Angel Be Good

***

Kathy Carmichael

Angel Be Good

Kathy Carmichael

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2009 by Kathy Carmichael

Published by MacGowan Press on Smashwords

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

http://www.KathyCarmichael.com

"Angel Be Good is another heartwarming and funny tale from romance's latest and ever-so-talented romantic comedy author. Kathy Carmichael makes you laugh and makes you cry and always leaves you satisfied."

~ Trish Jensen, bestselling author of Stuck With You

Miracles still happen in modern day New York when "Scrooge" (Nathaniel Danvers) meets Heaven Can Wait (Daphne), who has been sent to give him one last chance at redemption. Angel Be Good captures the essence of the classic Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol and offers a touch of humor and romance. A perfect holiday feel-good read.

What Reviewers Are Saying:

"This is without a doubt one of the sweetest renditions of A Christmas Carol I've ever read. I thoroughly enjoyed each and every page."

~ Kathy Boswell, Managing Editor, TheBestReviews.com

"Angel Be Good is a read to fill your heart with warmth, and is filled with emotional scenes that have you laughing as well as bring tears to your eyes. Don't miss the inspirational message hidden between the lines of this romantic comedy."

~ Carol Carter, Reviewer, Romance Reviews Today

About Kathy Carmichael's Hot Flash:

*Starred Review* "The road to true love has many twists and turns, and Jill stumbles across all of them in Carmichael's delightful romantic comedy."

~ Shelley Mosley, American Library Association's Booklist magazine

"Laughter Guaranteed!"

~ Sandra Hill, New York Times Bestselling Author

About Kathy Carmichael's Diary of a Confessions Queen:

"Sprightly humor and eccentric characters invigorate this chick lit cozy . . ."

~ Publishers Weekly

"This is a story for readers who love layers of kick-ass humor in a cozy mystery. It's a winner for Carmichael and her distinctive style."

~ Wil A. Emerson, Crime and Suspense Mag.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

DEDICATION

Writing this book was a work of love because during the time I wrote it, my stepfather, Leonard Nohr was dying of cancer. Angel Be Good is dedicated to his memory and to my beloved kitty, Lisa. They were my cheerleaders and I miss them both daily. May we be reunited one day.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I'd like to convey my deep sense of gratitude to Teresa Kanago, who held my hand while I wrote this story; my son, Andrew, who came up with a solution to a tough plot problem; Ross Bennett, computer geek god, who, in memory of Chloe, performed all things techno to make this book a reality; and to Sharyn Cerniglia, who generously donated her editorial services in memory of her beloved Golden Retriever, Cassie.

I'm extremely thankful for having wonderful people like you in my life. Thank you.

~~~~

Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon;

and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.

~ A Commendatory Prayer, Rossiter Worthington Raymond

Prologue

"I told you I'm not supposed to be dead," said Daphne as she ruffled the itchy white feathers now adorning her back. It wasn't enough that they took her life prematurely, they had to torture her with bulky wings, a gown made of gauze so thin she'd catch her death, and too-tight golden slippers.

"I'm afraid the Angelic Council made a slight miscalculation," said Leonard soothingly.

"So, what is the Angelic Council going to do about it?" Although she was thoroughly angry, she held her punches. Leonard wasn't anything like her previous conception of an angel.

Leonard was tall, only slightly bent, and gaunt enough to be blown away by the slightest gust of wind. His face was creased, aged, yet his bright blue eyes shone with childlike benevolence and love. Even if he weren't an angel, she'd never be able to be truly furious with someone like him. Perhaps that was why the Angelic Council had sent him? He'd said it wasn't his usual heavenly job.

"Do?"

"Yeah. I want to go back. I had plans, plans to fall in love, marry and have kids. And thanks to this miscalculation, I'm not going to have a full complete life? I don't think so. Unless there's a fellow for me up here in heaven?"

"Oh my, oh my, oh my." Leonard was in an absolute dither. Although Daphne had never actually used the word before, she recognized it when someone did it. Leonard dithered. "We can't have that."

"I was afraid it'd be out of the question." She was losing all patience. "Look, Leonard, the Council made a mistake. Tell them to fix it. I'm entitled to be sent back."

"I'll see what I can do." Leonard smiled and patted her arm. "Never worry. You're in heaven. Everyone is happy here. Once your angelic status is finalized, I'm sure you'll find everything most satisfactory."

"Leonard, I know you mean well, but I'm not happy and I won't be happy unless I get my life back. I'm not ready to be an angel. I told you, I want a full and complete life. I want to experience romantic love. Just because I stepped between a lieutenant and the shrapnel he deserved, I can see no reason to punish me for it, all because the Council didn't expect it. I want my life!"

"Becalm yourself, Daphne. How was the Council to know you'd interfere and risk your life for that lieutenant?"

It was everything Daphne could do not to yank the poor messenger by his heavenly robes. "Because that's the kind of woman I am and you'd think heaven would know that. What kind of heaven is this if the angels don't know the mortals they're supposed to be helping?"

Leonard's eyes dropped with remorse. "I'll consult the Council."

"Please, do that. And, Leonard?" Daphne fluttered her lashes, remembering belatedly that honey draws the most flies. "While you're at it, I know if you put your wonderful mind to it, you'd be able to procure me some cream for this rash. These da . . . er, dratted feathers are killing me."

"I'll do my humble best."

"Thank you." He seemed inclined to stick around. She waved her arms. "Scram!"

In less time than it took her to completely survey the pearly gates, Leonard returned with a beaming smile on his aged face.

"Good news, child."

She breathed a sigh of relief. She'd almost panicked wondering what the Post's hardest-hitting ace reporter could find to keep herself busy up here in all these clouds. "They're sending me back?"

"Oh, yes. You don't know how fortunate you are. There have only been two previous cases I can recollect . . . and with each of them," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "there were extenuating circumstances."

"You don't say."

He nodded. "Otherwise, the poor ones who've joined us too hastily have happily made do with the bounty offered by our Heavenly Host and remained among his flock of newer angels. Are you sure you don't wish to reconsider? The choice is yours."

"I want to go back. But wait a sec." Her reporter instinct kicked in. "How many other cases have there been and who were they?" Not to mention when, where and why.

"Oh, my. Shouldn't we be on our way rather than standing here discussing the others?"

"Why did they make an exception for me? What were the extenuating circumstances?"

"Isn't it enough," Leonard asked, "that they did make an exception? You will be going back."

Daphne narrowed her eyes, fully aware he'd avoided her question. But so what. She was getting what she wanted.

"What happens now?"

"Let's see. I regret having to do this, Daphne, but since you choose to return to earth, I must remove your wings." Leonard snapped his fingers.

"Gee. I'm really going to miss them." Right, she added silently. Like a GI would miss K rations.

She heard a tinkling of bells. Her wings transformed into a flock of doves. "Isn't it time for you to snap those fingers and send me back?"

Leonard tapped his forehead. "Oh, my! I nearly forgot one small favor the Council requested. You won't mind it, I'm certain, since it involves the lieutenant whom you saved."

"That lieutenant was a jackass. I didn't save him on purpose, I reacted. It just happened."

"Exactly,” Leonard said. “Since you were willing to risk your life for him, the Council beseeches you to help save the immortal soul of his son."

"What?" She interrupted him. "I hadn't realized he had a kid. Why do you need my help, anyway? Seems to me, you're the angel."

"That's the gist of our problem. Nathaniel Danvers doesn't believe—ergo, we cannot reach him. However, since you are human, you'll be able to do what we cannot: connect with him on a physical plane. After all, he can see and hear you."

This was not what she wanted to hear. "How old is this child?"

Leonard coughed, then mumbled, "Thirty."

Could she have heard him correctly? "There's got to be some mistake. The lieutenant can't be over thirty-five himself."

"I'm afraid you won't be returning to your own time. You'll be going into the future."

That did it. She grabbed his robes and pulled him close enough for their noses to rub. "I thought you said I get to go back."

Leonard bobbed his head up and down. "You do! You do! You get to go back, complete your life and even have children if you wish. The Council's only aim is to make you happy."

Daphne dropped him. She wasn't one to shoot the messenger. After all, it wasn't Leonard's fault. Besides, her assignment to cover the emotional angle on the police action in Vietnam had been less than comfortable. It had been frightening. Many of the men serving there, boys really, had been as scared as she. Uncle Sam had some explaining to do. But she really wouldn't mind not going back to that madness. The future had to be better.

She gritted her teeth. If it was a choice of the future or sticking around with the wings to drive her bananas, the future it was. "Tell me more."

"Nathaniel's mother died when he was six. He's now matured into something of a miser."

"That's just groovy. I can't believe you want me to reform some establishment tightwad." She shook her head. "This has got to be a nightmare."

"I regret to say it, but it's all too real."

"And what makes you think I can help where angels failed?"

Leonard smiled. "The Council wouldn't send you if they didn't think you'd succeed or that he isn't redeemable. There's something there and I'm sure you'll find it."

"You call this a small favor? My ass–ignment."

"There are also a few rules you must understand. First, your body is only temporary."

"Temporary?" Daphne sputtered. "The more I hear the less I like it. Why do I have a feeling you and your Council are leading me down the Yellow Brick Road?"

"It is rather hard to believe," assured Leonard. "But you've been out of your body too long for the Council to be able to do anything more. You'll have all Christmas evening to perform the favor and by dawn, you'll start your new life."

"You promise? I get my life? I won't come back here?"

His brow wrinkled. "If you don't enter your new body in time, your current one will evaporate. Since it's never happened before, I'm unsure what would happen to your soul."

He waved his hand. "However, I don't anticipate that eventuality."

She wouldn't let anything stop her from taking up her life. "And if I fail? If I can't help Danvers' son?"

"You'll succeed. All he needs is a little help reinterpreting the events in his life. As a reporter, you have a lot of experience measuring facts and reaching an unbiased conclusion."

"And if I refuse to help?"

Leonard flapped his fluffy white wings, hovering lightly over the clouds. "We can only appeal to your sense of honor. Any young woman who would throw herself in front of another human to protect that person, at the cost of her own life . . . We know how giving you are, my dear, and only ask for a few hours of your time. Please?"

~~~~

Chapter One

Nathaniel Danvers snorted, the sound awakening him from a deep sleep. He pulled himself upright at his desk, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. It had been a peculiar dream—a dream of his parents warning him to mend his ways. Pretty screwy, since his father was the one who'd been his example.

Nat stretched, then looked out the window of his penthouse office, down below at the mass of pitiful humanity hurrying home. And for what? Some stuffed turkey and gifts they had no use for. Ridiculous.

Mend his ways? It must have been the rum punch his secretary had brought him from the office Christmas party. Rum always gave him indigestion. Plus, he'd never fallen asleep at his desk before.

Mend his ways? There was nothing he liked more than being CEO of Danvers and Son. Of course, there was no longer a son, his father having long ago kicked the bucket. But Danvers and Son was a household name. One that stood for high earnings, fiscal strength. A company that would let no one and nothing get in its way. Danvers and Son was the leading department store chain in sixteen states and three countries. And it had all begun here.

Mend his ways? Total bull.

Nat pulled out a stack of pink slips and continued his task of informing his employees which of them wouldn't be coming back after the first of the year layoffs. This was a practice he heartily endorsed. He tried to do it at least annually, and if not that, then every other year. It kept the workers on their toes. It kept the operation running smoothly. There were no slackers at Danvers and Son. And though there weren't, he couldn't allow them to become lazy . . . they'd soon return to their old screw-off ways if he did.

There. He'd completed the first grouping, the ones from accounting. Now for the credit department. Just as he pushed the stack to the side, he heard a crash in his outer office.

He jerked up, then checked the time. Half past ten. His secretary had long since left for the day. He heard someone curse. A female someone. Damn. Had one of the word-processing pool drunk too much at the party and decided to see if she could weasel the boss into a promotion? He'd soon set her straight.

Marching to the door, he was surprised when it flew open. No one, absolutely no one, ever entered his office without first knocking. It was a firm rule every employee knew could not and would not be ignored. That tore it. The typist was outta here.

As he opened his mouth to say just that, in walked the most incredible woman he'd ever seen in his life. If he'd ever dreamed up the perfect woman, her features couldn't have matched the perfection of face and form of this creature. Her hair was the color of onyx. Her eyes the color of night. And her breasts were—

"Hiya, Nat ol' boy!"

Okay, so her language wasn't perfect. That could be fixed. He loosened his collar. What had gotten into him? He was a money-making machine, dammit, and women didn't enter into the picture. "What are you doing in my office?"

"I came to see you." She smiled. Damn. She even had incredible dimples.

"I think you'd better leave. Call my secretary on Monday and set up an appointment." An appointment he'd never keep. It didn't matter how luscious she was; as soon as he learned her name, he would consider adding it to those on his pink slips.

"Ah, Nat." She fluttered her lashes and deepened her voice. "I won't be around come Monday." She leaned against the door frame, a positive slither of red glittery fabric. Skimpy red glittery fabric. Skimpy enough to make his pulse race. "Let's talk now."

Her voice was husky. Bedroom husky. He'd never been affected by a woman like this before and he wasn't going to start now. Perfection or no perfection, she had to go.

"Leave."

She sauntered close to him and then yanked him by his lapels, right up next to her lips. He could feel her hot breath on his face and it did things to him. Boy, did it do things.

"Listen up, Nat. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Your choice."

He gulped. His father had warned him about women like her. Women who would use their sexuality to get the best of a man. Nat wasn't about to be bested. His father had said, "Use them before they use you." If she wanted to play with the big boys, then it was her loss.

Grabbing her arms, he yanked her even closer for a bruising kiss. A deep body twisting, arms entangling, breasts heaving kind of kiss. And it felt damn good. Just about perfect, in fact. He pulled back.

It took her a moment to get her bearings, but eventually she opened her eyes. He smiled. At least she was warned. She opened up those luscious lips and shrieked, "Leonard!"

Good Lord! Had she brought witnesses? He released her and jerked his gaze to the doorway. No one entered.

She bellowed, "What now, Leonard?"

Nat could have sworn he heard the tinkling of bells and then his office door slammed shut. The dead bolt turned into the locked position. What the hell?

His gaze shot back to her. "Leonard says that now you'll have to listen. You can't leave."

Heading directly to the door, he reached it and twisted the dead bolt. It wouldn't turn. He threw his back into it. Nothing. The inferior excuse for a master lock wouldn't budge.

She smiled at him. A superior knowing little smile and he was tempted to kiss her again just to wipe it off her smug little face.

He took a step in her direction. As if she knew his intention, she held up a hand. "Stop. I have information you need to hear."

"Inside information?" Maybe this was the reason for the secrecy and the bolted door. Probably done by radio control. His security chief, Curtis, had once shown him stuff like that.

"You could say that."

"Why didn't you say so?" She obviously wasn't the typist he'd first thought her to be. Maybe this was a set-up to lure him into doing something less than ethical. He'd be extremely careful.

He pointed to the marble conference table in the corner of his office. It was a piece he was particularly proud of, shipped to him directly from Italy. It had cost a bundle. He smiled to himself, pleased with what money could buy. "Have a seat."

She nodded and took a seat. "Thank you, Nat."

"You have me at a disadvantage." Taking another chair, he said, "You know my name, what's yours?"

She twisted around in her seat. "Can I tell him, Leonard?"

Was she wearing a hidden microphone? Was their conversation being taped? Leonard could obviously hear their every word.

"I'm Daphne."

"Daphne . . . what's your last name?"

"Just Daphne." She smiled, showing even white teeth.

"Okay, so Leonard's taping us. Why doesn't he join us?"

She cocked her head to one side. "You can't see him. If it makes you feel any better, he's sitting on the chair behind your desk."

"What?" Nat turned to look behind him. No one was there. "Stop these adolescent tricks, Daphne and Leonard. I'm not buying. If you don't want to play fair, tell me your business and get out of here. I have work to do."

"On Christmas Eve?" Daphne seemed surprised.

"On every eve." She'd managed to push his buttons. Christmas irritated the living hell out of him. "What's so darn special about Christmas Eve? Holidays are just an excuse to pay my employees for not coming to work. That's not something I care to celebrate."

"Wow, Leonard. He's a tougher case than you led me to believe." She raised her brows and looked toward Nat's desk as if hearing an answer.

The broad was loony tunes. He should toss her out on her can. Oh well, there had to be some price for beauty like hers. Too bad it had to be loose screws.

"Okay. I'll try that." She looked back at him.

Nat got up. Walking as nonchalantly as possible toward the bar behind his desk, he made the motions of mixing himself a drink. Surreptitiously, he punched the silent alarm, notifying security he had a problem. Someone would be here within minutes. "Care for a drink?"

"Sure. Bourbon. Straight up." She scrunched her ski slope nose. "Shut up, Leonard. I want a drink, I'm having one."

Nat fished out his bottle of Jack Daniels and poured her a double. Maybe it would slow her down when security arrived.

Returning with their drinks, he placed them carefully on the matching chrome coasters that fit in so well with his color scheme of gray, black and a few tiny drips of blood red. Originally he'd thought of decorating the room in green, the color of money, but had ultimately discarded the idea as ostentatious. He took a sip of his rum sour, momentarily regretting the earlier impulse to drink that punch. Now, he couldn't mix his liquors and have the vodka he generally preferred. And tonight his stomach would screech out a reminder why vodka was his choice.

Feeling a bit calmer, he decided to play along while Curtis made his way up the elevator. "Let's get down to business."

"All right." Daphne picked up her glass and drained it in one gulp. "This whiskey's far out. Mind if I get the bottle?"

"Help yourself." Far out? She must have overdosed on Brady Bunch repeats. This was going to be easier than foreclosing on a mortgage.

Watching her as she minced her way to the bar, he had to admire the curve of her legs. The way straps encased her ankles over mile-high heels was rather intriguing as well. It made him think naughty thoughts about straps and ropes and . . .

Careful, he warned himself. He had a crazy on his hands. He couldn't go on thinking about her as a desirable woman.

As she returned with the bottle and took her chair again, he breathed in her enticing fragrance. Baby powder and incense. Maybe that explained her attractiveness. The combination of innocence and raw sex appeal.

After she drank another slug, equally as large as the first, she settled back in her chair. He thought he could hear her purr.

It made him ache.

"Leonard says to tell you that the dream you had about your parents was true. They did come to warn you."

Lucky guess. It had to be a lucky guess. Unless somehow the rum punch had been drugged? Prickles of fear crept up and down his spine. What was taking Curtis so long? He should have been here by now.

Playing for time, he said, "Go on."

"Well, if you don't change your ways, then you'll never make it to heaven and your mom wants you to be happy. So, the Heavenly Council sent me."

The Heavenly Council was right on one count. She could certainly make him happy. "So, what do you want me to do? Sell you shares in the company for one quarter the value?"

"Of course not. I want you to learn a little human kindness. To believe in something you can't see, feel, taste or hear. Like Leonard over there."

"Daphne, pet, you seem to mean well. However," he held up one finger, "If I can't see it, taste it, feel it or hear it, I see no reason to believe it exists."

"Oh, my." She grimaced. "Darn it, Leonard. Now you have me saying it!" She ran her hand through those breast -length curls of hers, every move she made more provocative than the last, and incredibly she seemed totally unconscious of the effect it had on him. Good. It was the only advantage he had until security got their lousy-good-for-nothing butts down here. Maybe he should buzz again.

When Daphne got up and went over to his desk, apparently arguing with her imaginary playmate, Nat grabbed the conference table phone to dial security directly. The line was dead. Now stabs of fear jabbed his spine. He was in serious trouble. This woman wasn't only crazy, she must be some sort of electronics expert to boot.

That didn't make sense. Not in that dress. Obviously this Leonard fellow was in control of surveillance around here. Nat's gaze shot around his office, looking for a hidden camera. At first glance he didn't see anything. Then his gaze narrowed. The fern in the corner. Was that something glittery?

Looking for something with which to smash it, hoping to even the odds just a little, he saw the heavy metal paperweight sitting on the window sill near the door. Just the ticket. Daphne was still deep in discussion with her alter ego.

What kind of game were they playing? Did they believe for one moment he'd swallow her story about an invisible man? Perhaps it was some sales gimmick. But he wasn't in the market.

Grabbing the chance, he dashed over and snatched up the paperweight then sprinted to the fern. Throwing back fronds, he was ready to strike. His arm slashed down, only to stop inches from a chunk of broken glass. Hell. Where was the camera?

"Good heavens, Nat! Don't hurt the plant!"

"What?" He turned to look at Daphne. What did she think he planned to do? Beat it into submission? "Where's the hidden camera?"

She rolled her eyes, then headed back to the conference table and grabbed her bourbon. For a second, he thought she would guzzle it directly from the bottle, but she shrugged and poured more into the shot glass. "Don't say one word, Leonard. Not one word."

She wiggled the bottle. "Want to join me, Nat ol' boy?"

"No, thank you."

"I guess I should have warned you that Leonard here won't let it have any ill effects." She grinned a wicked grin. "Oh. I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced you. Leonard, may I present Nat. Nat, please meet Leonard. He's your guardian angel."

Nat snorted. Was that what they called it these days? A guardian angel? "Just thrilled to meet you, Len," Nat replied caustically.

"Nat, don't be disrespectful. Leonard prefers his full name."

This time, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Leonard."

She glared at him but evidently decided he wasn't worth the effort. Maybe she was a school teacher on the side. A glare like that could keep little Tommy out of any kind of mischief.

"So, Leonard and Daphne. What's your agenda here? You want something from me, right? What say I give it to you and you can be on your way."

"I wish it were that simple." She gnawed her lower lip. That same lower lip he'd gnawed himself, just what, half an hour earlier?

He leaned close to her, could feel the heat radiating off her body. "Then let's make it simple."

Tensing, she pulled back.

Daphne wasn't sure what it was about Nat that reminded her so much of his father. Their looks weren't identical. Nat was taller. His eyes were blue where his father's had been green. His face was lean and almost craggy. His father's had been rounder. But the two men exuded a sexual confidence unlike anything she'd ever experienced with a man outside this one family. To say they were charismatic would be an understatement. The Danvers men had it, whatever it was.

And she didn't trust it or Nat one little bit.

With Nat's father, she'd been impervious to his charm, although she'd known a score of women who hadn't been. Why should it be any different with Nat? Instead of worrying over this nonsense, she needed to put this favor behind her and get on with whatever her new life would entail.

Of course it would help if Nat would sit still. He continued to stalk the room with that paperweight in his hand. "Listen, Nat, be a good boy and sit down."

He growled at her.

Okay, so it looked as though his father had all the smarts in this family. "What do you think this is? Candid Camera? Sit."

"Ha. Even I know that show's been off the air for years. You'd like me to believe you're just a harmless nut case, wouldn't you?" He paced toward her, clenching the paperweight.

