Sensuous Angel by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

gripping the handle and swinging it open. “Shall we go—Father?”
    He stood and strode toward her. “Certainly, Ms. Miro.”
    Despite her resolve, she lowered her eyes as he reached her. “Could you please quit that?”
    “What is it you wish me to quit?” he inquired softly.
    She wondered bitterly how even the husky depths of his voice could touch her like a sensual caress. Somehow she raised her eyes to his. “My name is Donna.”
    “Donna,” he said agreeably, inclining his head with a slight grin curved into his handsome features.
    “I wish I knew,” she murmured, dismayed to hear that her own voice was husky, “how I should really be addressing you. ”
    He chuckled, breaking the spell that had seemed to bind them to the doorway as he slipped an arm through hers to lead her out and down the hallway. “My name, Donna, is Lucian Trudeau. Father Trudeau, if you will. Or Father Luke.”
    “I’m really not terribly sure I can call you Father Luke,” Donna exhaled on a whisper of air.
    She felt the bend of his head to her ear, a touch of velvet that streaked like fire along her spine as he spoke softly. “Then don’t, Donna. Most people merely call me Luke.”
    The elevator door parted. This time they were alone as they moved into the cubicle. Donna wanted to shrink into a corner. She forced herself to remain calm and still.
    But she almost screamed when he reached out to lightly lift the heavy length of her hair from her shoulder. She could feel the brush of his fingers with every nerve within her. That slight contact made waves of trembling heat sweep through her.
    “Your hair is one of the most beautiful, unique shades I’ve ever seen,” he told her softly.
    He wasn’t doing anything. Nothing intimate. The gesture was not in the least a come-on—he still stood a foot away from her—and yet it swamped her senses far more thoroughly than the most passionate kiss she had ever received.
    “Just your usual dark Italian brown,” she replied, trying to laugh. But her voice trembled. It was throaty and husky. She stared ahead at the doors, praying they would open. “But thank you,” she murmured.
    He released her hair. His knuckles once more brushed her cheek, but his eyes were locked with hers. Somehow burning, somehow soft. That strange green and gold. Compelling, captivating.
    They touched her and warmed her. And for a long while, she returned that stare. And all she could think was that she liked him very much. It was as if he searched for something in her and found it. They barely knew one another, but instinct told Donna that there was something right between them. The chemistry that made a certain man right for a certain woman. He was the type of man with whom she could very easily fall in love….
    He was a priest, he was a priest, he was a priest….
    She forced herself to tear her eyes from his, and she repeated the words over and over again to convince herself that they were true.
    It was crazy, it was all crazy. The night had pitched her into things she didn’t understand, and she had made some kind of an absurd promise to go along with it.
    It seemed that they had been in the elevator a ridiculously long time. They had to reach the lobby. Soon. She couldn’t stand being so close to him when they were so confined. She felt as if she were metal and he were a magnet, pulling her irrevocably to him.
    He was the priest; Donna was the one who began to pray. She prayed desperately that the elevator would reach the lobby.
    Her prayer was answered and the doors slid silently open.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T HEY DIDN’T SPEAK AS they made their way through the lobby with its gracious store displays of clothing and jewels to the Oak Room. Donna was not surprised when the maître d’ appeared to know her escort well. Nothing much about the strange priest would have surprised her anymore. They were led to a corner table with a snowy white cloth, where a very pretty young brunette awaited them. She stood as