Angels Don't Cry. Amanda Stevens
love, so powerful and enduring that it hadn’t gone away...even after he’d married her sister.
Oh, God, why now? Ann thought desperately. Why now, when he was ten years too late? Why now, when all that was left between them were the memories? And Aiden. Always Aiden. She was almost a physical presence in the room with them, reminding Ann anew that this man had broken both their hearts.
Wilma Gates found her voice first. “Oh, Lord, he’s still a handsome devil,” she said reverently, smoothing back a wisp of her bluish gray hair. “And still wild as the wind, I don’t doubt.”
“Girls, we’ll have our work cut out for us opposing him,” Bernice predicted, her seventy-year-old eyes snapping with excitement. “That boy could charm the bloomers right off a virgin, I’ll wager.”
Ann’s face flamed at that particular observation, her mind flying back to one moonlit night on the bank of the river, a night when she’d been lying in Drew’s arms, their clothes strewn in the grass around them. She had stopped him, of course, before they’d gone too far. After getting dressed, Drew had held her in his arms again, telling her it was all right, that he’d wait for her until she was ready.
He hadn’t waited, though, Ann thought bitterly. In the end, he hadn’t waited for her.
She watched him walk through the room, stopping to talk with old friends and acquaintances, shaking hands and smiling, his dress and demeanor both elegantly understated. Her gaze slipped over him taking in with reluctant precision the beautiful cut of his gray, double-breasted suit, the stark white of his shirt splashed with the silk brilliance of his tie.
Older, perhaps a bit harsher-looking than she remembered, Drew Maitland was still the most compelling man she’d ever known. His eyes were as blue as the summer sky, and his light brown hair was still thick and sun-streaked and made for a woman’s fingers.
What riveted her attention most, though, was the air of total self-confidence, which she remembered only too well. As an adolescent full of insecurities and self-doubts, she’d been drawn to him for his inner strength and confidence as surely as she’d been attracted to his astonishing good looks.
The combination was still just as devastating, she thought with a warning quiver in the pit of her stomach. And still just as dangerous.
Beside him, Crossfield’s short, rotund mayor strutted and blustered with self-importance, looking like nothing so much as a bantam rooster in a coop full of hens as he back-clapped and smiled his way through the crowd. The comparison was inevitable, and Mayor Sikes fell short in more than just stature.
Completely undaunted, however, the mayor stepped to the podium and briskly rapped his gavel against the scarred wooden top as he called the meeting to order. There was a last-minute scramble as the stragglers from outside dashed in, and then the shuffling of feet and the low rumble of voices reluctantly faded away as everyone turned with anxious, expectant expressions to face the front of the room.
For good measure Mayor Sikes cleared his throat a couple of times as he surveyed the room over a pair of antiquated bifocals perched on the end of his nose. “Folks, we’re going to go ahead and get started here. As most of you already know, a company called Riverside Development has shown a great deal of interest in our community of late...”
As the mayor rambled on, Ann shifted restlessly against the cold back of the metal chair. Unconsciously she crossed her legs as she fervently tried to keep her eyes focused straight ahead. To avert her gaze even fractionally would bring Drew into her line of vision, and every time she looked at him, her heart seemed to stop.
“...I know we’re all anxious to hear the latest word from Riverside,” the gravelly, grating voice droned on. “But first, there are one or two other matters of business we need to address. Last month Bernice Ballard requested the addition of a Stop sign at the corner of Elm and Pecan. The council and I have taken that request under serious consideration...”
As the mayor’s voice droned relentlessly on, Drew found his attention straying. Not far. Just a few feet away, where Angel Lowell sat rigidly facing the front of the room, apparently absorbed in every word being spoken. An ironic smile touched his lips as he noticed the legion of women surrounding her and the protest signs they were holding.
It had been his idea to come to Crossfield to try to smooth the way for the multimillion dollar project Riverside Development had in mind. For months now, since they’d gone public with their plans, Riverside had met with steady opposition from a number of Crossfield citizens and property owners in the area. As vice president of public relations for the huge conglomerate that owned Riverside Development, Drew had seemed the perfect choice to deal with the lingering antagonism his company had generated. After all, he’d grown up here, and even with his cloudy past, he had a better chance of gaining their trust and support than an outsider would.
But at that time he hadn’t realized his antithesis would be the one person who had good reason to despise him and everything he represented. He knew Angel had rebuffed every offer Riverside had made for her property along the river. That hadn’t surprised him in the least. He knew how much that land had meant to her father. But no one had bothered to inform him until today that she was also a member of the Crossfield town council, that she represented the contingent of Crossfield citizens who were adamantly opposed to change.
He let his gaze slide over her, greedily detailing each lovely feature—that glorious red hair, worn long now judging by the thick twist at her nape, and eyes that were still the most beguiling shade of green he’d ever seen. She’d grown so incredibly gorgeous, he thought, with a sharp tightening in his stomach. So womanly.
The past ten years had added a poise and self-confidence that were astonishing, a maturity that was breathtaking. She had always been beautiful to him, more beautiful by far than any woman he’d ever known. She and Aiden had been identical in appearance, yet he’d never once mistaken one for the other. Not once. That hadn’t been an excuse he could use.
With a bitter tinge of regret, he tried to look away, but his gaze kept coming back to her. He had the sudden urge to spirit her away from here, to take her somewhere quiet and romantic where the lights were dim and he could slide his hand along the creamy expanse of her legs, so stunningly displayed beneath the hem of her short skirt. He longed to trace his finger along the neck of her silk tank top, exploring the soft fabric that only hinted at the enticement hidden underneath. But most of all, he wanted to remove, one by one, the pins that held in place that prim knot of hair and watch the fiery cascade tumble down her back in wanton abandonment. He wanted to kiss her long and hard until everything and everyone spun away from them.
With a healthy dose of reality, he tamped down that reckless urge. He was here to do a job, he reminded himself grimly. And that job required him to make peace with Angel Lowell, win her over, sell her on the prospect of the future. Better to keep their past out of it.
He saw her gaze shift, and for one brief moment found himself hopelessly sinking into those endless green depths. She quickly shuttered her eyes, closing him out, and he reluctantly turned his attention back to Mayor Sikes, who was exuberantly introducing him. Drew stood and took the podium.
He smiled warmly as he let his gaze roam the audience. “As I recall, the last time I was brought before a Crossfield town meeting had something to do with Halloween night and an outhouse placed on top of city hall. I must say, my task here tonight is a bit more pleasant than it was that night.”
The tension in the room began to evaporate as everyone laughed their approval. Ann felt the corners of her own mouth twitch. She remembered how Drew and her cousin, Jack Hudson, had struggled to load Fannie Taylor’s outhouse into the back of Jack’s old pickup truck while she and Aiden had kept lookout. How they’d managed to get it on top of city hall, she’d never dared ask.
Mayor Sikes had been livid, and he’d insisted Jack and Drew come before a town meeting and publicly apologize to Fannie and to the whole town. Now he was laughing more uproariously over that incident than anyone else, his belly shaking like the Pillsbury Doughboy in a pin-striped suit.
Drew let the laughter subside, his own grin fading