by Janet Dailey
He took off his glasses to look at her. “Since when?” He was surprised. “Don’t tell me you took my advice and asked a man out?”
“No.” She wasn’t quite that liberated. “Reverend Talbot stopped by this morning. He invited me to go out and have a pizza with him tonight.”
“Reverend Talbot.” He repeated the name with curious emphasis. “My, my.”
Abbie knew that tone of voice. It always preceded a cross-examination to determine her degree of interest in a particular date.
“Dad, we’re just going out for a pizza,” Abbie cautioned him not to blow it out of all proportion. It was good advice for herself as well.
“I guess the letter can wait… just as long as you retype it first thing in the morning,” he decided, and didn’t pursue the discussion of her evening date.
“Thanks.” Abbie waved him a kiss as she hurried out of the office to her car.
On the surface, it would have seemed more practical to ride back and forth to work with her father, but he was an early riser, often arriving at the office to work at four or five in the morning, when it was quiet and there were no interruptions. Abbie didn’t need to be there until the office opened at nine, so she usually drove Mabel.
Mabel grunted her way through the traffic and grumbled up the winding street to Abbie’s home. Abbie only had an hour before Seth arrived, and she used every minute of it. While the bathtub filled with water, she ran a dust cloth over the furniture and picked up the clutter of magazines and newspapers.
A quick bath and Abbie was faced with the impossible decision of what to wear. Nothing seemed exactly appropriate. Her outfits were either too tight, or possibly too revealing, or too plain. Finally she settled on a pair of white jeans and a velour top in a rich kelly-green. Its V-neckline plunged a little. She’d have to remember to sit up straight.
She was just running a brush through her hair when she heard the roar of the sports car’s motor coming up the drive. In her haste, she accidentally hooked the bristles in the gold hoop of her earring, giving her ear a painful tug.
“Ouch!” It was a soft, involuntary cry, interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Hurrying out of the bathroom, Abbie reached the door just as he knocked. She opened it, intending to leave with him immediately, but Seth walked in.
“I’m a couple of minutes early. I hope you don’t mind,” he said, and turned to look at Abbie still holding the door open.
“No, that’s all right. I’m ready.” She noticed he was wearing his collar. It just peeped over the light blue of his windbreaker.
“This is nice.” His glance made an assessing sweep of her apartment. “I wish I had this and you lived in the parsonage.” A frown flickered across her face as Abbie wondered whether a minister should be making such comments. Seth read her look, a smile slanting his masculine mouth. “Don’t worry. I’m not breaking any commandments. I don’t really covet your garret.”
“I—”
“You weren’t sure,” he insisted.
“No.—”
“You might want to bring a scarf.” His glance ran over the coppered blond of her hair. “I’ve got the top down on my car. The wind’s likely to mess up your hair.”
“Good idea.” There was a nervous edge to her smile as she backed away toward the apartment’s small bedroom. “It’ll just take me a minute to get one.”
“There’s no rush,” Seth replied.
But Abbie thought otherwise. In her bedroom, she rummaged hurriedly through the top dresser drawer until she found the sheer silk scarf with the green and gold print. The green wasn’t the same shade as her velour top but it was close enough.
When she came out, Seth was standing by the table with her typewriter, looking at the stack of handwritten pages beside it. His fingertips were resting on the top paper as if marking a line. A thread of apprehension ran tightly through her edgy nerves.
“Is this the manuscript you’re typing?” Seth asked, looking up as if sensing her presence in the room.
“Yes.” Abbie tried to remember where she’d left off and what the next scene was that he was reading. Some parts of the book were rather racy.
“I’m glad the Coltrain sisters took my advice,” he said, glancing back at the page.
“How did you know?” Abbie stared in stunned wonderment.
“I recognized the handwriting.” A hint of a smile made indentations at the corners of his mouth. “Isabel sent me a note. No one else writes with all these flourishes and curlicues.” A dark brown eyebrow was arched in query. “Why? Is their identity supposed to be a secret?”
