Angels Don't Cry. Amanda Stevens
by the river the crickets and bullfrogs had begun their evening serenade. The leaves rustled overhead, sounding like rain, and the scent of roses and honeysuckle carried on the wind as heady and maddening as a drug. Ann rested her head against a wooden support, blinking back a mist of unfamiliar tears at the memories the summer night whispered to her. Warm, starry evenings, the sliding shimmer of the river, and she and Drew swimming in the moonlight...
Somewhere in the distance a car engine sounded on the highway. Ann waited for it to bypass the turnoff to the farm, but it didn’t. Instead she watched the headlights bouncing down the gravel road toward her. She watched as the beautiful, gleaming car came around the last bend in the lane and stopped at the end of the driveway. She watched as the driver got out of the car and came slowly across the yard toward her.
Only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath. She let it out with an almost painful swoosh.
Drew stopped at the steps, one foot poised on the bottom stair as he met her eyes in the moonlight. The pale, silvery light cast an ethereal glow between them, making the moment seem even more unreal, like a dream. Then a ghost of a smile touched his lips, and Ann’s heart slowly contracted.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. There was a strange catch to her voice that disturbed her. She tried to swallow it away as she continued to hold Drew’s gaze.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the meeting. I wanted to come out here and explain my situation to you.”
“There’s no need. You made it perfectly clear,” Ann said, forcing a calmness into her tone she was far from feeling. “And I’ll try to make mine just as clear. If you’ve come out here to make me an offer, you’re wasting your time.”
His smile twisted wryly. “So I’ve heard.” He paused briefly, climbing up another step or two so that eyes were on an even level. Ann moved back a step. Drew stopped. For a moment he stood there looking at her, his heart pounding at her nearness. She leaned her back against the porch post as she faced him defiantly, but with her bare feet and legs, her hair wisping about her face, she looked touchingly vulnerable and young, so incredibly sweet—and to him, at least, so very unreachable.
Keep it light, he advised himself sternly. She was like a wild, skittish colt. One false move on his part, and she would be gone, lost. “That was quite a cheering section you had back there. I hadn’t realized until tonight you were leading the opposition.”
“I’m not,” she denied. “I mean, I’m not a member of the Historical Society or any other group. But as a council member, I have to listen to the needs and desires of all the citizens, and there are a lot of people around here who don’t want this project going through.”
“But a lot of people do,” he insisted. “And as a council member, you have to be willing to listen to both sides, right?”
“Who says I’m not?” she challenged, lifting her chin a notch. “Riverside’s done a lot of talking in the past few months, and I haven’t liked much of what I’ve heard. What you’re proposing will change the whole complexion of the town, turn it into some sort of riverside resort with a bunch of overpriced homes sitting on so many undersized lots. Crossfield is a small town, Drew. Personally, I’d like to see it stay that way.”
“Everybody’s entitled to his or her opinion,” Drew said without rancor. “All I ask is that I be given a chance to try and change it.”
Ann bristled indignantly. “I doubt you can do that.”
He smiled, his voice intimately low and persuasive. “All I ask is a fair chance.” He emphasized the word fair.
“Is that why you came all the way out here tonight?” Ann asked coolly. “To make sure I wouldn’t sabotage your project on personal bias?”
Drew shrugged. “Partly. And partly because I wanted to see you, talk to you, maybe make it a little easier on both of us when we meet up from now on. And we will be meeting, often. Circumstances have thrown us together, and everyone’s going to be watching us, pouncing on any animosity between us to feed their curiosity.”
“Are you saying you’re worried about gossip?” Ann asked incredulously. “As I recall, you never cared one way or the other what people said or thought.”
“That’s not altogether true,” he objected, his words falling like rose petals on the sultry night air. “I always valued your opinion, Angel.”
No one but Drew had ever been able to make her childish name sound so seductive. The intimacy of it now tore at Ann’s heart. The years faded away and he was once again Drew, her first love, the boy next door who could wrap her around his little finger with just a smile or a touch or the whisper of her name. Regret spilled through her, but it was only a dim reflection of the pain and bitterness and disillusionment she had once suffered because of this man.
She let her eyes meet Drew’s once more as she folded her arms in front of her, forcing herself to remain calm and undaunted beneath the power of his devastating blue gaze. “No one calls me Angel anymore. At least not to my face.”
“Sorry. Old habits, as they say, die hard.” He mounted the rest of the steps, coming to stand beside her so that she was forced to look up at him. “I’d heard you’d changed your name sometime ago.”
From Aiden, of course, Ann thought with a prick of an emotion she did not care to identify.
“In fact, it’s now Dr. Lowell, I believe.”
She heard the light, almost teasing quality in his voice and found herself responding in spite of her resolve. A grudging smile touched her lips. “Since you’re not one of my students, Ann will do.” She paused, then added, almost accusingly, “We’ve certainly heard great things about your career. Vice president, isn’t it?”
Drew gave a low, ironic laugh. “One of several. Empty titles to feed our egos rather than our bank balances.”
His self-deprecating humor somehow managed to cut through the tension. Ann felt her taut muscles slowly begin to relax as she allowed herself to respond to Drew’s smile.
A furtive movement in the garden below captured their attention. Ann could just make out the dark outline of her three-legged cat as he crouched at the edge of a flowerbed, eyes glowing in the darkness. He pounced at some poor, unfortunate creature in the grass, one gray paw whipping out like a hook. With a loud meow of protest, he disappeared into the foliage, stalking.
“One of your infamous strays, no doubt,” Drew teased warmly.
Ann nodded. “I found him out on the highway a few months ago where he had been hit by a car and left to die. Dr. Matlock patched him up as best he could, but there wasn’t anything he could do about his leg. He manages just fine with the three he has left, though,” she remarked proudly. “Watson’s very curious, always prowling around, poking in corners. And he’s smart as a whip.”
“Then why not Sherlock?” Drew asked with an easy laugh. “You always did find heroes in the most unlikely guises.”
The sound of his laughter touched something deep inside her, something she tried to deny but couldn’t. His laughter still had the power to set her stomach quivering, her hands to trembling. It still had the power to break through all the barriers she had so carefully erected. “Not anymore,” she said in a tone that held the faintest trace of resentment. “I gave up looking for heroes a long time ago.”
The momentary break in tension fled at her words. She noted the slight stiffening of his posture that acknowledged the same thought.
“Ang—Ann, I was sorry to hear about your father. And Aiden.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted to talk to you at her service, but there were a lot of people around you...I didn’t want to intrude.”
Her soft green eyes impaled him with a piercing glance. “I was surprised to hear you were there at all.”
He shrugged uneasily, his voice slightly