Page 33 of Gabriel's Angel

Not again, she told herself, and shut her eyes. Never again.

Whatever she felt for Gabe, she wouldn’t allow it to change her back into that kind of woman. She had a child to protect.

The doorbell rang. Laura sent one swift look over her shoulder, then fled up the stairs.

When Gabe opened the door, he was immediately enveloped in soft fur and strong perfume. It was his mother, a woman of unwavering beauty and unwavering opinions. She didn’t believe in brushing cheeks, she believed in squeezing, hard and long.

“I’ve missed you. I didn’t know what it would take to drag you off that mountain, but I didn’t think it would be a wife and a baby.”

“Hello, Mother.” He smiled at her, giving her a quick sweeping look that took in her stubbornly blond hair and her smooth cheeks. She had Michael’s eyes. They were a darker green than his own, with touches of gray. Seeing them brought a pang and a pleasure. “You look wonderful.”

“So do you, except for the fact that you’ve lost about ten pounds and can’t afford to. Well, where are they?” With that, Amanda Bradley marched inside.

“Give the boy a chance, Mandy.” Gabe exchanged bear hugs with his father, a tall, spare man with a hangdog expression and a razor-sharp mind. “Glad you’re back. Now she’ll take to rattling your cage instead of mine.”

“I can handle you both.” She was already slipping off her gloves with short, quick little motions. “We brought a bottle of champagne over. I thought since we missed the wedding, the birth and everything else, we should at least toast the homecoming. For heaven’s sake, Gabe, don’t just stand there, I’m dying to see them.”

“Laura went up to check the baby. Why don’t we go in and sit down?”

“This way, Mandy,” Cliff Bradley said, taking his wife’s arm when she started to object.

“Very well, then. You can hold me off for five minutes by telling me how your work’s been going.”

“Well.” He watched his parents sit but couldn’t relax enough to follow suit. “I’ve already called Marion. The paintings I finished in Colorado should be delivered to her gallery by the end of the week.”

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see them.”

His hands were in his pockets as he moved around the room with a restlessness both of his parents recognized. “There’s one piece in particular I’m fond of. I plan to hang it in here, over the fire.”

Amanda lifted a brow and glanced at the empty space above the mantel. Gabe had always claimed that nothing suited that spot. “It must be very special.”

“You’ll have to judge for yourself.” He drew out a cigarette, then set it down when Laura moved into the doorway.

She said nothing for a moment, just studied the couple on the couch. His parents. His mother was lovely, her smooth skin almost unlined, her hair swept back to accent her aristocratic features and fine bones. There were emeralds at her ears and at her throat. She wore a rose silk suit with a fox stole carelessly thrown over her shoulders.

His father was tall and lean, like Gabe. Laura saw a diamond wink at his pinky. He looked sad and quiet, but she saw his eyes sharpen as he studied her.

“This is my wife, Laura, and our son.”

Braced for whatever was to come, holding the baby protectively against her breasts, she stepped into the room. Amanda rose first, only because she always seemed to move quicker than anyone else.

“It’s so nice to meet you at last.” Amanda had reservations, a chestful of them, but she offered a polite smile. “Gabe didn’t mention how lovely you were.”

“Thank you.” She felt a little trip-hammer of fear in her throat. Laura knew formidable when she saw it. Instinctively she lifted her chin. “I’m glad you could come. Both of you.”

Amanda noted the little gesture of pride and defiance and approved. “We wanted to meet you at the airport, but Gabe put us off.”

“Rightly so,” Cliff added in his soothing, take-your-time voice. “If I’d been able to, I’d have held Mandy off another day.”

“Nonsense. I want to see my grandchild. May I?”

Laura’s arms had tightened automatically. Then she looked at Gabe and relaxed her hold. “Of course.” With care and caution, she shifted the slight weight into Amanda’s arms.

“Oh, how beautiful.” The cool, sophisticated voice wavered. “How precious.” The scents, the baby scents of talc and mild soap and fragile skin, made her sigh. “Gabe said he was premature. No problems?”

“No, he’s fine.”

As if to prove it, Michael opened his eyes and stared out owlishly.

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