Sensuous Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

beneath her breath.
    “I’m flattered.”
    How had she wound up playing this absurd battle of wits with a sarcastic priest?
    “Just how well do you know Andrew McKennon, Father?”
    If she had expected a reaction from her volatile demand, she was to be sadly disappointed. She received another of his subtle shrugs—yet the invasion of his golden eyes was far from subtle.
    “Fairly well. He’s one of my parishioners.”
    “Oh,” Donna murmured, shielding her eyes with the length of her lashes. A little, inexplicable tremor shook her but she forced herself to look guilelessly into his eyes. “Then you can introduce me to him—take me to him. He shouldn’t be terribly surprised to see me.”
    He studied her a long while, his gaze unfathomably raking over her ragged form with no apology. “I’m afraid that it’s not quite that easy, Ms. Miro,” he said politely.
    “How difficult can it be?” Donna demanded, annoyance hiding the fear his question had sent racing through her. Just who or what was Andrew McKennon that this priest was protecting him? “I can’t leave New York without meeting McKennon! If you decide not to help me, I’ll find another way.” She twisted to him, deciding to add a note of entreating charm. “Father, please help me…”
    Donna’s voice trailed off suddenly as she realized that as she had turned, she had placed her hands on his knees. She could feel hard sinewed muscle beneath the black cloth and, again, a heat that was magnetic. She raised her eyes from her hands to his only to feel a new surge of confusion when she found his brow cocked mockingly and his golden eyes glittering again with both amusement and appreciation.
    She withdrew her hands as if she had touched fire, which perhaps she had indeed. What the hell was he, devil or angel?
    He allowed a smile to filter across his sensuous mouth at her reaction. “I’m afraid it sounds as if you dislike Andrew—and you don’t even know him.”
    Donna stiffened. “I don’t dislike him, Father.” That was true. How could you hate a mystery man? She could only fear what he might be, or what he might be doing to her friend. She tried to shrug noncommittally. “As you said, I don’t know him. I’m merely afraid. For Lorna. Something could happen to her…might have al ready happened to her. Oh, for God’s sake, Father, can’t you see that I’m simply concerned! She could be in real danger, she could die, and young women in their twenties shouldn’t die!”
    “No,” he returned, and there was a dry, bitter twist to his deceptively light tone. “Young women in their twenties shouldn’t die.”
    They were both abruptly silent, the silence increasing the tension that was making Donna feel as if she were strung wire.
    She sighed suddenly, feeling her entire night had been a ridiculously disturbing ordeal. She constantly felt as if she wanted to reach out and shake him—and then crush him to her. The deadly allure was there. Since the rather dismal end of her own marriage, she had dated a number of attractive men, but never felt the slightest appeal. And now she was sitting there, feeling sensual, totally electric, tension was bidding her to reach out and touch and immerse herself in a man she also wanted to bind to a stake and set afire with a blaze to quench that devil fire in his eyes.
    And, God help her, he was a priest, and God probably didn’t help people who wanted to burn priests.
    “Father,” she said stiffly. “It’s obvious that I’ve wasted a great deal of time for us both. If you’ll just call me a cab—”
    Donna barely believed his next words as he interrupted her. “Don’t be so hasty. I’ll help you, Ms. Miro.”
    “What?”
    “I said that I’d help you.”
    “Oh, thank you—”
    “Don’t thank me yet, because I can’t promise anything. And if you want my help, you’re going to have to agree to a deal.”
    “A deal?”
    “Umm,” he murmured, his eyes teasing, but also deadly serious.