Page 46 of Gabriel's Angel

It was a step, Laura told herself as she carried her bags and boxes through the front door. It might be a step only a woman would understand, but it was definitely a step. She was taking her life in hand again, if only by acknowledging that she needed clothes—clothes that suited her own taste and style—to live it. She was humming when she walked upstairs.

It was there that she found them together, Gabe sprawled over the bed, with Michael snuggled in the curve of his arm. Her husband was sound asleep. Her son had kicked free of his light blanket and was shaking a rattle at the ceiling.

Quietly she set down her bags and crossed to them. It was a purely male scene, the man stretched across the bed, shoes still on, a spy thriller lying facedown on the coverlet, a glass of something that had once been cold leaving a ring on the antique nightstand.

The child, as if he understood that he was a part of this man’s world, lay quietly and thought his own thoughts.

She wished she had even a portion of Gabe’s skill. If she had, she would have drawn them together like this. Then the scene, the sweetness of it, would never be lost. For a while she sat on the edge of the bed and watched them.

It was so intimate, she thought, watching a man while he slept. She wanted to brush at the dark blond hair on his forehead, to trace the roughly hewn lines of his face, but she was afraid it would disturb him. Then the vulnerability would be gone, and this look at the private side of him would be over.

He was a beautiful man, though he didn’t like to hear it. The compassion in him, which he often coated over with sarcasm or temper, ran deep. When she looked at him now, freely, without his being aware, she could see every reason why she’d fallen in love with him.

When Michael began to fret, she murmured and leaned over him, trying to pick him up without waking Gabe. At the first movement, Gabe’s eyes opened. They were drowsy and very close to hers.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He said nothing. Going with a dream she couldn’t see but was very much a part of, he cupped a hand at the back of her head and drew her lips to his. There was a tenderness there that she hadn’t felt for a very long time, an offering, a promise.

It was a promise she wanted, if only he would give it. It was a promise she would believe in.

Michael, scenting his mother, decided it was time to eat.

Unsettled and wishing they’d had just a moment more, Laura eased back. When Michael began to root at her breast, she undid two buttons and let him have his way.

“Did he wear you out?”

“We were taking a short break.” It never failed to fascinate him how perfectly beautiful she looked when she was nursing the baby. He’d already sketched her like this, but that was for himself. “I didn’t realize how much energy you need to handle someone so small.”

“It gets worse. When we were shopping I saw a woman with a toddler. She never stopped running. Your mother tells me she used to collapse every afternoon when you’d finally worn down enough to take a nap.”

“Lies.” He shoved a couple of pillows behind his back and settled comfortably. “I was a perfectly behaved child.”

“Then it was some other child who drew with crayon all over the silk wallpaper.”

“Artistic expression. I was a prodigy.”

“No doubt.”

He just lifted a brow. Then he spotted her bags across the room. “I was going to ask if you had a good time with my mother, but the answer’s obvious.”

She caught herself on the verge of an apology. That had to stop, she reminded herself. “It was wonderful to buy shoes and actually see them when I stood up, and a dress that had a waist in it.”

“I suppose that’s difficult for a woman, losing her figure during pregnancy.”

“I loved every minute of it. The first time I couldn’t hook a pair of slacks I was ecstatic.” She started to go on, then stopped. That was something he would never be a part of, she realized. The first joys and fears, the first movements. Looking down at Michael, she wished with all her heart that he was Gabe’s child in every way. “Still, I’m happy now not to look like an aircraft carrier.”

“It was more like a dirigible.”

“You give the most charming compliments.”

He waited until she shifted Michael to her other breast. There was an urge inside of him to trace his finger there, just above where the baby suckled. It wasn’t sexual, or even romantic, it was more a wondering. Instead, he tucked his hands behind his head.

“I tossed some leftovers together. I’ve no idea if they’re edible.”

Again there was the urge to apologize. Determined, Laura merely smiled. “I’m hungry enough for marginally edible.”

“Good.” Now he did lean forward, but only to trace a fingertip over Michael’s head. “Come on down when he’s settled. After this afternoon, I have a feeling he’ll go out like a light when his belly’s full.”

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