Hawk turned and went down the hall, silently agreeing with Angel about crutches. He’d been forced to use them twice, after each major racing crash. Once it had been only for a few days. The second time, though, it had been nineteen weeks.
Except for the months following his eighteenth birthday, Hawk couldn’t think of a more unpleasant period in his life than the time he had spent on crutches.
Hawk met
Derry
coming up the hall. The younger man looked surprised, then resigned.
“Did I take that long?”
Derry
asked.
“Not for me. Angel was a bit nervous, though.”
“Angel? Oh, Angie.”
Derry
looked uncertain, then said quietly, “She doesn’t like being called Angel.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“She’ll get used to it,” Hawk said, turning his back on
Derry
, “just like I got used to Hawk.”
In silence Hawk and
Derry
went back to the kitchen where Angel waited. When
Derry
appeared, relief was clear on Angel’s face. She held out the pill and the glass of water.
“Bottoms up,” she said.
Derry
grimaced but took the pill.
“Have you eaten?” asked Angel.
“Sure. I’m not exactly helpless, you know.” She put her slim fingers against
Derry
’s cheek. As fair as her skin was, it was darker than
Derry
’s right now.
“You’re so pale,” she whispered.
Derry
pressed his cheek lightly against Angel’s hand.
“I’m fine, Angie. Really.”
“You’ll do better lying down,” Hawk said in a curt voice.
It was more an order than a suggestion.
She’s really got her talons into his young hide,
Hawk thought grimly
. I came along just in time.
Hawk followed
Derry
back to the lounge and waited while the younger man lowered himself down. Other than taking the crutches, Hawk didn’t help in any way. When Angel reached to help, Hawk restrained her.
“He isn’t an invalid,” Hawk said coolly.
“But—” Angel began.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those frustrated mother types,” interrupted Hawk, his voice teasing and his eyes hard as cut crystal. “Fussing and fidgeting around men, trying to reduce them to the status of babies. Or does
Derry
like being babied?”
Anger thinned Angel’s mouth, but before she could tell Hawk what she thought of his sharp tongue and lack of feeling, she heard
Derry
laughing.
“Mr. Hawkins,” said
Derry
, struggling to straighten a pillow behind his head, “you don’t know—”
“Call me Hawk. I’m told the name suits me.”
As Hawk spoke he moved over and shifted the pillow so that it would be centered beneath
Derry
’s head. The gesture was so swift that it almost passed unnoticed.
“It does, you know,”
Derry
said, sighing. “Suit you, that is. Except I’ve never known a hawk with a sense of humor.”
Derry
smiled and settled back onto the pillow.
“But you’ll never meet anyone less likely to fuss and fidget than Angie,”
Derry
added. “She’s the most serene person I know.”
Hawk lifted one black eyebrow and looked at Angel as though he’d never seen her before.
“Really?” Hawk asked softly.
“Really,”
Derry
said. “She should be the one studying to be a surgeon, not me. Nothing, but nothing, flaps Angie anymore.”
Angel tried to look serene under Hawk’s skeptical regard. It was hard. She knew that he was remembering her flush of response to him, her temper, and her fear for
Derry
.
“I’m afraid I flapped but good when Hawk told me that you’d been hurt,” Angel said. “And then I took it out on Hawk.” She smiled slightly. “So much for serenity and angels.”
Hawk’s dark gaze lingered over Angel’s lips, the grace of her neck rising out of black silk, and the soft tendrils of hair curling around her breasts.
Angel felt her breath shorten in a combination of surprise and sensual response to Hawk’s look.
I wish I’d never sensed the vulnerability beneath this man’s hard surface,
Angel thought unhappily.
I wish that Hawk were as unfeeling as he seems to be.
Then I simply could ignore him, letting his hungry glances and touches slide off the serenity I’ve worked so hard to have.
Yet Angel kept sensing flashes of warmth and gentleness in Hawk, like the simple straightening of the pillow beneath
Derry
’s head. The contrasts and complexities that made up Hawk both fascinated and unnerved her, keeping her off-balance.
Serene?
Angel thought wryly.
Hardly. Not so long as Hawk is in sight.
Angel stepped around Hawk and smoothed back the curls from
Derry
’s forehead.
“Ready to sleep yet?” she asked.
Derry
shook his head, sighed, and silently asked to be stroked some more.
“That feels good,” he said.
Angel smiled and resumed stroking
Derry
’s hair.
Derry
returned the smile, then looked up at the tall, dark man whose quick intelligence and blunt manner had drawn
Derry
from their first meeting several weeks ago.
“You have a point, Hawk,”
Derry
said. “Some men just love to be babied.”
“Shall I hire you a nanny?” Hawk asked.
“Only if she’s young and pretty,” retorted
Derry
.
“They don’t call them nannies if they’re young and pretty,” Hawk pointed out. “They call them—”
“Never mind,” interrupted
Derry
quickly. “I couldn’t do much about it anyway, not until I’m out of these concrete overalls.”
He shifted uneasily, trying to get comfortable.
Hawk went to one of the cushioned patio chairs, took a pillow, and came back to the lounge. With a few swift, careful motions, he had the cushion tucked under
Derry
’s cast, relieving the strain on his back.
