Page 45 of Kiss an Angel

As Alex watched her, he almost relented. Every bit of decency inside him demanded that he leave her alone. She was pale with exhaustion and so filthy she was almost unrecognizable. The only cosmetic still visible on her face was a smear of old mascara below her bottom lashes. Her soft little mouth drooped at the corners, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so clearly at the end of her tether.

At the same time, he felt a reluctant spark of admiration for the mere fact that she was still on her feet. He remembered the way she’d held him off with the shovel and knew what a display of courage that had been for her. She’d surprised him today. Unfortunately, her small rebellion had simply prolonged the inevitable.

Why wouldn’t she give up? He didn’t know what hidden source of strength she’d found to get her this far, but it wasn’t going to last and he refused to torture her. He fought against the softness inside him that urged him to relent, knowing that would be a cruelty instead of a kindness. The harder he pushed her now, the sooner she would face the truth.

He firmed his resolve by reminding himself that she was a thief, and regardless of the circumstances, that wasn’t something he could forgive.

“The first show’s at six. You’re going on with the elephants.”

“But—”

He spotted a scratch on the back of her hand and snatched it up to examine it. “How long has it been since you’ve had a tetanus shot?”

She regarded him blankly.

“A tetanus shot. For infection.”

She blinked, and she looked so drained that he had to resist the urge to pick her up and carry her back to the trailer. He didn’t want to think about holding that small, soft body in his arms. If she hadn’t stolen that money, she’d have spent the night in his bed, but as it was, he’d been so furious, he hadn’t trusted himself to touch her. He hadn’t wanted to touch her.

“How long since your last tetanus?” he said more sharply.

She gazed down at the scratch on her hand. “Last year. I cut myself when I was sailing on Biffy Brougenhaus’s yacht.”

Christ. How could he be married to a woman who knew someone named Biffy Brougenhaus? The hell with her.

“Get some antiseptic on that,” he snapped. “And be ready on time for spec or you’ll be cleaning out the horse trailer, too.”

As he stalked off, his scowl grew blacker. He’d always prided himself on his fairness, but she made him feel like a bad-tempered bully. He chalked up another black mark against her.

Daisy survived spec, mainly because exhaustion had numbed her to the embarrassment of appearing in public wearing her skimpy red costume. Although Alex had told her to go on with the elephants, she’d stayed well behind them so that she looked like she was one of the Flying Toleas.

It had taken her forever to get herself clean, and her sore arms had protested every step of the process. She’d shampooed and dried her hair, then put on fresh makeup, following Alex’s instructions to apply it heavier than normal. Between shows, she’d fallen asleep in the trailer with a peanut butter sandwich in her hand. If he hadn’t shaken her awake, she would have missed her entrance

After the last show, Neeco caught her as she was emerging through the back door, the name the performers gave to their entrance to the big top. “Help Digger get the babies back to the truck.”

Digger didn’t look as if he needed any help, but this was apparently part of her job, and she didn’t want another failure for Alex to throw in her face. “I doubt I’ll be much help,” she said.

“They just need to get used to you, that’s all.”

She slipped into Alex’s blue terry cloth robe, which she’d taken from a hook in the bathroom. Although she’d turned the sleeves up, it was still enormous on her, but it gave her some modesty.

The babies were just beginning to come out through the back door, and she approached Digger gingerly. “You don’t need any help, do you?”

“Why don’t you jist walk along with ’em, Miz. They’re still skittish around you.”

She reluctantly fell into step just behind Digger and several yards away from the elephants. She had no trouble picking out Tater since he was the smallest of the quartet, and remembering the swat he’d given her, she eyed him warily as he trotted forward holding Puddin’s tail in the curl of his trunk. When they reached the picket line, Digger began to tether them.

“Come here, Bam. Watch me, Miz, so you can see how it’s done.”

She was so intent on what he was doing with Bam that she didn’t realize Tater had sidled up behind her until she felt something moist tickle the side of her neck, just inside the collar of her robe. She yelped and sprang back from the elephant’s outstretched trunk.

The baby elephant regarded her with a stubborn glint in its eye, took a step closer, and once again extended his trunk. Too frozen with fear to move, she stared at the two wiggling nostrils coming closer by the second.

“N-nice Tater. N-nice elephant.” She let out a frightened squeak as Tater burrowed into her neck, parting the front of her robe.

“Digger . . .” she croaked.

Digger looked up and took in what was happening. “You got perfume on?”

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