by Janet Dailey
“Do I detect a note of interest?” he asked.
“Daddy, I just met him,” she protested.
“So?” he challenged.
“So, I hardly know him. Besides, he’s a minister,” she reasoned.
“A minister—not a priest,” he reminded her.
The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn. Abbie was glad when she saw Ben Cooper sliding through the crowd with a cup of coffee and a napkinful of tea cakes and sandwiches. She quickly rose from the chair next to her father.
“You can have your seat back, Ben,” she declared brightly, and pretended to eye the blueberry tart balanced on top of the small sandwiches. “I think I’ll check out the sweets.”
One blueberry tart and a cup of coffee later, Abbie found herself trapped in a conversation with the Coltrain sisters, two delightful ladies in their eighties who could ramble on for hours, reminiscing about the past. She’d heard nearly all their stories at least twice. It was inevitable that her attention wandered.
She seemed to have only one interest—Seth Talbot. Voluntarily or involuntarily, she had spent most of her time observing the way he casually mingled, getting acquainted with the members of his new congregation attending the tea. It wasn’t just the women who seemed to take to him, but the men as well. The room seemed to buzz with conversations with the new minister as their main topic.
It might have been a farewell tea for Reverend Augustus, but Seth Talbot was stealing the man’s thunder. Or was it only her imagination? Just because she was practically obsessed with him did not necessarily mean that everyone else was. Abbie sighed, pulling her attention back to the moment as she took a drink of coffee and discovered it had grown cold.
“Would you?” Isabel Coltrain turned an unblinking pair of blue eyes to Abbie.
“I…” She realized she hadn’t heard a word of the recent conversation. “I’m sorry.” Abbie pretended there were too many other people talking. “What did you say?”
“Would you type the manuscript Esther and I are writing when we’re finished?” The older of the two sisters repeated the question. “We’ll pay you … if it’s not too much.”
“Yes, I’d be happy to type it for you.” Abbie relaxed a little, now that she knew exactly what she was committing herself to do. “I can do it in the evenings.”
“I’m so glad that young man suggested that we should write a book, aren’t you, Esther?” Isabel Coltrain practically sparkled with zest and energy.
“Young man?” Abbie murmured in vague confusion. She had been under the impression that the manuscript was already in progress.
“Yes, the new reverend.” Esther showed equal excitement. “He was so fascinated by some of the stories we told him that he said we should write them down.”
“My, but he’s a handsome man, isn’t he?” Isabel rolled her eyes and clutched a hand to her heart. “He makes me wish I was young again.”
“Act your age,” her younger sister scolded.
From past experience, Abbie knew the pair could become quite spiteful with sibling jealousy and quickly intervened. “It’s a wonderful idea about the book. When do you plan to start on it?”
“Oh, right away,” Esther assured her. “We’re going to start by jotting down our ideas, then decide who’s going to write what.”
“That sounds practical,” Abbie agreed, even though it could be the basis for a lot of arguments. Before she became embroiled in the middle of one, she thought it best to excuse herself. “I think I’ll warm up my coffee.”
“Don’t drink too much. It isn’t good for you,” Isabel warned.
“I won’t,” Abbie promised while she backed away.
Chapter Three
The old Roman-numeraled clock on the office wall indicated the time was five minutes before twelve noon. Abbie opened the bottom drawer of her desk and removed her purse, a large shoulder-bag affair. Lifting the flap, she took a slightly oversized compact mirror out of a side compartment and a tube of bronzed pink lipstick.
The overhead light didn’t provide the best conditions for the application of makeup but it was infinitely better than the bare light bulb in the rest room. Abbie turned in her swivel chair so she was facing the full play of light while she freshened the color of her lips and inspected the results in the mirror. She used her fingertips to fluff the ends of her copper hair, then snapped the compact mirror closed in satisfaction.
