Free Some Kind of Angel by Shirley Larson

finger under his chin and brought his face around to look into his eyes.  “Are you attracted to me, Michael?”
    “Of course I am, Leslie.  How could I not be?  You are everything a woman should be, gracious, charming, attractive…”
    “Michael.  You mustn’t care for me.  I…I’m carrying another man’s child.”
    “I know.”
    “How could you possibly know?”
    He thought about lying and telling her that Marian had told him, but Marian would quickly deny it.  “I just…have this ability to know things about people.”
    “And you’re still attracted to me, knowing what I’ve done?”
      “What have you done, Leslie?”  He reached out and cupped both her cheeks in his hands.  “You loved a man who was not wise enough to know you had given him the greatest gift you could give, the gift of yourself.”
    He brushed his lips over hers, meaning it to be a light kiss of affection and caring.  When he made a move to lift his head, Leslie wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, probing with her tongue.  Startled, he didn’t respond.  But as her tongue took possession of his mouth, he opened and met her eagerly.
    Still kissing him, Leslie pulled him over to the couch and pushed him down, coming half on top of him.  When they were nearly in the position they started from, she lifted her head.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”
    “No, you shouldn’t.”
    “You tasted really good.”
    “So did you.”
    “I want to taste you again.”
    “Leslie…”
    She covered his protest with her mouth.  He lay there, taking her in, knowing he was the one in the wrong.  Nothing could come of this.  Nothing must come of this.  But talk about heavenly.  Her reveled in the feel of her, her breasts pressed against his chest, the scent of her veil of dark hair that fell around him, brushing his cheek.  And her mouth.  Could anything be as wonderful as her mouth on his, her tongue teasing his?  It was as if she were an essential part of him, the part he needed to breathe.  He almost forgot who he was and where he was…until the gigantic ping reminded him.
    He cupped her shoulders with his hands and gently pushed her away from him.
    She roused up and looked so beautifully contrite that his heart ached. 
    “I apologize, Michael.  I don’t know what came over me.  It’s just that you are so handsome, and so kind and so nice.”
    He pushed himself up off the couch and discovered that he was angry.  “Do not depend on my being “nice,” forever, Leslie.  I am a man, not a saint.”
    Then it hit him.  It was true.  He was a man.  Right now, in this place, looking at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he was as male and as human as any guy could get.  The urge to take Leslie down on the couch and bury himself in her was the strongest emotion he had felt since becoming human.
    “You need to go, Leslie.”
    “Yes,” she said, stooping to pick up the script papers she had brought.
    He looked at that lovely dark head and knew he had done the right thing.  But unfortunately, he could feel how sad her heart was. 
    When she straightened he said, “Leslie, we hardly know each other.”
    “You’re wrong,” she said, with that stubborn little chin tilted up.  “I feel as if I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone in my whole life.  It’s obvious you don’t feel the same way, so I’ll just…go.”  At the door, she turned.  “I won’t bother you again, Michael.”

Chapter Six
     
    Michael stared at the door she closed behind her.  How could he be feeling so many things?  Sorry that he had hurt her?  Yes.  Sorry that he couldn’t tell her the truth about himself?  Yes.  Sorry that he couldn’t make love to her the way he wanted to?  Oh, yes.
    He had planned it all so differently.  He’d meant to help Leslie face the dilemma she was in, not create another one for her.  How could he have messed up so badly?  What was he going to do about it?  He