Sensuous Angel by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

help. She stilled her fingers with strength of will and began a new line of questioning.
    “Who is this Tricia? Why are we meeting her?”
    “She is a friend of mine—and she keeps in touch with Andrew more closely than I do.”
    Donna was unable to query him further since the cab pulled in front of the entrance to the Plaza. Again she attempted to pay—and again she was impatiently brushed aside.
    The large, beautiful lobby of the hotel was brimming with people. Saturday night, Donna thought dryly. Masses of people were descending for a night out on the town, bedecked in all sorts of regalia for the theater or dinner or dancing. Donna threaded her way toward the elevators, trying to talk over her shoulder.
    “Please go on in to the Oak Room. I’ll meet you as soon as I’m able.”
    “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you, Ms. Miro. You could trip somewhere on that ankle. Or you could get your directions backward and spend the next twenty-four hours looking for the Oak Room.”
    She wanted to argue with him—she certainly didn’t want him coming to her room—but it was impossible to argue in the crowd as he calmly ushered her along by the elbow. Once inside the crowded elevator, she gave up with a sigh, wondering then just how she had left her room. She had a habit of really spreading out—leaving hair spray on the nightstand, bobby pins all over the sink, and her toiletries from one end of a bureau to another. Face it, she had a habit of being disorganized, and also—when she was pressed for time—of leaving discarded clothing wherever it had fallen.
    “What floor, Ms. Miro?”
    Donna answered him brusquely, once again wondering about the state of her room. She could recall nothing—except that she had been in a hurry to get going.
    Too soon they were walking down the hall and she was fumbling in the shoulder bag for the little code card that was her key. It was galling to realize that she couldn’t even function properly when he stood beside her. For several years she had considered herself immune to attractive males and now….
    But it wasn’t just her, she thought defensively. He had drawn the eyes of every female in both elevator and lobby. Almost everyone, she corrected herself. He was a riveting man. Strength of will? she Wondered. Or perhaps the self-assurance that was purposeful?
    “May I help?”
    She wasn’t even managing to slip the little card into the door.
    He took the initiative without reply and a second later they were entering the room.
    Donna was loath to turn on the light but equally loath to be alone with him in the darkness. She quickly hit the switch.
    The beds were made, but that was about it. She had only been in New York a day and already she had a clutter of shoes next to the dresser, jackets thrown over one bed and a chair, and an assortment of toiletries strewn across the dresser.
    Latent childhood rebellion, she thought briefly. Her mother was the perfect Italian housewife to the core—to this day she studiously ironed the permanent-pressed sheets and her father’s boxer shorts.
    “Uh…I’ll just be a second,” Donna murmured nervously as she headed for the closet, trying to kick her shoe assortment beneath the dresser unobtrusively. “Just make yourself comfortable—”
    She broke off, glad that she was facing the clothing she had hung up. Make yourself comfortable! Surely that wasn’t the right thing to say when a priest stood in one’s hotel room.
    She grabbed a sleek navy cocktail dress and backed out of the closet. He was about to sit in the one large fanback chair that faced the window overlooking the park when he paused. Donna frowned, but he straightened with a smile, dangling a pair of red lace panties from his forefinger. “Will you be needing these?” he inquired with bland innocence.
    Donna pursed her lips and stomped to retrieve her garment—causing her ankle to buckle with pain. He was quick to rescue her with a firm grip on the arm, but Donna felt