Sara's Angel by Sharon Sala

Author:Sharon Sala
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sara’s Angel
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2015-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Sara paused on the staircase and watched Hawk standing sentinel at the window. He was all long legs and narrow hips encased in a pair of black denim Levis, a red-and-black plaid shirt that accentuated the width of his shoulders and lean waist, and coal-black hair that hung loosely down the back of his collar to just above his shoulders.

He needs a haircut, Sara thought, and then her heart thumped one wild, erratic beat before it settled back into its regular rhythm. He was wearing a shoulder holster. Sara could see the wide leather strap, ominous by its mere presence. She fiddled with her hairbrush, debating whether or not to ask Hawk for the help she needed when he sensed her presence and turned to see her standing on the stairs.

“What is it, Sara?” His deep voice beckoned. Although he didn’t need to ask, he knew what had stopped her descent.

“Do I need one?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Instantly, her referral to his being armed sparked such a fierce spurt of pride for her that he couldn’t contain the smile that tilted a corner of his mouth.

“Can you shoot?” he asked.

“Ummm, no,” Sara hesitated, still twisting her hairbrush over and over between trembling fingers.

“Then you don’t need a gun, baby. Come here.” He held out his arms and enfolded Sara safely against him.

She clutched at the front of his shirt, willing her fear away while held in his strength.

“What are you doing with that thing?” he teased, referring to the brush she still held clutched in one hand. “Going to turn the bad guys over your knee?” He grinned at her indignant expression.

“No, funny man. I have tangles I can’t reach, no thanks to you and last night. Will you help?” She handed him the brush and turned her back to him, giving him easier access to the mess of curls.

Hawk dug his fingers into the tangle of her hair, entranced as auburn spirals lively wound about his hands and wrists. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hands, took the hairbrush and proceeded to coax the impudent curls into a semblance of manners, despite their preference for rebellion.

“Did you know today is Christmas Eve?” The wistful tone of her voice hinted at what she could not say.

“Are you sorry you’re not in Dallas?” Hawk had to ask, although he dreaded her answer. Somewhere deep inside, he still doubted.

“There’s no one there, Hawk. There hasn’t been for the longest time. I only have Roger...and now you.”

His hands stilled and he pulled her back against his body and buried his face in her hair.

Sara grabbed his arms and wrapped herself in his hug.

“I’m only sorry this is happening and you’ve become involved because of me. I would wish happier times for you at Christmas than babysitting a time bomb.”

“No, Sara, you’ve got it all wrong. You are my happier times. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here...with you.”

“I do miss one thing,” she said. “I miss the anticipation of Christmas. I really get into decorating and baking.

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