“They asked me not to tell about the book,” Abbie admitted.
“Their secret is safe with me,” Seth assured her with easy amusement. He tapped a finger on the paper. “Judging by this passage, I think I know why they don’t want it known.”
“Which passage?” Abbie moved anxiously toward the table and stopped cold when Seth began reading it.
“‘His hand cupped her breast and Sophia thought she would surely swoon with pleasure.’” The audible gasp from Abbie prompted him to pause at the end of the sentence, his glance going to her.
“The book really has a good plot,” Abbie insisted. “You really shouldn’t judge it by that little bit. The characters are interesting and they’ve done wonderful things with the background.”
“I’m not judging it.” Laughter and something else gleamed in his eyes. “Did you think I was offended by what I read? Or shocked?”
She bit at the inside of her lower lip, flustered and unnerved. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “It can’t be your normal reading.” Her glance strayed unconsciously to his collar.
“For pleasure, I read mysteries.” There was a mocking gleam in his eyes. “Travis McGee is one of my favorite characters. He’s had his share of love scenes.”
“Oh.” Abbie didn’t want to pursue this discussion of love and human passions. Sex was the word she was avoiding. She was too conscious they were alone in her apartment. How long had he been up here? Five minutes? Ten? What if her mother or one of the neighbors had noticed? “Maybe we’d better be going,” Abbie suggested, clutching the scarf tightly in her hand.
“Of course,” he agreed, but amusement continued to lurk in his expression as he followed her to the door. Abbie was conscious of the blue study of his eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve had a man in your apartment?” Seth asked, just as they reached the door to the stairwell.
She was startled into turning. “Not since—” Abbie almost said, not since she broke up with Jim, but there wasn’t any reason to be so specific. “Not for quite a while,” she answered instead, and took the door key from her purse.
“I thought you seemed ill at ease.” Seth waited at the top of the steps while she locked the door. “Not many people do that around here,” he observed, then explained, “Lock their doors when they leave.”
“It’s a habit left over from living in the city,” she admitted as she returned the key to her purse and moved to the stairs to join him.
It was a wide stairwell, wide enough for both of them to descend side by side. The touch of his hand on the back of her waist almost stopped Abbie, not quite ready for such casual familiarity. Its warmth electrified her nerve ends and made her overly conscious of his masculine form, lean, muscled, and tall next to her. He didn’t take his hand away when they reached the bottom, remaining to guide her to the passenger side of the car. Then Seth moved ahead to open the car door for her.
“Sometimes the latch is stubborn.” He used the inside door handle to open it and waited while she climbed in, then pushed it securely shut.
It was a small car, the bucket seats set closely together and a stick shift on the floorboard between them. The close quarters were made even more so when Seth slid behind the wheel, his shoulder nearly touching hers. Abbie tried to hide her awareness of it by busily tying the scarf under her chin. Seth made no attempt to start the motor until she
was finished.
“All set?” he asked. Abbie turned her head to nod affirmatively to him and received the full force of his gaze as he made a thorough study of her face. “Your eyes look more green in that color.”
There was a crazy little lurching of her stomach. It was so difficult to keep this friendly outing in perspective that Abbie wished he hadn’t noticed the way she looked. Compliments put it on a different level, more personal.
“Thank you … Reverend.” Abbie needed to establish his profession in her mind and somehow keep it there.
His expression took on a thoughtful quality before he turned his profile to her and started the car. The powerful motor growled instantly to life. His hand closed on the gearshift knob and accidentally brushed her knee when he shifted into reverse.
He laid his arm along the top of her seat back as he partially turned to back the car out of the driveway. His carved features didn’t seem to have any expression now. Abbie tried to relax now that all his attention was on driving.
The roar of the engine and the wind generated by the car’s motion fairly well negated any attempt at conversation. Abbie kept her eyes to the front and her knees out of the way of his constant gearshifting.
