Not Quite an Angel by Bobby Hutchinson

some sort, a touch of cruelty in the tilt of the long, narrow mouth, stubbornness in the square jaw.
    As she studied him, she was suddenly aware of his clear, intense red aura. Although she tried not to, she found herself glancing his way again and again, because she’d never before seen anyone as surrounded by red as the man at her side.
    Well, red signified vitality, Sameh told herself, swallowing a final mouthful of vegetables. Vitality, and—be honest here, Sameh. She choked on a bit of crusty roll and had to take a gulp of her wine to wash it down.
    His kind of red was pure, unadulterated sexual energy, she admitted to herself, struggling to get her breath. He had sexual energy of a type she’d never encountered before. The men she was used to, cultured men from her time, had all long ago lost the raw intensity that shimmered around Adam like a force field.
    â€œYou all right, Sameh? You going to need resuscitation?” His voice was low and taunting, his lips almost touching her ear, curved in a cynical smile, and she jerked away, knocking her fork off the table. “I’ll get that for you.” He leaned over, his dark head almost in her lap this time, and retrieved it.
    Fran got up to check on the children, and Bernie carried plates and cutlery into the kitchen.
    Adam’s aura was touching hers now, intermingling with her own, and she could feel the raw power he exuded. Itmade her feel prickly and uncomfortable. He was a dangerous, primitive man, she’d known that from the first moment she set eyes on him. The problem was, she had no idea how to deal with such a man.
    â€œSo how’s your work going with Delilah?” His green eyes were on her, and she met his gaze and held it. The other afternoon he’d made her nervous by doing this very thing—sitting totally still and just watching her, not revealing by the flicker of an eyelash what he was really thinking. She’d caught odd traces of those thoughts, however, in spite of his defenses.
    â€œWorking with Delilah is a great privilege,” she said with firm assurance. “She’s a warm and fascinating woman. It’s an honor for me to be able to work with her on her new book.” She knew he thought her an imposter in her job with Delilah, which was perceptive of him. He mistrusted her, which he had every right to do. She wasn’t exactly what she was pretending to be, that was certain.
    Even worse, he seemed to consider her dangerous in some way, a concept so preposterous she could hardly believe her own perceptions. Was he really misguided enough to think she was capable of serious wrongdoing?
    â€œUh-huh. I’m sure Delilah’s interesting, all right.” Even now, with those seemingly polite words, he managed to convey both a high degree of skepticism and not a little sarcasm. “I’m afraid I’ve never read any of her books. I’m not really into this New Age stuff.”
    His attitude infuriated her. He could use a little of Delilah’s philosophy and a lot of the maturity of New Age thinking. He also wasn’t honest. She was about to ask him point-blank why he and Bernie had both lied about their reasons for coming to see her, but Frances came back just then with Corey in her arms.
    â€œThis party animal’s determined we’re not having dinnerwithout him supervising,” she said, planting the pajama-clad boy in an armchair close to the table and padding him with pillows so he couldn’t slip out. Corey cooed with delight.
    Adam turned and winked at the baby. “That’s the way, tiger. Don’t let them stuff you into bed and leave you there. You have to keep an eye on them every minute. We’re about to have apple pie and I’ll bet you want a taste, right?”
    In a split second, Sameh could feel the change in the force field surrounding Adam. Aggression became compassion, and she could feel the enormity, the purity, of his love for