Free Daniel and the Angel by Jill Barnett Page A

chin. "You tell me."
    He didn't look her in the eye, but he turned and took two strides into the room, his face hidden in the shadow of the doorway. His back was to her. "I wasn't born into wealth. I've earned every cent I have. What you said the other night made me think about what I am, Lilli. Why I am. Whether I have put money before everything else in my life." He turned back to her then. "I think it's true.
    "My father died in an accident on the job. My mother was killed two weeks later. She was looking for a job and was murdered. No one ever knew what happened, except the police thought it might have been a robbery attempt.
    "I lived with my grandfather for a while, but he had a stroke. No matter how hard any of them worked, no matter how much they tried, there was never much money. I don't have a lot of childhood memories, except that everyone I cared for I lost, and that we had little time together because they were always working so hard." He looked around the room, his gaze stopping on each priceless piece of art that adorned the walls.
    "I remember thinking, when I buried my grandfather, that someday I would have so much money that I would never have to live like they did." He gave a droll laugh.
    She looked at him.
    "I realized this morning that I had done exactly what they had. I have spent almost every minute of my life working. The only difference is, I made money, more money than I could ever spend or need in my lifetime and theirs put together."
    "Daniel. I'm sorry I said those things."
    "Don't be. They needed to be said."
    She stood there, feeling awkward because she wanted to run to him, but she was afraid.
    "Can we start over? No challenges, no bets, no deals. And no questions. You can stay here as long as you want to, Lilli."
    She didn't know what to tell him.
    "Will you stay?"
    Every person he had ever cared about left him in one way or another. Perhaps she understood that look. She understood him.
    She couldn't leave him. Not now. Not when she was so confused and fast feeling as if Daniel were part of her. And deep inside her, she didn't want to leave him. She looked up and nodded. "I'll stay."
    There was a flash of relief in his eyes. He gave her a slow and lazy smile, then looked pointedly above her.
    She followed his gaze to where a giant ball of mistletoe, almost two feet wide, hung from the crystal chandelier directly above her.
    Two steps and he had closed the distance between them. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, tenderly.
    She slid her hands around his neck and returned his kiss, his taste. He groaned and his arms held her tightly, lifted her to him.
    The kiss lasted forever and an instant. He pulled back. Her head was against his chest, and he rested his chin on her head, his breath a little fast, his heart pounding in her ear. "Whenever I kiss you, it's the strangest thing. I could swear I hear bells."
    She smiled into his shirt and said, "Then perhaps you should kiss me more often."
    "Perhaps you should go to bed before I do and then can't stop." He released her and stepped back, his look only for her.
    She smiled and went up the stairs, feeling his gaze warm her all the way to the top. She stopped at the landing and turned. "Daniel. You know what they say about bells. Every time a bell rings—"
    He smiled and finished, "An angel gets its wings."
     
    * * *
     
    The next two days were theirs alone.
    They went back to the park and skated again. Well, he skated. She fell. They joined the throngs of uptown shoppers who milled along Broadway from Union Square and along all the uptown avenues where, this close to Christmas, the stores were open until eleven at night to handle the crowds of people who were too busy to shop during the workday.
    With hundred of others, they watched as a huge Christmas tree lit with two hundred gas jets was rolled into the Trinity Church sanctuary. Every branch of the tree was laden with gifts for children from a nearby orphan asylum, compliments