The low-built sports car zipped down the winding, tree-shaded streets that never crossed at right angles with another. Throughout the hillside town, there were miles of gray stone walls to terrace and hold the steeply sloping earth. Seth avoided the business route through the historic downtown area and turned east on the main highway.
When they arrived at the pizza parlor, the parking lot was relatively full, but there were two empty tables inside. Seth directed her to the one secluded in a quiet corner. Abbie was undecided whether he had chosen it for the privacy it afforded or to avoid being noticed, aware that there was only a fine difference between the two reasons, but a telling one.
There were four chairs around the red-checkered cloth-topped table. After Abbie was seated, Seth pulled out the chair on her right for himself. Once they had ordered, Seth began talking. Before she knew it, there was an easy flow of conversation between them. She stopped being so self-conscious with him and began responding to his friendly manner.
“You can have the last slice of pizza, Abbie.” Seth pushed the cardboard circle toward her but she leaned back from the table, shaking her head in refusal.
“I’m so stuffed I can’t eat another bite, Reverend,” she insisted. “It was really good, though. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He accepted with a mocking tip of his head. “Would you like anything else, Abbie? Another soft drink?”
“No.” She reached for her glass, a third full yet. “I have plenty.”
There was a moment of silence as he watched her take a sip of the cola through the plastic straw. His glance slid from her mouth to her eyes when she looked up.
“You don’t go out much socially do you, Abbie?” It was in the way of an observation more than a question.
She nervously stirred the ice in her drink with the straw. “As much as I want.” Abbie defended her lack of an active social life, quietly insisting it was by choice.
“What about close friends?” he asked.
“I was gone for four years and you sort of lose touch,” she admitted. “Most of them are married now, with their own families to look after, or else they’ve moved away. But I’m not lonely, Reverend.” She wanted that clear because she didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. “I guess I like my own company.” She made light of it with a quick smile.
“Or you’re just not ready to commit yourself to a close relationship so soon after breaking up with that man in Kansas City,” he suggested.
Abbie went a little white. “How did you know about Jim?”
“I could pretend that I was only guessing you’d been hurt recently by a man,” Seth replied with a half-shrug. “I suspected it but—in a small town—you find out anyway. Were you very much in love with him?”
“No. I thought I was.” She set the glass on the table, her tension growing. It was something she hadn’t discussed with anyone. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him about it either. Actually there was very little to tell. “But I got over him too quickly, so I guess it wasn’t the ‘real’ thing.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” Abbie discovered a twisted humor in the very appropriate answer. “I was ready to get serious and he wasn’t. It was a relationship that had nowhere to go and nothing to keep it going, so it ended.”
“I’m glad there aren’t any lasting scars.” His look was gentle yet contained a certain strength. Loud, laughing voices came from the front of the pizza parlor where there were young people standing. Seth glanced their way, then back to Abbie. “It’s beginning to fill up in here. Maybe we should leave so someone can have our table.”
Abbie signaled her agreement by pushing her chair back from the table to stand up. His questions concerning her abortive romance kept buzzing around in her mind as they left the restaurant. She began to suspect that was the reason he had invited her out. She had to know, so she wouldn’t foolishly think there was another reason.
“Reverend …” Abbie slowed her steps when they neared the car. Impatience flickered in his eyes as he paused to meet her steady look. “… did you ask me out tonight because you thought I was suffering from a broken heart and needed some consoling?”
A startled frown crossed his forehead. “That never occurred to me, Abbie,” he denied, and she doubted that he could have faked that reaction. She felt immensely better, smiling her thanks when he opened the car door for her. He walked around the back of the car and climbed into the driver’s side. “I promised to take you straight home, but it looks like we’re going to have a beautiful sunset tonight.” Seth nodded to the western sky and the pink glow already tinting the clouds. “Would you like to drive up to the lookout and watch it?”