If she hadn't already died, she'd be worried that he intended bodily harm. But with Leonard around, she was safe in her newly mended body.

"I'm not insane, Nat, but with the way you're acting, I wouldn't be too surprised to learn you have a close personal acquaintance with the men in white coats."

"I don't know what you and Leonard, if he exists, have in mind but I've had enough. Play time is over." He positively loomed over her.

He didn't scare her. In fact, he was kinda cute when he was looming. She hadn't noticed it before, but he was broader chested than his father had been. She liked broad chests on men. In fact, there wasn't much about him physically that deviated from her ideal man. Fortunately, for the sake of her mission, his personality left a lot to be desired.

"I don't know how, but we got off to a bad start, Nat." She offered her hand. "Let's shake and start over?"

He eyed her hand like it was full of worms. She sighed. What was it going to take with this guy to get him to sit down and listen? Leonard had big plans for him and if he wasn't forewarned a little, it would be a lot harder on him. Some people just didn't know when to listen.

"I'll start over if you'll cut the crap. Tell me what you and Leonard really want."

"I give you my word that we're here to help you."

"That's not enough. You've done some jiggering with electronics. Even my security team hasn't responded. Obviously you've gone to a lot of time, expense and trouble to set up this meeting. Now give."

"You can reach him, Daphne," Leonard spoke up. "The Council believes you can draw out the goodness buried in him. It's not midnight yet. Give him a little longer."

What Daphne really wanted was to take off her high heels but that didn't seem to be an option. "Nat, will you tell me one thing?"

"Maybe," he snarled.

"Do you believe in love?"

He finally sat. "You mean forever-after-I-am-your-one-true-love kind of love?"

She nodded.

"Not only no, but hell no. I hate to be the one to disillusion you, Daph, but there ain't no such critter. I'm not certain there's any kind of love. My theory is that it's all to do with self interest. If it gets me what I want, then it's love. I've seen it happen over and over again."

"What about your parents? Surely your father loved you and you him?"

"Don't be ridiculous. What does love have to do with it? He'd felt an animal urge to procreate and I was the result. He owed me and I owed him."

His statement and tone, devoid of any emotion, shocked her. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." He shrugged. "We respected each other. That's more than most people have. And, may I add, I could see, feel, touch and taste that respect. It was there when I woke up in the morning to a warm breakfast and there when I went to bed at night in a clean bed."

"What about your mother?"

"She died when I was six. I don't remember her."

"Don't you think she loved you?"

"Like most women, I imagine she loved the role of wife and mother. Again, self interest."

She felt as though she'd been hit by shrapnel again. He'd never experienced love? That went a long way toward explaining why he was such a bastard, attractive bastard though he was.

Deny it all he wanted to, but she knew his mother loved him. Hadn't she requested the Heavenly Council's help? Nat could deny it, but he'd been the recipient of love.

"What about women? Haven't you ever fallen in love? Met someone who knocked your socks off?"

He smiled a very toothy smile, a smile that reminded her of the wolf when Red Riding Hood arrived at Grandma's. "Lust, pure and simple."

"Okay. No love. How about hate? Have you ever hated someone or something?" If she couldn't appeal to his higher self then perhaps the baser might come into play.

"I never needed to hate. I always got revenge against my enemies. And speaking of revenge, pet, if you don't stop grilling me about emotions, I may consider getting some revenge of my own." He leaned close to her. "Either unlock the door and let me go home to grab some shut-eye or tell me just what the hell it is you think you want."

She held up her hand, for all the world as if that would ward him off. Right. She felt a bit like Daniel standing up to Goliath. Or was that David? She'd never done well at Sunday school. "I'm getting there, just bear with me a little longer."

He rolled his eyes. Nice eyes. Ringed by long black lashes. Then a thought occurred to her. "Wait a second. I thought of something you love."

"And that is?"

"Money. Or power. Or both."

"Self interest again. I like the things that money buys. I'm more comfortable in a plush office and with a limousine than I'd be working in a warehouse or driving a cab. Same thing for power. They get me what I want."

"Dam . . . Drat." She sighed and turned her head to view the angel who'd brought her into this mess. "Leonard, I don't think his mind is any more open than when we started. I vote we give up."

Leonard looked disappointed.

"Good idea," said Nat. "Give up and leave."

Leonard now looked as though they'd both let him down. Daphne said, "Great, Nat. Now you've hurt him. If you could see Leonard's face, you'd feel ashamed of yourself."

Nat snorted. "If you aren't going to unlock the door and leave like a good little girl, then I'm going to make myself another drink."

"Leonard, maybe you could let him feel the effects of the alcohol after all? That might open him up?"

Leonard tsked. She hadn't really thought he'd agree.

Nat didn't rise. Instead he reached over and fingered one of the spaghetti straps attached to her dress. Leonard hadn't wanted her to wear such a revealing outfit but she'd insisted. Experience had taught her that if a woman wanted a man's attention, it helped to really get his attention. Judging by Nat's expression, she had his. When he inserted his little finger under her strap, tingles went running down her torso. She slapped his hand.

He yanked it back then slowly shook his finger at her. "If you aren't a good little girl, then you're a naughty girl. And you know, I've never been alone with a woman this late at night unless she was lying naked in my bed. What say we—"

Daphne jumped away from him. "Don't even think about it. I'm here to save your eternal soul, buddy, and don't you forget it. Besides, you've embarrassed Leonard. He's an angel, for heaven's sake. You don't do things like that in front of angels!"

"I can't hear him, see him, touch him or taste him. Seems to me you're all alone with me in this locked room. If I'm going to waste my time then I'll waste it my way." He slowly stood, then took a step toward her.

"Leonard," she said through gritted teeth. "I'd appreciate it if you'd do something."

The sound of harp strings filled the air.

"There!" Daphne grinned. "You heard him."

"Yeah, so now in addition to hunting for a hidden camera, I know to hunt for a speaker." He darted toward her.

She squealed and ran behind his desk. Her gaze found what she was seeking. The letter opener. Grabbing it up, her charm bracelet jangled as she said, "Come any closer and I'll skewer you."

"Only a child would be afraid of that thing." Swaggering now, he kept coming.

She waved it at him as if it were a rapier. "I'll . . . I'll open your innards."

"Unlock the door, Daphne."

"Forget it."Just as she prepared to jab him, she heard the metallic snap of a lock.

Nat pulled back with a superior smirk. Daphne looked at the door. It now stood open.

~~~~

Chapter Two

"It took you long enough, Leonard," Nat commented. "You wouldn't want me to take advantage of your little dupe, now would you?" He strode toward the open door.

"So you finally believe Leonard's an angel?" Daphne asked.

"Of course not. With all the bugs in this room, it would probably take an angel to clean it all out. Coming, Daph?"

She shook her head in total defeat. She should have known she couldn't do this one simple thing the Council had requested.

Nat glared at her, then turned his back and left.

She hugged herself. "Leonard?"

A bell rang, startling her. He slowly materialized. "Yes, child?"

"Where were you?"

"I had something to attend to. What do you need?"

Daphne bit her lower lip then said, "It looks like my job is done here. I failed. Couldn't I please go back to my old life?"

"I only wish you could. However, I think I've found just the situation for you."

Something about his expression made her suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"A new life, precisely as the Council promised you. Shall we take a look?"

"I suppose so." Daphne sighed. "What about my parents, Leonard? My mom and stepdad?"

"Since you'll soon be entering into another life, you must try to forget your past. However, you needn't worry. I'm sure they're being cared for."

"But you don't know that, do you?"

"Not personally."

"Can we check on them?"

"I'm sorry. You gave up that right when you elected to return to earth. Coming?"

Obviously, she had no choice in the matter of her past. "All right."

A sensation of dizziness and movement enveloped her. When her senses cleared, they were outdoors. As she glanced around at the unfamiliar snowy scene, she realized Leonard had transported them to another place without the normal time necessary for physical travel. Leonard gestured for her to peer through a window at a young woman.

"What do you think?"

"I think I'm a little old to become a Peeping Tom. Besides, it's cold out here." She stamped her feet, regretting her earlier impulse to attract Nat by wearing skimpy clothing. She should at least have asked for a mink coat or something warm.

"That's not what I meant. What do you think of the young woman?"

She glanced in the window. "What's she got to do with me?"

"She's due to have an aneurysm tomorrow. Her body, in fact her life, will be available. While the Council can only restore your current body for a few hours, it can repair a living body and transplant your soul once the current soul has gone on to her reward. A soul whose time has come."

They watched the young woman for a moment longer. Leonard added, "She's a nice girl, has a fiancé who's a nice boy. Attends religious services regularly."

So she'd just take over her mended body? It felt rather cannibalistic. "What's she do for a living?"

"She's a librarian. Head librarian. Not a bad job, one you could easily do with your background as a reporter. The Council has been anxious to find you something suitable and they feel this is close."

"Close." Daphne's body shook. The Council was going to keep its word. She'd have a life. But what kind of life?

"If you find you don't like something, it'll be your life. You can change things to suit yourself."

"And I just step in and take over?"

"It's the best we can offer, Daphne. There are a few other possibilities but I believe you'd like this life. Remember, you wanted children . . . they'd be within your reach."

Daphne watched the young woman for a long minute. She was doing sit-ups while watching TV. Looking around the room, Daphne saw a couple of photos sitting on the mantle. One was a photo of a young man. The woman's fiancé? And the other showed an older couple. Perhaps her parents? They looked pleasant. Instantly, she was filled with sympathy for them. They'd soon be without their beloved daughter. Would they feel as empty as she did?

Her gaze shot back to the woman. "What's her name?"

Leonard looked at a pad that magically appeared in his hand. "Mary Falkirk."

"Nice." She eyed the woman. "I'd feel funny about just taking over her life, Leonard."

"Mary has a place already reserved for her in heaven. It's her destiny and one she's ready and prepared to fulfill. Although she's not consciously aware of it, her soul is happy to take wing."

That made it seem not quite so bad, Daphne thought, beginning to accept the concept. Mary wasn't beautiful but she wasn't plain either. Just a nice normal woman who would die soon. Reminding herself that Mary would be fulfilling her own destiny, a fate that seemed pleasant except for the feathers, Daphne watched Mary stretch to touch her toes. She could probably accept Mary's life. But there was just one thing. A thing she hated to admit, even to herself. Mary was rather—slight. Daphne looked down at her own figure.

"Leonard, I hate to say this but . . . "

"What's wrong?"

"Is this my only option? I know it's earthly, and all that, but couldn't you find someone with a figure similar to my own? I'm not exactly large in the . . . you know." She couldn't say it. Not to an angel. She gestured toward her bosom. "But I'm not totally without . . . you know, either. Is it too self-centered to ask?"

Leonard smiled knowingly. "I see what you mean. Hadn't thought about it, actually. I'll check out the other possibles and see."

"Oh, and Leonard, I know I'm not a beauty, but I really wouldn't mind being one this time." She shrugged. "If it's all the same to the Council."

This time Leonard not only smiled, he laughed, a merry sound much like the tinkling of wind chimes. "Anything else?"

"No. I like Mary but, I'd like to learn more. Her parents?"

"They're in heaven. Mary will soon join them."

"Oh. Good. I was worried about them."

Leonard patted her shoulder and with a chiming of bells, Daphne realized she had returned to Nat's office. Leonard whispered in her ear, "I'm needed elsewhere. I'll return when you need me." When she looked up, the angel was gone.

However, Nat was there, sitting behind his desk with his eyes closed. He appeared tired, sad, and her heart went out to him. For all his possessions, he was terribly alone. Suddenly, his lids snapped open. "I thought you wouldn't come back."

Daphne shivered, but whether it was from feeling chilled or from the intensity of his gaze she didn't know. "Why didn't you leave when you had the chance?"

"I thought I'd wait for you." He shrugged. "Besides, the outer door is locked tight."

She giggled. "Leonard thinks of everything, doesn't he?"

"I would've stayed anyway."

She didn't know what to say. Was it possible he would have? If so, why? At least he was here now. She could make another attempt to help him and fulfill her obligation to the Council.

It was midnight. Time.

She walked over to the etagere and swung open the doors to reveal a TV set. So far so good. Leonard had given her specific instructions on what to do. With the changes in electronic equipment since her death, she'd needed them.

She looked around Nat's desk, searching for the little box that was supposed to be there. She picked up a black oblong. "What's this?"

Nat snickered. "Electric pencil sharpener."

"That's not it." She looked around some more. A paper clip holder, message holder, in/out boxes. No little box.

"Looking for this?" Nat asked. He held something in his hands.

"Yes, that must be it? What's it called?"

He rolled his eyes. "Re-mote con-trol."

She reached out her hand for it but Nat pulled the control away.

"Men and women have been fighting for years over who gets control of the remote."

Daphne dropped her hand. "Fine. Be that way."

"That's what you get for leaving without telling me goodbye."

"You left first!"

"Nonsense. I just left the room and immediately came back for you. You should've known I would."

"Why should I know that?"

"Because you have something I want."

"And what's that?"

Nat leered at her. "You still want the remote?"

Daphne nodded. What was he up to?

"I'll trade you. What I want for the remote." He tossed the box into the air, then caught it and wiggled his eyebrows in an awful impression of Groucho Marx.

She crossed her arms and leaned against his desk. Her stomach fluttered. He wasn't going to ask her to . . . "What do you want?"

"A kiss just like the last one."

"Oh."

"Disappointed?"

"Of all the . . . Of course not!" She didn't want to examine the possibility that he might be right.

He tossed the remote and caught it again. "So, what's it going to be?"

She took a step toward him. He grabbed her roughly by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. "That's more like it."

Her heart pounded and her head swam. It felt too good in his arms. She was in danger and knew it. She tried to stand up, gain a little distance from him, but he gently held her in place. Then his lips descended on hers and she was lost.

Good lord, the man could kiss. He nibbled her lower lip then claimed her mouth. Heat. Hot. Fiery flames leaped through her body wherever he touched her. His hands splayed about her waist, his thighs beneath hers, his chest leaning into her own, his mouth devouring her with an urgency, a need reflected by her own body.

She pulled back before her craving for him became a necessity. Letting out a breath of air, she opened her eyes. He watched her, his gaze inscrutable.

She couldn't let him know how she'd very nearly given in. He was powerful enough without her own capitulation. "The remote?"

He looked confused for a moment, then sheepish. "I think I dropped it."

Daphne chuckled. Obviously he'd been affected, too. She stood, then scrambled beneath his chair and grabbed the remote before he had a chance to pull another trick on her. Still on her knees, she asked, "You ready?"

He ran his hand through her hair. "I'm yours. Have your way with me."

Blushing, she struggled to her feet. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He laughed, the conceited son-of-a-gun. Just because his kisses were toe curlers was no reason for him to act so cock sure. She darted to the chair on the other side of his desk and took a seat.

He laughed again. "Spoil sport."

She tossed her head and punched the play button. The TV burst into life, almost startling her although Leonard had explained what would happen.

The camera panned a snowy rural scene, then narrowed to focus on a small cape cod, with dormers and a front porch that ran the width of the house. Coming through the doorway, it centered on a Christmas tree—small, decorated with colored bulbs and flashing lights, a number of gaily wrapped parcels resting below. The view expanded to show a tiny boy, perhaps two or three years old, kneeling beside it, his eyes lit with anticipation.

Turning, the boy addressed the only other occupant of the room, a sweet looking woman in her mid-twenties. "Mommy, will Santa be here tomorrow?"

"I'm certain he will. You've been a very good boy."

He grinned and crossed the room to climb in her lap.

Nat leaned across his desk and snatched the remote from Daphne's hand. The scene froze.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded.

Daphne blinked. "It's the past. At least, that's what Leonard told me it would be."

"How did he get a video of this?" His face twisted, his lips compressed, white, Nat exhaled before continuing. "I can't believe he'd stoop this low."

"Nat, trust me, Leonard wouldn't do anything wrong."

Nat knew one thing, he didn't trust Leonard. "I don't know what he wants, but I'm not going to watch this. I wonder how my mother recorded it? The technology just wasn't available . . . " He preferred to think about how they'd accomplished the mechanics rather than the shock he'd felt at seeing his mother for the first time in so many years.

"I don't think your mother did. It's a miracle. You know, angelic magic."

"You know what you can do with your magic." He snorted and leaned toward the VCR. Leonard was playing a tough game and until Nat knew what Leonard's agenda was, Nat wanted no part of it. He only liked games where the rules were clearly spelled out in advance, games with rules he could work to his advantage.

He punched the eject button, intending to get the tape and put it away. But the cassette didn't emerge. He ran his fingers inside to see if the tape had jammed. Nothing. He turned to Daphne and glared. "Closed circuit TV?"

She sighed. "No. It's a miracle, dam . . . darn you!"

Nat wagged his forefinger. "Careful, Daph. You don't want your angel catching you cursing."

"Listen to me, Nat," she said calmly. "Either with your cooperation or without, you'll be watching this tape. You might as well make yourself comfortable. Leonard's determined and let's just say that when an angel's made up his mind, there's not much that can get in his way."

"Ridiculous."

Daphne raised her brow. Just then the tape began to play again. Nat frantically punched buttons on the remote to no effect. He tried turning off the power on the VCR, again without result.

"I don't have to watch this. I could close my eyes."

"Aren't you curious, Nat? You said you didn't remember your mother. Didn't think she loved you. Watch this tape. I see love written all over each of her actions."

"How about a little you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours?"

"Forget it."

"Ah, come on, Daph. Be a sport."

"No way. You've distracted me enough from my mission already."

"It's your loss," he growled, then turned back to the TV as if drawn against his will. On the screen, his mother rocked him and spoke softly, telling him a delightful story about Santa's reindeer. He could almost feel her arms about him now, could almost remember the story.

"Okay." He swung his gaze back to Daphne. "Tell Leonard I believe you. There's such a thing as maternal love. He can turn it off now."

"Hush. Look, someone's rung the doorbell."

Gaze back on the TV, he watched himself as a tot darting beside his mother to the door, all the while yelling, "Daddy. I knew he would come!"

Then the door opened and his childlike disappointment was clear for anyone to see. Standing in the doorway were his Uncle Boomer and cousin Percival. Percy hadn't changed much since then. Even Uncle Boomer's death hadn't been enough to break Percy of his eternal optimism. At the funeral, he grinned as widely as the boy captured on tape. Nat had wondered more than once if Percy was all there. The smile made him look imbecilic.

Once, Nat had even tried to take Percy aside and explain the problem with his smile. But Percy thought he was making a joke and had laughed uproariously, slapping Nat's back. Some people just couldn't learn.

Percy might learn soon, though, Nat thought wryly. Percy's name was on one of the pink slips lining Nat's outbox.

On the tape, Percy ran into the room, that beaming eager-to-please expression on his face. In his hand, he carried a gaily wrapped box. For Nat.

Nat's jaw twitched. Percy hadn't been such a bad sort, always trying to win his friendship. Too bad Nat wasn't the type to have friends. Friendship didn't pay the electric bill. Friendship didn't get you anywhere.

While Uncle Boomer sat quietly talking to Nat's mother, he and Percy giggled together as they exchanged gifts. He'd forgotten that once he'd looked up to Percy. Percy was a good two years older and yet always had time for him. And the look on his own face—adoration, pure and simple. Had he really worshiped Percy? Children were fools.

He could see his mother checking on them from time to time, a warm smile on her face. He suddenly remembered her smile and how it had made him feel safe, secure and totally loved. A boy could get lost in a smile like that and yet as a child, he'd taken it for granted. If only he'd known how quickly it could be snatched away.

The screen faded, and Nat had to stop himself from crying out. Even if it was over, he'd always carry the remembrance of her smile, though, almost making the inconvenience of Daphne's after-hours visit worthwhile.

What was he thinking? Was he becoming a softy at thirty? Next, he'd be wanting a child of his own. Nat cringed. Just then, the screen focused again.

It narrowed onto his face at the age of what—seven years old? His first Christmas without his mother. A Hispanic woman, what was her name—Maria?—stood in the kitchen making final preparations for their Christmas dinner the next day. Nat sat at the kitchen table. Maria was in rapt discussion with another woman, a much younger woman. He couldn't recall her name.

They awaited Nat's father's arrival, so Maria and the other woman could go to their homes to celebrate the holiday. Dad was at work. As usual. Ever since he'd returned from his stint in Nam.

The women bent their heads together, softly whispering words that as a child he'd been unaware of. Although they spoke in Spanish, he realized he could now hear and understand their every word, their every nuance.

"I told you he'd be late," whispered Maria.

"You were right. I just couldn't believe it of any man."

"Senor Danvers is a cold-hearted sonoffabeach, Rachel. He's proven it time and time again. No time for his own flesh and blood." She wiped her eyes with a gaily colored handkerchief. "And with a boy like Nat, so sweet and so dear. So eager to please."

"Some people just don't know when they're blessed."

"I thought it was because he'd lost his wife, but I've learned differently. Even when she was alive, he was never here for either of them." She picked up a dish towel and rubbed it angrily over the counter top, wiping at imaginary smudges.

"I'll light a candle for the boy at Mass tonight. The Holy Mother will help, make the Senor wake up."

Maria shook her head. "It's too late for him. I just hope it's not too late for little Nat."

Rachel nodded sagely.

"I guess it's time to sneak in and set up the bike. His father never said a word about a present for the boy. Can you imagine? Said the child was too old to believe in fairy stories like Santa." Maria made the sign of the cross.

"He is such a heathen," she added. "Wouldn't even let the boy have a Christmas tree. I can't imagine any child waking up Christmas morning without a gift in sight."

"Buying it was the right decision. You'll be blessed for it," Rachel reassured her.

"The blessing will be the ray of happiness in the boy's eyes. That's all I want, come what may." Sighing, she wiped her hands with the dish towel, then handed it to Rachel. "Keep him occupied, now."

Nat couldn't believe it. The bike, his precious shiny red bike hadn't been from his father? The one with the horn he'd loved to honk? And the streamers? Maria had given it to him? His father had fired her not long afterwards. Now Nat knew the reason. She'd gone against his father's wishes. At least he hadn't known at the time.

Nat wiped his hands down his slacks, unaware until then that his palms had been sweating. What else did Daphne plan to show him? What other childhood myths did she plan to debunk?

Nat would find Maria. Make it up to her somehow. Maybe she had grandchildren that could each use a shiny red bike? Hell, looking back on it now, he knew she couldn’t have been handsomely paid. Not by his father.

Maybe he could send Maria’s grandkids to college? It would amount to a smaller percentage of his income than her gift to him. He made a note to himself on his pocket planner.

Daphne spoke softly. "I'm so sorry, Nat. Was your father always like that?"

There was no way he'd admit his weakness to her. Weakness meant loss of power. He shrugged his shoulders, not exactly lying but not denying either. "We respected each other."

Loud laughter erupted from the TV speaker and they both turned back to watch. It was the following day, Christmas day, and again, Percy and his father had come to visit.

Percy asked, "What did you get for Christmas?"

Nat proudly showed him his bike.

He could see Percy looking around the den for a tree or some sign of the holiday, his expression surprised and pitying. Percy pitied him?

Then Percy checked out the bike thoroughly, exclaiming over each feature as if it were made of gold. Nat could see pride showing on his own face as he tooted the horn. Damn, it hurt now to watch. He'd been such an utter fool.

And, what was worse, Percy had been kind.

The scene faded once more, to reappear in a blaze of Christmas lights. He saw his father sitting at a table, staring at the tree that Nat had carefully chosen and decorated. Hell, he'd been a teenager then.

Then, he saw himself. A fourteen-year-old in all his awkward glory. Carefully bringing in their Christmas dinner on a tray. A dinner he'd been so excited he'd been able to prepare himself.

Smiling, he set down the turkey TV dinner in front of his father and added a saucer with sliced canned cranberry sauce as a side dish. He'd even set the table with red and green napkins and placemats, hoping his father would be pleased by all the work he'd gone to.

Dad took one look at the foil-encased dinner and lifted his brows. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble. We could be eating at The Maisson even now."

Nat had looked up excitedly, proud of the preparations he'd made, only to have his face fall when he realized his father was being sarcastic. Dad wasn't impressed. He was disappointed. In him. As usual.

The screen froze. Nat felt as if an artery had been torn open by watching the scene. The pain on his own face had been so clear and obvious and he hurt now just as much as he'd hurt then. He'd never been able to satisfy his father, no matter how hard he'd tried. Eventually, he'd given up.

Nat wanted to strike out. Anything to stop the pain, the longing, the need of the boy he'd been. He turned to Daphne, wanting to hurt her as she was allowing him to hurt. "You enjoying this? I find it rather tedious."

She looked at him with a clear gaze, those midnight eyes boring into him and he couldn't hide the pain. Dammit. He was weak, as weak as the boy on the TV.

The tape rolled again and he turned back to see what would be next.

As soon as he saw the setting, Nat knew what was coming. His jaw tightened spasmodically. Even knowing what would happen, it was as if he were mesmerized by his own death.

The setting was Constance's apartment on Christmas Eve. Constance with her silky red tresses and sophisticated demeanor. Constance, who'd slipped perfectly into his lifestyle, had amazingly agreed to marry him.

They were sipping wine and slowly decorating her tree. A tree as artificial as she. With each shiny bulb that went into place on the tree, Nat watched himself die a little, not by inches but by ornaments. False things, shiny and glowing but of no value.

"This will stop right now." The words seemed to fight their way out of Nat's throat. A jolt of crisp anger brought him out of his paralysis. He bolted from his chair. "I'm not going to take another moment of this, Daphne. I know what's coming and I won't watch."

