He held an Angel in hands stained with blood. He’d suspected what happened as soon as the senator fell, but to hear the Angel had done the deed. She was too fragile for this. Her heart too tender. Killing would damage something very precious in this woman. He wanted to protect that precious something, that sweet gentle softness. It warmed him when he was halfway across the world up to his elbows in blood.

“Mckenna didn’t know?” He already knew the answer but he wanted the confirmation.

“No,” The husky whisper was followed by a defeated sigh, “I’m sure she knows now, though.”

Oh yes, of that he had no doubt and Mckenna would not be happy. She was obsessive about protecting her sisters, and most especially the one currently shivering in his arms.

He slid one hand from her back and cupped it under her jaw, raising her face to his, “Alliana, I’d like a promise from you….” He began, only to be distracted by her mouth, pouty and plump, a perfect little bow. He had a flash of  her sweet body over him that luscious mouth kissing him as she worked her way down his – throat his chest, his stomach, his cock….

He jerked his eyes up before he forgot himself and dragged her to the bed behind them. That wasn’t much better.  A man could get lost in those eyes and never find his way out again.

“Andre?” Her hesitant whisper pulled him from his daze,  he became aware that the fingers cupping her jaw were not idle, he was stroking the delicate skin where her jaw became her throat. So soft.

It was a supreme exercise of will to still those fingers, he did however, allow them to linger, pulling his mind back to that important point he’d been about to make, “The next time you want someone dead you contact me. I’ll take care of it.”

The Angel dismissed him with little pfft sound, “That’s nutty. You’re never around. You just appear and disappear.”

If only she knew. He’d had eyes on her 24/7, since that night in October when he’d first tasted her. Even before they’d known about the soon to be eliminated threat to her safety. Only his work took him away and when it did, he had eyes on her still. She was becoming an obsession. A sweet, lovely, tempting, torturous obsession, “Not so nutty – logical. I am used to killing and quite adept. You Angel, are not cut out for it.”

She did not care for that. That perfect mouth pursing up, she jerked out of his arms. Crossing the large room to stand beside the baby grand piano in the corner, and wasn’t that ludicrous. Who needed a piano in a hotel suite?

She spun around, crossing her arms over her chest, her delicate chin sticking out. He wanted to bite that chin, “I’m a McGovern.” She announced as if it meant something, and he was certain it did. He’d never been quite able to figure out what exactly, “Just like Auntie and Mckenna and our mother and her mother before her.” Her husky voice sharpened, “I am not a fragile flower….”

The angel had a temper. How…stimulating.

“You’re smiling.” She said as if it were the most heinous crime.

His smile grew, “Am I?”

“I’m serious.”

His smile grew some more, “Are you?”

“Oh, pooh.” The angel stomped one dainty, stiletto clad foot.  Standing there in her robe and ball gown. She looked so very beddable,  “You are such a….” She struggled for a moment, her beautiful face going red then, flinging one hand in the air,  “….man.” An even  more heinous crime than his smile apparently.

“Ah, cara you have me there.” A low laugh rumbling out of him, he crossed the room. She backed up till she hit the wall. He kept coming, boxing her in with one hand braced on the wall the other on the piano.  Really, the girl had no sense of self-preservation, “You will call me, Allie.”

Laughter, clear as a bell and refreshing as a summer storm fell from those beautiful lips, “Should I just lean out a window and holler?”

“Holler?” His lips tilted at the touch of southern accent. She became more delightful by the second.

At that, she pushed away from the wall, he was sure in an effort to walk away, but as his arms closed around her that wasn’t an option.  Ignoring her small, frustrated sound of protest, he slid one arm behind her back the other holding her hip. He found himself regretting his moment of chivalry and that terry cloth robe, “I’ll give you my cell number of course.”

She blinked at him, pulled back slightly tilting her head up. The light caught one of her hair pins, “You have a cell number?”

“Of course, cara.” Unable to resist, he pulled the pin from her hair, then one more. And just as he’d suspected the golden silk tumbled down, a cloud floating just past her shoulders. That delicious mouth popped open on a gasp.

“Ssh..” He slipped his hand under the cloud massaging her nape.

She made another sound, this one a sigh. A pleasured sigh. Her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket. “It looked like it was about to come down.” He lied.

“It’s the style.” She whispered the words into his shoulder.

“So you do torture us on purpose.” Her nape was like satin.

She stiffened, attempting to pull out of his arms again, “I most certainly do not.”

He simply refused to let her go, “No?”

“No,” She tilted her head back, pushing against his chest, “I happen to like pretty dresses.”

“Ah, yes this is a very pretty dress.” He held on. If the angel wanted out of his arms she’d have to ask.

Those vivid aqua eyes that had been haunting him night after endless night narrowed, “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying nice things.”

“Certainly not.” He was enjoying the hell out of all of her very nice things.

“I like pretty clothes and make-up and girlie things. I always have. Auntie says I should be who I am and damn anyone who doesn’t like it.”

“Oh, I like it. I like it very much.”

“Pooh,” She pushed against him again, “Let me go.”

Ah well, he’d held her longer than he should have. He released her, sliding his hand over the top swells of her lovely ass.

She jerked back and shot him a quelling look, “And you have no room to talk.”

Hiding his grin he assumed a politely puzzled expression, “Explain.”

“Please, as if you don’t know how devastating you are.”


“Oh you know sexy, attractive, tempting as the devil, sex on a stick.”

“Sex on a stick?” He leaned against the ludicrous piano, watching her gorgeous ass sway as she walked away from him.


Oh for heaven’s sake, even cocky was sexy on him. She opened the door to the spa bath, but stopped. Giving in to the she-devil whispering in her ear, she tossed a look over her shoulder, “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed,” She slid the terry robe from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, “You can see yourself out.”

She’d meant to shut herself in the bath, but she’d underestimated Andre’s speed. One second he was leaning lazily on the piano and the next he was behind her, one hand resting lightly, but implacably on her hip, his lips brushing her ear, “Now that, my naughty Angel, was most definitely deliberate.” She felt the feather light stroke of a single finger trailing deliciously slowly down the center of her back, Past her shoulders, and all the way down to the lace and lower.  She bit her lip to stop the moan that single ghost of a touch pulled from her. Dear Goddess, he was a master seducer.

“Be careful, sweet. Baiting the tiger is liable to get you eaten.” That ghost of a touch went lower, barely grazing the beginnings of the crease of her bottom. She jerked away with a gasp, but he was already gone. She spun around to see the door to her room closing. And she was alone, He’d left her life as suddenly as he’d entered it.

“I’ll give you my number…Hah!”

She walked into the bath and slammed the door, though he wasn’t around to hear it.