Heavenly Angels. Carole Mortimer

      Heavenly Angels

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘WHO the hell are you?’

      Bethany’s auburn brows rose over dark green eyes at the unexpected attack by the man who’d answered her knock on the door. Her second knock, she might have informed him, but didn’t—her first knock having gone unanswered.

      He hardly looked in the mood to be told such a thing. He was a tall, dark-haired man in his late thirties, with flinty grey eyes that at the moment, she was sure, had a look of desperation in them. The short dark hair seemed to be standing up on end too, and judging by the orderly look of the rest of his appearance—tailored dark suit and pristine white shirt, perfectly knotted tie at his throat—Bethany didn’t think this was a usual occurrence.

      In fact, she was sure that it wasn’t; she wouldn’t be here at all if anything about this situation were as it usually was!

      She gave the man a smile, determined not to be put off by his aggressive attitude; after all, her last assignment had involved a man who’d had all the endearing qualities of Scrooge before the transformation, so anything had to be an improvement on that. Of course, she hadn’t complained at the time—it wasn’t for her to complain—but this Christmas, she had to admit, it would be nice—

      ‘I asked who you are?’ The dark-haired man im-patiently interrupted her wandering thoughts. ‘If you’re collecting for something—’

      ‘No.’ She smiled dismissively, her smile widening as a tiny golden-haired bundle came into view behind him, doing cartwheels across the pale blue carpet, while two dark-haired boys wrestled quite happily together on the rug in front of the fire.

      Christmas was such a joyous time for everyone, Bethany acknowledged happily, but especially for children. She was pleased, and a little excited herself, that children were involved in this assignment. She loved children. She had been a child herself once—and there were certain people who believed she still was, she accepted ruefully, a slight shadow darkening her creamy brow. She had tried so hard to show them how responsible she was, how adult she could be, but each time they gave her some responsibility something seemed to go slightly wrong.

      ‘No, I’m not collecting for anything, Mr Rafferty,’ she assured him smoothly. ‘It is Mr Rafferty, isn’t it?’ She hadn’t been told too much about him, but as he seemed to be at the right address, and in charge of three children, then she assumed he had to be Nick Rafferty.

      Bethany gazed up at him as he turned to scowl at the three highly active children, her hair a long blaze of red down her back, her green eyes huge in her small heart-shaped face, her nose pert and snub, covered with a liberal sprinkling of freckles, and her mouth wide and generous. That mouth was smiling now, the green eyes aglow.

      ‘Yes, I’m Nick Rafferty,’ he finally acknowledged with a sigh, visibly wincing as the volume of noise in the room behind him seemed to rise to crescendo level. ‘Shut up, you lot!’ he turned briefly again to shout—an effort he might just as well have saved himself as, after one brief glance in his direction, the two boys carried on wrestling and the golden-haired little girl proceeded to cartwheel in the other direction across the room.

      ‘Oh God!’ The man in front of her seemed to pale visibly, displaying the reason for his hair standing on end as he ran agitated fingers through the darkness, making it stick up even more. ‘Can I help you?’ he prompted agitatedly.

      Bethany calmly shook her head. ‘No, but I hope I can help you.’ She continued to smile at him—something that seemed to irritate him even more.

      He shook his head. ‘I wish you could,’ he sighed. ‘I’m sorry, who did you say you were?’ He frowned darkly.

      ‘Heavenly Angels,’ Bethany informed him lightly as she walked past him into the apartment, unhurriedly separating the two boys as they came dangerously close to the artificially warm fire and standing the two of them up to dust them down and straighten their dishevelled appearance.

      She smiled warmly at them and the golden-haired bundle, having ceased cartwheeling now, walked slowly over to join them as curiosity got the better of her concerning this newcomer in their midst. Bethany’s smile became even warmer as she looked at the angelic child—her curls golden, her face pure innocence, her blue eyes candid and freckles dusting her snub nose.

      ‘How the hell did you do that?’ an amazed Nick Rafferty demanded to know, when all three children were standing calmly in a row, looking up at Bethany.

      ‘You really shouldn’t swear in front of the children, Mr Rafferty,’ she advised him softly. ‘It isn’t good for innocent ears to—’

      ‘Children!’ he repeated scathingly. ‘In my book children should be seen and not heard—and preferably not the former either, if it can be arranged. And these three are demons from he—’

      ‘You’re becoming agitated, Mr Rafferty,’ Bethany calmly understated, ruffling the golden curls of the little girl as she smiled up at her so endearingly, with her two front teeth missing. The little girl was sure to have a lisp too, which must sound absolutely adorable coming from such a beautiful child. ‘That isn’t good for children. Children need firm, unflappable guidance, not—’

      ‘I don’t need a lecture from you on how to behave towards children!’ he exploded furiously. ‘Just how many children of your own do you have?’

      ‘Well…none. But—’

      ‘I didn’t think so,’ he said scornfully. ‘You aren’t much more than a child yourself!’ he added disgustedly, with a scathing glance at her five-foot stature and childlike features which didn’t make her look much older than the cherub standing at her side.

      Bethany smiled at the knowledge of just how wrong he was. Looks could be deceptive. She might look young, but she was actually—

      ‘I asked who you were,’ he reminded her harshly. Her smile seemed to have infuriated him even more as he glared down at her from his superior height, dark brows meeting frowningly together across those steely grey eyes.

      ‘And I answered you, Mr Rafferty,’ she replied evenly, turning to smile at the little girl at her side as a tiny warm hand slid into hers. ‘Heavenly Angels—’

      ‘Which tells me precisely