~~~~

Chapter Three

"It doesn't matter what you want, Nat," replied Daphne. "The Council wants you to watch this. Could it be that you're afraid? Maybe you'll discover you were just as much of a jerk back then as you are now. Is that what you're worried about?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Nat's anger dissipated. What was he worried about? Now that he'd learned about women, seeing it through wiser eyes would lessen the pain of the younger, less experienced Nat. Watching this tape could be a catharsis, a confirmation of all he held to be true and right.

Wordlessly, he regained his chair and turned to view the TV.

The young Nat, with twenty-four years of life behind him, gazed with admiration at Constance. He watched her every move, proud that she was soon to be his. Two weeks earlier, she'd agreed to wear his ring and it sparkled with her every movement. Flickers of candlelight bounced off it, radiating prisms of color as promising as the love light in his own eyes.

Ah, the young Nat thought he could have it all. Money. Power. Love. He hadn't learned yet that love didn't exist.

True love? Nonsense. The scene before him would prove that theory. Constance.

She was lovely. Achingly so. Even with his older eyes, he paused to admire the way she seemed to flow, the gentle curve of her hip, the length of her neck. As if every move were planned in advance for the greatest effect.

Every so often, she'd direct a look of warm affection his way, like payment for love received. But the look on his own face told it all. Young Nat believed he was in love.

Constance's doorbell buzzed. She shot Nat a curious look before gracefully placing her wine glass on the ebony table in front of the sofa, then smoothing her dress. Her dress hadn't been creased, but she'd been careful of her appearance.

Smoke and mirrors.

She swung open the door. In charged the irate husband. The husband young Nat hadn't known existed.

"Just what the hell is this?" The husband asked Constance as he flapped a thick envelope beneath her nose. "I leave town and you file for divorce?"

"I thought you weren't due back for another month."

"You couldn't have forgotten I was coming home for Christmas."

Constance shot Nat a look filled with desperation. The young Nat came forward, not certain what was going on, but sure there was some mistake.

"Call me tomorrow, David," Constance replied. "This isn't a good time."

"It's exactly the right time. I want an explanation and I want it now." David pushed past her and into the room, for the first time laying eyes on Nat.

"Who the hell is he?"

Young Nat waited, not breathing, for her answer.

"Nathaniel Danvers, meet David MacIntire, my ex-husband."

"Ex?" demanded David before Nat could answer. "Not hardly. You may have filed the papers, sweetheart, but our marriage isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Now Constance looked more than desperate. She shot Nat a pleading look. A look that said she'd explain everything as soon as they were alone. A look that said David was crazy.

Young Nat's throat had seized up. He downed his glass of wine. "You're married? Don't you think you could have told me?"

"I can explain it all as soon as David leaves." She gestured toward the door to the man who was her husband.

"I live here. I'm not leaving." He pointed at Nat. "He is."

Nat stooped to pick up his jacket off the sofa. "Don't worry, David. I'm going. Obviously, Constance, there are some things you haven't exactly been honest about."

"Don't you dare leave. Just give me a minute and David will clear out. Won't you, David?"

David ignored her. Instead, he turned to Nat and asked, "How long have you been seeing her?"

Young Nat glanced at Constance's irate face but thought her husband deserved an explanation, even if it was coming from the wrong person. "About six weeks."

David turned back to Constance. "Dammit, you didn't even wait until the sheets were cold on our bed before you took a lover? You know how important this assignment is to my career. I might even make partner in the firm."

David paused a moment, visibly restraining his temper. "You've always had expensive tastes, Constance. I thought you wanted me to advance? How the hell am I going to explain a divorce?"

"I don't care how you do it." Her studiously modulated accent slipped, revealing mid-western, rather than ivy-league roots. "I'm sick of your lousy career. I'm sick of you and I can't wait until you're completely out of my life."

She held out her left hand. "Look at this." She wiggled the engagement ring, flaunting its five carat diamond in her husband's face.

David grabbed her hand. "The ring I gave you wasn't good enough?"

"Eat your heart out, dear. It's Nat's engagement ring. I'm marrying money. More money than you'll ever dream of with your crappy job. And there's more to come. A housekeeper. A luscious penthouse apartment." She pulled back her hand and marched over to Nat. "And Nat here to love me. Right, honey?"

Nat had felt dizzy. Perhaps it was drinking the wine too quickly. Perhaps it was the heat bubbling from the furnace. Perhaps it was the situation. The older Nat could remember the questions that had gone unvoiced. Constance was married? What else had she lied to him about?

"You're a whore, Connie," stated David. "No better than a prostitute. You'd do anything for the good things in life." He looked at her with loathing, then redirected his gaze to Nat.

"Watch out. She'll suck you dry, then turn on you when a better meal ticket comes along." David stalked out, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Nat braced himself, aware that young Nat still hadn't gotten it yet. Still hadn't taken in the fact that Constance was everything her husband called her and more. Still was giving Constance the benefit of the doubt. He'd wanted to believe in her.

"I love you, Constance. You know that."

She shot him a brilliant smile, a smile of victory. "I love you, too. Can you believe that guy? First he deserts me, then he's angry because I didn't wait at home for him like a good little wifey."

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" He strode forward and closed the door.

"Would you have gone out with me if I had?"

Young Nat shook his head. "No."

Constance shrugged, as if that explained everything. "Why don't you put your jacket down and we'll talk," she suggested with a seductive tone, her clipped accent carefully back in place.

Nat did as she asked and she joined him on the sofa, sitting close enough for her leg to lean heavily into his own, close enough for her fragrance to fill his senses.

Nat hadn't been distracted. "Why didn't you tell me later, after we became involved?"

Picking up her wine glass, she swirled the liquid around before answering. "I didn't think you'd ever know. It's not as if we moved in the same circles. And if darling David hadn't come around tonight, you never would have known. Why open up something that would only complicate things?"

"Would you have left him if we hadn't met?"

"Probably not." She sipped her wine. "I'll be honest with you, Nat. If you hadn't asked me to marry you, I wouldn't have had the papers served."

"I thought you love me?"

"I do. I was fond of David, but I felt dead inside until I met you. At least with him, I had some security, some social standing."

It was finally coming clear. Nat could see it in the hardened expression on young Nat's face. He was finally beginning to get it. What a sucker he'd been. Even with all she'd said, he'd so wanted to believe in her, to believe in love. By her very honesty, Constance removed herself from the status of gold digger and entered the big leagues, quite capable of playing with the big boys. What did it matter if she was marrying money, as long as she was honest that it appealed to her? Constance was as smooth as the most expensive silk. She had her act down pat.

"What if I'd been poor? What then?"

She crooked her arm on his shoulder, tendrils of hair brushing his face. "What do you want me to say? That I'd have left him anyway? Run off with you, been barefoot and poor? If that's what you want, then okay. I'd have done it anyway."

"I don't want to hear what you think I want, I want the truth."

"I'm not sure I know the truth. Poverty never was a consideration." She leaned forward to refill both their glasses. "I know how I feel about you, though. I love you. I love all of you—I'm struggling to be completely honest with you and myself, Nat—that includes the money because it's part of you."

Her response had been like a kick in the teeth. She couldn't separate him from the money. Nat was irate. Angry with her, but even more so with himself for buying her act.

She waved her hand. "I love being with you. I love how I feel when I'm around you. I love your kisses and the way you make love to me. I love it when you pick me up in a limo instead of a car. I love the way other women look at me with envy in their eyes. I'm someone because I'm with you." She looked directly in his eyes. "Isn't that enough?"

He had to hand it to her, she was good. But Nat was a fast study. If a woman wanted to use him, then by golly, he'd use her first. He hid his expression behind slightly closed lids. Yes, he'd finally learned his lesson about women. Self interest was what it was all about. And hell no, it wasn't enough. Would never be enough.

He reached out and grabbed Constance, fully intending to use her body before he left that night, taking his ring with him. Nat felt pretty good that he'd done just that and had never once spared her another thought. It hadn't been love, it had been lust. Temporary. Smoke and Mirrors.

The TV went black. Perhaps Daphne would finally reveal what Leonard had been after and he'd figure out what she had to gain. Now he'd learn what was in it for her.

"What a royal bitch. I'm sorry." A tear trickled down her cheek.

He stood, furious he'd evoked her pity, glad he was firing Percy, someone else who'd pitied him. "I didn't love her."

She didn't say anything at first, then she reached out her hand. "I think you did, but she didn't deserve your love."

"Nonsense. She's like all women, in it for what she can get."

"And what if you're wrong? What if she'd been another type of woman, a woman who could love you for yourself?"

"That animal is extinct. I'm not going to argue with you, Daph. I'm willing to disagree with you and leave it at that."

"That's why I'm here. To show you what happened to make you come to the wrong conclusions, Nat. To give you a chance to really live instead of hiding in this plush prison."

"You still haven't told me what's in it for you."

"Nothing. Once my mission is complete, I leave, whether or not you learn a thing. I have nothing to gain by this, other than the inner joy of knowing I've helped another person."

Could she have been telling him the truth all along? His mind darted as quickly as a deer, in and out of what had happened thus far, in and out of the impossibilities that had occurred this night. Tapes from a time when videos didn't exist, cameras depicting scenes he knew hadn't been recorded. Electronics and doors that did Leonard's bidding. Was this a continuation of the nightmare he'd had about his parents? Had his awakening merely been another dream? Itching to pinch himself, he suppressed the urge.

He wanted to doubt it, doubt her, but the question drummed a staccato beat on his brain. Leonard really existed? And if Leonard was an angel, then who—or what—was she?

When she looked up at him again, she gave him a sunburst smile. "You know what I'd like?"

"What?" He couldn't help returning her smile. Maybe with the change of subject he could find something, anything, to explain what was going on. Anything but believe angels existed.

"A Christmas tree. I haven't had one in decades. I adore Christmas trees."

"Decades? You're barely old enough. But if you're determined, although the store had a big clearance sale on Christmas decorations and sold out, I think the employees had a tree in the cafeteria—"

"No. I want my own. Maybe Leonard . . . " She craned her head to look around the office. Leonard hadn't returned. "Oh, well. It was just an idea."

Nat shrugged, then, seeing her sad expression offered, "There's a ficus tree in the outer office."

"Oh, good. Let's take a look at it." Daphne flew to the door and Nat followed closely behind. She stopped in front of the tree. "It doesn't look much like a Christmas tree."

"It was your idea to have one." Nat headed back to his office.

"Wait! With the right decorations and in the right setting, I'm sure it'll be perfect. Thanks for suggesting it."

He gave her a small smile then grimaced when it hit him. "The right setting?"

"Your office next to the conference table, of course." Wanting to reward him somehow, Daphne flashed him her most winning grin. She was bound and determined to decorate this tree, hoping it would help rebuild what he'd lost with Constance.

He bent down to pick it up. His face turned red. "What is it with women and impossible tasks?"

"If you push, I'll pull." Daphne gripped one edge of the Indian motif pot and dragged with all her might. Nat pushed and within moments, the tree was situated in exactly the perfect location.

"We're a good team. Thanks," she said. Nat looked embarrassed and returned to hide behind his desk. The chicken.

"Now for the decorations." She walked around his office, peering at objects, occasionally hefting them to see if they were light enough. She selected the pile of paper clips on his desk, a box of staples. She opened the door to the bar and eyed the shot glasses, wondering if there was any way to string them on.

"Don't just sit there moping, Nat ol' boy. Help me find some ornaments."

"How about some pens?"

"What color are they?"

Nat rifled through his drawer and came up with several blue, red and black pens. "There aren't many of them."

"Just put them in my pile. They'll do." She leaned forward to peer into his drawer. "What else you got in there?"

"Business cards. Lots of business cards."

She realized then he wasn't looking in the drawer. Instead his gaze was fixed on her lips. Instantly she was filled with self-consciousness, wanting him to look anywhere but at her. A wave of heat traveled up her face.

What was it about him that intrigued her so much? When she'd seen the drama with Constance unfold, she'd hurt for him. She'd wanted so much to fold him in her arms and kiss away his pain.

His charisma must be incredibly strong to make her so impervious to his flaws. Either that, or she was a rotten judge of character. However, as a reporter, she'd always trusted her instincts about people. Until now.

Maybe it was something chemical, something in the way he smelled or an aura he gave off. She wasn't sure what it was, she just sensed the danger of remaining alone with him. It was important that she keep her mind off him and on the mission at hand. Otherwise, she couldn't trust herself to stay on track rather than seeking another of his kisses.

Grabbing up the few things she'd selected as ornaments, she headed for the tree. "It's time to get started. Maybe we'll think of something else to use as we work."

Nat didn't budge.

"You are going to help me, aren't you?" she asked.

"Not likely. If you want to waste your time in childish pursuits, go right ahead. I'll watch."

Great, so now he'd retreated back into his Scrooge persona. "Thanks bunches, Mr. Bah Humbug. At least you can occupy yourself finding more ornaments."

Nat snapped his fingers and grinned. "I'll be right back."

"What?"

"I thought of something." He dashed to the door. Popping his head back in the room, he added, "Wait and you'll see."

Daphne shrugged. His departure removed the temptation to do something she'd regret. Getting busy, she strung paper clips together to use as tinsel, then wrapped it through the leaves and branches. She used additional paper clips with which to hang the pens and staple rows.

Standing back, she surveyed her work. It wasn't very colorful but it did begin to resemble something like a Christmas tree. If only she had some icicles or lights, anything to trigger a response from Nat, reminding him of the joy of the season.

She heard Nat's voice before he came in the room. He called out, "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"I've got a surprise."

She grinned and complied. First came the sound of his footsteps across the wide expanse of carpet, then she could hear him moving beside her.

"Keep those eyes closed."

She shouldn't trust him but the happiness in his voice told her he wasn't planning anything she'd dislike. "Tell me when."

"When."

She opened her eyes and saw his face, the same look of expectancy he'd shown when presenting his father with Christmas dinner. No matter what his surprise was, no matter how inadequate it might be, she knew her reaction could mean all the difference to him. Schooling her face, she looked where he pointed. Toward the tree.

"It's beautiful!" Her reaction was without guile. He'd managed to pepper the tree with thin strips of colored paper, adding all the color it had lacked before. "You're a genius. How did you cut the paper so quickly?"

"I ran colored paper through the paper shredder." The joy in his voice was now unmistakable and she was glad she'd been able to share in it, that he'd done this for her.

"Paper shredder? Why would anyone want a paper shredder?" There couldn't be much call for colored paper icicles but who was she to question it when it helped to create such beauty. "The colored paper was a moment of genius, Nat."

He grinned. "I didn't have much so I ran it through the color copier first. Ten sheets of green, red, blue and purple, the color of our interoffice memos."

"A color copier? That can't be anything like a photocopier, is it?" For the next stage of Nat's reformation, Leonard had said to find the photocopier.

"First the remote control and now the paper shredder and copier. Where have you been hanging out? A cave?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Nat, you've said it yourself . . . if you can't see it, feel it, touch it or taste it . . . "

"Please. I want to understand." He snapped his fingers. "I've got it. You've been living in some undeveloped country, haven't you?"

She shook her head, wondering if Leonard would mind if she filled Nat in on who she really was. He hadn't told her she couldn't and if he were that concerned, surely he would have stuck around longer.

"Okay, I'll tell you. But first, you have to make me a promise."

He face became hardened. "What's that?"

"Don't be so suspicious. You look like a kid who's worried about having his lollipop taken away." Daphne sat in a chair at the conference table again and grabbed his hand so he'd take a seat as well.

