Kiss an Angel (35 page)

He told her he'd clean up the dishes as long as she stayed where she was to keep him company, then he complained good-naturedly about the number of utensils she'd used. While he teased her, the glimmer of an idea took shape in her mind.

Although Alex had been open about his Romanov heritage, he wouldn't reveal anything about his present life, which was far more important to her. Until he told her what he did when he wasn't traveling with the circus, there would never be any real communication between them. But she couldn't think of any way

to get the truth out of him except by using deception. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with a little deception, she decided, when their happiness was at stake.

"Alex, I think I might be getting an ear infection." He immediately stopped what he was doing and regarded her with so much concern that her conscience suffered a guilty twinge. "Your ear hurts?"

"A little bit. Not much. Just a little." "We'll get you to a doctor as soon as the show is over."

"All the offices will be closed by then."

"I'll take you to a hospital emergency room."

"Oh, I don't want to do that. I'm sure it's not serious."

"I'm not going to have you running around with an ear infection."

"I suppose you have a point." She hesitated, knowing this would be the tricky part. "I do have an idea," she said cautiously. "Maybe—would you mind taking a look at it yourself?"

He went very still. "You want me to look at it?" Guilt seeped through every one of her pores. She ducked her head and toyed with the edge of a crumpled paper napkin. At the same time, she remembered the way he'd grilled her about having a tetanus shot and the number of times she'd seen him give first aid to one of the workers. She had a right to know the truth.

"I assume that, regardless of your speciality, you're qualified to treat a simple ear infection. Unless you really are a veterinarian." "I'm not a vet." "Well, then.

He didn't say anything. She held herself tensely while she rearranged the wilting clover and lined up the salt and pepper shakers. She forced herself to remember that this was for his own good. They couldn't make their marriage work as long as he insisted on keeping so many secrets from her.

She heard him move. "All right, Daisy. I'll look at it."

Her head shot up. She'd done it! She'd finally trapped him! Using all her cunning, she had gotten to the truth. Her husband was a doctor, and she'd just forced him to admit it.

She knew he'd be angry when he examined her and saw that she didn't really have an ear infection, but she'd deal with that when it happened. Surely she could make him understand she'd only done it for his own good. It wasn't healthy for him to be so secretive.

"Go sit on the bed," he said. "Near the light where I can see."

She did as he asked.

He took his time drying his hands at the sink before he set the towel aside and approached her.

"Don't you need your doctor's kit?"

"It's in the locker in the back of the truck, and I'd rather not get wet right now if I don't have to. Besides, there's more than one way to diagnose an ear infection.

Which ear is it?"

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pointed to her right. He brushed her hair back and leaned down to examine it.

"The light's bad. Lie back."

She lay down on the pillow. The mattress sagged as he sat next to her and curved his hand around her throat. ' Swallow."

She did.

He pressed a bit harder with his fingertips. "Again."

She swallowed a second time.

"Mmm. Now open your mouth and say 'ah.' "

"Ahhh."

He tilted her head toward the light.

"What do you think?" she finally asked.

"You definitely have an infection, but I'm not sure it's coming from your ear."

She had an infection?

He slipped his hand just under her waistband and pressed her abdomen. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

"Good." He turned to reach for one of her ankles and moved it slightly apart from the other. "Lie still while I check an alternate pulse."

She lay very still. Her forehead creased with worry. How could she have an infection? She felt fine.

Then she remembered she'd had a slight headache the other morning, and sometimes she felt a little

dizzy when she stood up too quickly. Maybe she was sick and didn't even know it.

She regarded him with concern. "Is my pulse normal?"

"Shh." He moved the other ankle so that her legs were separated and then gently clasped both her knees through her sweat suit. "Have you had any joint pain recently?"

Had she? "I don't think so."

"Usually, I'd expect joint pain."

"You would?"

He flipped up her sweatshirt and touched her breast. "Any tenderness here?"

"No."

