FOR TODAY.

  “So you think this suit…suits me?” Michael asked, and I shook my head to bring myself back to this gorgeous hunk of male in front of me.

  “Nice pun. And it definitely suits you, Michael O’Malley.”

  “Oh, good. For a moment there, I thought you were saying no.”

  “No, no, I wasn’t saying no.” Good heavens, he had me so flustered, I hardly knew what I was saying. I couldn’t stop staring at him. He was so handsome with his black hair combed back from his forehead and his gorgeous blue eyes.

  There was definitely something very different about him. It seemed like naiveté. But what man in New York could be called naïve these days?

  Leslie was so lovely. Lovely and with the kindest of hearts. He could feel Gabriel interfering. Ping, ping, ping. He shook his head, hoping Gabriel would go away. He thought Gabriel would not be contacting him again. Ping, ping, ping. He had this very human urge to swear, but he opened himself up to receive Gabriel’s message.

  “I forgot to mention something.”

  “What?”

  “You must not let her fall in love with you, or you with her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it complicates things. You will start thinking about not coming back. And then you will lose your immortality.”

  He did not wish to lose his immortality. He had only meant to be in New York long enough to help Leslie through this difficult time in her life. Then he would go back to being an angel. Mentally, he returned the message. “Thank you for the warning, Gabriel. I will not fall in love with Leslie.” But when he was sure he could turn Gabriel away from his thoughts, he grumbled to himself, “It is like having a strict father hovering over me.”

  “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” I couldn’t believe those words came out of my mouth. What business was it of mine if he had a place to stay or not? I couldn’t invite him to stay with me, even though I’d love to. That was out of the question.

  “I am sure something will turn up.”

  “Something will turn up,” I echoed in amazement. “Surely you have a hotel reservation.” Did he think a hotel room would materialize out of the blue just because he was drop dead good looking?

  “No. I just…flew in this morning.”

  I hesitated. He was a stranger, albeit a beautiful one. But there was something about him that was a little…off. Still, if he just arrived from Ireland, he was bound to seem strange to me. “I don’t know what your situation is or how long you plan to stay, but there is a vacant apartment in my building that just opened up this morning. It’s very small and a bit pricy. I could take you to see it if you’d like. That is, if you are here for longer than a few days.”

  “That is most kind of you. I would very much like to see it, if you could take me.”

  Every synapse in my brain hollered, This could be another onion soup disaster if you’re not careful.

  “We’ll go on my lunch hour. Apartments in that part of the city are like gold and they get snatched up almost immediately.”

  “I have a feeling it will still be there for us.”

  There it was again. That odd, unquestioning confidence. Mixed with his naiveté, it made a strange, unnerving combination. Heaven knew, I was unnerved.

  “Perhaps you’d like to go and get a cup of coffee while you wait for me. There’s a nice coffee shop around the corner.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

  He turned and strolled away from me toward the door. What was that strange light that shone around him? It was almost as if he walked about in his own halo. I shook my head. Wow, was my imagination on over drive. It couldn’t be a halo. It must be some new light Bernard had installed close to the front door. Either that, or I was lightheaded from having just a cream cheese bagel with my tea this morning. It took all the determination I had to keep that down. Then a strange thought occurred to me. I’d asked Michael’s name but he hadn’t asked mine. It was if he already knew who I was. A slight shiver sent goosebumps over my arms.

  Michael took his coffee and his cinnamon bun to a window table and looked out at the pedestrians hurrying by. He sent a mental message to Gabriel. “You found Sandra and Jim Bower a bigger apartment?”

  “Not without a great deal of trouble,” Gabriel huffed.

  “I can’t help Leslie if I’m not close to her.”

  “Just make sure the only ‘help’ you give her is to take her toward her life as it should be.”

  “Gabriel. How can you think I’d do anything else? I’ve watched over Leslie for a very long time. I have nothing but her best interests at heart.”

  “It looked to me like there was more in her eyes than friendly interest when you came out of that dressing room.”

  “It is your imagination. Thank you for fixing the sleeves, by the way.”

  Gabriel sighed. “I thought I’d have some peace with you on earth. Now I can see it is going to be nothing but trouble. You have turned me,
God’s own trumpeter, into a tailor.”

  “And an excellent one, sir, if I do say so.”

