Page 6 of A Dance with His Angel

Outside, the cicadas are putting on their concert in the trees on this humid summer night as I remove my jacket to drape it over my arm. I carry Ivy’s heavy diaper bag as I wait with Eden for her mother to arrive. I wish I could drive Eden and Ivy home myself, if only to extend our time together, but I can’t without a car seat.

Ivy stirs, stretching her arms out, and begins sucking on her tiny fist. Eden searches the backpack, sighing when the baby bottles she pulls from the insulated compartment are empty. “Shoot, I need to feed her.”

I move to open the venue’s front door, but it won’t budge. We must be locked out. When a staff member does answer the door after I knock, we’re told we aren’t allowed back inside.

“You can nurse in my car for some privacy,” I offer.

Eden bites her bottom lip, glancing at me nervously.

“I’ll wait outside the car.”

“Thank you, Lord Martin. You are a true gentleman,” she says, stepping forward to kiss my cheek.

Thank god she’s not a mind reader, or she’d find out just how ungentlemanly I am, my thoughts having spun wildly with fantasies of slipping Eden’s dress off her shoulders.

“This is your car?” Eden asks with the lift of her brows when I use my remote to unlock my metallic red Mercedes, its windows tinted as dark as legally possible. “It’s beautiful and—” Her cheeks flush.

“Unexpected?” I ask with a small grin.

“Yes.”

“It’s no horse and carriage, but it’ll do,” I say, sweeping open the passenger door.

“No kidding.” Her eyes are rounded as I hold her hand while she lowers herself onto the leather seat.

The car hums quietly after I turn it on so she would have air conditioning. It is by sheer force of will, and the desire not to make her uncomfortable, that I turn around and lean against the back passenger door.

She knocks on the window, only minutes later, and rolls down the window a crack. “I don’t mind if you sit with us. I know it’s hot.”

It certainly is, the temperature hovering in the high nineties. Even in the absence of the sun, sweat rolls down my spine. “If you’re sure…” I ask, giving her room to change her mind.

“It’s all right,” she says.

Delighted, I round the low hood and slide into the driver’s seat, angling the dashboard vents to cool my overheated skin. Respectfully, I stare straight through the windshield, not allowing my eyes to so much as drift a millimeter to the right, not even when I sense movement, Eden shifting Ivy to her other breast. I’ve seen Shayla breastfeed numerous times, mostly against my will. As beautiful as Shayla is, not once have I ever been interested in seeing her do so. I’ve always turned away—though Isaiah and I teased James relentlessly, joking that we’d put a ring on her finger if he didn’t hurry up and do it. But Eden is a different story. I wish it were me she was holding at her breast and not Ivy.

I swallow hard, removing my bow tie and tossing it behind me in the back seat, then unbutton my collar. My thoughts are sinful. I try to steer them toward other subjects, like the Texas Renaissance Festival coming up in October, and how magical it would be if Eden were to attend with me. How alluring she would be in a rich, velvety Renaissance dress, custom made to expertly drape her generous curves.

Wait, no, that’s no help, because now I’m imagining a tight bodice plumping her breasts, her ample cleavage so inviting.

I sigh and rub my forehead.

Ivy chokes and gasps, and instantly, I snap my head to the side with alarm, leaning halfway out of my seat, cupping the back of Ivy’s small head of wispy brown hair. “Is she ok?” I ask at a decibel lower than a yell.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Eden says, giving me merry eyes that ease my fear as she brings Ivy to her shoulder, patting her back. “Sometimes my milk flows faster than she can swallow.”

In all my relief, I drop my closely held control, my eyes dipping to Eden’s large, uncovered breasts and swollen nipples. “Merciful heavens,” I say on a harsh exhale, unable to pull my gaze away from her dark areolas where milk drips from the tips, and Eden takes a shaky breath.

Chapter Five

Eden

Of all the times I’ve seen Martin panic over the last two nights, this is the worst. His rounded eyes flick up to mine, wide and unblinking, looking as if he’s forgotten how to breathe in his shock. In a sudden burst of movement, he throws himself out of his car, leaving the door hanging open. He paces back and forth with his hands shoved through his long hair, mussing his curls, muttering something I can’t quite hear.

I almost wish I had let Mom take Ivy home, because Martin’s pants…oh my lord,his pants are tented impressively. I can’t swallow, my mouth unbelievably dry when he looks down his torso and shouts a curse. He reaches into his pants and adjusts his hard cock, tucking it behind his belt.

Impressive, indeed, if his shaft is long enough to reach his waistband.

I rush to clip my dress back in place and gingerly climb out of the car with Ivy tucked against my shoulder to approach the skittish man.