On the Hunt

Sunny turned back to the counter, focusing all her attention on the dough she was rolling out for a chocolate-filled pastry. Whenever she felt restless, like she did right now, cooking helped settle her nerves and restore her serenity.

"I can't go anyway," she argued. "I'm covered in flour and my hair's a hot mess."

Kate sashayed to her side and began playing with Sunny's hair. "I could make it beautiful in five minutes flat. You can change clothes, and you don't even need mice or a pumpkin—just go to the ball."

Sunny waved her off with a forced laugh. "It's a football party. No glass slippers allowed."

"But there is one definite prince who will be there."

Sunny planted a hand on her hip. "Now he's a prince? You despised Jamie until three days ago."

Kate shrugged. "It was a shocker, but he was pretty nice to me. And to you . . . and you like him, so he's off my shit list. At least until he makes a wrong move with you."

Sunny averted her eyes, rolling the dough some more. Kate didn't miss her avoidance tactic, and took hold of her arm.

"Sweetie, did Jamie do something to hurt or upset you? Is that why you won't go?" her friend asked in concern. "If he did—"

"No!" Sunny blurted. She didn't want Kate blaming Jamie for anything, or trying to press him for details, either. "No, no, he's fine." She sighed, burying her face in both hands. "And beautiful! And he was really sweet to me. Oh, Kate, what am I gonna do?"

"So you do like him?" Kate pried at her hands, trying to get Sunny to look at her. "Then why not go? I mean, I know he's a hound, but I didn't just see the way you looked at him. . . . He couldn't take his eyes off you the whole day. And that kind of attention from the perennially single Jamie Angel? It's a downright miracle. So you have to come tonight, Sun!"

Sunny pulled out of Kate's grasp and paced the small kitchen, wringing her hands in agitation. "If I go, he'll start everything up again, and . . . and . . ." I'll fall in love with him. And I might just fall from heaven if I do. And there could be dangerous repercussions for Jamie as well.

"And?" Kate prompted, rolling her hand impatiently.

"And he's got too bad a rep for me. I just can't trust him," she lied, offering a quick prayer for forgiveness.

Kate sighed, studying her from across the room. "All right, then," she agreed reluctantly. "I guess if you're sure. Just seems like, I dunno, there could be something between you two. Something worth taking a chance on."

Sunny pasted a smile on her face. "Now that you're engaged, you're in love with love. You want everyone to be as happy as you."

"Of course I do! I wish there were a whole pack of Dillon Foxes for all my girlfriends. But he's one of a kind, so I have to work with what's available. And Jamie Angel is very available."

Sunny stared past Kate's shoulder. "He deserves genuine love with a good woman," she said, her chest tightening. "Someone kind and real, someone he loves deeply. Yes. I pray that Jamie finds that." Sunny glanced away, blinking at sudden tears. She'd never wanted anything so much as to be that very woman for Jamie. To be the one to kiss away his pain, to chase away that dogged loneliness she'd sensed inside him.

"Oh, my God," Kate whispered wondrously. "You don't just like him. . . . You fell for him hard."

Sunny wiped her eyes, forcing a bright smile onto her face. "How in heaven's name could that have happened?" she sang. "We only spent a few hours together."

Kate gave her a knowing smile. "A lot can happen in a few hours. Look at me and Dillon."

She had to hustle Kate out of the apartment, or her best friend was going to slowly wheedle and cajole far too much out of her. Slipping an arm through Kate's, Sunny walked her slowly toward the door. "You go to the party with your own prince. Have a great time and text me later, okay?"

Kate stopped by the front door, looking at her uncertainly. "I can't believe you're being such a coward about this. It's not like you at all."

Sunny's face flamed hot. "I'm not being a coward!"

Kate wrapped both arms about Sunny, holding her tight. "I'm praying that you find the love of your life, too. Just be sure you don't tuck tail and run when you do."

Kate and Dillon entered the foyer, and Jamie just kept staring past them through the still-open front door. Waiting. Expecting Sunny to come strolling in behind them, her big dark eyes dancing with light. He leaned a little sideways, trying to see down the steps.

"Uh, Jamie," Kate volunteered hesitantly. "Sunny's not coming."

He blinked back at her. There had to be some mistake. Friends. They'd agreed to be friends.

She wouldn't have stayed away from him, not if she felt like he did. She couldn't have managed to keep her distance—it had taken every bit of his self-discipline not to show up at her apartment in the past few days.