  “Flattery will not avail you,” Gabriel said grumpily, as he took his leave from inside Michael’s head.

  A woman came into the coffee shop. She looked as if she were in her late thirties. Her coat was frayed, her hair tangled, her young face desperate. Michael went on instant alert. He didn’t need x-ray vision to know she clutched in her coat pocket a bottle of sleeping pills. Her name was Chloe and she was going to kill herself…because she was pregnant with a child and the wrong man was the father.

  Michael might be naïve about the ways of city people, but he knew it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to approach her. The miracle would have to be accomplished some other way.

  There. There out on the street was a woman about the same age as Chloe. At her side was a boy child of maybe three. Yes. They were exactly what he needed. Michael closed his eyes.

  “Mommy, mommy, donut, donut.”

  “Oh, ho, my little donut monster. I can never sneak you past this place, can I?”

  “Please, Mommy?”

  “Well, you are a growing boy.”

  The woman and her child opened the door and entered the shop to stand in the line behind Chloe.

  “Lift me up, Mommy. I want to see if they have the donut with colored sprinkles.”

  “They always have the donut with colored sprinkles, baby.”

  “But I like it when you lift me up.”

  “I like it when I lift you up, too. Okay, here we go.”

  Before his mother could stop him, the little boy in her arms leaned over and touched Chloe’s shoulder. “Excuse me. Could you move over so I could see if they have the colored sprinkles donut?”

  Chloe turned, thinking what a charming little boy he was…and went pale.

  The woman holding the boy said, “Chloe? Chloe Marsden? I haven’t seen you since college.”

  “Hello, Susan. It’s…nice to see you again. You have a little boy.”

  “Yes. He’s our miracle child. I tried for five years to become pregnant and it finally happened. Alex and I couldn’t believe our good fortune.”

  “I’m very happy for you.”

  “What about you? Do you work here in the city?”

  “I did have a job, but I…lost it.”

  “You lost it?”

  “It’s a long story. I…”

  “Next,” the counter girl called out.

  “Just coffee for me,” Chloe said.

  As she turned to go, Susan caught her arm. “Chloe, I work part time with my husband in his office and our nanny just quite to go to college. I desperately need someone to help me with Johnny. I hope you won’t be offended, but I’d like to offer you the job. We knew each other all our college years and I know you are a person I can trust. Would…would you consider it?”

  Chloe looked at her friend and then at the little boy. How could she tell her friend that she’d had an affair with her married boss and now was carrying his child, a child he didn’t want? How could she confess that she planned to kill herself and her child to a woman who had waited five years to have a baby? She couldn’t. “I…can’t.” She hurried out of the shop.

  “Go after her, Susan.” Michael sent the mental message.

  Susan whirled around to run after Chloe.

  “Mommy, what about my sprinkles?”

  “We’ll come back. This is more important.”

  Michael watched as Susan caught up to Chloe on the street and spoke to Chloe, her face earnest. Chloe shook her head, but Susan wouldn’t let go of her arm. After a very long moment, Chloe stepped into Susan’s arms and her tears flowed. The three of them stood there, Susan holding both Johnny and Chloe. They stood like that for several minutes when at last, they walked off together. As they walked, Chloe slipped her hand into her pocket, pulled out the bottle of pills and tossed them in the trash can.

  Michael smiled. It was a good deed and he’d done it well.

  Leslie slipped into a chair opposite him. She looked so lovely. She was also examining him far too closely. “You’re looking very pleased about something.”

  “I am just happy to be here,” he said.

  Chapter Two

  “You have to walk sideways to get into the bathroom,” I said, apologetically.

  “But once you get in here, it is rather nice.” He had followed me into the tiny room. “There is a shower and a tub and this rather odd looking appliance…”

  I leaned against the vanity counter. Why did I have to be the one to give this guy an explanation? “It’s a bidet.”

  “What is it used for?”

  I am an adult woman. I can do this. “It’s used for…rinsing off your…bottom.”

  “Why would I need to rinse off my bottom?”

  I give up. I’m just not going there. “Ask your landlord.”

  “You are so lovely when you get flustered. I will wager not that many people in New York still blush like that.”