She was just replacing it in its zippered compartment in her purse when her father stepped out of his private office. His suit jacket was off and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled back. He had a cup in his hand. It didn’t require any clever deduction for Abbie to figure out he was heading to the coffee urn for more coffee. He’d been up to his elbows in law books for the last hour. Case research always seemed to go hand in hand with increased coffee consumption.
His absentminded glance at her desk took in her purse sitting atop it, which seemed to prompt a look at the antique wall clock. “It’s that time already, is it?” He sighed his disbelief that the morning could have gone so quickly and walked on, then stopped. “Don’t forget to make that bank deposit.”
“I’ve got it right here.” Abbie picked up the envelope from her desk top. “I plan to stop at the bank first. Are you going out for lunch, or would you like me to bring you something?”
Her father paused in the act of filling his cup to send her a frowning look. “Is Ed coming in at one or one-thirty?”
Abbie checked the appointment book. “One.”
“Better bring me a sandwich then,” he decided.
Standing up, Abbie slipped the long strap to her purse over her shoulder and kept the envelope with the bank deposit in her hand. “I’ll be back in an hour or soooner,” she said, and received an acknowledging nod from her father.
With a hot sun overhead, Abbie kept to the shady side of the street. There was a good breeze, which kept the summer heat from becoming stifling. It billowed the ice-blue material of her loose, tentlike dress, cinched at the waist with a wide white elastic belt.
The streets and sidewalks were bustling with summer traffic as Abbie walked to the bank. There were so many strangers about that she stopped looking for familiar faces. When she reached to open the door to the bank, a man’s hand was there ahead of her. She half turned to absently smile a polite thanks for the gentlemanly gesture. But the man leaning forward was Seth Talbot, not a stranger.
The air seemed to leave her lungs in a sudden rush. Abbie wasn’t prepared for this exposure to his virile brand of sexuality. For the last three days, she’d made a determined attempt to block him out of her mind and stop weaving romantic fantasies about a minister of the church.
“How are you today, Miss Scott?” Seth greeted her with a natural friendly warmth.
It took a tremendous force of will to pull her gaze from his roughly hewn features and the arresting indigo of his eyes, but Abbie succeeded in doing so. “Fine, thank you, Reverend.” She was irritated by how prim she sounded and made a stilted attempt to correct it. “And you?”
There was a hint of amusement in his gaze when Abbie dared to glance at him again. “Very well.” But there was nothing in his voice to mock her as he held the door to the bank open, then followed her inside.
Her stomach felt like a quivering ball of nerves. The summer season had brought its usual mixture of sightseers and customers to the bank. Its reconstruction as a Victorian-era institution made it one of the town’s attractions.
Believing the conversation was over, Abbie skirted the high-backed chairs that were arranged around a polished potbellied stove, a brass cuspidor near one foot, and headed for the brass teller cages. Then she realized he was walking beside her. Again he was dressed in an unorthodox fashion for a minister—a pair of Levi’s that hugged his narrow hips and long, muscular legs, and a white sport shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat. His shoes looked suspiciously like cowboy boots.
It was one thing for him to travel in casual clo
thes, but Abbie was astounded that he was going around town minus his frock and white collar. This was the community he was to serve as minister, but how would anyone know it when he dressed like everyone else?
His gaze had finished its sweep of the bank’s unusual interior and stopped on her. “It really carries out the town’s theme, doesn’t it?” he remarked.
“Yes. They have quite a display of original business machines, too,” Abbie replied, feeling the tension return with the attention he was paying her.
“I looked at them when I was in here Monday.” He nodded, his burnished gold hair reflecting the light from the overhead chandeliers. “Are you downtown shopping or is this your lunch break?”
The personal query caught her off guard. “My lunch break,” Abbie admitted, then felt she needed an excuse for being in the bank. She nervously lifted the hand with the envelope. “I have a deposit to make first, though.”
“Where do you work?” His question appeared to contain only idle interest.
“I’m a legal secretary—for my father.” It was hardly a secret.