"You have to promise not to get mad. And," she paused for emphasis, "you have to promise not to laugh. Keep an open mind, okay?"

~~~~

Chapter Four

Daphne had spent the last ten minutes explaining to Nat how she'd come to be here and it hadn't been easy, especially with the way he'd grilled her over knowing his father. She felt she'd done a good job making the situation clear without complicating things any further. "And so I'm here to help you before going on to my own life."

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it. You're an angel." He looked at her in horror. "I've been trying to seduce an angel!"

"No, Nat. I thought I'd explained it." Obviously she'd not done as good a job as she'd believed. "I'm not an angel! I'm just temporarily between bodies."

Nat ran a hand through his carefully arranged mane. "So, you're saying it's okay if I seduce you?"

"No! I'm saying it's not too awful that you tried it, but don't expect much since I won't be around for long."

"What if I refuse to be reformed? Will you be able to stay?"

She shook her head. "I only have a few hours left," her voice broke. Only a few hours left to stay with a man she felt so drawn to. She had to keep reminding herself it wasn't intended for her to remain in Nat's life.

Despite being here to watch the wall surrounding Nat's heart begin to crumble, he was so far from perfect that she'd be a fool to allow herself to care for him. She'd do her job and be on her way to her real life, the one with a husband and children to love.

Hell, even if she were here to stay, she wasn't fool enough to think Nat would ever offer marriage and love. The best he could do would be temporary lust. That wasn't good enough, appealing as it might seem at the moment.

"We could do it now," he wheedled. "After all, you lived in the era of peace and free love."

"I may have lived in that era, but that doesn't mean I took part in it!"

"So, what's your answer?"

"About what?"

"Making love. Here. Now."

"You're incorrigible. You should be thinking about mending your ways rather than sex, you lout. Besides, it's time again."

"More? You've got more planned?" His expression was positively gloomy.

"Of course. Why do you think I'm still here? It's nearly one o'clock."

He shook his head. "I don't think I want to be reformed, Daphne. I like myself and my life. Why should I change?"

"Because you don't like yourself nearly as much as you pretend, that's why." Having seen his father in action, she became more and more convinced that Nat was the better man. Nat had been shaped by his father's neglect, yet showed an as yet untapped potential for far more love and giving than the lieutenant had ever aspired to. She wanted to help Nat more than ever because he deserved to know love. "Come on, show me your photocopier."

Nat led her out of his office, through the outer office and into the hallway, the whole time keeping his thoughts to himself. Why didn't he say something? Up until now he'd dominated their conversations.

Was he angry? Turning to check his expression, their eyes met.

Nat felt his gut clench when she turned her sapphire gaze on him. An idea had hit him like a freezing pail of water. Was it possible that his father had been in love with Daphne? Would it explain why he'd been so remote with Nat? Why his dad so rarely came home? Perhaps when Daphne had died, his father had felt that any chance for personal happiness had gone with her?

There was something about her that appealed more than just physically. The wicked gleam in her eye maybe? The way she chugged back whiskey? Her infectious laughter? How her eyes appeared to see deep inside him, down to his musty soul?

He could understand why his father might have been in love with her. And he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. But it wasn't necessary that he fall in his father's footsteps this time. It didn't necessarily follow that like father, like son. So she was a nice girl and rather fun to be around, she didn't mean any more to him than any woman he found temporarily amusing. Turning, he led her into the copy room where a bank of copiers rested against a long wall.

"You want to see the color copier first?" Pointing at the proper machine, he sagged into the door frame, wanting to maintain a safe distance from her. Tried to drive the memory of her scent from his mind. Who'd believe he could be such a sucker for sandalwood and talcum?

In spite of everything he'd learned about her, he still found her to be the sexiest woman he'd ever met and he wasn't about to explore it any further. Thank God, she'd refused his offers. A woman like her could break a man's heart. Thank God, he didn't have one to break.

Daphne glanced over her shoulder at him. Funny how one look could make his chest hurt.

"Can you show me how it works?" she asked.

"Sure." Determined not to touch her, he crammed his hands into his slacks pockets, then joined her. Nodding his head at the control panel, he explained, "That's where you tell it how many copies you want, the size and so on."

"Where is the paper stored?"

"There's a drawer that pulls out below." He unclenched his fists and withdrew his hands from his pockets to roll out the drawer.

Daphne knelt to check out the other drawers and Nat cooperated by pulling down the front panel so she could see the mechanisms hidden inside. When her curiosity seemed to be satisfied, he closed the drawers and panels. She explored the copier with her hands, running them over the surface, stopping occasionally to ask about various knobs and attachments, like the stacker tray. His traitorous mind imagined her hands running over his body in the same way, exploring, touching—dammit, this had to stop.

"What's this for?" she asked. Glancing down to see what she meant, he almost panicked. His hand shot out to grab her arm and pull her to safety.

"You've got to be more careful, Daph! You almost stapled yourself. That's the electronic stapler you were sticking your fingers into." He couldn't believe it. His heart was pounding and he could feel a light sweat beading his forehead. All this because some woman almost hurt herself? He'd never felt protective in his life. Until now.

Trying to cover his overreaction, he fingered the charm bracelet Daphne wore on her right arm, reluctant to release his hold on her and the soft heat of her skin. He lifted a charm, pretending interest, when all he wanted was to stroke that soft skin, to continue feeling the electrical zings brought on by touching her.

He realized the charms were unusual, not the sweet-sixteen stuff he'd expected. Particularly unusual was that every charm was an exact duplicate of the others—a quill in an ink pot.

She must have seen the question in his eyes. As she dragged her hand from him she shrugged. "Whenever one of my articles was a cover story, I bought myself a charm as a reward."

"How many are there?"

"Nine. I was hoping my tenth would be . . . Never mind. The past is behind me now. But Leonard said I could keep the bracelet." She smiled, a forlorn little smile. A smile that made him want to take her into his arms and comfort her.

What was it about Daphne that brought out instincts he hadn't even known were latent? What was it about her that made him want to pull her tightly up against him, wrap his arms around her and keep her there? What was it about her that made him picture long nights of sultry lovemaking amid uproarious laughter?

Ridiculous. He must be suffering from sleep deprivation. Checking his watch, he saw it was already one in the morning. He stifled a yawn as Daphne opened the top of the copier, revealing the glass board on which the paper to be copied would rest.

Leaning forward to explain how to size up the paper, a flicker of light on the glass caught his attention. That hadn't ever happened before.

He looked more closely. Suddenly, incredibly, the glass screen completely lit up as if he were at a movie theater. In the glass, he could see snow falling on Fifth Avenue – a Fifth Avenue lit up with twinkling white Christmas lights and gaily decorated windows filled with Christmas themes while hundreds of people of all ages walked the street, going into and emerging from shops with their arms full of holiday booty.

"What the hell is this?"

"Don't you get it yet? This is Christmas Present," said Daphne in a musing tone. He glanced at her and saw her eyes were alight with pleasure as she took in the scene. What was it about New York City with its too crowded streets that appealed to her? He looked back at the copier, wondering if he should be offended that evidently he was Scrooge to her Ghost.

The scene had focused on a little girl, her head covered in curls, her face glowing with a warm smile directed at the man holding her hand. Nat looked at the man. Cousin Percy? Was that the child he was always bragging about?

Curious, Nat studied the child. He couldn't remember her name. Laura? He thought that was it. At her birth, Percy had asked him to be her godfather and Nat had quickly refused. For the first time, he wondered if it had been his loss.

He'd thought Percy's motivation had been pure greed, that if Nat left this earthly plane something would be in it for Laura and Percival. But the girl's smile drew Nat, made him want to bounce her on his knee and make her double over with childhood giggles. Her smile was familiar somehow. Then it hit him. Laura had his mother's tender smile.

It was like a fist in his gut.

The scene on the glass screen danced past Percy and his family, swirled into a giant toy store crammed with customers, displaying every toy any child could wish for. Bikes, dolls, action figures, skates, radio-controlled cars, stuffed animals. The screen froze for a moment on a beautiful doll, dressed in Victorian apparel, velvets and furs. Next to it were racks of little girl clothes matching the doll's outfit from head to toe.

The camera flew again, this time to a neighborhood market, filled to overflowing with turkeys and nuts and fruits and vegetables, ready for purchase by last minute shoppers. There was even a section for the true procrastinator, with pies and meats already cooked, just waiting to be eaten.

The view shadowed for a moment and then lit up again. The scene was a busy hospital emergency ward. A nurse holding a thermometer in one hand and a fistful of candy canes in the other. As she chatted to a frightened senior citizen with tubes attached to his chest and arms, the nurse offered him a candy cane. The older man smiled a gape-toothed grin and happily took the candy, for a moment forgetting his pain and remembering the joy that was Christmas.

The camera panned in on a gurney in the hallway, a young black man bleeding from a bullet wound and the doctor frantically trying to staunch the blood before wheeling him into surgery. In the background, Nat saw a Christmas tree, flashing out red and white lights. The colors of a hospital.

Next the picture moved with great speed, in a blaze of color until it focused on a bridge, one Nat thought he recognized as the 49th Street Bridge. Then the scene moved lower, lower, until it centered on the shadows beneath the bridge.

In the dark, Nat could just make out a small fire. The view closed in until it centered on a man warming his hands above the fire. Another of New York's homeless. Then he heard a woman's voice. She reached forward and hugged the man. Neither of them were dressed well, although they were dressed warmly in layers of tattered and dirty clothes. Beside the woman, he saw two children – a boy of about five and a girl of about nine. Their eyes sparkled in the firelight, eagerly anticipating the meal their parents prepared.

"I managed to get half a chicken. What a Christmas dinner! And your mom earned the carrots by cleaning out the drain in front of Hazelman's. Tonight we have our own feast and tomorrow we'll go to the shelter for Christmas supper," the father said with a smile.

"We may not have much, but we've got each other—and we'll have full bellies tonight," added the mother.

The boy piped in, "Do you think this year Santa might be able to find us?" His sister elbowed him, but the boy refused to be ashamed. He waited for an answer.

The mother met the father's gaze. "I'm sorry, son. I just don't think so."

The boy brushed back a tear. "It's not fair.

"No, Harry. It's not," said the father. "Life isn't always fair. But, we've got a lot more than lots of other people. We've got each other, we've got a fine meal, and we've got a safe place to sleep tonight."

The mother spoke up. "Christmas is a time to be thankful for what we do have. I'm grateful for each of you."

The girl didn't say anything, just gazed sadly into the fire. The father reached over to rub her knee. "I know it's not like we used to have, Sue. Harry here is too young to remember well, but my luck will turn around again, you'll see. It's almost a new year and with it will come good things."

"I think this is as good a time as any, to pass out our gifts. What do you think?"

Everyone nodded and smiled. Nat looked at the scene, wondering where they'd found money for gifts when they had so little food and even Santa wouldn't be visiting. He couldn't see any packages. He watched curiously as the mother handed around envelopes, each with a name and a drawing hand written on the front.

"As you know, these aren't the real thing, but we've got our dreams and we've got our prayers," said the mother. "I promise to do my best to help make our dreams come true."

The father looked out from beneath the bridge, at the starlit sky, and took a deep breath. "All I need is just a little luck and our luck is about to change. I can feel it in the air."

The boy was the first to open his envelope, pulling out a picture cut out from a magazine. "A skateboard," he cried out with pleasure.

The girl went next, slowly pulling out her magazine clipping, obviously taking joy in the anticipation of what surprise would await her dreams. "Oh, Mom. It's beautiful." She held the slip of paper up for all to see. Nat recognized the Victorian doll he'd seen at the toy store.

The girl clutched the picture to her chest. "Her name's Bessie."

"Poppa, you're next," added the boy. "What did Mom pick for you?"

The father opened his envelope, but before withdrawing his cutting, he leaned forward to kiss his wife on her cheek. Then he pulled it out and cried out, "Perfect! A business suit. Next you know, I'll have a job on Wall Street and be hobnobbing with the rich and famous. It's exactly what I wanted."

"Now it's your turn," said the girl shyly, as she handed an envelope to her mother. "Open it."

The woman was fast to comply, shooting a quick wink at her son before doing so. "Oh. It's a house. Look, dear!" She showed the clipping to her husband. "Thanks so much. I'll have wonderful dreams tonight."

Then the father pulled a stack of envelopes from his pocket, passed around one for each of them. The mother opened hers first. She laughed. "A fine mink coat! I'll be grand."

"I'd like you to be warm," he said quietly.

Next the girl opened hers. Out fell a series of clippings, showing a Christmas feast to dream of. Turkey, stuffing, vegetables, pies, cakes. "Oh, how yummy! But," she added reassuringly, as if she were the parent, "our dinner is better, Poppa."

Lastly the boy tore open his envelope. "A puppy! Oh, Poppa, I've always wanted a fireman's puppy. Maybe next year, Santa will find us and bring me one with spots just like this one."

A family who gave dreams for Christmas. It tore at Nat's heart.

The whole family heartily cheered as the father served up their dinner. Then the glass became dull, making Nat wonder if that was it for Christmas Present?

Lovely drifts of snowfall filled the copier's surface, bringing with it the sound of carolers singing joyous Christmas song. A curtain opened in the snow, centering on the ragtag group of carolers. They strolled down a quiet neighborhood street, stopping at times to serenade passers by.

Nat marveled that he could smell heavenly scents from dinners cooking, pies cooling on shelves at open windows. He could see hearths lit with fire, bringing a warm welcoming glow to homes along the route. As cabs stopped to let out arrivals, family members would come out from doorways to greet them with calls of "Merry Christmas" and "I'm so glad you could come!"

Even the cab drivers seemed joyous. He could hear one, surely an opera singer, belting out the Hallelujah Chorus through his open car window.

It was exciting heady stuff to be out in humanity sharing love for mankind amid the lights and the snow. Then the camera stopped, holding back from the carolers and Nat watched their retreating backs with a sense of loss. The view turned to an old walk-up and closed in on a particular window several stories up.

Curtains fluttered and the camera entered the room. Nat saw a comfortable living room, then the image panned in on Percy seated on an overstuffed chair. What was it about Percy that made him of such interest?

Nat searched the scene for Laura and found her seated, playing with a doll just beyond the chair. Percy and his wife, Henrietta, were in quiet conversation in the forefront.

"I can't help wondering if this will be our last Christmas together, Perce."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Henri. I'll get a donor, you wait and see."

"The doctors said you need that kidney right away. There isn't much time left to find a match."

"I'm thinking of asking Nat." He beamed with that annoying smile.

The woman laughed, a painful aching sound. "Don't take optimism to a new high. He wouldn't give you an old pair of shoes, much less a kidney. And even if he were the generous sort, and you know he's far from that, there's no guarantee it would be a match."

"With dialysis, I've still got time enough."

"I hope and pray there is time." A tear leaked from her eye, and she swatted it away as if it were a bothersome insect. "I feel like such a vulture, hoping that the next traffic accident will take—kill—someone so you can have life. I worry that I'll be punished for having such thoughts."

Tears now fell heedlessly from her face. "I worry that you'll be taken away from me and Laura, and I can't bear the idea. Oh, Percy. What will happen to us all?"

Percy took his wife into his arms. "Hush now. Everything will be all right. You'll see. Let's worry over this another time. It's Christmas Eve. Let's not spoil it by worrying over what if.

He kissed her tenderly, then blotted away her tears with his necktie. She smiled tremulously at him, then nodded and settled her head upon his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Percy."

The copier went black. Nat wondered if his heart was black as well. Dammit, why hadn't Percy told him? He was the only family Nat had left and surely he should have been the first to know. "I had no idea."

~~~~

Chapter Five

"Don't be hurt, Nat," Daphne said in gentle tones. As she'd watched the mortar drop from the wall he had built to protect his heart, she realized she'd been wrong about him.

His heart hadn't been too small—it had been too large. He'd convinced himself that such a barrier was a necessity to keep his soul from splintering. "Percy doesn't seem the type to share his burdens, he hides them beneath that wonderful grin of his, not wanting others to worry."

"He should have told me."

"If he had, what would you have done?"

"Done? Why, I'd have . . . " Damn, she was right, thought Nat. The words died on his tongue. What would he have done? Hell, he'd been planning to fire his only relation. Seeing the past and the present had changed him. As he'd been afraid it would. Now he began to feel grateful for the changes.

Yes, the world was filled with pain and sorrow, but dammit, he of all people was in a position to alleviate some of it. He'd worked his rear off amassing piles of money. Why shouldn't he use it now to benefit the people he cared about?

He'd been so self-centered, he hadn't been able to see how his actions affected others, hadn't wanted to care. It wasn't too late to change. Daphne had shown him that.

"I don't think I'd have been much help before meeting you, Daph. Now, I know exactly what to do. I'll have the blood work done up tomorrow."

"It's Christmas day."

"Yes, but that emergency room had doctors and nurses in it. If they're too busy, I know a plastic surgeon who's quite capable who can do it. He owes me a few favors anyway." As many women as he'd referred to the man, Doc Hanover owed him a lot. Then it hit him. The point she made about it being Christmas day. He looked at her and knew his expression was sheepish, but there was nothing he could do to turn it off. "I'll wait until the next normal business day, then. That hospital looked like it could use a new wing or two anyway. How about if I call it the Daphne Kidney Research Hall?"

She looked at him curiously for a moment, then shook her head. "Leonard Hall."

Nat smiled. "You got it. Let's go to my office so I can make plans."

Within moments they were back in his lair. Daphne crossed the room and poured herself another shot. Nat's life was more painful than she'd ever imagined. Would she have turned out any differently if her circumstances had been similar? Growing up, his only emotional support had come from hired staff. Was it any wonder he couldn't believe love was lasting?

Nat had always been incredibly magnetic, but now she felt as though they'd undergone a battle together and come out safely. It drew them closer than she'd thought possible. She knew him in a way no other person did and it frightened her at the same time it bound her to him.

When he'd made his one attempt to love a woman, he'd chosen badly, based on her image rather than the quality of her heart. And now, having watched the consequences of hiding his heart, he had to face the very things he'd most wanted to avoid: caring for someone often meant experiencing pain as well. It was the price people paid for living fully. Unfortunately, Nat had never received the rewards.

This was a stinking job.

She looked across the room at him. When they'd returned, Nat had gone right to work at his desk, making marks in his little calendar, oblivious to her and his surroundings. A bell tinkled and Leonard appeared by her side.

"You need to cut back, Daphne," the angel chided her gently. "Drinking won't solve anything."

"You're right, I know. But I needed it." She watched Nat. He hadn't shifted, hadn't noticed her talking with Leonard. Hearing the sound of harp strings, her gaze shot back to Leonard who gave her an innocent look.

Reaching down to take another gulp of whiskey, she saw that the color was off. She took a tentative sip. Lemonade.

With a twinkle in his eye, Leonard said, "If life gives you lemons . . . "

"What a joker."

"While Nat's occupied, I thought you might like to look at a couple of other possibilities for you. There's a television actress in Hollywood—"

"I can't do it now. There's still a lot to be done and Nat needs me." Had watching what had shaped Nat changed her too? No matter how she tried to stir up interest in the selection of her new body, she couldn't find it. Instead, she wanted to remain here with Nat, to help him cope with all he'd learned. His lessons weren't complete yet, and he needed someone—her—to interpret things for him. To help him understand.

"You'll have plenty of time to help him after we return." Leonard offered his hand. She reluctantly grasped it. Immediately, the familiar dizziness enveloped her and when she regained her senses, she found they were in a small living room with a young woman seated on the floor, wrapping Christmas gifts. "Can she see us?"

Leonard shook his head, "She can neither see nor hear us. Her name is Terry Montgomery. She's wrapping toys for the kids at the mission. Her soul has a very special place reserved in heaven."

"She looks perfectly healthy."

"An illness will not claim her. I'm afraid that Terry has a weakness for men in leather."

"What?" Daphne couldn't have heard right.

Leonard nodded. "She'll die due to a head injury suffered during fisticuffs at the local, um, I believe it's called a biker bar?"

Daphne watched Terry wrapping another gift. "Oh my—goodness. She looks so normal. She's not . . . strange, is she?"

"Heavens, no," Leonard said reassuringly. "Terry just likes life with a dash of risk. She also has other advantages."

"And what would those be?"

Leonard's eyes twinkled. "She . . . lives in New York City rather than a more remote location."

Daphne crossed her arms. "Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything?"

"Sometimes these things are best left to fate. Now, I have two other choices for you to see. Shall we go?"

Nodding acceptance, she kept her gaze on Terry. Thankfully, Daphne didn't see any tattoos. Although life with a modicum of risk was her preference, a tattoo would be more than even she could tolerate.

The dizzy movement swept them up again, and when it ceased, Daphne now found herself outside on the street. "Where are we?"

"Another of your choices is due along any moment." Leonard peered to his left. "Ah, here she is now."

Daphne saw an incredibly beautiful woman walking toward them, grace in every step of her model-long legs. In the woman's left hand was a dog leash and a darling schnauzer scooted along with her. To her right, a handsome business man, dressed in an expensive looking cashmere coat smiled at the woman indulgently.

"I could be her?"

Leonard nodded. "She's lovely, isn’t she? And the gentleman is her husband."

"Oh, gosh. I never imagined it would be so hard to pick, to make a decision." She'd also never imagined that she could look good enough to grace the covers of the TV Guide. But could she learn to love Mr. GQ? "I think I'd prefer to choose my own husband. I want to fall in love."

"There's one more for you to see. Shall we?"

Daphne could almost get used to Leonard's form of travel. No plane tickets, no bus schedules. Just decide where you're going and, bingo, you've arrived.

They'd settled in a warm coffee shop lined with booths and a row of chairs in front of a long counter. Leonard pointed at the counter.

Daphne saw a buxom woman serving coffee and advice to a female customer. With an obvious Texas accent, the waitress drawled, "You'll have nothing to do with him if you're smart."

"Which one do you mean?" asked Daphne.

"The waitress, Elizabeth McGuire."

Daphne saw the customer shrug, then reply, "I guess I'm not very smart, Lizzy."

"It's Christmas. Anything could happen. For Christmas I'm giving you a present—smarts. Dump the jerk." She grinned, then turned and grabbed a piece of pie to place in front of another customer.

"Do you like Elizabeth?" asked Leonard.

How could she tell anything about any of these women? They all seemed acceptable choices. With a cringe, she thought of Terry. Maybe some candidates were more acceptable than others. But she couldn't imagine waking up in the morning and seeing any image other than her own in the bathroom mirror.

She'd seen four women so far, four women whose shoes she could try to fill. Not only did the thought depress her, she just wanted to get back to Nat.

"Tell you what, Leonard," she finally said. "Forget about how the women look. Find me someone who's good hearted. That's the most important thing. I'm sure I'll be happy with your choice."

"Are you certain?"

Daphne bit back a laugh. "No, I have a feeling there's no such thing as certainty. It's the best I can do."

She looked deeply into the angel's blue eyes. "I trust you, Leonard. You'll know when you find the right choice for me."

Was that a tear almost falling from his eyes? Could angels cry? "Unexpected insight, and from such a young woman. The Angelic Council selected wisely."

"An hour ago I hadn't known what was really important."

Again, Leonard worked his magic, promptly returning them to Nat's office.

"Don't short change yourself, my dear," the angel said. "You had it in you all along. Now keep at the young man, and I'll be back when it's time for you to leave."

"Wait. What's going to happen? To Nat? To me?"

Leonard gave her a perplexed look, then his features smoothed. "When you leave?"

She nodded.

"Nat won't remember all this, won't remember you or your role in helping him. However, he will remember the lessons he's learned and we're hopeful he'll put them into practice."

"And me? Will I remember?"

Leonard shook his head. "If your transformation is to be complete, then you'll become the person whose body you've entered. Her memories, her past, will merge with your own. Yet your future will be shaped by who you are, rather than who she was. It will be yours to make with it what you will."

"So I won't remember heaven. I won't remember you. I won't remember Nat." A momentary panic seized her. "This is all so frightening, like jumping from a tall building without a net below. Will I still be me?"

Leonard smiled. "You couldn't be anyone but you. Don't worry, Daphne. Have faith."

Then, with a twinkling of his eye, his form faded until all that was left were wisps of white cloud, then nothing. Daphne glanced at Nat. He was still intent, making jots and notations, apparently not even noticing that she'd been gone.

"Nat?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up.

"What's happening?"

He lifted his head and met her eyes. "Happening? I'm making plans for when the stores and banks open. I don't want to forget anything."

What a contrast. He was making plans for his life, his future, while she prepared to leave hers behind. Intellectually, she could accept the idea that it's the soul that defines a person, but it seemed so peculiar to separate herself from the body she'd always known, the container of her soul. She was lucky to have the chance to go on. From what Leonard had said, it didn't happen often. But she'd love to take a moment to whine, to pray that somehow, someway, she'd be able to remain as she was. However, it wasn't to be. Even she could see that what Leonard and the Council had planned was best for all parties. But she didn't have to like it or look forward to it.

She grabbed the lemonade and downed it in one large gulp, the bittersweet taste fitting her mood in a way nothing else could.

"Nat, I know I told you I didn't want anything, but I would like a favor."

"What do you need? Money? A house?"

She shook her head. "I told you, I'm not staying here, my body is only temporary. It's just that I'm worried about my parents. Could you—would you make a note in your book to check on them?"

She looked into her empty glass. "I'd feel more comfortable knowing that someone would look after them, make sure they're okay."

When she glanced back at Nat, she knew her eyes had filled with tears but she was hopeless to stop the flow. "It's unlikely I'll ever see them again."

"You got it."

She gave him their names and the address of their farm in Arkansas. He made a note. "So, you're Daphne Jones?"

"No, that's my stepfather's name."

He waited. "So, are you going to tell me yours?"

She shook her head. There was no way on earth she'd tell him her last name. It was too humiliating. Oppenwiedski wasn't a name that could pass without comment. "I think Leonard would prefer I keep it to myself."

Nat shrugged. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No. Checking on my folks is more than enough." She wiped her face with the back of her hands. "Thank you."

"It's a small price to pay for what you've given me."

"I haven't done it, Nat. Only you can change yourself. I'm just here to help in case you need someone while you're reexamining your life. And you've helped me as well."

"Me?" Nat seemed surprised.

"You have!" She leaned forward. "I wouldn't have been ready to accept my new life if I hadn't had this time with you. Reevaluating is good for the soul, and I'm discovering myself in the process. Before, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what was important. Now I know and can take that with me. I guess I'm saying that you're my friend and I'll miss you."

"Having a friend is new for me, Daphne. I just wish you didn't have to leave, could stay with me always."

"Why? So you can chase me around your office?" She giggled. "I think I could do without that part."

"Very funny." Nat gave her a serious look, so intent she could feel it down to her toes. "I wish you could stay. Always. I don't think I can do this without you. I need you. Can't you ask Leonard?"

"It's not his, or my, choice to make."

"If it was yours, what would you decide?" Did she see in his gaze a mixture of expectancy and hope?

Daphne, for one of the few times in her life, felt shy, bashful. "I think I'd like to stay, too."

Nat rewarded her with a melting smile, one she'd never seen on his face before. The wide curve of his masculine lips revealed tips of white teeth in stark contrast to his tanned face. His smile washed through her and touched her in the one place he hadn't previously gained access. It touched her soul.

