Angel Mine. Sherryl Woods
Eyes flashing a challenge, Heather smiled at him. “You don’t think it’s pure coincidence that I showed up in Whispering Wind, where you happen to live?”
“Not in a million lifetimes,” Todd said. “I saw the look on your face in there. You weren’t the least bit surprised to see me. You knew I was here.”
“You always were brilliant.”
He ignored the sarcasm in her voice. “Get to the point,” he said.
Though he wanted badly to deny it, he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he already knew the reason for her arrival. He prayed he was wrong, but what if he wasn’t?
“Okay,” Heather said at last. “You want the truth, here it is.”
Suddenly Todd didn’t want to hear the truth, after all. He wanted to finish his day in blissful ignorance. It was too late, though. Heather clearly had no intention of remaining silent now that he’d badgered her for the truth.
Her expression softened ever so slightly and her voice dropped to little more than a whisper, as if by speaking softly she could make the words more palatable. “I figured it was time you met your daughter.”
“Energetic pacing, snappy dialogue and an appealing romantic hero.”
— Publishers Weekly on After Tex
Angel Mine
Sherryl Woods
For Kristi and Ron on their first anniversary—
May your love and your family continue to grow.
For Kerri and Tom as they marry—
May you share a lifetime of blessings and joy.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
1
Despite her name, there was nothing the least bit angelic about Heather Reed’s toddler, not when she was tired, anyway. And on this unseasonably warm early May afternoon she was exhausted and hot and hungry. Heather should have known that disaster loomed before she even considered taking Angel with her to the store. Not that she had any choice in the matter. She just should have anticipated something like this. It was the way her day had gone.
Screaming as if she was being tortured, Angel threw herself onto the floor in the cereal aisle. Why? Because she was in pain? No. Because she was close to starvation? No. Simply to express her displeasure over her mother’s refusal to buy her some sickly sweet product that was not only overpriced but would probably induce cavities after the first bite.
Heather debated what to do. She could snatch her up and run out of the crowded grocery store on New York’s Upper West Side before anyone recognized her as an actress who’d spent a year as a hated villain on a popular soap opera. Or she could 8 Sherryl Woods wait out her daughter’s full-blown tantrum and endure the stares.
Embarrassment won. She’d taken enough abuse from enraged fans over that soap role. If anyone recognized her, they’d likely assume she was being deliberately cruel to her daughter. Who knew where that could lead? Some soap fans had a hard time distinguishing between reality and fiction. By the time the truth could be sorted out, Heather’s reputation would be in tatters.
Abandoning her half-filled shopping cart, she grabbed Angel and raced past startled shoppers and checkout clerks, not pausing until she was almost home. Setting her suddenly silent daughter on her feet on the sidewalk a block from their apartment building, she gazed down into tear-filled eyes and tried to feel some remorse over having been the cause of such apparent misery.
She couldn’t.
Angel was the joy of her life…most of the time. But there were days—and today was definitely one of them—when Heather would have given anything for another adult to share the responsibility of raising her little girl, she thought as they walked the rest of the way home at a slower pace.
They had been in the stupid store in the first place because Heather had forgotten to pick up cereal the day before, and Angel had started the day with a breakfast of scrambled eggs, most of which had ended up smeared on her clothes and in her hair. That had necessitated another bath and a change of clothes before Angel went off to day-care and Heather headed for her waitressing job in a neighborhood deli, where the customers were only slightly less demanding and messy than her daughter. Her boss had docked her an hour’s pay because she was five minutes late and warned her that the next time would be her last. Since her finances were already stretched to the limit, the threat carried a lot of weight.
To make matters worse, she’d gotten off early to go to a callback for a bit part in a new Broadway production, only to discover that the producer’s girlfriend had been given the role overnight. Her acting career was in the middle of a frustrating lull of monumental proportions. Her self-esteem was slip-sliding away at an astonishing rate.
Angel’s tantrum—nothing unusual in and of itself—had merely capped off a truly lousy day, but it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Plain and simple, Heather didn’t see how she could do this single-mother routine much longer, not without losing her shaky grip on sanity.
She’d thought the worst of it had been the sleepless nights, when feedings had seemed to come every few minutes and colic kept Angel awake and cranky. Then the torments of potty training had replaced that. That accomplished, she’d been absolutely certain the rest would be smooth sailing.
Instead, she was discovering that the problems never went away. They merely changed. Her admiration for single moms had increased by leaps and bounds in the past couple of years. In the past ten minutes she’d concluded she was simply one of those who couldn’t hack it. At this rate she’d have high blood pressure and nervous tics by the time she turned thirty.
“That cuts it,” Heather announced to no one in particular as she stood on the sidewalk in front of her apartment. “I cannot do this alone for one more day.”
Once the admission had been uttered, an astonishing sense of relief spread through her. Independence was one thing. Foolhardy stubbornness was something else entirely.
She gazed at Angel, who stared back solemnly.
“We’re going to find your daddy,” she informed Angel as she brushed a stray wisp of silky hair from her child’s forehead. “Let him figure out how to cope with you. Coping is what he does best,” she said, fondly recalling all that cool competence. She figured he might be taken aback by the discovery that he was a daddy, but he would rally. He always did.