  He stood so close to me. I should not have followed him into the minuscule bathroom. “I’m sure that’s not true, Michael. In a city of eight million people, there must be a few more blushers like me.” Calm. Be calm. You cannot be attracted to a man you met this morning. You are carrying another man’s child. If I wanted to escape the bathroom, I’d have to squeeze past him and brush every bit of his torso with my body. My brain said, not a good idea. My body said, “yes.” But while I stood still looking pointedly at him, inviting him to go out first, he seemed to have grown roots where he stood.

  “Michael?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you…” I nodded toward the doorway.

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course.”

  He seemed not to be aware of the sexual tension between us. Was it all in my mind?

  Out in the living room that was only slightly bigger than the bathroom, I braced myself to face his gorgeousness and said, “Do you need help bringing your things up?”

  “My things?”

  “Your suitcases. You do have suitcases.”

  “They are…in transit.”

  “You’ll need furniture.”

  “Yes. Perhaps I can buy what I need from your shop. That way, you will get the commission.”

  “Michael. Everything in my shop is overpriced. I wouldn’t want you to buy anything there. Wait a minute. I remember hearing Bernard tell someone he had a warehouse with used furniture that was a lot less expensive. I’ll ask him about that.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea, Leslie.”

  Why did I feel like he’d handed me a prize blue ribbon at the fair? How did he know my name? Questions piled up by the dozens about Mr. Michael O’Malley. There was certainly something strange about this man. I probably should not have been so friendly with him. It was going to be difficult ignoring him, though, now that he was living next door to Marian and me.

  He stood there studying me with such intense scrutiny that I could think of nothing but escape. “Well, I should be going. My shift at Moniker’s starts in an hour.”

  “Oh, yes. I must not keep you.” He saw the look on my face. “Is something bothering you?”

  “I was just wondering what you have against contractions?”

  “Contractions?”

  “You never use them. Just now you said, ‘I must not keep you.’ Most people would say, ‘I mustn’t keep you.”

  He got this look on his face as if he was going to tell me a lie. “My native language is Gaelic. I suppose that is the reason.”

  I knew squat about Gaelic, but I didn’t see how it spilled over into English to keep Michael from using contractions. But rather than question him on it, I said, “I really need to go.”

  “Of course. I will be seeing you later?”

  “Yes,” she said, but I thought I should avoid him. I was becoming too entangled with him.

  Still, thinking about Michael had a calming effect on me. I didn’t even go into panic mode w
hen I donned my waitress apron, went into the miniscule dining area and saw Harvey Melville sitting at his usual table. But when he motioned me over, my calm state of mind vanished.

  “Leslie, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, wondering if he was going to blast me for coming to his cattle call. Hadn’t he humiliated me enough? “My assistant Helen,” he nodded at a young woman with her brown hair piled on top of her head and a pencil stuck through it, “told me the reason you dumped that tray on me was to avoid hitting an elderly woman. She realized I was taking my temper out on you when it should have been directed elsewhere. I’d like to apologize.”

  To say I was flabbergasted was an understatement. “No apology is necessary. I understood perfectly…”

  “I’m having a closed callback reading for the show tonight and I’d like you to come.”

  I must be hallucinating. Harvey Melville was asking me to come to a closed callback?

  While I tried to get my mind around his one hundred and eighty degree change of heart, he said, “That is, if you’re available.”

  I finally came out of my hallucinatory trance. “Oh, I’m available, Mr. Melville. I’m very available.”

  At that faux pas, he smiled. “I think you may have what I’m looking for in my second lead. Come in comfortable clothes and shoes and we’ll see what you’ve got.”

  I could feel tears gathering in the back of my eyes. I couldn’t believe it would happen like this. After five long years to have a closed callback drop into my lap…all because I’d dropped onion soup in his. I gathered together what few of my wits were left and tried to act like a sophisticated actress. “Thank you very much. Of course I’ll be there.”

  I started to walk away when he said, “Leslie?”

  He’d changed his mind. He was going to rescind his offer. I turned around, my happy spirits flying away. “Yes?”

  “Don’t you want to know the time?” he asked, that quizzical smile still playing around his mouth.

  “The time? Yes, of course.”

  “I’d like you there at eight o’clock, if you’re available.”

  “I’m very available at eight o’clock. Or nine o’clock. Or ten o’clock.”