She gasped in a gush of air. The clarity of the moment was unlike any she'd experienced in the past. Now she knew the consequences of their time together, now she knew the real danger.

Nat reached her on many levels and she was in serious danger of losing her heart. It was hard enough to leave before, but how could she blithely go when she'd be saying goodbye to him forever? Had she exceeded what the Angelic Council asked of her? Had she given Nat her love?

Had she done the unthinkable? Had she fallen in love with a man she was destined to leave? Surely not, she tried to convince herself. Surely it was just the enforced intimacy of their situation, the sharing on a level most people don't experience outside of marriage. Surely it was illusion and not real love at all.

But what if she were wrong? What if she loved him? Daphne struggled with her emotions, determined to check them, bring them into control. This couldn't be love. Love was what her mother and stepdad had, in the small looks and blushes, the way they held hands, the knowing that you're a better person because you have the other.

If this wasn't love, it sure was a close imitation. Jumping from her chair, Daphne moved restlessly about Nat's office, hoping to distract her thoughts. If she didn't admit it, there was a chance it would go away when she gained time and perspective to look at things.

*

Nat threw down his pen and stood up. There's no way he'd admit it to her, but he'd noticed that she'd left. At first, a desperation had seized him. She'd given up, left him, and he was alone. Again. He'd railed against the angel who could so lightly introduce Daphne into his life and then take her away, erasing all traces except the decorated office tree.

Even the tree had looked forlorn.

Then, somehow, someway, he'd felt his fears evaporate. He'd known Daphne would come back to him. Where she belonged. When she'd returned, he'd known it by her fragrance, the scent that wrapped around his senses—alluring, enchanting and impossible to ignore.

He hadn't wanted her to know. So, he'd made a show of writing in his planner. But he couldn't resist her any longer.

Walking over to reach her side, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her soft curls. It couldn't be wrong that he needed her, needed to feel her yielding curves against the hardness of his body, needed to know that she belonged to him.

So he lowered his lips to hers. Her mouth was hot, lush, welcoming. Ambrosia to a man who'd never tasted anything but ashes.

"Leonard's not around, is he?" Nat asked between kisses.

"No. He won't be back for awhile."

Nat didn't reply; he didn't need to. He let his hands splay against her back, pulling her closer. Running his lips down her cheek and neck, he nibbled at the soft hollow at the base of her neck. She had to be flesh and blood, just like any other woman, for he could feel the blood rushing through her body, could hear her soft exhalations.

This wasn't some temporary body. It was real and true and Daphne. Daphne, whom he wanted to love in every way possible between a man and a woman.

Groaning, he brought his lips back to hers. His fingers gently slipped the thin strips of fabric off her shoulders and slowly lowered the neckline of her dress.

She whimpered, and he knew it wasn't from fear but from passion. "I need you, Daphne."

"I need you, too."

"You belong in my arms, in my bed, in my life." He lowered his palms to cover her firm breasts, felt her nipples harden at his touch, felt her breathing become ragged. He whispered, "I need you, Daphne. Promise you won't leave me again."

She gasped for air. "I don't want to go. I'll stay as long as I can, Nat. But this—we—what we've become, isn't meant to be. It's just madness, the way we've been thrown together. It can't last."

"How can I risk everything I've believed in if it's not supposed to last? Tell me that." He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm feeling things I've never felt before and you say it's not real?"

Daphne looked at him sadly. "I don't have any answers."

"I want you so much I ache, Daph. That's got to be lasting."

Pulling back, he saw that her eyes had puddled with tears. "I don't care what Leonard said. You have to stay. There has to be a way to make him understand."

She shook her head. "Oh, Nat. I never thought you'd believe in something you can't see. You do believe, don't you?"

"I think I believe." He pushed away from her. "And what's it getting me? A woman I can't have. What's the point? Getting kicked in the heart? If this is what Leonard and your Angelic Council wanted, they can take a flying leap."

Daphne reached out and took his hand, running it across her soft face. He gazed into her eyes, looking for answers and finding they all hurt. If he believed in love, he was certain he'd love her more than he'd ever love another woman. Wasn't that enough? She was as good as they came and she couldn't stay in his life?

It couldn't be love. It was self interest, surely? She made him feel good, like he had it in him to be a wonderful, caring, giving person. A person who could be looked at with respect. She made him hot. Hotter than he'd ever been for another woman. Hot enough to make him long to be whatever it was she wanted him to be, because he'd find salvation and redemption in her arms, in her body, and in her soul. Dammit. Why couldn't he love her, even just a little, if that would make it all real.

Why couldn't she stay and let him love her as a woman should be loved by a man? He wanted to spend hours learning her body, making her respond to his touch, making her scream in delight from their lovemaking. He wanted her to be near him when he did something good so he'd know it pleased her. He wanted her to laugh at his jokes and make him chuckle from her sassy attitude.

She was a woman in a million and, dammit, he wanted to believe in love so he could love her.

But if it was transitory—impermanent as she said it was—would it be so wrong to pretend for a few minutes, a few hours? To taste the nectar of her love and pretend anything was possible?

He'd never have to pay the price for taking her love. If she loved him, she wouldn't leave. She'd find a way to stay. If love was real it was forever, and not just for a few hours.

She was right. It couldn't be love but it was as close as he'd ever come in this lifetime and he'd be a royal idiot if he passed it up.

He led her to the sofa and pulled her down to join him on the soft pillows. "Love me, Daphne."

~~~~

Chapter Six

Daphne did love Nat. Impossibly, stupidly, blindly—she loved him. She wanted him as she'd never wanted another man. It didn't matter that she'd be leaving within hours. Right now, this moment, she was filled with the love she could give Nat.

She snuggled into the gap between his neck and shoulder, a spot as secure and perfect a fit as if it had been exactly designed for her. He smelled of mint and perspiration—and desire.

He kissed her, at first tender and gentle. Then he bit gently down on her lower lip, dragging it into his mouth to suck. His tongue came forward to claim hers and she was lost. Her body screamed yes, her hearted screamed yes, and she heard herself whispering yes.

If she was to go on to another life, she'd know Nat's passion first. It was there in each feature on his face, in his expression when he looked at her, in the way he played her body like a harp. She loved the way he stroked her skin, as if she were precious to him.

His fingers worshiped her breasts, gliding over her nipples until they budded. He lowered his lips, and she felt his heated tongue through the lace on her strapless bra, licking then nibbling each breast in turn.

He lifted her hand and licked her fingertips, then took each one into his mouth and sucked lightly. Her stomach tightened in response. Desire for him had robbed her of softness, had seized each of her muscles in preparation and anticipation of so much more.

Turning her hand palm up, he looked directly in her eyes as he kissed the tender spot at the bottom of her wrist, sending sparks shooting throughout her body. His lips caressed her palm, an incredibly sexy action and yet so simple. Her body arched toward him, aching with her need. He took her other hand and gave it the same tender caresses, the evaporation leaving trails of magic in the soft breeze created by his breath.

His lips worked up the inside of her arm, then claimed the soft spot at the base of her neck. She exhaled, her breath surprisingly dry. His soft moan was erotic, filling her with a sense of her power over his response. Fireflies danced inside her, sending out zings of static along her spine.

She ran her hands over his torso, feeling the steel core beneath his shirt, wanting to memorize the feel of him. Slipping her hand between buttons, she sizzled at the impact of her skin upon his chest. He was so hot, burning up for her.

His breath now came in gasps, his desire for her tangible. She could almost hear his pulse throb through his arteries. The texture of the hair on his chest was crisp, spring like, ribbed with minute traces of dew. His skin smooth and supple, yet unyielding. Running her fingers through the web of hair, she pulled slightly, encouragingly.

Her other hand explored his back. His muscles flexed, fascinating her until she met his eyes and saw the blatant, greedy way he looked at her. He ran his arms behind her back and lowered his hands to cup her hips and draw her ever closer to his unyielding masculinity.

"I can't believe how much I want you," he said, his voice husky. "I want to taste and feel every inch of you."

He ran his hand down her thigh and she thought she'd come unhinged. Leaning forward, she allowed him to unzip her dress, then slowly pull it over her hips. It landed in a red puddle on the floor beside the sofa. His gaze, hot before, was a wildfire, devouring her body and soul.

She unbuttoned his shirt, then made a game of slowly pulling it off his wide shoulders. His torso rippled with well-developed muscle. When had he had time, during the long hours he'd spent making a fortune, to build such a perfect masculine body? A light sprinkling of hair dusted his pectorals, his nipples were as hard as nails, his entire chest forming a perfect vee leading down to a narrow waist and hips. She traced the vee with her thumbs, felt his slight tremble from her touch.

"Love me, Nat."

He smiled, a wicked delightful smile, then leaned forward. Kissing her neck, he tenderly removed her bra. Then his mouth closed over a breast and she cried out as an entire squadron of liquid fire shot through her body. She shook with uncontrolled need.

As he continued suckling, his hands circled her waist, then roamed lower, over her hips, then lower still. He thrust against her thigh and in spite of the rough texture and thickness of his trousers, she could feel evidence of his desire.

A quiver racked her abdomen, a reaction quick and natural as breathing. She needed him so badly. Rightly or wrongly, she wanted him. Feelings so strong couldn't be wrong. She loved him.

When his hand closed between her legs, it was all she could do to keep from screaming with pleasure. In one swift movement, he slipped away the panties separating them.

She didn't think she could breathe. He felt so good and she ached furiously. His mouth came up to claim hers again, while his fingers worked their magic.

Heat coursed through her, so intense she no longer remembered anything except Nat and the way he made her feel. She clutched his shoulders tightly, wanting him. Now. She couldn't wait any longer. "Hurry, Nat."

"Be patient, Daph. I'm going to love you as you've never been loved before." He stood and pulled off his clothes.

Daphne sucked in her breath when she saw the rest of him. The strength of those narrow tapered hips and the hard shaft that promised to relieve her need. She marveled at how much she wanted him and how satisfying the anticipation was. His thighs and legs were like a sculpture. In fact, his whole body was. Masculine, strong, and exquisitely proportioned.

Nat took a seat beside her on the sofa, then ran his fingertips gently over her face. "You're so beautiful." Then he leaned down and tenderly caught her lower lip between his teeth.

He skimmed his hands down her thighs and up again, raising goose pimples on her skin. Surrounding her with his minty masculine aroma, he lowered himself, wrapping her in a cloud of longing.

In a quick stroke, he entered her and she was on fire again. His hips thrust against hers then pulled back, again and again. She strained to meet him, thrust for thrust, need for need.

Abruptly, her world erupted into a zillion tiny splinters of kaleidoscopic color, like a prism burst upon the world, shards of crystal and hues so glaring that even a blind man must be able to perceive them.

Nat chanted her name as he swelled and exploded inside her. Her body tightened to welcome his release, and the knowledge filled her with joy.

He collapsed atop her, although she realized that even then he didn't allow her to take his full weight. They remained joined together, spent, sated, and yet neither willing to pull away.

She wanted to be with him always and forever. Moments trickled by; Nat's breathing calmed, evened, almost like the endless tick-tocks of a clock. Time. Oh, God. Time.

What had she done by allowing herself to be swept up by lust for him? By the desperation of knowing they'd soon be parted? How could she leave, knowing that more than anything in this world, she wanted him to love her again and again, wanted him to share his burdens with her, wanted him to look at her with eyes brimming with passion.

As he nestled against her, she wondered if she'd completely abandoned her mission. Sure, she'd taught him about love, but he'd taught her even more about lovemaking. Somehow, she didn't think the Angelic Council had that in mind when they'd sent her here.

Trying to see his face, her eyes crossed and she kissed the tip of his nose. The clock on his desk sent a guilty reminder of the few hours they had left. Dread snared her. It was nearly time to show Nat the future, and then she'd leave. Why did time have to move so quickly?

Loving him couldn't be a mistake. And if, as Leonard had assured her, neither she nor Nat would remember anything, then there was little reason to feel guilty for loving him now. She'd loved him in every way she could. It wasn't a poor decision. It was her only choice.

Amazing how that could hurt. In her past, life had occasionally been painful but it had never prepared her for this feeling of being torn from the only life she wanted.

When their time together was over, she had a feeling that leaving was going to cost more than she'd ever imagined.

*

Nat watched her through passion-sated eyes. She was so beautiful and making love with her had been extraordinary. So why did he feel guilty? He reminded himself she planned to leave. So why did making love to her make it seem worse? After all, it was just a bodily urge. It had to be. Procreation.

The idea of planting his seed in Daphne's womb filled his mind. It felt so right, like it was the answer to all the questions that had plagued him since meeting her. If ever a woman was to gift him with a child, it had to be her. And she was leaving.

The thought nearly strangled him. He wrenched himself from her arms. Without a backward glance, he grabbed his pants and swiftly dressed. Willing his mind to remember that he'd used her before she could him, he couldn't summon up the belief, couldn't dismiss his guilt. He'd used her and she’d never intended to use him, just help him.

What was it about him that made him want to destroy every good thing that came into his life? Daphne. Percy. Even the few employees who'd seen behind his facade of indifference. He’d wanted them all to hurt.

It could stop now. He'd never reveal the truth to Daphne, never tell her that he still couldn't believe in love because if he did, he'd hurt her like the others. The pain would destroy her and every hope she ever had of finding love again.

Logic. He had to get back to rational thought. There was every indication that Daphne was exactly who she said she was: sent by Heaven to save his soul by teaching him where he'd gone wrong in his life. Okay, it was stretching it, but he could accept this was possible.

So, he'd change – in fact he already had. But, and this was a big but, this didn't mean he could love. Some people, particularly Daphne, probably could feel love. She was likely the exception rather than the rule. Heaven would find someone like her, someone who could love, to send out on a mission like this. There couldn't be too many people like her, though, not based on the people he'd known throughout his life.

Daphne loved him and this had filled him with heady power at first but now he felt the consequences of her love. Dread. Not to mention feelings of responsibility and overwhelming guilt.

You couldn't just go and get it on with an angel, or the next best thing to an angel – not if you didn't want to be filled with overwhelming guilt. What was he thinking? What kind of man was he?

He was the kind of man doomed to go straight to hell and he couldn't, he wouldn't, drag Daphne along with him. She was goodness personified, and assuming that was true, and he really thought it was, that meant that he, Nathaniel Danvers, was evil.

Evil. Evil touched by, taunted by, teased by – love.

If he told her the truth now, that he didn't love her, that he was incapable of any of the finer emotions, then his evil would destroy her. If he pretended to love her that also meant an ever greater pretence – that she'd been successful in her mission to save him. That he believed in things he couldn't see. That he believed in goodness.

To a certain extent that was true, because he certainly believed in her and in so doing, that meant he believed Heaven existed. His deception about being able to love, then, wasn't such a big deal. It would only be a little lie. Daphne would believe she'd been successful in her mission and she'd be able to move on, helping other people or finding another life to live. She didn't need to know anything else. He wouldn't hurt her that way.

When she left, she'd be taking the last vestiges of his heart and he seriously doubted he could ever find it again.

They only had a little time left together. Surely he could pretend that long. Surely he could keep himself from hurting her. But, he prayed, let this be over soon.

Watching as she struggled back into her dress, he couldn't make himself say anything, some reassurance, some gesture to comfort her.

He'd changed, he'd grant her that. He'd learned the ramifications of his own behavior and how it affected the world at large. From this day forward, he'd think of others besides himself. He'd remember the innocents like the children beneath the bridge and little Laura's smile.

There was only one flaw in Daphne's logic. To love, you have to have it in you and Nat knew now more than ever that he didn't.

He couldn’t love. He was a cold-hearted bastard and she was the dearest thing who ever lived. Just don't, he prayed, let her find out the truth. Don't let her discover he'd taken her love and her body because it would be the closest he'd ever come to having a heart of his own.

"I love you, Daphne."

She couldn't believe her good fortune. "I love you, too, Nat. I've experienced love before, but nothing like this."

He smiled, sending a shaft of warmth right to her heart.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"What does it mean?"

"It means you can now believe in something you can't see. Leonard will be thrilled." She was so excited, she decided to call for the angel. She suspected he'd be as delighted as she. She called out, "Leonard!"

Nat turned his head in the direction in which she'd called Leonard's name. "Oh, hi, Leonard. Are you ready to hear Daphne's good news?"

Why was he talking as if the angel was in the room with them? Leonard hadn't arrived—or had he? Maybe she'd lost the ability to see him, some kind of weird transference between her and Nat?

"Do you see him?" Her voice came out whispery, excited.

"Oh, ah, yeah. Don't you?"

No. That didn't make sense. Leonard still had to take her to claim a new body. Of course she'd be able to see him. It wasn't as if she'd stopped believing.

Understanding abruptly dawned on her. Nat was lying.

He didn't see Leonard because Leonard wasn't here. And if Nat was lying about that—then he was lying about everything. Surely not. Surely not everything.

"I don't see him. I don't think he's here, Nat. Why do you think he's here?" She held her breath, hoping Nat had a good explanation.

"I thought maybe that was him over there. I thought I saw some wispy smoke or something. You never told me what to look for."

Her heart almost broke. He wasn't telling the truth and if he wasn't truthful about Leonard, that meant he wasn't honest about—

He didn't love her, Daphne realized as she tried and failed to catch his gaze. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. The fact was clear because he couldn't look her in the eye.

She wasn't exactly sure why he was lying. Maybe he didn't want to hurt her, maybe he had come to care at least a little bit about her or he wouldn't bother. But not enough.

She wouldn't cry. He couldn't help it any more than she could help the sun rising in the morning. He couldn't help it any more than she could help loving him.

If only she could have reached him. She'd hungered for his redemption, knowing she must leave and yet hoping that her heartache would be worthwhile. The Heavenly Council had sent her because they thought she could get through to him—and perhaps it was still possible.

It wasn't too late. Maybe she had expected too much too soon. The best thing was to continue with the agenda Leonard had laid out and keep the faith.

"It's time again." Sighing, hoping that something in the future would bring about the change Nat needed, she leaned over his desk to flick on the switch that would fire up his computer. She wasn't quite sure which was the correct button to press, and besides, she didn't want him to see the way her hands shook. "I can't figure out how to turn it on."

"What? Not the VCR?"

"Leonard's nothing if not diverse."

He didn't look happy about it, but he punched the button firing up his computer nonetheless. Daphne was curious about this computer. It was so small. When she'd been alive, they were just starting to come up with tiny enough parts to allow something smaller than a mainframe. But this was compact. It was in color. It played music, for heaven's sake.

The refrain from Beethoven's Fifth filled the room, emanating from the computer on Nat's desk. If Leonard hadn't explained that there had been incredible advances since her lifetime, she would have thought it angelic magic as well.

"What now?"

She bit her lip, trying to recall Leonard's explicit instructions. "Go to File Manager and click on Angel." She was pretty sure that was right.

Beside his computer, he moved a little gadget that resembled a small rat with a long tail. How weird. Would she ever get used to such advanced technology?

Still unable to meet her gaze, he asked, "What's next?"

"Your future." She returned to her chair at the conference table, no longer able to keep pretending she didn't care and wasn't hurt.

"Aren't you going to watch?"

She rubbed the cold marble surface, its hard smooth exterior so like Nat's. Her finger stumbled on a tiny fissure.

"Please?" he asked, his expression bleak. Her resolve crumbled. It didn't matter if he loved her. She loved him enough for both of them. He needed her.

She got up and walked behind his desk, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "I'm here."

He reached up to wrap her hand in his. "You're the best there is, Daphne, and I—" His voice faltered. "I don't deserve you."

"Sure you do, Nat ol' boy." She retreated behind her flip persona, glad for the safety it provided. "I've been sent directly from heaven. If they say you deserve me, then by golly, I expect you do."

The computer screen sprang to life, the speakers shouting out, "Good Morning, Vietnam!"

The future sounded an awful lot like her past. Her gut clenched, the voice being reminiscent of a disc jockey filling the airwaves when she'd been in Nam. Then the screen filled with images of Henrietta and little Laura.

Henri stood in front of a suitcase seated on a bed. She slowly folded clothing, placing it in the case while Laura sat stoically beside her, eyes wide, face expressionless.

"You'll love Michigan, Laura. We'll live with Grandpa in a real house, not an apartment like this. Can you imagine? A backyard with a swing set of your own and even a sandbox."

Laura blinked but didn't answer.

Henri's face crumpled. She dropped the gown she folded on the bed and placed her hands on each side of Laura's face. "Oh, pet, I just wish you would say something. Anything. Or even smile."

A tear leaked from the child's eyes. "When Daddy went to heaven, he took my smiles."

Henri kissed the tear, then cloaked the child in her arms. "I know, dear, he took mine too. But I promise, someday we'll both smile again. Daddy wants us to be happy. Remember your promise?"

"I remember, Mommy, but I hurt so much."

"It's best to share it, let it out. Daddy always told us that."

"He was funny, wasn't he? Always laughing and teasing us. I like to remember him like that."

"That's what he wants us to remember. And, Laura, we may not see him, but I know he's still here with us. He's here in our hearts and in our souls."

Laura nodded sagely. "We'll have to tease each other for him."

"That's right."

"I understand about selling our things, Mommy."

Henri pulled back a little. "What do you understand?"

"I heard you talking with . . . cousin Nat, Mr. Danvers." She patted her mother's face. "Don't be sad. You can have my piggy bank to pay the hospital."

"That's so sweet, honey. I appreciate your offering to help, but I'm sure I'll find some way to pay it all back. There are funds and charities set up for people that don't have insurance."

"Why did Mr. Danvers take away Daddy's job?"

The older woman covered her face with her hands. "I wish I knew. The man is cruelty personified. Percy was the kindest person alive and that he could be related to that monster is incredible." She dropped her hands. "Let's not think about him, okay?"

As Laura nodded, her face faded into shadow. Then the screen came alive again. It showed Nat's office. Here was the marble conference table. There was the bar. Then the view panned in on Nat, seated behind his desk. He scrawled his name across a paper, then pushed it aside and grabbed another document from a stack and signed his name once more.

*

Nat held tightly to Daphne's hand as he watched himself on the monitor. By the new lines on his face, he had aged a year, maybe two, but he still looked virile and fit. For once, he'd gotten his money's worth. The future Nat wore the same tie he'd worn this day.

The sound of a man's raised voice erupted over the computer speakers. Then he heard a loud bang, like the sound of a gunshot. The future Nat stood, clearly wondering what was going on. Dropping his pen, he strode toward the door.

It flew open before he reached it. Nat halfway expected it to be Daphne, the scene was so reminiscent of tonight. But instead, it was a man, Dawson Smith, an employee in the distribution department at Danvers and Son. In his hand, he held a gun.

In the background, Nat could see his secretary with a look of horror on her face. Why didn't she move? Call security like she'd been trained?

The camera angle widened and Nat saw the answer. His security chief, Curtis, lay bleeding on the floor in the outer office, his face pale from loss of blood.

He watched himself become as white faced as the security man. "Put down the gun, Smith."

Instead, Smith took careful aim. Took a bead on Nat's forehead.

"You think you can play God, don't you, Danvers? You think you can just snatch away jobs without any consequences. Well, you thought wrong."

"Let's talk about it, Smith. If you have a problem, maybe I can help."

Smith was past the point of reasoning. "Talk won't pay the bills. Talk won't make my wife come back to me. No, Danvers. It's time you paid for the lives you've destroyed.

"You know what? People will thank me. I'll probably be a public hero." Smith laughed wildly, then pulled back the hammer on the deadly revolver trained on Nat's face. "All because I had the courage to blow a hole through your nasty little head."

The image disappeared from the monitor.

Nat's hand squeezed Daphne's then released it. He spun his chair to look at her. "What the hell is this?"

She looked at him solemnly. "I believe it's your future, Nat."

"Surely, this isn't set in stone? I can do something to keep it from happening?"

Daphne shook her head. "I don't know. I'd think that you could, but I don't know." She pointed back to the computer.

Nat turned unwillingly, to see another scene, wondering if he'd just watched the prelude to his own death. The monitor showed the 49th Street Bridge again, a crisp rainy night. Below the bridge was a flicker of firelight and the focus closed in on it.

The father was there as before, cooking something over the fire, but his face looked closed, drawn, even thinner than before. A small hand reached out to stroke the father's craggy face. Nat saw the little girl, Sue.

"It smells good, Poppa."

The father nodded at her and poked at the embers. The view widened. The two were there alone. Where was the mother? Where was Harry, the little boy?

The girl pulled a dirty envelope from under her sweater and tentatively offered it to her father.

The man's lips quivered but he took the envelope and slit it open with his finger. Nat watched the man's hand shake wildly as he pulled out a magazine clipping. It was the picture of a well-dressed man in a business suit.

The father coughed, trying to work up enthusiasm for the girl's gift, but the coughing filled his chest and lungs.

The girl wrapped her arms around him. "Time for more medicine, Poppa. Where is it?"

He gestured toward his upper pocket. She pulled a bottle from beneath the layers of grimy clothing and uncorked it, then held it to her father's lips.

He took a long swig. "I'm better now, Sue. You've given me a fine gift. I'll dream well tonight."

"I know you will, Poppa. Here, now," she pulled his head into her lap. "Close your eyes and rest. We'll dream together."

He reached up and patted her cheek. "We'll dream of last Christmas and how we were still all together. We'll dream of your Momma and Harry. We'll dream of our family."

Nat felt tears spilling from his eyes and he didn't care. Somehow, this family had broken through the ice contracting his heart. He'd genuinely cared for them and how they'd had their dreams and love. Now it was shattered. He had to do something. There had to be a way to change destiny. Looking up, he saw that Daphne had taken a seat on his desk top, her face buried in her hands.

His jaw clenched. "I promise you, Daph, this won't happen. This is something I know I can change."

"I'm not so certain you can."

"At the very least, I can make sure they aren't living under a bridge, that they're well fed and dressed. I may not be able to do much else, but that I can do." He ran his hand through her dark curls. "And, if I can change that, it means that everything is subject to change. Think it through logically and you'll see I'm right."

She removed her hands and lifted her tear ravaged face. "Do it now, Nat. Do it now."

He grabbed the telephone receiver, intending to do exactly as she directed, then grimaced. The line remained dead. "No dial tone."

She jumped off the desk and grabbed his arm. "There's got to be a phone somewhere in this building that works. I intend to find it."

"Wait, Daphne." He pointed at the computer which was alive with visions of Christmas in the city, life continuing as before. "There appears to be more."

Her lips tightened, but she nodded. "We'll do it as soon as this is over. Promise?"

"I promise, Daphne. I'll note it in my planner and no matter what, I'll take care of that family."

She smiled and flung her arms around his neck. "I trust you to keep your word. Thank you."

Her words bit into his conscience. She trusted him. Watching her settle back onto his desktop, he saw emotions skitter across her face. She was so obvious, nothing hidden or secretive about her.

A chink appeared in the chain around his chest, a link parted, fell away. Nat felt it as surely as if he'd been plunged into an ocean of freezing water. Something happened inside him. An opening. An awareness.

Another link fell, and then another. Aware the future was being revealed on the monitor, aware he was missing it and whatever messages heaven intended for him, he still couldn't tear his gaze away from Daphne's dear face.

Then it hit him with all the clarity of a knife puncturing his chest. He did believe. Good heavens. He believed. He believed because he loved Daphne. Loved every inch of her impish soul.

Reaching forward, he snapped off the power button on his monitor. Daphne squealed. "Turn it back on!"

"I love you, Daphne."

"What?" Her eyes darted from the monitor to him.

"I love you, Daphne-With-No-Last-Name." He stood up then climbed on his chair and swung out his arms. "I love you, Daphne!"

She giggled.

"Stop giggling. I'm serious."

"Sure you are."

Jumping down from his chair, he grabbed her shoulders then tenderly brushed his rough face against her silken cheek. "You can trust me because I love you, Daph."

The pupils of her eyes dilated as she continued staring into his eyes. Now he could meet her gaze proudly, knowing that she'd see nothing in his soul besides the greatness of feeling he had for her.

Kissing her swiftly on the lips as a reassurance, he felt like singing. He took both of her hands into his own, then lowered one knee onto the floor beside her feet.

"Get up, silly. I can't see you down there."

"Nope. Can't get up until you give me your promise."

"What promise is that?"

"That you'll marry me, Daphne. Please, don't leave. Stay here and marry me. Have babies with me. Keep me on the straight and narrow." He gnawed at the interior of his cheek. "With you here, I know I'll be good and kind, Daph. I can do anything when you're beside me."

