Sensuous Angel Read Free Page A

by her wrath. “Why not indeed?” But before Donna could respond, she found herself lifted into strong arms and secured against his broad chest, and held with no more effort than he might expend on a feather as his long stride took them down the street.
    “Wait…” Donna protested feebly. “I have to find a man—”
    “You’ll find lots of men if you keep this up.”
    “Damn it! I mean—”
    He started to laugh. “Calm down—just for a few minutes. You’re not going to do anything in the state you ARE in so listen to me and be agreeable. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that the ‘ meek shall inherit’?”
    “No—and they obviously forgot to tell you!”
    He inclined his head slightly, his too-sensual lips curving subtly. Then he ignored her comment. “You can explain what the hell you think you’re doing, and then maybe I can help you. You’re definitely not going anywhere on your own power with that ankle,” he said matter-of-factly.
    Donna’s arms had instinctively wound around his neck when he had lifted her. She sighed softly, biting back further reply. It wasn’t the most normal feeling in the world to want to throttle a priest, and she had to admit that, thanks to him, she was in fairly good health and still in possession of her shoulder bag. And she hadn’t even thanked him. Of course, he wasn’t the type to draw out profuse gratitude. She relaxed suddenly, closing her eyes, aware—not without a certain resentment—that he was right. If he had left her, she would have truly been in trouble: lost in the ghetto and unable to walk.
    And maybe—just maybe—this man could help her. He obviously knew the neighborhood. If she didn’t accept his help now, she really would be an idiot. She was still shaking from her encounter with the youthful assailant. At this particular moment, it was pure relief to forget her quest, to lean on his masculine strength.
    Her eyes flew open. His masculine strength! The man was a priest! Oh, dear Lord! she thought dismally. What were you thinking when you made this man a priest?
    He was almost a foot taller than she, and built solidly. He wasn’t heavy, but touching him she knew he was all muscle. His scent was light but pleasantly masculine, the hair her fingers brushed at his nape was decidedly, satanically dark. The jaw she stared up at was determinedly strong and square, and the eyes that occasionally glanced down to hers were the most wickedly compelling and…seductive…she had ever seen.
    Donna lowered her eyes uncomfortably, flushing suddenly with acute and painful embarrassment. She didn’t remember ever being so affected by a man—not even the one man she had, however briefly, called her husband. Even the touch of his jacket against her cheek seemed to send shivers racing along her spine. Guilt riddled her along with the shivers. She’d spent half her life in Catholic schools, and there she was reacting physically to a man of the cloth.
    No! It was only an aftereffect, she told herself staunchly. And for a priest, he was terribly rude and abusive. He had called her an idiot, and she was not an idiot!
    Still, she gritted her teeth as he turned one corner and then another. They hadn’t come far at all, but suddenly they were out of the ghetto, facing Central Park.
    “I—I’m sure I can get a cab here,” she stuttered.
    “I’ll get a cab,” he said curtly.
    It seemed he had no sooner said the words than a taxi was pulling up beside them. She was placed inside it, and then he was sliding next to her. He gave the driver an address that meant nothing to her.
    “Really,” Donna began, feeling as if her nerves were pulled like a guitar string, “I’m sorry I’ve troubled you. I’ll just go to my hotel room.”
    “No way, lady.” The priest chuckled. “I don’t want to spend all my days walking the streets. Let’s solve your problem tonight so that I don’t have to worry about picking you up in pieces some night.”
    Donna clamped her lips