Promising Angela by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page A

found a parking spot in the visitors’ area and walked briskly through the courtyard to Tower Two. The air-conditioned lobby felt good after his brief walk in the Kansas summer heat. Crossing to the panel of intercom buttons, he located the one for the Cassidy apartment and buzzed. After only a few seconds, a crackly voice came through the speaker.
    “This is Eileen.”
    He leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. “Eileen, this is Ben. I wondered if I could visit with Angela.”
    “Just a minute.”
    The
thwip
indicated the intercom flipped off. Minutes passed while he stood beside the row of buttons, alternately adjusting his collar and tugging the legs of his cargo shorts.
Maybe I should have run an iron over the twill….
    “Ben?”
    He’d expected a voice from the intercom, not from behind him. He spun around, banging his elbow on the wall.
    “Whoops.” A smile teased the corners of Angela’s lips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “No problem.” He rubbed his elbow and took a step toward her. She’d done something different with her hair—pulled it up in a rubber band where it spilled out like a fountain of shining curls on the top of her head. He liked it. “I didn’t expect you to come down. I could’ve come up.”
    Her smile grew. “No, you couldn’t. Aunt Eileen is mopping floors, and she didn’t want you to see her in her mopping clothes.”
    “Oh, okay. And you aren’t helping?”
    Angela sighed. “She won’t let me. She says guests aren’t supposed to clean.”
    “Yeah, Eileen can be pretty stubborn.”
    “I’ll say!”
    His gaze flicked over her outfit. Although less dressy than what she wore to work each day, she still looked nice in the flowered skirt that fell just above the knee and bright yellow tank top. Not something one would wear to mop floors, he supposed.
    “What did you need?” She brought him back to the task at hand.
    He drew in a breath. “Let’s go sit down, huh?”
    A brief, puzzled scowl creased her forehead, but she turned toward the seating arrangement in the large lobby. Her jeweled flip-flops softly smacked her heels as she walked in front of him. She sat at one end of the sofa, and Ben chose the other end.
    Facing her, he said, “I wanted to talk to you about Kent.”
    She settled in the corner and tucked her feet beside her. Her elbow on the back of the sofa, she rested her cheek against her fist. “What about him?”
    “Well …” Ben scratched his head. “He said something kind of—worrisome—after you left yesterday evening. I wondered if you could shed any light on it.”
    Her shoulder lifted in a graceful shrug. “What did he say?”
    “That you were his girlfriend.”
    She flashed a smile that lit her eyes. “Oh, that’s really sweet.”
    Sweet? Ben frowned. “To be honest, Angela, it concerns me.”
    “Why should it?”
    Could she really not understand the problem here? Surely she hadn’t deliberately set out to mislead Kent. “Did you do something to give him the idea you would be his girlfriend?”
    She sat upright, planting her fist against the sofa cushion between them. “What do you mean, did I ‘do’ something?”
    The defensiveness took Ben by surprise. “There’s no need to get angry. But you have to understand, while Kent’s muscles and mind don’t necessarily work like any typical male, his feelings are very much ‘normal.’”
    “I’m aware of that.”
    Her words snapped out on a harsh note Ben hadn’t heard from her before. His own tone took a firmer quality. “Look, Angela, you can’t—”
    “I can’t what? Talk to him? Be friends with him?”
    Ben took a deep breath. This wasn’t going very well. “You have to be careful. Kent’s been hurt—a lot. Rejection is hard on him. If he thinks you’re his girlfriend when you’re really only—”
    “Leading him on?” She leaned forward, her face inches from his, and nearly snarled. “That’s what you think, isn’t it?”
    Ben hoped his