~~~~

Chapter Seven

Daphne slid down from the desk, landing between his legs. She ran her hand through his hair. Shifting, he captured her palm and kissed it.

"Nat, I'd like to make that promise." Nat watched the color leave her face. Her voice came out in a whisper. "But I can't."

He stood, then pulled her tightly into his arms, wondering why, when he'd finally learned to love someone more than himself, he had to lose her. And knowing it was best that she was leaving since someone as wonderful as she couldn't really love a man like him. He couldn't bear the idea of seeing revulsion on her face when she woke up to that fact. He didn't deserve her but that didn't make him want her any less.

The speakers on the computer came alive with music. Nat reluctantly released Daphne. She shifted to turn the monitor back on.

Now he saw a white-haired Maria, surrounded by her family at midnight mass. Amazingly, although it was apparent her voice was a whisper, he could hear the prayer she offered, could feel the pleading in her voice. "Please save my Lucinda. She's a good girl, really she is. But what's life got to offer her? If only I could find a way to send her far away from this place and all the drugs."

Her face and voice faded and were replaced by two men, deep in conversation. Nat saw that one was a police officer and the other was his Vice President of Development, Walter Coleman. Walter was probably the only employee under his wing that he'd considered indispensable.

Walter was also the only man he knew who was harder and colder than himself, and Nat had made it worth Walter's time to always look after Nat's best interests. It was a value system he'd fully understood. He'd bought and paid for Walter and they both knew it.

The two men stood in Nat's outer office, his secretary no longer on the scene. They appeared to be arguing.

"Take him out," insisted Walter. "He's killed our security chief and you can get him if you try."

"It's not safe. Hell, Danvers is his hostage. If I miss, Danvers is dead, and you know it."

"Smith could turn that gun on us at any time. Hurry and get him while you have the chance."

The policeman took a pace away from Nat's office door, but didn't follow Walter's directions.

What was it Walter wanted anyway, wondered Nat. Why rush the officer when he clearly wasn't ready to act?

"Look, Coleman." The cop's voice was raspy, deep, angry. "I know my job and I'll thank you to leave me the hell alone to do it."

"While you sit on your ass, trying to decide what to do, Smith is making plans to get away." Walter leaned directly into the officer's face. "I expect you to do the job, or I'll get someone in here who will."

Nat sat straighter in his chair. Perhaps he hadn't bought Walter lock, stock and barrel after all. Perhaps Walter thought of the corporate insurance policy that virtually assured him the slot as Nat's successor.

"You'll back off or I'll have you arrested, Coleman. I don't take this bull from anyone, and certainly no panty-legged corporate yes-man." The officer ordered, in a voice not to be argued with, "Back off."

Rather than following orders, Walter grabbed the officer's gun from his holster and darted toward the open door into Nat's office. He shot wildly into the room.

Nat heard a groan, then the camera moved into his office, showing the scene that hadn't been visible from the outer office. Smith clutched his left thigh with a blood soaked hand. In the other, he checked to make sure the hammer was fully cocked on his gun.

"See you in hell, Danvers."

He pulled the trigger.

At the burst of the gun, Nat's computer monitor simultaneously exploded, throwing shatters of glass into the air like a hailstorm. Yelling, he flung himself over Daphne to protect her from the shards and bursts of electricity that shot into the air. Within seconds, the longest seconds he'd ever lived through, the computer stopped spewing.

*

Leonard took his place at the great table in the Hall of the Angelic Council. The other angels seated about the round table had guarded expressions on their faces.

Only Gabriel smiled, his posture relaxed, his brilliant white feathers glowing in the holy light. A number of rolled up scrolls lay on the table in front of Michael, and he sat intently reading one.

Lines of worry creased David's face as he suggested the meeting get started.

Leonard unwound the scroll he'd brought containing information about Daphne and Nat. He issued a silent prayer that the Angelic Council would find it in their power to help the young humans.

"Please state your case, Leonard."

"As you are aware, Daphne was sent to help Nathaniel reexamine his past, prior to taking up her new life. At the time the decision was made, the Council felt there was little risk in this undertaking for Daphne would remain with Nathaniel for only a few hours."

Leonard cleared his throat. "Once again, I fear the Council miscalculated."

The great hall filled with voices, resonating against the marble and echoing the sound with increased volume as it bounced through the cavernous room.

Michael stood. "Silence."

Immediately, his word was obeyed.

"Explain yourself, Leonard." Michael regained his seat.

"By throwing two healthy young people together in close circumstances, with the facility to learn more about each other due to the intensity of the mission, I am convinced they've achieved what few mortals have. True love. A binding of the souls." Leonard paused, waiting for their reaction.

"How can this be?" asked David. "Nathaniel is far from Daphne's ideal. She's a good child. I'm afraid the same cannot be said for Nathaniel."

"When they first met, that was true. But, by the very nature of her task, Daphne has been instrumental in reshaping and refining Nathaniel's core. She, in essence, evoked all that was good and fine in Nathaniel."

There was a mixed chorus of "hosannahs" and "surely nots" from the angels at the table. Undaunted, Leonard stood and continued. "May I remind you these were the very traits that led this Council to choose to intercede on his behalf? In doing so, and in learning the painful experiences that led Nathaniel from his promising course, Daphne has fallen in love with the new man he has become . . . As long as she is there to continue with her guidance it is my belief their love will grow along with their spiritual growth."

There, he'd presented his argument. He took his seat.

As usual when Gabriel was worried, his wings fluttered as if stirring the air would blow away the problem. Silence reigned in the great hall. Gabriel's wings stilled. He smiled. "What is your recommendation, Leonard? You know these young people far better than we."

Again, Leonard cleared his throat. "If it is possible to allow Daphne to remain?"

"Impossible," shouted Michael. "I thought we made it very clear that her body is temporary. We have no control over these matters."

"Then I don't see what can be done. However, in your wisdom, perhaps you can find a way for these souls who belong together to remain that way? Perhaps Nathaniel could be placed into a body along side Daphne? Perhaps they should be given the option of joining each other in heaven?"

Leonard's voice broke. "I cannot bear the idea of tearing the two of them apart. Oh, you who are infinitely wiser than I, I beseech you. Please, find another answer."

Michael consulted Gabriel. He circled the table, in whispered dialogue with the other angels. Returning to his chair beside Gabriel, he shook his head.

Gabriel spread his hands, then fisted them. "I cannot see another path other than that we've chosen, Leonard. Surely, they cannot love each other in such a short time? Surely you've misunderstood what you've seen. Perhaps Daphne and Nathaniel feel drawn to each other merely by their circumstances. Remove them from each other and the symptoms will disappear. Unless and until you can present us with something more tangible, the previous decision of this Council shall remain in effect."

Leonard wanted to argue. Wasn't belief in something intangible what they'd wanted Nathaniel to learn in the first place? And, having learned that, would they then turn their backs on him? He reminded himself that the Council had been chosen by the Highest of the High and His infinite wisdom would steer the Council to making the right choice.

The Council must be correct and Leonard was wrong. Despite appearances to the contrary, Daphne and Nathaniel did not belong together. Once Daphne took up her new life, Leonard would comprehend why the Council had acted as they had.

*

Daphne twisted out from beneath Nat. "Heav-y."

"Sorry." Nat stumbled to his feet amid the shards of glass. "I didn't mean to crush you."

"I didn't mean you're heavy; I meant the situation."

"Oh." He brushed a sliver of glass from her hair. "You okay?"

Daphne nodded.

"Let's go see if we can find a phone." Nat grabbed her hand and pulled her out the office door. First he checked his secretary's phone. It was as dead as his own.

Entering Walter's office, Daphne lifted a receiver. "Nothing."

Joining hands again, they ran from room to room, office to office. Not one phone on the entire floor worked.

"I'd really like to do something for that family tonight, Daphne. Let's take the elevator down to security and see if the phones there are working."

As soon as the elevator doors swung open, they rushed inside, then Nat jabbed the button for the ground floor.

Within moments, they found the appropriate room. Nat swung the door open, revealing an empty control room filled with television cameras which monitored all access to the building as well as the showrooms, selected hallways and even the employee lunch room.

"Shouldn't a security man be in here?" asked Daphne, clearly mesmerized by the bank of monitors and electronic equipment. Then she giggled and pointed to a monitor. "Look."

Clearly depicted on the screen was Curtis, Nat's security chief, curled up on top of a Formica lunch table, soundly asleep. What the heck, it was Christmas. Besides, with all the security measures at Danvers and Son, he doubted there was any real risk.

"Must've been some rum punch."

Nat leaned over the desk and picked up the receiver. "Bingo. It's working." He tapped out a series of numbers.

Johnson answered on the third ring, his voice heavy with sleep. "Sorry to wake you, Johnson. It's Danvers. I need some help."

"It's after three in the morning," Johnson replied. Nat could hear the rustling of bedsheets. "You haven't been arrested, have you?"

"Hell, no."

"Damn. Thought I'd finally gotten my Christmas wish."

"Very funny. Got a pen and paper? You'll need to take notes." Nat gave him careful instructions about locating the homeless family, including orders to take them to a suite at a deluxe hotel near the office, to have them order anything they wanted from room service and to have the bill sent to him.

"Johnson," Nat added, "all the little boy really wants for Christmas is a puppy. A Dalmatian. Is there any chance you could find one for him?"

"I'll do my best. I hate the idea of a kid being disappointed."

He'd been correct in calling Fred Johnson. Somehow, Nat'd suspected that Johnson had a heart of gold. "If you can't find a Dalmatian, could you look for one with spots? I know it's a hardship, but I'd very much appreciate your help. Harry wants a spotted dog."

"Man, Danvers, have you been bitten by the Christmas spirit? You'll have to drink rum more often."

"Something like that. I'll talk with you later about making permanent arrangements for the family."

"Got it."

"And about giving you a well-deserved promotion."

"Th-thank you."

"And, Johnson?"

"Yes, sir?" he asked warily.

"Merry Christmas." Nat hung up with a huge grin on his face. Johnson had dropped the phone in amazement. Even better, little Harry might learn that sometimes life is fair, that dreams can come true.

*

Daphne watched as Nat spoke on the phone, proud of the changes he'd made in his life. However, she was far too aware of the clock above the monitors, tick-ticking away their remaining time together.

Not only did she hate the idea of leaving Nat, but also she worried about what her fate would be. Nat's future was now assured. He'd changed. But what of her future and what of the people in her past she'd never see again?

Leaving Nat made her think of other people she'd left behind. She'd never had a serious relationship with a man, but she'd cared deeply for her mother and stepfather. Nat had promised to make sure they were okay. Knowing she'd soon forget them along with Nat, she felt coldly empty inside. What was life without anchors?

Nat finished his calls, then turned to her and ran his palm through her hair. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just down over the whole thought of leaving in a few hours. I'll no longer be me."

He took her in his arms. "I can't imagine you being anyone but yourself."

Daphne snorted. "Leonard said something like that, too. But the fact remains, I won't be me. I'll be some other woman with a different history entirely. I'm going to miss you and I'm going to miss my family."

She watched Nat struggle with her leaving, his emotions reflected in his eyes. "I guess I'll have to be strong for both of us. I want you, Daph, more than I'll ever want another woman. I'm still hoping Leonard will let you stay. But if I've got to be strong, if that's part of loving you, then I'll be a marble pillar for you to lean on." He pulled her into his arms.

As had been the case from the beginning, Nat's embrace felt deeply right. Without hesitation, she knew she belonged in the circle of his arms. She'd had to be strong until now, but Nat's offer of sharing the burden was tempting. The ache deep in her heart was new to her. All her life she'd been strong and certain. Perhaps that was a legacy from her parents. "Nat, would you help me call my mom?"

He pulled back and looked at her with puzzlement. "I don't think you can do that. As far as she knows, you've been dead for over twenty years. She'd think you were a ghost or something."

"I know." Her voice broke. "But I want to hear her voice just once before I forget her. This is so hard, Nat. The Council didn't know the toll their request would take on my heart. I hate saying goodbye. I always have. I suspect it's something I have to learn about and I need to say my goodbyes to her."

Nat's jaw flexed. "I'll call her for you. I'll pretend to be an old boyfriend or something, and you can listen in. Will that do?"

Daphne nodded. "Just to hear her voice. Yes, please, Nat."

"What's the number?"

"You'll need the long distance operator. They live in El Dorado, Arkansas."

"You sure they're still there?"

"My mother would never leave her home." She gave him the phone number, mentioning that it was a party line and likely to have quite an audience.

"I don't think there are any party lines anymore, Daph. Our conversation should be private."

She smiled, remembering the nosey Mrs. Clooney. "Some people must be awfully disappointed by having their opportunities for gossip severely curtailed."

Nat laughed, then tensed. He signaled her to listen in. She leaned her head against his so she could share the receiver.

"Mrs. Jones?"

"Yes." Her voice sounded shaky, scared. Shoot. Daphne had forgotten they were getting her up in the middle of the night.

But Nat had it all under control. "I'm sorry to awaken you, Mrs. Jones, but this is Lieutenant Danvers. I knew your daughter before she was killed in Vietnam."

"Daphne? You knew her?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm about to be shipped overseas again and may never have another chance to call you. I was going through my old ... er ... rucksack, when I came across a letter Daphne once sent me. We were pals. It reminded me that I'd never called you at the time ... and ... So I'm calling now."

"I'm glad you called. We miss her very much."

"I'm sure she still thinks about you, too."

"Excuse me, young man. But have you been drinking?"

Daphne almost laughed. She kicked Nat's shin.

He gave her a warning look. "I mean, I picture her up in heaven watching over all of us. And, no, I haven't been drinking."

"Oh. I see what you mean. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I imagine her with enormous white wings, though with her allergy to feathers, I know it's not sensible."

Daphne threw her hand up to cover her mouth and the fit of giggles that threatened to claim her. Her mother had nursed her through several bouts with hives.

"I want you to know what a brave woman your daughter was, Mrs. Jones. She gave her life to protect mine."

"I'd heard something about her death . . . Are you the boy she threw herself in front of?"

"There are times when I've wondered if her sacrifice was worth it. But I assure you, Mrs. Jones, I'm changed because of knowing her."

"Thank you for telling me, Lieutenant. I'm glad to hear her death wasn't for nothing. We do miss her so."

"I've got to go now. Merry Christmas to you and Mr. Jones."

"Merry Christmas, Lieutenant."

Nat hung up the phone. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, Nat. And thank you very much. I should have known Mom wouldn't change much but I just had to hear her voice."

She shivered and Nat rubbed her arms. "Let's get out of here."

Nodding, she followed him back to the bank of elevators. Nat punched the floor button, but instead of the elevator climbing to the top, it stopped on a department store floor. Daphne shot him a questioning look.

"I just had a fun idea," Nat said. He led her to the linens department, then grabbed an armful of velour blankets. "Let's have a picnic. We can set it up on the floor in my office."

How could he be so callous? She was leaving and he wanted to have a picnic? "You're not the one leaving your whole life behind you."

"We have to make the best of it, Daph."

"How can you be so easily accepting of the fact that I'm leaving?"

"I'm not." Nat tried to put his arm around her, but she stepped out of reach. "I just don't believe Leonard will make you go. In fact, I have a theory."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Oh, great. Now you're a scientist."

"Hear me out."

Like she could stop him? "What's your theory?"

"Well, I'm kind of new to this whole angel business, but it seems to me that since the Council sent you to teach me to love—it all hinges on my loving you." He shrugged. "And I love you so they can't pull the carpet out from under me, now can they?"

"So you're denying the fact that I'm in some temporary body and don't think I'm leaving after all?"

"Your body seems real enough to me." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Denying it won't make it untrue, Nat. I can't believe you're doing this."

"Whining about it doesn't change things, does it?"

"No, but you don't have to celebrate my leaving either." She knew she wasn't being reasonable, but she didn't feel reasonable either. She felt robbed—and it was all his fault. Somehow.

"Is that what you thought I meant? By a picnic?"

"What would you think?"

"I'd think you wanted to enjoy our time together, whether it's a few hours or a lifetime."

Daphne looked down at her feet, trying to think clearly instead of emotionally. She should take whatever time she had with Nat and live it to the fullest. "My stomach has been rumbling."

Maybe a picnic wasn't such a bad idea. Even a condemned man was granted a last meal along with a last request. Rather than whining and moaning that she'd soon be gone, they'd honor what time they had with each other.

"I'm certain there are leftovers from the employee's Christmas party." He smiled reassuringly. "We'll raid the fridge. But first, let's pick up a few necessities."

"Groovy." She grabbed a set of matching placemats and napkins in a red and white checkerboard pattern. "You don't mind if I help, do you?"

"Be my guest. Hmm. I think a candlelight picnic, don't you?"

"Sounds perfect. Left over goodies, a candle lit room and you." Ignoring the frantic note that had crept into her voice, she was determined to get into the mood. "Nothing could be better."

Nat led her to the sterling department where Daphne chose mismatched candlesticks.

"Gives them more character," commented Daphne.

Nat leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. "You're my kind of character."

"Who're you calling a character?"

Nat kissed her again, this time firmly on her lips. He hadn't shaved in hours, and his five o'clock shadow left her tingling and breathless. When she opened her eyes, he was several feet ahead of her, calling for her to hurry.