“There’s nothing like nepotism to keep out of the unemployment lines,” he declared with the flash of a white smile.
Abbie stiffened, taking offense even though she knew none had been intended. “I happen to be very qualified for the job.”
An eyebrow was arched briefly, his look gentling at her sensitivity. “I’m not throwing stones, Miss Scott. After all, I work for my Father.” A teasing light sparkled in his blue eyes and Abbie smiled at the comparison of their respective employers. “That’s better.” Seth smiled too. “Would you excuse me? I have to talk to one of the officers.”
“Of course.” She hadn’t meant to keep him from his errand, and her smile slid away. “I need to make this deposit, too.” It was a defensive reply, an insistence that she had things to do as well.
The nearest teller also happened to be the one with the shortest waiting line. Abbie walked to it, aware of Seth Talbot approaching the desk of a bank officer. The two customers ahead of her had only minor transactions to make, so it was quickly Abbie’s turn at the window.
“Hello, Roberta,” Abbie greeted the plump, young woman teller, and slid the deposit across the counter.
“Is it as hot outside as it looks?” the teller asked as she checked to verify that there were signatures and deposit-only stamps on all the checks.
“Hotter, but there’s a nice breeze,” Abbie replied.
A bleached blonde crowded close to Roberta and leaned toward Abbie to whisper eagerly. “We’re all just dying to find out who that gorgeous hunk of man is that you’re with?” Fran was a former classmate of Abbie’s, who was married and had two children, but she’d always been a little man-crazy.
“What man?” As soon as Abbie asked she realized Fran was talking about Seth—Reverend Talbot.
“What man she says.” Fran gave Roberta a knowing look.
“I guess you’re referring to Reverend Talbot,” Abbie admitted. “He’s the new pastor of our church now that Reverend Augustus has retired.”
“That is the new pastor!” Fran’s stage whisper seemed alarmingly loud. “Oh, Roberta, I think I’ve just been saved,” she declared on a giggle.
“I don’t blame you,” Roberta murmured, and cast a longing eye across the bank—no doubt at Seth, but Abbie refused to turn around and look. “He’s the sexiest-looking man to come to this town in a long time.”
“I guess,” Fran agreed effusively. “I’m going to have to buy myself a new Sunday dress to wear to church.”
“Do you belong to our church?” Abbie questioned with a blank look. She couldn’t recall ever seeing Fran and her husband attend Sunday services.
“I haven’t been there in years—not since Butch and I got married,” Fran admitted indifferently, then grinned coyly. “But I think I’m going to be among the faithful from now on.”
“Heck, I think I’m going to convert.” Roberta smiled impishly.
“Oh, God,” Fran murmured excitedly. “He’s coming over here. Oh, Abbie, you’ve just got to introduce us.”
She was disgusted at the way the two of them were carrying on about him. One glance at the other female employees behind the cages informed her that Roberta and Fran weren’t the only ones avidly eyeing the man walking up, and whispering among themselves. They were only echoing her own reaction to him, but that didn’t make it any less distasteful.
Roberta passed Abbie the receipt for her deposit and spoke loudly, “Here you are, Abbie.”
“Thank you.” She was holding her neck almost rigidly still to avoid turning her head to look at Seth Talbot when he stopped beside her. But she had to move to put the receipt in her purse.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her glance bounced away before it squarely met his eyes. Too many sensations were clawing at her because of his presence.
“Hi, I’m Fran Bigsby.” The blonde introduced herself when Abbie failed to do it immediately.
“Abbie was just telling us that you’re the new pastor. Welcome to Eureka Springs.”
“Seth Talbot’s the name and I’m glad to be here.” Again, that warm smiling look was on his visage.
“I’m Roberta Flack, no relation to the singer.” Roberta beamed, looking very pretty, despite the unflattering pounds she carried.