"So, dude, just us," Dillon added, following Lulu's lead into the house. He carefully passed a gourmet shopping bag into Jamie's hands, hesitating until he was sure Jamie had hold of the parcel. "Sorry; no Dom Perignon this time. We did bring some good wine, though."

But you didn't bring my Sunshine. All he could do was blink back at Kate, trying to understand why Sunny would've stood him up. Even if it wasn't a date, they'd had plans for the party.

"Why didn't she want to come?" he asked, trying to keep his tone bland.

"I honestly don't know, Jamie." Kate shook her head slowly, a meaningful expression in her eyes. Had Sunny told her something about him?

He'd spent the past days aching to see Sunny again, fighting the compulsion to go after her, to beg for a way they could be together. Only his absolute respect for her and her wishes had held that plan at bay. Then he'd woken exhilarated this morning, his first thought that he'd be with her again today. The whole morning had been a study in finding ways to expend his nervous energy.

First, a six-mile run that had done almost nothing to calm his libido. Next, several hours spent reading one of the volumes about the Grigori, the fallen angels mentioned in the Apocrypha. He'd read page after page, searching for any hint that Sunny might find a way to become mortal, some loophole where they could be together without it being a grave sin.

His reading had yielded no hope whatsoever. Just like all the other lore he'd studied for the past few days.

So at last, he'd pinned all his anticipation on the simple act of getting to spend time with her. It was a gorgeous, unseasonably warm New Year's Day and he'd planned to walk her down to the dock. He already had one of their most expensive vintages from the wine cellar chilling in a cooler down there—along with a pair of his grandmama's silver wine goblets. He'd even brought out a hand-crocheted lace tablecloth for them to sit on. It was truly what Sunny Renfroe deserved—the full-court press.

Full-court press. He'd thrown the words out to her the other day in jest, and here he stood in khakis and a button-down and polished loafers and . . . she simply wasn't coming.

Kate stared up at him, searching his face; he had no doubt that his extreme disappointment showed in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she said with surprising sympathy. "I tried."

He nodded, scuffing one of his shoes against the hardwood floor of the entry. "I guess she didn't . . ." He couldn't even finish the statement.

I guess she didn't care about me, didn't want to be near me. I guess I was wrong about what happened between us. . . .

Even though he knew better—Sunny had been more than obviously attracted to him. The stakes between them were just too high, and he got that.

Kate stepped close and rose onto the balls of her feet, whispering in his ear, "Go after her, Jamie. She's well worth pursuing."

She stepped back, giving him a conspiratorial smile, then followed in Dillon's footsteps.

Sunny lay on her sofa, Kleenex box in hand, watching When Harry Met Sally. Perfect. A movie about friends.... Well, at least they'd started out that way. Why didn't she possess the strength of will to take Jamie up on his offer of friendship?

Because, just like Harry and Sally, she knew that she and Jamie would wind up falling in love.

She couldn't really see someone as strong-will ed and eager as Jamie Angel wasting much time without going for what he wanted, either.

"Kiel," she whispered, fresh tears starting, "am I being tested? Is that it? Why else would I have to hurt like this?"

No answer. Kiel came to her only at the most important of times, and apparently one lowly guardian's tears didn't qualify as urgent. She dabbed at her eyes and tried to focus on the movie, but was interrupted by the front doorbell. Who would be dropping by on New Year's Day? Her mama might be out walking around downtown—and if it was her mother, she'd instantly notice Sunny's mood and teary eyes and want to know every detail of what was troubling her daughter.

After "adopting" Sunny when she was sent to Earth—her parents had no clue about her true nature or age—her mama had always been overprotective, loving Sunny all the more because she felt so blessed to have her.

Tiptoeing to the door so that whoever was on the other side wouldn't hear her, Sunny looked out the peephole of her apartment door.

"God, help me," she whispered, and, wiping her eyes one more time, began unlatching the door.

Jamie waltzed right into her apartment as if his arrival on her doorstep were an everyday thing. As always, he dwarfed her, but somehow in the cramped space of her apartment, he seemed even taller and more broad shouldered. And she'd have sworn that the man was even handsomer than the last time she'd seen him.

As they walked together into her living room, she assessed him as inconspicuously as possible.

Whereas the other day he'd been in grungy jeans and a T-shirt, today he wore a dark purple Polo button-down, one that made his green eyes more vivid than usual. He also had on neatly pressed khaki pants that emphasized his very fine physique. Oh, how she'd fibbed when she'd claimed he looked wimpy. Everything about Jamie Angel's physique spoke of power and strength, and she'd spent several long nights imagining what it would feel like to have that body atop her own. To have him deep inside her, loving her.