His fingers brushed her nipple, and although his touch seemed impersonal, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Then she relaxed as she noted the intense concentration on his face. He was being thoroughly professional; there wasn't a hint of lechery in what he was doing.

He touched her other breast. ' 'How about here?' he asked.

"No."

He pulled down her sweatshirt, modestly covering her, and she was ashamed of herself for having doubted him.

He looked thoughtful. "I'm afraid . . ."

"What?"

He covered her hand with his and gave it a comforting pat. "Daisy, I'm not a gynecologist, and normally

I wouldn't do this, but I'd like to check you. Do you mind?"

"Mind?" She hesitated. "Well, no, I guess not. I mean, we're married, and you've seen—but what do

you think is wrong?"

"I'm fairly certain it's nothing, but glandular problems can be tricky, and I just want to make sure." He slipped his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her sweatpants. She lifted her hips and let him remove

the baggy bottoms, along with her panties.

As he tossed her clothing aside, her suspicions once again prickled, only to abate when she realized he wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he seemed distracted, as if he were lost in thought. What if she had some rare disease, and he was trying to figure out how to tell her?

"Would you like me to drape you with the sheet?" he asked.

Her cheeks flamed. "You—uh—don't have to. I mean, under the circumstances..."

"All right, then." He pushed gently on her knees. "Tell me if I hurt."

He didn't hurt. Not one bit. As he examined her, her eyelids drifted shut, and she began to float. He had the most amazing touch. Gentle. Exquisite. A brush here. A tender probe there. Delicious. His fingers left a soft, moist trail. His mouth—
mouth!

Her head shot up off the pillow.
"You pervert!"
she screeched.

He gave a roar of laughter and fell back on the bed, clutching his sides.

"You're not a doctor!"

"I
told
you that! You're so gullible." He laughed harder. She threw herself at him, and he fended her

off with one hand while he pulled down his zipper with the other. "You deserved it, you little faker,

with your phony ear infection."

Her eyes narrowed as he tugged at his jeans. ''What are you doing?"

"There's only one cure for what ails you, sweetheart. And I'm just the man to deliver it."

His eyes sparkled with laughter, and he looked so pleased with himself that her irritation faded and she had to work hard at maintaining her scowl. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Not till I collect my fee." His jeans made a soft whish as they hit the floor along with his briefs. With a wolfish grin, he covered her with his body and entered her in one smooth thrust.

"Deviant! You awful... ah ... you ... horrible . . . mmm ..."

His smile stretched from one ear to the other. "You were saying?"

She fought against her rising excitement, determined not to give in to him too easily. ' I thought there was something wrong with me, and—and all the time you were—ahh ... you were copping a cheap feel!"

"Watch your language."

She moaned and grasped his hips in her hands. "Coming from someone who just violated his Hippocratic oath ..."

He gave a bark of laughter that sent vibrations of pleasure rippling deep within her. As she looked up into his face, she saw that the tense, dangerous stranger she had married had disappeared. In his place was a man she had never seen before—painfully young, joyously carefree. Her heart sang.

His eyes had begun to glaze. He tugged at her bottom lip with his own.

"Oh, Alex.. ."

"Quiet, love. Be quiet and let me love you."

His words made her pulse leap. She matched his rhythm and clung to him while tears filled her eyes. In another few hours she would have to face him in the arena, but for now, there was no danger, only delight. It danced through her body, filled her heart, and exploded in a canopy of stars.

Afterward, as she stood in the bathroom fixing her makeup for the next performance, her feeling of well-being collapsed. No matter what she wanted to believe, there was no real intimacy between them

as long as Alex had so many secrets.

"You want some coffee before we go back out in the rain?" he called out.

She set down her lipstick and left the bathroom. He stood at the kitchen counter wearing only his jeans, with one of their yellow bath towels looped around his neck. She tucked her fingers into the pockets of his terry cloth robe. ''What I want is for you to sit down and tell me what you do when you're not traveling with the circus."