Scrambling to catch up, she grabbed a wicker picnic set—including plates, flatware and cups—while Nat selected non-drip candles.

"Is that it?" she asked as she finally rejoined him.

Nat leered at her. "How about visiting ladies' lingerie on our way out?"

Daphne deliberately lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. "Only if we stop and pick something appropriate for you first."

"That's not a bad idea. I think silk boxers?"

"Sounds delicious."

"Good." After they arrived in the men's department, Nat stopped at a display counter while Daphne checked out the boxers. "I'll grab an electric shaver and a change of clothes, too. Can't have you seeing me at less than my best."

"Honey, I think you underestimate yourself." She fluttered her lashes. "The silk boxers are more than enough for any woman."

She held up a pair of deep red satin boxers. "I like these. I especially like the idea of you in them."

Nat laughed. "Whatever the lady wants. Just remember, turn about's fair play."

"Uh oh. I may be in trouble," she grumbled.

Nat startled her by turning serious. "Daph, you'll always be safe with me. I'll never give you more trouble than you want to handle."

"Now you're underestimating me. I'm looking forward to coping with anything you dish out."

Nat chuckled. "You may regret that when you see the mint green gelatin and marshmallow pudding from the party. It's enough to give an insomniac nightmares."

~~~~

Chapter Eight

When they entered the employee lunchroom, Curtis remained in his position on the table. Grinning, Daphne tiptoed over and folded one of the blankets she carried over him.

Nat swung open the refrigerator door, hoping there'd be plenty of food for their picnic. He wasn't disappointed. It was crammed full of leftovers. The worst problem they'd have was in figuring out what everything was.

Selecting a plastic dish, he pulled back the lid to see the contents. Potato salad?

Daphne joined him, and soon they had a pile of cubed meats and cheeses and a variety of breads and crackers lined up.

Daphne sniffed the contents of a cardboard box, crinkling her nose. "What is this? Raw fish?"

Nat looked to see, then laughed out loud. She had that effect on him, making the mundane seem fresh and new. "It's sushi."

"Shh," she insisted. "You'll wake Curtis."

She took another sniff. "I think it's gone bad, you'd better throw it away. This sushi really smells like raw fish."

"Daphne," whispered Nat. "Sushi often is raw fish."

Her eyes widened. "You mean people eat this stuff? Isn't it poisonous?"

"Sometimes." Nat waggled his brows. "I guess some people like a little risk in their lives."

"Don't remind me. Right now, I could do with a little less risk. I think I'll pass on the fish."

"See anything else you want?"

"What's this at the back?" She pulled out a pie pan. "Chocolate pie! Yum. Now this is the kind of risk I like."

Nat gathered up all their goodies and placed them in a Danvers and Son shopping bag he'd brought from the showroom for that purpose. Again, they tiptoed from the lunchroom, not wanting to awaken Curtis.

Within minutes, they returned to Nat's office.

Entering the room, Daphne felt reassured by the familiarity, like a lost dog returning home after a night at the pound.

"How much longer do we have, Daphne?" asked Nat as he laid down the sacks and blankets he carried.

She set the picnic basket on the floor, then looked at the clock on Nat's shelf. It read four o'clock. "Leonard said dawn. About two hours?"

"Think there's any chance we can beat this? How about if we traveled west?"

Daphne shook her head. "Leonard said my body is going to evaporate and that if I don't take a new body in time, he's not sure what would happen to my soul. I don't want to take the chance."

"What do you want, Daphne?"

"Originally, what I'd wanted is what every woman dreams of: true love, a husband, children. The great American dream." A bitter laugh bubbled over her lips. "I still want those things, Nat. But now I only want them with you."

Nat wordlessly crossed the room, then pulled on a picture frame on the wall. It soundlessly swung open like a door, revealing a safe. Next he turned the knob, first one way, then another and back again. The safe door popped open. Daphne wondered what he was up to.

Nat pulled out a box.

Turning, their eyes met. His gaze held an expression so intense, so loving and painful all at once that Daphne felt forced to lower her eyes. How could she face him knowing she must leave?

Was there a chance that life wouldn't be worth living without him? Perhaps it would be best to return to heaven. At some point, surely he'd join her there? Time in heaven appeared to have little meaning. They wouldn't be able to join physically but at least they'd be reunited. Surely Leonard would allow her to wait for Nat there.

"I've made a decision." Daphne smiled and met his gaze. "I'm not going to really be leaving you, Nat."

She laid one of the blankets on the floor and began stacking food along its side. "I'm going back to heaven and I'll wait for you there. With all my heart, I know we belong together and a life without you simply wouldn't be worth living."

"Will Leonard let you do that?"

"I don't know, but I can hope. That's all I have left now."

"Hope is plenty for both of us." Nat gave her a tentative smile. "I have something for you, Daph. I know you can't take it with you, but I want to pledge my love to you in some way and this is the best I can think of." He took a seat on the blanket and placed the box he'd withdrawn from the safe in her hands.

Daphne recognized it as a jewelry box, probably one designed for a ring. Running her fingertips over the dark burgundy velvet, she wondered if this was the ring he'd once given to Constance. The thought bothered her, as if the ring itself were tainted with the woman's lust for money and power. Yet, it was coming from Nat and Nat's heart.

She opened the box.

Nat watched as Daphne opened the ring box, hopeful she'd understand the sentiment. Hoping she'd recognize just how much she meant to him.

A smile trembled on her lips, then she emitted a soft exclamation of pleasure. "It's lovely, Nat."

"I know it isn't much. It was my mother's." He held his breath, wondering if she'd prefer to have the ring he'd once given another woman. His mother's ring was small, the diamond less than a third of a carat, in material value worth far less than the five carat rock he'd given Constance. But he felt sentimental about his mother's ring and somehow, when he'd headed for the safe, he'd known it was the ring to offer Daphne.

"It's perfect. I'd been scared you'd planned to give me Constance's ring. I wouldn't have refused it, but your mother's ring is special. Deep inside, it feels right." With a laugh of pure joy, she asked, "Put it on me?"

He hadn't needed to worry about her reaction; he should've realized that. But old habits were hard to break and for a moment he'd doubted. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He pulled the ring from the box, then slid it on her finger, thankful that by some miracle Daphne loved him.

Tears filled her eyes, and Nat pulled her into his arms.

"If there was any way possible, I'd marry you tonight." Without a license and with being locked in the building, it wasn't possible. He ran his palm over her jaw and down her neck, wanting to memorize the feel of her.

"Right now, we both believe we belong together, Nat. You feel that way now, but you won't remember me. It's possible, even likely, that you'll find someone else to love."

"I can't imagine anything ever coming close to what we have. As far as I'm concerned, we are married. Does it take a slip of paper for two people to be joined together? It has to be our intentions, what's in our hearts, that counts. You belong with me, Daph. You're my life."

"I think you're right." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, then placed her left hand over Nat's.

"With this ring, I thee wed."

Nat's heart swelled, feeling as if it would explode from happiness. If he'd ever known love could be like this, he'd never have been afraid to care. His lips joined with Daphne's in a cocoon of passion and completeness.

Daphne melted under Nat's caresses. They belonged together as surely as if they'd appeared before a church official or a judge. No marriage license could make it more real than it was at this moment. She hoped her decision wasn't the wrong one.

Would the Angelic Council feel she was doing wrong to accept his love, to agree to be Nat's wife? Even if they did, could they do anything to make it less so? Weren't they already bound in every way possible between a man and a woman?

The thought of Nat joining her in heaven even made the damn feathered wings seem tolerable. She'd wanted to know romantic love, but she'd never realized how powerful love like that could be or how it could change her perspective.

But she wanted this moment to remember.

Nat shifted to dig through the pile of food they'd brought. He piled the cheese and meat cubes on one plate, on another he arranged salads and dips. On a third plate, he placed chips, breads and crackers.

Daphne leaned forward and selected a cheese cube, then offered it to him. "Open up."

Nat complied. She popped the cube in his mouth, then used her thumb to wipe away an imagined crumb from his lower lip.

Next, he fed her a chip overloaded with dip. When the majority of the tangy dip landed on her face rather than inside, Nat licked it away.

"You did that on purpose."

"You bet I did," he replied with a low growl. "Want more?"

"Hm-hmm." He was the most wonderful man she'd ever come across and, for this moment, he was all hers.

They took turns feeding each other nibbles of food, each time prolonging their contact with the other. Each bite turning Daphne's thoughts to something other than food.

When Nat traced an imaginary spill down her neck, she didn't think she could take any more. Grabbing the dark blue satin robe Nat had chosen for her, she whispered, "I'll be right back."

"Don't take too long, otherwise I might be tempted to eat all the chocolate pie."

"Keep your mitts off it! I'll only be a second." She rushed to the ladies' room, quickly discarded her clothes, then drew on the robe. The cold smooth satin sent shivers down her spine. Barefooted, she ran back to join Nat.

Entering the office, she saw that he'd changed, too. The boxers looked incredibly wonderful on his muscled frame. Desire shook her limbs and she trembled as she stepped forward to join him on the blanket.

He'd dimmed the lights, the only glow lighting the room came from the two candles he'd lit. He'd even produced a rose to place in a vase at the center of the blanket and she thought she could detect the delicate aroma.

The candles flickered as she neared them. The air, stirred by her movement, brushed against her skin as well. "It's beautiful, Nat. You're beautiful."

He laughed. "I don't think anyone has ever called me beautiful before. Handsome scoundrel, yes. But beautiful? And let me tell you, Daph. You, in that robe, are the most delectable sight I've ever seen. Come closer, little girl. I'm going to gobble you right up."

"I thought you'd never ask." She sat down and scooted over to sit directly beside him.

Heaven was his touch. Hell was never knowing it again. Reaching her hand up to his chest, she needed to feel the warmth of his skin. Would it ever be possible to be close enough to him? An urge to get ever closer, to climb into his body, clawed at her psyche. Other couples had time for their love to build. She and Nat had less than two hours.

She needed their joining like a refugee needed haven. She craved his love, his body, and to have him bury himself in her, a physical reflection of their inner hearts. She craved to be whole, complete and entire, as she could only be when their bodies and souls met.

"I need the feel of your body on mine." Nat untied the sash of her robe and slid it open. He sighed heavily as his hand slipped beneath the robe to caress her waist.

He wrapped his arms around her back, running his palms up and down the length of her spine. Daphne luxuriated in the way their bodies conformed to each other, his shoulder supporting her head, her breasts flattening against the hardness of his chest, the way their legs entwined.

If only the moment could continue indefinitely. If only they could awaken the next morning to repeat this again and again for a lifetime. If only she could promise to remain here forever, enfolded in the warmth of their passion.

She thrust the thought of tomorrows away from her. She had now and that was more, far more, than many people ever had. Nat was with her now. The memory of this moment was more than enough to substitute for a lifetime of mediocrity. Now was enough for eternity. Love couldn't die. It was immortal.

Tears slipped, unbidden from her eyes. "I don't want to leave you."

"Don't cry."

The tears got worse. How could he be so insensitive? "How dare you say that when I have to leave you?"

"Don't yell."

"I'm not yelling. I'm crying." Tears shook her body. Leaving him was worse than anything she could think of.

When he sang a stanza of a favorite Christmas song, it dawned on her what he was up to and he was right for trying to cheer her up. She wasn't going to spoil their remaining time together by being maudlin. She wiped back her tears. "If you tell me Santa's on his way, you're a dead man."

"That's better," Nat said with a smile, then he pointed out the window. "Look."

She turned and saw a few enormous white flakes of snow fluttering from the heavens. "It's a white Christmas."

"I wish I could wrap it up in ribbons and give it to you, Daph. You know what I'd like?"

"What?"

"To see the snow falling on your skin, just this once? Come out on the balcony with me. I promise to keep you warm."

Gazing into his eyes, she could only think that his heated look was more than enough to char every crevice of her body. Whew. She fanned herself, then gathered up a couple of blankets.

Nat swung open the glass doors leading to the balcony that lined one glass wall of his office. As soon as the cold air hit her, gooseflesh broke out on her arms and legs. Great, their last moments together and she looked like a plucked chicken.

A snowflake landed on her breast.

Nat murmured a low growl. "Don't worry, I promised to keep you warm." He lowered his head and licked away the snow, his hot moist tongue shooting a flame through her body.

Lowering her onto the blanket, he whispered, "You're so lovely."

The heat from his body contrasted sharply with the air surrounding them, relaxing her as nothing else could. Another flake fell, this time on her bottom lip. Nat quickly warmed it.

She kissed him. As their tongues twined, so did their spirits, wrapping around each other in a stream of star-bright light.

Using the balls of his thumbs, Nat stroked her sides, trailing paths like comets across her sensitive skin. Her breath quickened. His fingers massaged her hips, then swooped between their bodies to smooth the tenseness in her belly.

Nat's hands slowly climbed higher to cup her breasts, then his thumbs brushed across her nipples, sending her into orbit. Like an astronaut charting an unknown world, Daphne quaked beneath the enormity of their lovemaking.

Reaching his fingers up to catch several flakes of snow, Nat then looked back into her eyes and she could almost imagine she could see directly into his soul.

He lowered the snow to the sensitive spot between her legs, sending a shiver up her back. "I'm going to warm you here, too."

His mouth lowered, and she thought she might scream for more. Hot. She was so hot for him. He drove her to the edge of distraction. And beyond.

She whimpered as the first nova of ecstasy flashed through her body.

Nat pulled back to slide out of his boxers, then he licked away flakes which had fallen between her breasts. She was helpless to move, to do anything other than crave completion. How she needed him. Then Nat lowered himself over her and thrust quickly and completely inside.

He placed his hands between her and the blanket, pulling her into him with every thrust. Her eyes fluttered open and all she could see was the infinity of the heavens between the banks of clouds lazily littering them with snow. It couldn't be her imagination that each flake sizzled as it settled on their skin.

The nova flared again, pulling them into its hot glare, pushing them over the edge of desire and releasing their spirits to soar in the heavens. Thousands of bells rang, sending choruses of chimes dancing through the stars.

As they enjoyed the moments after their lovemaking, the snow fall became heavier, carpeting the balcony in white. Nat wrapped her, then himself, in blankets, then he swept her up into his arms and carried her back inside.

Daphne nuzzled his neck. "You kept your word, Nat. I've never been so warm in my life."

"I always keep my word."

Daphne hummed the tune to Jingle Bells.

"I can't believe you're singing Christmas carols."

"You started it. Besides, bells rang for me. Didn't they for you?"

He smiled warmly at her, then kissed her forehead. "I adore you."

"I love you, Nat."

~~~~

Chapter Nine

Nat's quiet breathing soothed Daphne's tattered nerves. After making love, he'd fallen into an exhausted slumber on the sofa. She didn't have the heart to wake him.

She'd quietly dressed, visited the ladies' room to clean up, then returned to sit bolt up-right beside him, awaiting Leonard's return. Facing the windows, her heart pumped frantically as dawn crept over the horizon.

Was this the way a condemned man felt just before his hanging? Fatalism mixed with pain of loss? How could she leave Nat just when she'd begun to know him? More than anything, she didn't want to leave.

Her only consolation was that they'd be reunited in heaven. When Leonard arrived, it shouldn't be difficult to convince him to allow her to return to heaven. She'd do her best to conform while waiting for Nat to join her. Judging by past experience, it wouldn't be that long a wait, anyway. All she had to do was get through this morning, get through leaving Nat.

At the full blaze of sunrise, Leonard materialized. Daphne stood, her nerves stretched tight. "What took you so long?"

"I've returned at the appointed hour. Shall we be on our way?"

"Change in plans, Leonard. I've decided to go back to heaven." She pointed upward, then realized something was wrong. Where were her fingers?

Pulling back her arms to examine them closely, all she could see were her wrists. Her hands had evaporated. "What gives?"

"Just as I warned. You haven't taken your new body and this one is fading. We don't have any time to waste getting you into a new one. Come along."

Hadn't he heard what she'd said? "What about Heaven? I think I can handle the feathers now."

"I'm sorry, Daphne." He laid his hand on her shoulder and the dizzy sensation swept them in its tide once more.

Oh, God. She couldn't leave. It hurt too much. She grabbed one final look at Nat before he was no longer visible, wanting to reach out for one last caress, needing to memorize his face for eternity. Then she was gone, leaving her heart behind.

Within seconds, Leonard and Daphne landed in a busy hospital ward. Medical staff ran between rooms, visitors walked down hallways. As with previous times, no one noticed their presence.

Daphne clutched her stomach. The pain of leaving Nat was almost unbearable, as if all her vital organs had been ripped from her body. Forcing herself upright, she reminded herself she had to go on—for Nat.

"This is as difficult for me as it is for you, Daphne. I'd like to grant your request." Leonard's blue eyes filled with remorse. "You can't return to Heaven. You made your choice before returning to the earthly plane."

"It can't be as hard for you, Leonard. It simply can't." Could the pain become any worse? She had to go back to heaven. Nat would join her there.

Leonard pointed toward a door opening on a hospital room. Inside, Daphne barely made out a bed with a number of doctors and nurses in attendance. She took a step back.

"No. I want to go to heaven."

"Daphne, need I remind you about your hands? You'll soon disappear, not unlike the fate of Jimmy Hoffa."

Maybe if she disappeared, so would the pain of loss. Willing herself to be distracted, she asked, "Hoffa disappeared?"

Leonard nodded. "Contemporary humans suspect his mortal remains might be buried beneath Giants Stadium in Secaucus, New Jersey."

New Jersey seemed like an apt place. "Is he?"

"The truth is, his body lies beneath the new FBI building in Virginia."

Daphne laughed despite herself, then she grew serious. "I promised Nat I'd wait for him in heaven. I can't go back on my word."

"Your mission was successful, Daphne. Have no fear, you will meet each other again once you've completed your lives."

"Yeah, but we won't know each other. At least, Leonard, let me keep my memories. I don't want to go back to the way I was before, only half of a whole."

"Please understand that the Council has your best interests at heart. This is your destiny." Surprisingly, tears streamed from Leonard's eyes, and he wiped them with the sleeve of his robe. She hadn't known angels could cry. Was it possible he did understand?

"The Council might be able to take away my memory of Nat, but we're united in every way that matters, Leonard. How can they tear us apart?" Her voice broke but she fought to keep control of her spiraling emotions.

The angel's face looked older, his eyes dull and filled with pain. "We can't know the grand designs planned for our lives, Daphne. All we can do is our best to serve fate and trust in the Council to know what is best. No matter how much it hurts for me to be the instrument of their designs, I have no choice but to follow their orders."

His head tilted. "Listen!"

Daphne heard the squeal of a monitor, signaling someone died.

"She'll soon be leaving her body and it will be time for you to take it up. Come." He extended his hand.

Daphne ignored the gesture and stepped into the hospital room. There on the bed, beneath countless tubes and wires attached to machines with dozens of lights and dials, lay a woman, no longer breathing. On one of the machines, a long straight line played out, signifying the lack of a heart beat.

As doctors struggled to jump-start the woman's heart, much like she'd done to her car's battery, Daphne looked at the woman's face. "Her?!"

Leonard joined her. "You did ask me to choose someone with a good heart. Of all the possibilities we had, she's the biggest hearted and most generous."

"The tattooed lady? You've got to be kidding."

"She's hardly tattooed, just one tiny rose, hidden on her ... um ... hip."

"I can't believe you want to do this to me. Haven't I been a good person? Didn't I do just exactly what the Council asked of me? Forget it, Leonard." Daphne shook her head determinedly.

"There isn't another choice. She's ready for you now. If you'll recline atop her, the transformation will take place."

"And if I don't? I just dematerialize? Maybe that's a better choice." There was no way she wanted to do this. She had to be near Nat, otherwise life was fruitless. "Isn't there a chance that if I do, I'll return to heaven?"

"Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my." Leonard was back to dithering. "I don't think so. I simply don't know what will happen. You've done everything right, Daphne. It wouldn't be a deliberate punishment, but I do not believe you'd immediately return to heaven."

"I have a fifty percent chance, don't I? Of going to up there?"

"I'm sorry, Daphne. I have to advise you against the risk. Please, I beg you, take your place now."

Daphne heard the sound of harp strings. Tears soaked her face as she made her way to Terry's prostrate body. "I can't leave Nat. There has to be a way, Leonard. There just has to be—"

He twisted his hands. "There is no other way. Lie down, Daphne."

"The Council can take away my memories, Leonard. But they can't take away my heartbreak at leaving Nat." Brushing back the tears, she reclined on the bed and felt her essence slip into Terry's. Her eyes grew heavy, and she slept.

The angel watched as Daphne's soul settled into place. The monitors jerked back into life, the harried doctors cheering at the sight of her steady heartbeat.

*

Nathaniel Danvers snorted, the sound awakening him from a deep sleep. He pulled himself upright at his desk, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. It had been a peculiar dream, one of angels and his past, of redemption and not being too late to change.

He checked the clock. Nine o'clock Christmas morning. He stretched, then looked out the window of his penthouse office, down below at merry Christmas revelers.

He glanced at the pocket planner, lying open on his desk. It hadn't been a dream. It had all happened. There were his carefully written notes to prove it.

The angels had wanted him to believe in something he couldn't touch, taste, see or hear—and they'd been successful. For the first time in his memory, he believed.

Time to get busy.

Grabbing the pile of pink slips from his out box, a sense of happy anticipation nagged him. Although it was corny, a truism snapped into his head. This is the first day of the rest of your life.

The rest of his life? His heart clutched. There was something missing. He searched the recesses of his mind and found an ache, a loss. But he couldn't find an explanation for it.

The niggling wrongness would have to wait, though. He had a lot to accomplish today.

Rushing to the outer office, he made a beeline for the paper shredder and in only a matter of minutes, the pink slips became confetti. One task complete.

Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone. It was operational. Good. He buzzed security. Curtis answered, sounding a little hungover. Nat grinned.

"Merry Christmas, Curtis."

"Mr. Danvers?"

"Yes, it's me. I have a favor to ask."

"Yes, sir?"

"Meet me in the toy department in five minutes. I could use some assistance. And after we're done, Curtis, close up shop. With all our electronic surveillance devices, I think the store's safe for today."

"Yes, sir!"

Nat hung up, then punched a button on the stereo system behind his desk, looking for mood music. The radio station blared out Christmas carols. Perfect.

Next, he read over the notes he'd made in his pocket planner. How could he best help the homeless family?

Toys and clothing would be helpful, but what the father needed was employment. Nat grabbed a legal pad and wrote out a memo to Danvers and Son's personnel director. In it, he instructed the personnel director to give preferential consideration to the homeless when it came to job applications. Also, the company would provide assistance for them with housing. Next, he gave specifics about the homeless family. The father needed a job, a home and self respect. Nat would see to it he got all three.