Derry
sighed. “Thanks. Damn thing weighs as much as I do.”
Angel glanced up at Hawk, surprised again by the contrast between his unsympathetic words and his caring actions.
Hawk looked back at her coolly.
“Go ahead and pet him,” Hawk said. “It will keep his mind off his ankle.”
Derry
laughed aloud, his blue eyes dark with pleasure.
“That’s what I like about you,”
Derry
said. “Everyone else tiptoes around being nice and you don’t. As a doctor-to-be, I believe there’s a place in this world for astringents.”
“Yes,” Angel agreed curtly. “In bottles. Tightly capped.”
For an instant
Derry
looked shocked. Then he gave way to laughter again. Lines of strain melted away from his face, making him look barely eighteen instead of the twenty-one he was. He took Angel’s hand, squeezed it, and put it back on his forehead.
“Pet me,”
Derry
said complacently. “You’re good for me. Both of you. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself before you came.”
Angel’s irritation disappeared at
Derry
’s words. She resumed stroking his forehead, smoothing away tension. And with every stroke she sensed Hawk’s dark, enigmatic glance on her.
Closing his eyes,
Derry
sighed deeply, relaxing beneath her touch.
“Your hands are like you, Angie,” he murmured. “Kind. Generous. Calm. Will you help me?”
“Of course,” she said quietly.
“Are you sure? I know how busy you are.”
“It’s summer,” Angel said simply. “During the summer all I do is absorb the patterns of color and sunlight.”
Derry
’s eyes opened. Relief showed clearly in their blue depths.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice husky, slow.
The pain pill was obviously taking effect.
Derry
looked past Angel to Hawk.
“When do you want . . . to start your . . . grand tour?”
Derry
asked, speaking in slow motion.
For an instant Hawk almost felt sorry for Angel, neatly trapped by a young blond charmer. Then the corner of Hawk’s mouth lifted in a curve well short of a smile.
Derry
’s charm was a real force, a radiance like the sun that encouraged people to come and warm themselves.
But Hawk hadn’t seen any sign that
Derry
was a liar or a cheat.
Derry
could no more help his easy charm than he could help the fact that he had ten fingers and toes.
Derry
was unspoiled by women and lies.
Hawk would see that it stayed that way.
“Tomorrow is soon enough,” said Hawk. “Until Angel is sure that you can take care of yourself, her heart won’t be in her work.”
Angel’s head came up. “What are you two talking about?” she demanded.
Derry
looked back at Angel. He squinted, trying to focus through the effects of the pill.
“Taking Hawk . . . around,”
Derry
managed. “I . . . can’t.”
Angel looked up at Hawk, surprise clear in the eyes that were too large for her face.
“Do you know what
Derry
’s talking about?” Angel asked, worried.
Through the pain pill’s haze,
Derry
heard Angel’s words fade in and out of his consciousness. He knew that he had to make her understand how important it was that she help Hawk, but his tongue just wouldn’t form the words.
Suddenly
Derry
realized how much of his strength had drained away, how weak he had become. He began to fight the effects of the pill, something close to panic in his body and voice.
“Angie?”
Angel felt the bunching of
Derry
’s muscles beneath her hand. She spoke quickly, remembering her own feeling of helplessness in the hospital three years ago, the shots that whirled her down into darkness, taking away even the power to scream.
Except in her mind. She had screamed there, endlessly, caught in barbiturate chains.
“Don’t fight the pill,” Angel said urgently. “Do you hear me,
Derry
? Don’t fight it. Let go,
Derry
. Let go. It’s all right.”
“Can’t . . . Hawk.”
“I’ll take care of Hawk,” Angel said instantly. “Let go,
Derry
. I’m here.”
She stroked
Derry
’s forehead and his cheek, focusing only on him, willing him to be calm.
“It’s all right now,” Angel said quietly, her voice like a benediction. “Sleep,
Derry
. I’m here.”
Derry
’s eyes focused on Angel for an instant. He took a ragged breath, nodded slowly, and stopped struggling.
Only then did Angel realize that Hawk had come to her side, helping her by holding
Derry
’s shoulders in a powerful vise. Without Hawk, she wouldn’t have been able to contain
Derry
’s struggle to sit up.
“Thank you,” Angel said to Hawk, her voice soft. “
Derry
will be all right now. He just had a bad moment when he realized that the pill was stronger than he was. The helplessness is frightening.”
Angel’s fingers clenched as she remembered three years ago—pain and helplessness and rage.
Hawk saw. Without stopping to think, he took her hand between his and gently pried her fingers open. He stroked her fingers, surprised by their chill.
“
Derry
is as strong as he is charming,” Hawk said, warming Angel’s hands between his. “He’ll be fine.”
With an effort, Angel forced her hands to relax. The heat of Hawk’s skin was almost shocking.
She looked up suddenly and found herself reflected in the hard clarity of Hawk’s eyes. Reflected and . . . measured. His eyes were not nearly so soothing as the slow rhythm of his hands rubbing warmth into hers.
Suddenly Angel felt wholly vulnerable, as though she were naked and an ice-tipped wind was sweeping down out of the dark sky to claim her.
Angel eased her hands free of Hawk’s. She returned to stroking
Derry
’s hair, but this time the soothing contact was more for herself than for him.