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despair in the angel's voice frightened her. If a guardian angel despaired, what was the world coming to? "I don't understand. You said you had a love that meant life to you. What were you missing?" |
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The bathroom door opened and a woman came in, glancing at D.J. once before her gaze skittered away. She must have heard me talking, D.J. thought. The intruder hurried into a stall, and D.J. turned back to Josie. |
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The angel had disappeared. |
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"Terrific," D.J. muttered. She glanced in the mirror once again, but the only reflection held there was her own. With a sigh, D.J. left the room. The front door beckoned a few feet away and she headed toward the freedom. |
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She had no intention of returning to the table. To McCall. To more questions she didn't want to answer and an hour of nicey-nice conversation over Italian food. Lord, she hated dates. |
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"It's not a date," she said through her teeth and slammed the flat of her hand against the door. It swung open, and damp, cool October air wafted across her face. D.J. inhaled deeply, calmness rushing into her along with the bright, sharp taste of autumn. She stepped onto the porch of the restaurant. The door closed behind her, shutting out the warmth and the clatter of people and dishes. At last she stood alone. |
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Until Christian McCall unfolded himself from the shadowed corner and walked toward her. D.J. watched him approach, mesmerized by the long-legged grace of the man. |
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McCall stopped in front of her. "I knew you'd |
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