Turning to a new sheet of paper, Nat wrote a memo to all employees, stating the year had been successful. As CEO of Danvers and Son, he apologized that he hadn't been able to give out bonuses by Christmas, but hopefully their checks would arrive in plenty of time to pay off Christmas bills. Nat cringed a moment, thinking about the bottom line and how much this was going to cost him. He shrugged. Christmas was only once a year and the employees deserved it.

Checking his pocket planner again, he saw a note he couldn't recall having written, although it was in his own handwriting. It was bracketed and had several asterisks. He scratched his head, wondering why he had no memory of it. Obviously, it was important.

He shrugged. It would probably come back to him later. After turning to another page on his legal pad, he wrote a memo to his secretary asking her to check on the financial and health conditions of an elderly couple in Arkansas. Since he couldn't recall the circumstances, he directed her to advise him of any action necessary to make certain the couple was secure. However, any assistance from him was to remain anonymous. That should cover whatever it was he'd had in mind when he'd written the note.

Looking at the list again, he kept thinking of the little girl who'd wanted the Victorian doll. At one time, the manager of the large toy store had once been an employee of Danvers and Son. He was sorely tempted to give her a call.

Temptation won. Leafing through his address file, he found the number he wanted. He picked up the phone again, wondering what kind of reception he'd receive since the woman had left Danvers and Son rather abruptly. Nat hoped he could make it up to her.

The problem was, they'd once dated, and Nat had treated her as he'd treated every other woman. In other words, he'd taken but never given anything in return. In retrospect, he could see he'd been less than honorable in his treatment of her.

She deserved success and happiness. Nat hoped she'd found it. The phone rang, and soon she answered.

"I never expected to hear from you," Ellen growled once he'd identified himself.

"I feel bad about that."

"Yeah, right," she replied. "You dumped me faster than a cabbie drops a fare. I know you want something. Out with it."

"It's not for me," he was quick to assure her.

"Like hell it's not. You've never done anything in your life that was selfless."

Nat realized that based on his past actions, merely stating he'd changed wouldn't be enough. For the first time, the consequences came home to him. "I know that my saying so won't convince you. But I'm not sure what can."

"I have to admit, you've got me intrigued." Ellen paused for a moment. "Just what is it you think I can do for you?"

She didn't state it, but it was clear in her tone. She'd reserve judgment. That was all he could ask for and probably more than he deserved. "I want one of your Victorian dolls and a girl's dress to match."

"You trying to sleep with the kid's mother? No. Don't tell me." Her voice was scandalized. "You've done low things in your life, but I had no idea you'd stooped to molesting children."

Nat cringed. He'd earned everything she said but that didn't solve his problem. He wanted that doll for the kid. "I admit I'm a jerk, Ellen, but if you'll listen for a minute, you'll see that this time I'm doing the right thing."

"Go on."

"There's this homeless family that's been living under the 49th Street Bridge. The dad's out of a job. For Christmas gifts, they trade pictures of their dreams. Their daughter wants that doll and I'd like to see she gets it. It means a lot to her. Even though it's coming from me, could you please help?"

"I think I've heard it all."

"I tried to tell you, I've turned over a new leaf."

"And to think, I thought you couldn't teach old dogs new tricks. What's gotten into you? Have you fallen in love?"

Had he fallen in love? Somehow it felt right but he couldn't conjure up a face or even a woman's name, just an empty black hole where his heart should be. "Yes and no. I haven't fallen in love with a woman. I've fallen in love with life and Christmas and humanity. It's been a long time coming, but I mean to make some changes and I've got to start somewhere. Will you help?"

"I'd pay money to see you in action, Nat. I'll get the doll, my treat."

"Thanks, Ellen. I owe you one. You always were a nice woman."

"Yeah, I know."

"I feel awful about hurting you. I'm genuinely sorry. I know it can't make up for the past, but can I take you to dinner?"

"Too much water under that bridge, Nat. You broke my heart once, you don't get a second chance."

"I hear you. Are you happy, Ellen?"

"Yeah. I've met a great guy. We're talking marriage and kids. The whole ball of wax."

"I envy you." He did. A longing to belong, to have a family, sliced through him like a knife through butter.

"Hell, maybe you'll find the right person one of these days."

"I certainly hope so. When can I pick up the doll?"

After working out the details, Nat hung up, feeling sad about what he'd missed out on with Ellen, feeling regretful he'd be spending another holiday alone.

That reminded him, it was time to meet Curtis. Nat headed for the elevator and within minutes found his security chief in the toy department. "How's your head?"

"Fine, now. How'd you know?"

Nat grinned. "I saw you sleeping like a baby last night."

Curtis ducked his head.

Nat patted his back. "Let's try to confine our celebrating to once a year, though, okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Danvers. Thanks for understanding."

"Hey, I'm an understanding guy. But I'm going to need some help. Think you can find a truck lift and bring it onto the showroom? We're going to do a little shopping."

"You got it." Curtis darted off.

While Nat waited, he grabbed a selection of dolls, action figures and stuffed animals, making a heap in the middle of the floor. He tapped his forehead. He'd almost forgotten the skateboard.

After adding the super deluxe skate-o-rama to the pile, he consulted his pocket planner to see what was next on his list. Men's Fine Clothing.

Curtis arrived with the truck and immediately joined into the spirit of things. He grabbed up the heap and followed Nat through the store.

Passing by Lady's Fashions, Nat flipped through the furs until he selected a heavy-duty black sable coat. Tossing it into the truck, he signaled the security chief to move on.

They arrived in the Men's department. Nat chose five suits that he thought would do. He chuckled. "Hey, Curtis. I thought up a pun. Think these suits are suitable?"

Curtis smiled wanly and shook his head. "My wife is never going to believe me."

"She'll believe you when you get your bonus check," Nat replied.

The security chief thought it over, then grinned. "That should do it, boss."

"Good."

"While you're in such a generous mood, maybe you'd consider helping out some needy kids?" asked Curtis.

Nat realized he was being tested. Again, merely stating he'd changed wasn't enough. "Tell me about the kids."

"I volunteer at a local mission. This year, the donations of toys or money haven't been big enough to guarantee a toy for each kid. The economy is tight for all of us." Curtis glanced toward the toy department. "I play Santa, Mr. Danvers. I'd sure feel a lot better about it if I had more toys. Santa doesn't pick and choose between kids, he's an equal opportunity giver."

"Take whatever you need. I don't want any child to do without this year, not if I can help it." Nat grabbed a stack of board games, then tossed them in the truck. "We can always restock."

Curtis gathered a handful of dolls. He lovingly laid them in the truck. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, sir. I just wish the whole world could have a little of whatever changed you."

"I agree. Everyone could use a little Christmas spirit. And don't let on that the toys came from me, okay? The stores can take a donation later, if they need it for the bottom line, but I'd just as soon no one knew they were coming from me." Nat grinned. "Besides, they'd never believe you."

The two of them worked quickly to fill the truck to overflowing. Then they stood back to survey the results with large grins on their faces.

"You won't mind delivering my stuff first, will you?" Nat asked. "That homeless family could use all the spirit of the season they can get."

"If you don't mind, I'll grab the Missus and put on my Santa suit first?"

"That's even better, Curtis. Just don't let on that the stuff came from me."

"Yes, sir. But I don't get it. Why aren't you letting everyone know how generous you are?"

"I want to do something for the kids, without ulterior motives." He needed it. Somehow, in being generous, he felt it would help atone for his lack in the past.

As if he were worried Nat would change his mind, Curtis scuttled off to perform his errands. Nat returned to his office, grabbed his coat and briefcase, then headed out on foot, a teetering pile of gifts balanced in his arms.

Surprisingly, he quickly found a taxi willing to take him. "Merry Christmas!"

"Don't see what the fuss is all about," snarled the cabbie.

Weren't those exactly his own sentiments less than a day before? Maybe he could share what he'd learned. "I didn't either until the real meaning of Christmas hit me."

"And what might that be?"

"That by opening ourselves up to being hurt, we can then experience joy."

"You're crazy, buddy." The cab driver pulled over at their first destination. Fortunately, the neighborhood grocery was open. Nat ran inside and returned within minutes, arms full of delicious smelling food.

As they headed out again, Nat handed the driver a bag of freshly baked cookies. "For you."

"Thanks. Smells great."

Within minutes, the taxi pulled to the curb. They'd arrived. "I appreciate the goodies, but I still think you're crazy."

"Maybe so," said Nat as he pulled a twenty from his money clip. "But I'll tell you this, I've never been happier in my life."

He handed the cabby the money. "Keep the change and Merry Christmas." Nat gathered his packages together and exited. He glanced up at the old brownstone, wondering if he'd be welcome.

There was nothing for it but to find out. Not having a free hand to pull open the outer door, he used his elbow and managed to work his way inside. He dropped a package to buzz the correct apartment number.

"Who is it?" asked the faceless voice.

"Nat Danvers."

The door unlocked. Nat pulled it open, then bent to retrieve his parcel. It hit him, after he came inside, there were no elevators. He'd have to climb the steep stairs, all six floors of them.

Nat dismissed the thought that his new generosity involved an awful lot of work. He usually had a chauffeur to carry packages and open doors.

At last he reached the top floor. Waiting at the top of the stairs was his cousin Percy with an excited grin on his face. Beside him stood Henrietta with a suspicious look.

Nat couldn't blame her. "Merry Christmas, Coz. If you don't mind, I thought I'd take you up on your offer to share Christmas dinner."

Percy quickly grabbed a few of Nat's parcels. "We're delighted to have you. Come on in."

Within minutes, Henri had taken Nat's coat and hung it up and they were all seated in the living room near the tree. Nat caught sight of Laura.

"Is this your little princess, Percy? She's a beauty. Merry Christmas, Laura."

"Hi," the child replied shyly.

"I've got a couple of presents for all of you. Want to help me pass them out, Laura?"

"You bet!"

Before long, a two huge piles of goodies were erected, one in front of Laura and the other beside Henri. Percy shot him a perplexed look when Nat handed him an envelope.

"You've gone all out, Nat. I hope you know it wasn't necessary. You're family and belong here."

Nat didn't know what to say. When he did manage to speak, his voice sounded raspy even to his own ears. "You've always been kind to me, Perce. I know I haven't deserved it, but I want you to know I appreciate it."

"Nonsense, you had to do what you had to do. We've always understood, haven't we, Henri?"

Henrietta pursed her lips, apparently not wanting to disagree with her husband. Then she leaned forward and patted Nat's thigh. "I'm glad you've come today. Merry Christmas, Nat."

"Open your presents, everyone." Nat couldn't wait to see Laura open some of her gifts. He hoped he'd chosen things she'd enjoy. He nudged Percy. "Looks like you got the raw end of the deal, Perce. Open your envelope."

Percy laughed. "At least I've got this envelope. I'm afraid we weren't expecting you . . . but I'd be glad to share my new necktie." He pointed to his neck.

A black silk necktie was adorned with cheerful Santa's pulling toy-laden sleighs. In the background were snowflakes.

"I'm tempted to do just that. That's a terrific tie."

Laura giggled. "I picked it out."

"You want a job as a buyer at Danvers and Son? I'm thinking of changing the name to Danvers and Family."

Henri's face paled. "You don't mean that, not honestly."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't. When's this lunkhead husband of yours going to open his envelope?"

Percy grinned, then pulled the flap open. He extracted a single piece of paper, a photocopy from Nat's pocket planner. "What is this?"

"Read it. That's my schedule for Monday."

Percy looked down, then read it out loud. "9:00 a.m. Report to Dr for physical and for blood typing." His gaze shot to Henrietta.

"I asked you not to tell him."

Henri shook her head. "I didn't."

Percy asked, "How did you find out?"

"Let's just say an angel whispered it to me." Nat put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. "Percy, I want to help you in any way I can. Just say the word. Kidney, money, whatever you need that I can help with. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Percy's face puckered. "Thank you, Nat. You've always had too big a heart."

It occurred to Nat that Percy had known the real him all along. Amazing.

Laura clapped her hands and cried out with glee, "Look at this!" In her hands she held the fairy princess doll Nat had chosen for her because there was something about the doll's smile . . .

Henri hugged Nat. "Thank you, Nat. Merry Christmas. Now, shall we get down to the serious business of Christmas dinner? Who wants to carve?"

~~~~

Chapter Ten

"I'm feeling fine," insisted Terry. She'd heard that hospitals these days always tried to release patients too early. She'd never thought they'd give her such a hard time about leaving. "My only problem is the bump on my head is a little sore. Otherwise, I've never felt better in my life."

"You're certainly a miracle, Ms. Montgomery. I've never seen anyone come back so fast."

"It wasn't my time to die, I guess. Anyway, I promise to follow orders and not overdo things. But if I don't leave now, I'll miss Christmas at the mission. I've worked too hard to make this day special for the kids."

The doctor nodded, then grudgingly signed her release papers. Terry deliberately didn't mention that she planned to be doing a lot of the cooking for the mission's Christmas dinner. Somehow, she didn't think the doctor would like that idea. But she couldn't let the kids down.

*

Nat stood at the door to Percy's home, saying goodbye. In his arms, he held Laura, wishing that he could take her home with him. Wishing that he had a home to go to. He gave her a final kiss, then set her down.

"You will consider joining us on New Year's Eve, won't you?" asked Henri. "You could bring a date and we could play cards."

"Thanks for the invitation. I'm not sure if I can scrounge up a date or not, but I'll let you know." Nat kissed her cheek, then gave Percy a final hug. "I'll let you know how the reports come out on Monday."

Slowly descending the stairs, Nat realized that he'd hated leaving. He wanted what Percy had, a real family. Although it was only late afternoon, what was there for him to go home to? Even his housekeeper was off today.

Nat left the brownstone. Flagging a cab, he headed home. Upon arriving, he looked around the place with new eyes. It was sterile; too neat. No little homey touches.

He fingered a valuable statue sitting on his fireplace mantle. Even it failed to stir his blood, and he'd worked long and hard to snare it. The place was too quiet. And he ached inside.

He showered and changed clothes, pulling on a black t-shirt and pair of jeans from his college days. On a whimsy, he decided not to shave. He rather liked the dark and dangerous stranger who looked at him from the mirror. Going into the living room, he switched on the TV. Nothing grabbed his interest, not even the financial network.

Grabbing his jacket, he headed out the door. He'd go back to the office. At least there he wouldn't feel quite so empty. Work always swept him up and kept him occupied, especially when he had the building to himself.

A short time later, he sat behind his long desk, pulling a stack of unread correspondence in front of him. Now he realized why he hadn't read it. It was deadly dull.

He stood and crossed the room to the doors that led out on his balcony. A chill wind feathered his hair as he stepped outside. In a corner, he saw a dark heap. His heart leapt. Nearing it, he realized it was a discarded blanket. His whole body shook, as if in reaction. It was just a blanket, nothing to make his pulse race and then grind to a halt. The only curious thing about it was how it had come to be here.

Nat wrenched his gaze away and looked out over the railing. The view was the same as usual. The sky was overcast, mirroring his emotional state. Now that he'd learned how good life could be, what was wrong with him?

He must be coming down with a cold. Being outdoors in the frosty air without a coat couldn't be good for him. Maybe some aspirin?

Returning inside to look for some, he noticed the hum of a machine firing up. One of the copiers? Maybe someone else was feeling as lonely as he. Nat decided to investigate. The aspirin could wait.

As he walked down the hallway toward the copy room, he heard a female voice pleading with the machine to hurry and warm up. At least he hoped she was talking to the copier.

"Come on, lover. There's a boy. Start your engines for Mama."

Nat grinned. He'd never tried encouraging a machine in quite that way before. From the doorway outside, he saw a medium-height woman patting the top of the color copier. From the rear, he saw that she had all the right curves. There was something endearing about the way her brown hair turned up just above her collar.

He wanted to see her face, knowing that when he did, she'd be cute. Everything about the way she held herself—her voice, her actions—proclaimed this woman was cute.

The copier buzzed, and she fed in a sheet of paper, all the while singing Jingle Bells. Nat took a step into the room. The woman knelt in front of the machine, evidently looking for some adjustment. Then her fingers entered an indentation on the side of the copier.

Nat leapt forward and yanked her hand back. "Watch out! You almost stapled yourself!"

"Well, thanks for saving me." She smiled at him, and Nat had an odd sensation of d´eja' vu. It was as if the floor beneath him had split open, leaving him teetering on a precipice.

What was wrong with him? She was definitely cute, from the uptilt of her nose to her too-large brown eyes. But that didn't explain his reaction to her. His gaze traveled the length of her. He'd been right—curves in all the correct and most dangerous places. His gaze settled on the charm bracelet around her wrist. Where had he seen it before?

Again, the sense of d´eja' vu almost overwhelmed him. His head spun and he broke out in a sweat. He had to find some aspirin. Yet a current of sexual awareness seemed to permeate the air they shared. No woman had ever affected him this way before.

Then he realized she was looking at him curiously. "I'm glad you're okay," he stuttered. Great, now he was tongue tied? He felt like an adolescent having his first conversation with a girl. Next, he'd probably blush.

She offered her hand. "I'm Terry Montgomery, in Publicity."

He ran his hand over his raspy day-old beard, surprised she hadn't recognized him, but then, the Nathaniel Danvers known through-out the office was staid, dignified and a royal jerk. If he told her who he was, she'd probably clam up. She was the most intriguing woman he'd ever met and he didn't want to lose any chance he might have with her. But he couldn't be less than honest. He took her hand. "I'm in ... administration."

"Nice to meet you." She smiled, showing a slight overbite. Darn, she was cute. His mind filled with sensuous images of her in his arms. Then he realized he hadn't released her hand. What had come over him? He broke the contact, then shook his head to clear it.

He had to think of something to say. He couldn't just stand here staring at her. "What brings you to work on Christmas Day?"

"I have to finish this report. Danvers wants it first thing tomorrow." She narrowed her eyes.

Nat wondered if that was a signal to buzz off, that she was busy. What was so important about some publicity report. Then he remembered telling his VP of Marketing something about needing better media coverage. Okay, he'd ordered the woman to have it on his desk by the day after Christmas. So here was the person actually doing the work.

He didn't want to go away. For the first time today the ache that had settled around his heart had let up.

"You look familiar." She crossed her arms. "What's your name?"

Nat stared down at his feet. He had a feeling that Terry was someone very special, someone he'd really like to know. Now he had to blow it before he'd ever had a chance with her. His name wasn't exactly looked at with fondness. "I'm Nat Danvers."

"I thought so." She eyed him up and down. "I have it on good authority Nathaniel Danvers never comes to the office without being spotlessly dressed. What gives?"

He'd blown it, all right. She didn't like the way he looked. He'd liked the way he'd dressed; he'd felt more like a person and less like a duly chartered corporation. He shrugged. "I'm trying out a new look."

"Yeah, right. And a new personality." She laughed, more of a laugh at herself rather than at the situation. "You're not his twin or something? You know, like a celebrity double?"

"I really am Nathaniel Danvers." She was beautiful. It hit him like an avalanche. When he gazed into her eyes, he saw pools of reflected color like a diamond in sunshine. She was so lovely, it almost hurt. "You can wait on the report. You shouldn't have to work on Christmas Day; you should be home with your husband."

She shook her head. "I'm not married."

Nat nodded, relieved she wasn't married. Somehow, it was important. Then another thought struck him. "You aren't engaged, are you?"

"No." She grinned and spread out her hands. "I'm completely eligible."

Nat laughed. "Good."

"You can't be Nat Danvers," she blurted out. "You're nothing like everyone says you are!" She blushed, then threw her hand over her mouth. "I mean, you're so attractive."

At the words, she got even redder. "Oh, geez. Hang on a sec while I pull my foot out of my mouth."

Nat grinned. "Don't damage those lips, Terry. I have a feeling they're going to become very important to me."

Her brown eyes got even larger. She licked her lips, making him want to mimic the action.

"How about dinner?" he asked, wanting to know her in every sense of the word, wondering if she felt the same way.

"What about your family? Don't you want to spend Christmas with them?"

Nat shrugged. "Percy's the only family I have left and I couldn't stay with him all day. I'm on my own. Take pity on this lonely guy and eat dinner with him, please?" He gave her his most woe-be-gone expression.

She shook her head and sighed. "After I leave here, I'm going to the Mission. Carl Curtis, from security, is dressing as Santa and passing out toys to the kids. We've been working on it for months, and I don't want to miss it. In fact, I'm doing a lot of the cooking."

Nat wondered if his expression looked as disappointed as he felt. Maybe he'd imagined there was magnetic current between them? The sense of loss that had been haunting him all day had disappeared the moment he'd seen her. Maybe he was just lonely? But everything about her shouted yes, almost like he'd been waiting a lifetime to meet her, a woman who could make him laugh and could twist his heart around her every desire. He couldn't ever remember feeling so connected with another person.

He felt almost humbled in her presence, like she'd been heaven sent. Rubbing his forehead, he wondered if he was losing it. How could such an instant attraction ever happen? It's not as if he'd ever believed in love at first sight. But now, though, he suspected not only its existence, but that he'd gone and done just that.

Peeking at him through long dark lashes, she added, "Want to come? We can share the mission dinner and I'm game for coffee afterwards."

Nat laughed and took her arm, luxuriating in the feel of her skin on his. Yep, he'd gone and done just that, fallen in love at first sight.

~~~~

Epilogue

"I can't imagine anyone having a better Christmas," said Terry as she gazed contentedly around her home. The twins, Leonard and Daphne, sat beneath the Christmas tree, banging on matching drums, while Nat encouraged their antics by clapping and cheering delightedly.

Christmas carols played in the background, the music wrapping itself around her heart. A fire crackled in the hearth, sending out gentle waves of warmth into the room. Terry sniffed the mingled scents of roast turkey blending with hot apple pie. It was almost time for Christmas dinner.

The windows at the far corner of the room were spotted with frost. Outside a light snowfall drifted down, bringing her a sense of peace and joy along with a white Christmas.

Earlier, Percy, Henri and Laura had come and gone. Percy had made a remarkable recovery since Nat had given him one of his kidneys. Nat had kept his word to Percy. He'd renamed the company and turned over half of Danvers and Family to him, freeing Nat to spend more time with her and the twins.

A tear of joy slid down one cheek. Nat caught her gaze and, as if he were one of the toddlers, crawled across the floor to join her.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" he asked in an awed voice. "I can't believe what we have is so perfect. This time of year just brings it into focus. When I think what my life was like three years ago—"

Terry laid her head on his shoulder. "When you asked what I wanted for Christmas, I couldn't think of anything I don't already have merely by being here with you."

"You're the best, Terr." Nat kissed the tip of her nose. "Why do I have an incredible urge to say: God bless us every one?"

The End

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Kathy Carmichael