“I’m happy to meet you both,” he said. When Abbie started to move away from the teller’s window so Roberta could wait on the next customer, Seth started to leave with her. “Maybe I’ll see you in church some Sunday,” he added as a farewell remark.
“You can be sure of it,” Fran called after them.
Abbie couldn’t walk away from the window fast enough, embarrassed without being sure why. But Seth was undeterred by her haste, easily striding at her side.
“Was there anyplace special you were going to have lunch?” he asked.
His query startled a glance from her. “No. Why?” There were others leaving the bank, and Abbie was forced to slow her pace as she scanned his expression.
“I was on my way to lunch. You’re on your way to lunch. So why don’t we have it together?” Seth reasoned smoothly. “There’s a restaurant just down the street. Shall we go there?”
Her acceptance of his plan seemed to be taken for granted. Actually, Abbie couldn’t think of a single reason why she should refuse. “Sounds good,” she agreed.
The combination of noon hour and the influx of summer visitors resulted in a crowded restaurant. Luckily, Abbie and Seth had to wait only a few minutes before they were seated at a small table, hardly big enough for two. Her knees kept bumping against his under the table no matter how she tried to angle them in the close quarters. There was another man seated in a chair directly behind her, so she couldn’t even edge her chair away from the table.
“Sorry,” she apologized when her knee rubbed against the side of his for the fourth time. She hoped he didn’t think she was doing it deliberately.
“It’s close quarters in here.” Seth offered the excuse, but the light glinting in his blue eyes made her feel hot.
“Yes, it is.” Abbie opened her menu to study it intently. Maybe if she sat perfectly still and didn’t move, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“What are you going to have?” he asked as he spread open his menu.
“A chef’s salad, I think.” Her stomach wasn’t behaving too well. She didn’t want to put a lot of food into it. “How about you?”
But when she looked up, his gaze was making a leisurely survey of her upper body and appearing to take particular note of the hint of maturely rounded breasts under the loose-fitting dress. It was the look of a man, and a hundred alarm bells rang in her ears.
“Are you on a diet?” Seth finally lifted his gaze to her face. “It’s just one man’s opinion, but I don’t see how you can improve on your figure.”
In the first place, she wasn’t sure if he should notice such things, and she definitely felt he shouldn’t
comment on them if he did. But how on earth did you reprimand a minister? Abbie preferred to believe she had misinterpreted his glance. Maybe it had been more analytical and less intimate.
“I don’t like to eat a lot of food on a hot day like today.” She chose to explain away her lack of appetite.
“That’s probably very wise,” he agreed. When the waitress came, Seth ordered for both of them. At the last minute, Abbie remembered she had promised to bring her father a sandwich.
“I’ll need a cold roast-beef sandwich to go, too, please,” she added hastily, then explained to Seth when the waitress left, “My father was tied up and couldn’t get away for lunch.”
“He’s an attorney here?”
“Yes. It’s just a small practice. He keeps talking about retiring but he won’t. He loves what he’s doing too much.” It seemed easier to talk about her father than the other choice of subjects open to her—like the weather. “Although he does complain that his practice interferes with his fishing,” she added with a laughing smile.
“He’s an avid fisherman, I take it.” Seth smiled.
“Very avid,” Abbie agreed, and couldn’t help thinking that Seth was a “Fisher of Men.”
“I didn’t have a chance to meet him last Sunday at the tea. I’m looking forward to it, though,” he said. “How long have you worked for him?”
“About a year now.” Abbie leaned back in her chair when the waitress returned to set a glass of iced tea in front of her and milk for Seth. The action accidentally pressed more of her leg against his.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured on a seductively low-pitched note. “I’m not going to think you’re playing footsy with me under the table.” Abbie was positive she had never blushed in her life, but her cheeks were on fire at the moment. Her mind was absolutely blank of anything to say. Seth seemed to guess and asked, “What did you do before that? Attend college?”
“No, I worked for TWA in Kansas City.” She was relieved to have the subject changed.
“As a stewardess?”
