Elizabeth Lowell: A Woman Without Lies

Hawk met Derry coming up the hall. The younger man looked surprised, then resigned.

“Did I take that long?” Derry asked.

“Not for me. Angel was a bit nervous, though.”

“Angel? Oh, Angie.” Derry looked uncertain, then said quietly, “She doesn’t like being called Angel.”

“I know.”

“Then why – ”

“She’ll get used to it,” Hawk said, turning his back on Derry, “just like I got used to Hawk.”

In silence Hawk and Derry went back to the kitchen where Angel waited. When Derry appeared, relief was clear on Angel’s face. She held out the pill and the glass of water.

“Bottoms up,” she said.

Derry grimaced but took the pill.

“Have you eaten?” asked Angel.

“Sure. I’m not exactly helpless, you know.” She put her slim fingers against Derry’s cheek. As fair as her skin was, it was darker than Derry’s right now.

“You’re so pale,” she whispered.

Derry pressed his cheek lightly against Angel’s hand.

“I’m fine, Angie. Really.”

“You’ll do better lying down,” Hawk said in a curt voice.

It was more an order than a suggestion.

She’s really got her talons into his young hide, Hawk thought grimly . I came along just in time.

Hawk followed Derry back to the lounge and waited while the younger man lowered himself down. Other than taking the crutches, Hawk didn’t help in any way. When Angel reached to help, Hawk restrained her.

“He isn’t an invalid,” Hawk said coolly.

“But – ” Angel began.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those frustrated mother types,” interrupted Hawk, his voice teasing and his eyes hard as cut crystal. “Fussing and fidgeting around men, trying to reduce them to the status of babies. Or does Derry like being babied?”

Anger thinned Angel’s mouth, but before she could tell Hawk what she thought of his sharp tongue and lack of feeling, she heard Derry laughing.

“Mr. Hawkins,” said Derry, struggling to straighten a pillow behind his head, “you don’t know – ”

“Call me Hawk. I’m told the name suits me.”

As Hawk spoke he moved over and shifted the pillow so that it would be centered beneath Derry’s head. The gesture was so swift that it almost passed unnoticed.

“It does, you know,” Derry said, sighing. “Suit you, that is. Except I’ve never known a hawk with a sense of humor.”

Derry smiled and settled back onto the pillow.

“But you’ll never meet anyone less likely to fuss and fidget than Angie,” Derry added. “She’s the most serene person I know.”

Hawk lifted one black eyebrow and looked at Angel as though he’d never seen her before.

“Really?” Hawk asked softly.

“Really,” Derry said. “She should be the one studying to be a surgeon, not me. Nothing, but nothing, flaps Angie anymore.”

Angel tried to look serene under Hawk’s skeptical regard. It was hard. She knew that he was remembering her flush of response to him, her temper, and her fear for Derry.

“I’m afraid I flapped but good when Hawk told me that you’d been hurt,” Angel said. “And then I took it out on Hawk.” She smiled slightly. “So much for serenity and angels.”

Hawk’s dark gaze lingered over Angel’s lips, the grace of her neck rising out of black silk, and the soft tendrils of hair curling around her breasts.

Angel felt her breath shorten in a combination of surprise and sensual response to Hawk’s look.

I wish I’d never sensed the vulnerability beneath this man’s hard surface, Angel thought unhappily. I wish that Hawk were as unfeeling as he seems to be.

Then I simply could ignore him, letting his hungry glances and touches slide off the serenity I’ve worked so hard to have.

Yet Angel kept sensing flashes of warmth and gentleness in Hawk, like the simple straightening of the pillow beneath Derry’s head. The contrasts and complexities that made up Hawk both fascinated and unnerved her, keeping her off-balance.

Serene? Angel thought wryly. Hardly. Not so long as Hawk is in sight.

Angel stepped around Hawk and smoothed back the curls from Derry’s forehead.

“Ready to sleep yet?” she asked. Derry shook his head, sighed, and silently asked to be stroked some more.

“That feels good,” he said.

Angel smiled and resumed stroking Derry’s hair.

Derry returned the smile, then looked up at the tall, dark man whose quick intelligence and blunt manner had drawn Derry from their first meeting several weeks ago.

“You have a point, Hawk,” Derry said. “Some men just love to be babied.”

“Shall I hire you a nanny?” Hawk asked.

“Only if she’s young and pretty,” retorted Derry.

“They don’t call them nannies if they’re young and pretty,” Hawk pointed out. “They call them – ”

“Never mind,” interrupted Derry quickly. “I couldn’t do much about it anyway, not until I’m out of these concrete overalls.”

He shifted uneasily, trying to get comfortable.

Hawk went to one of the cushioned patio chairs, took a pillow, and came back to the lounge. With a few swift, careful motions, he had the cushion tucked under Derry’s cast, relieving the strain on his back.

Derry sighed. “Thanks. Damn thing weighs as much as I do.”

Angel glanced up at Hawk, surprised again by the contrast between his unsympathetic words and his caring actions.

Hawk looked back at her coolly.

“Go ahead and pet him,” Hawk said. “It will keep his mind off his ankle.”

Derry laughed aloud, his blue eyes dark with pleasure.

“That’s what I like about you,” Derry said. “Everyone else tiptoes around being nice and you don’t. As a doctor-to-be, I believe there’s a place in this world for astringents.”

“Yes,” Angel agreed curtly. “In bottles. Tightly capped.”

For an instant Derry looked shocked. Then he gave way to laughter again. Lines of strain melted away from his face, making him look barely eighteen instead of the twenty-one he was. He took Angel’s hand, squeezed it, and put it back on his forehead.

“Pet me,” Derry said complacently. “You’re good for me. Both of you. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself before you came.”

Angel’s irritation disappeared at Derry’s words. She resumed stroking his forehead, smoothing away tension. And with every stroke she sensed Hawk’s dark, enigmatic glance on her.

Closing his eyes, Derry sighed deeply, relaxing beneath her touch.

“Your hands are like you, Angie,” he murmured. “Kind. Generous. Calm. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” she said quietly.

“Are you sure? I know how busy you are.”

“It’s summer,” Angel said simply. “During the summer all I do is absorb the patterns of color and sunlight.”

Derry’s eyes opened. Relief showed clearly in their blue depths.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice husky, slow.

The pain pill was obviously taking effect. Derry looked past Angel to Hawk.

“When do you want… to start your… grand tour?” Derry asked, speaking in slow motion.

For an instant Hawk almost felt sorry for Angel, neatly trapped by a young blond charmer. Then the corner of Hawk’s mouth lifted in a curve well short of a smile. Derry’s charm was a real force, a radiance like the sun that encouraged people to come and warm themselves.

But Hawk hadn’t seen any sign that Derry was a liar or a cheat. Derry could no more help his easy charm than he could help the fact that he had ten fingers and toes. Derry was unspoiled by women and lies.

Hawk would see that it stayed that way.

“Tomorrow is soon enough,” said Hawk. “Until Angel is sure that you can take care of yourself, her heart won’t be in her work.”