"Are we back to that again?"

"I don't think we've ever really left it. I've had enough, Alex. I want to know."

"If this is about what I did to you ..."

"That just brought it on. I don't want any more mystery. If you're not a medical doctor or a vet, just

what kind of doctor are you?"

"How about a dentist?"

He looked so hopeful that she nearly smiled. "You're not a dentist. I know for a fact that you don't floss every day."

"I do, too."

"Liar. Every other day, max. And you're definitely not a shrink, although you're certainly neurotic enough."

He picked up his coffee mug from the counter and stared down into its depths.

"I'm a college professor, Daisy."

"You're what?"

He looked up at her. "I'm a professor of art history at a small private college in Connecticut. I'm on sabbatical right now."

She'd prepared herself for a lot of things, but not this, although now that she thought about it, she shouldn't have been so surprised. There had been subtle clues. She remembered Heather saying that

Alex once had taken her to a gallery and talked to her about the pictures. There were the art magazines that she thought had been left behind by the trailer's former tenants and a number of references he'd made to famous paintings.

She walked over to stand next to him. ''Why did you make it such a mystery?'

He shrugged and took a sip.

"Let me guess. This is just like what you did with the trailer, isn't it? Choosing this place instead of something nicer? You knew I'd be a lot more comfortable with a college professor than with Alexi the Cossack, and you didn't want me to be comfortable."

"I couldn't let you lose sight of how different we are. I'm still a circus performer, Daisy. Alexi the

Cossack is a big part of who I am."

"But you're also a college professor."

"It's a creaky old campus."

She remembered the threadbare college T-shirt she sometimes slept in. "Did you go to the University

of North Carolina?"

"I did my undergraduate work there, and I got my master's and doctorate at NYU."

"It's hard to take in."

He brushed his thumb over her chin. "It doesn't change anything. It's still raining like a son of a bitch,

we have a show to put on, and you look so beautiful right now that all I want to do is take that robe off you and start playing doctor all over again."

She forced herself to put aside her worries for the moment and enjoy the present. "You're a brave man."

"And why's that?"

"Because this time you're going to be the patient."

* * *

That night, halfway through the evening performance, the wind picked up. As the nylon sides of the big top began to swell and deflate like a great bellows, Alex ignored Sheba's assurances that the storm would blow over and ordered Jack to stop the show.

The ringmaster made the announcement in a low-key manner, telling the audience they needed to take down the big top as a safety measure and guaranteeing everyone a full refund. While Sheba fumed and added up the lost revenue, Alex instructed the musicians to play a lively tune to speed the crowd's departure.

Some of the audience members wanted to hang back in the top's marquee to keep dry, and they had to

be urged along. As he helped with the evacuation, he kept thinking about getting to Daisy and making

sure she'd followed his orders to sit in the truck until the wind abated.

What if she hadn't done as he said? What if she was out there in the wind right now looking for someone's lost child or helping an elderly person get to a car?

Damn it, and wouldn't that be just like

her! She had more heart than common sense, and she wouldn't think twice about her own safety if she thought someone was in trouble.

A cold sweat broke out on his skin, and it took all his self-control to look reassuring as the crowd filed through. He kept telling himself she'd be all right and even managed a smile as he remembered the dirty trick he'd played on her.

He'd laughed more in the short time they'd been together than he had in his entire life. He never knew what she'd do next; she made him feel like the kid he'd never been. What would he do when she was gone? He refused to think about it. He'd cope, that was all, just as he'd coped with everything else. Life had made him a loner, and that was the way he liked it.

As the last of the crowd left the big top, the wind grew more fierce, and the wet nylon whipped and billowed. Alex was afraid if they didn't get the top down quickly, they'd lose it, and he moved from one group of workers to another, issuing orders and helping loosen the jumper ropes to get the quarter poles down. One of the workers released a rope too soon, and it lashed him across the cheek, but he'd felt the lash before, and he shrugged off the pain.