“Yes, I would.” Abbie suddenly wasn’t in any hurry to go back to her empty apartment.
They weren’t far from the lookout point with its overview of Eureka Springs. Its location on the east end of town provided them with the ideal vantage point to observe the glowing colors of sundown.
Seth stopped the car at the farthest edge, facing the west. Turning the ignition off, he combed his fingers through his wind-rumpled hair to restore it to some semblance of order. The hush of twilight seemed to spill over Abbie, the warmth of a summer breeze softly stirring the air. She untied the scarf and let it slide from her hair, while a purpling pink streaked with red painted the horizon.
“It seems too beautiful to be real, doesn’t it?” She half glanced at Seth.
“It can be like that,” he agreed, and stretched his arm along her seat back. “If an artist tried to put it on canvas, it would look artificial.”
“That’s true.” Abbie realized that her voice was barely above a murmur and laughed softly. “Why are we talking so quietly?”
“Probably because we’re the only ones here.” Seth smiled. His glance swept the lookout area. “That probably won’t be true once it gets dark. This looks like the ideal place for teenagers to park and make out.” He tipped his head at Abbie. “Is this where they come?”
“It… used to be the local lovers’ lane,” Abbie admitted, unsettled by the thought.
“Did you ever come here with your boyfriend?” He was mocking her hint of embarrassment.
“A few times, but that was several years ago, Reverend,” she replied.
“Will you stop calling me Reverend every time you turn around?” he declared on a note of amused exasperation. “I do have a name, you know. It’s Seth.”
“I know, Reverend—” she began, suddenly uncertain.
Her pulse rocketed at the silencing finger he placed on her lips. “Seth,” he corrected firmly.
She was so tied up in knots she couldn’t breathe. He was leaning toward her, his other hand resting on the curve of her shoulder. She felt drawn into the dark aqua depths of his ey
es. When his finger slid across her lips in a near caress, a quiver of longing trembled through her.
“Say it,” he ordered huskily.
His gaze shifted to her lips to watch them form his name. “Seth,” Abbie whispered.
His head bent toward her and she knew instinctively that he was going to kiss her. The tips of his fingers rested lightly along her jaw and the curve of her throat, holding her motionless with no pressure. Excitement danced through her senses, but Abbie willed them to stay under control.
The first brush of his lips was soft and teasing, but they came back to claim her mouth with warm ease. Abbie was hesitant to respond, unwilling to have him discover how much she wanted this, but he coaxed a response from her.
Her lips were clinging to his by the time he finally drew back a few inches to study the result. Slowly her lashes lifted to show the dazed uncertainty of her eyes. Her lips remained slightly parted, melted into softness by his persuasive mouth. She was motionless, but inside she was straining to be closer to him. Abbie was too unsure of herself—and him—to take the initiative. His heavily lidded gaze noted all this with satisfaction.
“Seth?” The rising inflection of her voice put a question mark at the end of his name.
His mouth curved in a compelling smile that seemed to take her breath away. “You’ve finally got it right, Abbie,” Seth murmured, and started to close the distance between them again.
Her lips were moving to meet him halfway when the moment was shattered by the roar of another car approaching the lookout. Abbie abruptly pulled back to cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. His hand came away from the side of her neck and rested on the softness of her upper arm as if he expected her to bolt from the car. The other vehicle wasn’t in sight yet, but the roar of its unmuffled engine was coming steadily closer.
Seth hung his head and cursed under a heavy sigh, “Devil damn.” Then he was squaring around to place both hands on the wheel.
“What did you say?” Abbie looked at him, her eyes narrowing in bewilderment.
There was a wryness in the sidelong look he sent her. “Devil damn.” One corner of his mouth was pulled up. “I had a grandfather who was Danish. Whenever he was upset or angry, that’s the expression he used—devil damn or devil damn it. It’s much better than breaking a Commandment and taking the Lord’s name in vain.”
