I'll be firm," I promised Patch, adopting a no-nonsense expression. "No backing down." By now Patch was full-on grinning. He kissed me again, and I felt my mouth soften its resolve. "You look cute when you're trying to be tough," he said.

Shouldn’t you be working instead of fraternizing with customers?” I choked. He smiled. “What are you doing Sunday night?” I snorted. By accident. “Are you asking me out?” “You’re getting cocky. I like that, Angel.” “I don’t care what you like. I’m not going out with you. Not on a date. Not alone.

You’re impinging on my private space,” I said, inching backward. Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isn’t the SAT, Nora.

The Patch I knew didn't run from anyone.

The Archangel." I murmured. looking back over my shoulder at the ride, which had started its next ascent. "It means high-ranking angel." There was a definite smugness to his voice. "The higher up, the harder the fall.

I wrinkled my nose, trying to figure out what he smelled like. Not cigarettes. Something richer, fouler. Cigars.

Sure thing, Gumdrop. -Scott