Gideon’s eyes rounded, and his mouth fell open.
A glow? Did he mean…
Only a soul—a true soul—caused a being to glow.
Had he finally earned his back?
Chuckling, Samuel crossed the yard, and with every step slowly faded until he vanished.
“Wow,” Maggie whispered. “That was…surreal. Was I just blessed by an actual angel?”
“Yes, love, you were,” Gideon said, turning her into his arms. He’d wait till later to tell her his own good news, to explain the comment about his glow.
But then he caught the strange look on her face.
“What’s the matter?”
She frowned up at him, and shook her head. But he caught her chin on the crook of his finger when she made to look away.
“What?” he urged.
She drew a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve ever used an endearment when speaking to me and really meant it? I mean, aside from when we first met, you know, before we…” She arched her eyebrows suggestively.
He frowned down at her. What was she talking about?
“You just called me love,” she prompted. “You call Kyanna and Carly sugar or darlin’ all the time. I mean, you’ve called me those things before too, but always…only when you were irritated with me. And that sounds really childish and jealous,” she added, shaking her head.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said, pinching her chin between his thumb and finger, forcing her to look up at him. “Sugar and darlin’, are just…well, they’re just things I say. They don’t mean anything at all.” He grinned down at her. “And you’re right. When I called you those names before, they were more of a… Well, let’s just say they weren’t exactly complimentary.”
She pursed her lips ruefully at him.
He took a moment to figure out exactly how to explain. “I don’t call you those things because you mean more to me than that, more than some easy nickname a guy might use so he doesn’t have to trouble himself with names. Names are important. And every time I say your name…” His voice trailed off, and he tilted his head. His eyes widened in sudden self-awareness. “Every time I say your name, it’s like me telling you I love you. Your name is the only endearment perfect enough for you.”
Tears overflowed and slipped down her cheeks.
Oh, crap, I screwed it up.
He opened his mouth to apologize. To tell her he was an idiot. To plead with her not to cry.
But she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him senseless. He couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. Couldn’t remember what they’d even been talking about. Hell, he couldn’t even remember his own name.
And he sure as hell didn’t care that his place had become Grand Central Station for every angel and demon who felt like dropping by.
Gideon lowered his woman, his mate, his Maggie to the grassy riverbank. He took his time stripping her, one article of clothing at a time. And he sampled and savored every inch of precious skin that he bared. And when he finally moved over her, when he finally slid deep inside her and felt her welcoming silken flesh close around him, he realized this was what he’d been praying for all along.
He’d finally found his Heaven.
Epilogue
Sebastian stepped inside the quaint little coffee shop located in picturesque Port August, Michigan. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans mixed pleasantly with the aroma of cinnamon and spice. He paused just inside the door under the guise of letting his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. But he spent that moment scanning the plentiful crowd. Filling the long, narrow shop were dozens of small, bistro-style tables. There had to be at least thirty people in here, and he began to feel the first fragile flutters of hope.
She has to be here.
He was looking for a woman in her early thirties. Five nine, slim, almost boyish build. She had long, straight brown hair she habitually kept restrained in a tight bun, and she wore old lady, cat eye rimmed glasses. He’d been able to piece that much together over the course of too many stops to keep track of throughout this infernal town. Not to mention the other false leads he’d followed throughout Michigan.
And through his fruitless search, he’d swear he’d now made the acquaintance of nearly every bloody person in Port August. He’d met the dean of Redmond College where Professor Mackenzie lectured. He’d also met the post mistress, the clerk at a small fresh food market, the proprietor of the hardware store, the checker at the grocery store, the gas station attendant, the newspaper reporter and the professor’s next door neighbor Jill, all of whom seemed to know Professor Mackenzie on a first name basis.
Oh, yes, and a nice young bank teller who’d offered her own number should he decide to give up chasing after the good professor.