Thad Wanted To Get A Ring On Chloe’s Finger Before Anyone Talked Her Out Of Marrying Him. Letter to Reader Title Page ANNE MARIE WINSTON Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Epilogue Copyright

Thad Wanted To Get A Ring On Chloe’s Finger Before Anyone Talked Her Out Of Marrying Him.

If they waited very long, he was sure she’d have second thoughts.

The idea of living without her had become an impossibility. He loved her funny little notions of propriety in public and her astonishing ability to turn into a wild woman in private—and that was as far as he’d better take that line of thought, if he didn’t want her father to come after him with a gun.

Besides, his reasons for liking Chloe were much more than physical. He liked the way she defended him, and, even more, he had gotten used to the way she defended him, totally and without question. She enhanced his life in more ways than he could count, and there was no chance he was going to let her get away....

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Desire is proud to launch three brand-new, emotional and romantic miniseries this month! We’ve got twin sisters switching places, sexy men who rise above their pasts and a ranching family marrying off their Texas daughters.

Along with our spectacular new miniseries, we’re bringing you Anne McAllister’s latest novel in her bestselling CODE OF THE WEST series, July’s MAN OF THE MONTH selection, The Cowboy Crashes a Wedding. Next, a shy, no-frills librarian leads a fairy-tale life when she masquerades as her twin sister in Barbara McMahon’s Cinderella Twin, book one of her IDENTICAL TWINS! duet In Seducing the Proper Miss Miller by Anne Marie Winston, the town’s black sheep and the minister’s daughter cause a scandal with their sudden wedding.

Sexy Western author Peggy Moreland invites readers to get to know the McCloud sisters and the irresistible men who court them—don’t miss the first TEXAS BRIDES book,

The Rancher’s Spittin’ Image. And a millionaire bachelor discovers his secret heir in The Tycoon’s Son by talented author Shawna Delacorte. A gorgeous loner is keeping quiet about His Most Scandalous Secret in the first book in Susan Crosby’s THE LONE WOLVES miniseries.

So get to know the friends and families in Silhouette Desire’s hottest new miniseries—and watch for more of their love stories in months to come!

Regards,

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Anne Marie Winston

Seducing The Proper Miss Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNE MARIE WINSTON

A native Pennsylvanian and former educator, Anne Marie is a book lover, an animal lover and always a teacher at heart. She and her husband have two daughters and a menagerie of four-footed family members. When she’s not parenting, writing or reading, she devotes her time to a variety of educational efforts in her community. Readers can write to Anne Marie at P.O. Box 302, Zullinger, PA 17272.

For Larry

If there are volunteers in Heaven,

you must be one busy guy.

Here’s to trailers!

One

WOW!

Chloe Miller froze, her gaze fixed on the window of her office in the Pennsylvania church where she was employed as administrative assistant. She’d glanced out at the April sky, hoping to see sunshine instead of showers. But the landscape was blocked by a man’s body, framed in the window from hips to neck as he worked with his arms above his head on a ladder.

Her hands stilled on the keyboard, and her breath caught in a soundless “Oh-h-h,” as taut pectorals stretched and flexed.

The naked male torso was lean, bronzed and packed with muscle. Droplets of sweat were caught in the curly golden T that bisected the chest and disappeared from sight beneath the waistband of a truly disreputable pair of jeans, a pair of jeans that embraced the heavy bulge below the zipper in a manner that left Chloe dry-mouthed and shaking her head.

So this was the carving-restoration expert the church elders had hired to repair the aging facade of the church. He looked as if somebody had carved him.

“That should be illegal,” she muttered, tearing her gaze from the window.

The fact that she hadn’t seen his face didn’t matter. It wasn’t often that she got the chance to fantasize about a man... in fact, she couldn’t remember ever scrutinizing a male body so thoroughly before.

“You are sadly repressed,” she told herself, thinking of how limited her experiences with men were compared to most other twenty-six-year-olds she knew. “Well, not just repressed,” she amended. “Also too doggone busy to think about men.”

Her gaze drifted back to the window and she absently appraised the torso still in full view, while her mind drifted. Did this man do carpentry work, as well? Perhaps when she got the preschool project off the ground, he could put up some sturdy shelves and cupboards that the children couldn’t accidentally pull over onto themselves. There were so many safety precautions to take when considering working with young children....

In her head Chloe could see the interior of the unused rooms in the church basement, cleaned and decorated with tiny tables and chairs, the walls hung with early learning materials and shelves full of toys for little hands to explore.

There would be a rug for story time, she thought as her gaze traced the crisp line of curls that arrowed from the woodworker’s chest down into his jeans. She followed the curls back up his chest, and over a roughhewn, stubbled jaw that was nearly all she could see of his face beneath the battered cap—

Oh, glory, he was watching her!

Chloe tore her gaze from the window and attacked the typewriter keys. She could feel a blazing heat suffusing her face. Serves you right, she told herself sternly, ogling the poor man. He’s probably as embarrassed as you are.

After a minute she risked another glance toward the window.

The workman had climbed down a rung or two. An unruly mess of golden-streaked curls over which he had jammed a baseball cap hid his face from full view but he was looking straight at her, and before Chloe could react again, he raised a hand and gave her a cocky salute, white teeth flashing as he laughed aloud. The sound penetrated the glass, reaching her burning ears as she ignored the wave and applied herself to the keyboard with unnecessary vigor.

She would not look at him again, she promised herself.

But she couldn’t prevent her mind from replaying, in vivid color, the sight of him framed in her window. She didn’t know his name, at least not his first name, but she assumed he was the “Shippen” of Shippen Carving and Restoration on the contract he’d submitted.

He was rumored to be wild and undisciplined, the local bad boy. Though she couldn’t recall hearing anything specific, the look on the parishioners’ faces when they’d learned who had been hired to do the exterior repairs had said a lot. Miss Euphorbia Bates, who helped fold bulletins for the Sunday services, had frowned darkly when she’d heard. “A devil, that one. I bet there wasn’t a girl he ever wanted who said no to him.”

Chloe took notes once a month for the congregation’s meeting of the elders. Her father, the pastor, had looked apoplectic when Mr. Shippen’s name was proposed. “He’s a defiler of young women,” he’d pronounced in ominous tones.

“God will judge each of us, so there’s no need for us to judge each other,” said Benton Hastings, the elder who was in charge of getting bids for the job. “This young man is a skilled woodworker with a reputation for fair business dealings.”

“God works in mysterious ways,” piped up Nelda Biller. “Perhaps we can be an instrument of salvation.” Nelda had a way of spouting predictable Christian platitudes, and before she could get on a roll, Benton Hastings jumped back into the pause. “Shall we put it to a vote?”

Shippen Carving and Restoration had gotten the church job despite the dark mutterings of its pastor. What in the world, she wondered, could her father have meant?

She was shaken back to the present by the sound of the office door opening. Instantly she began to type again, fixing a pleasant smile on her face. “Good morning, may I help...you?” The question trailed off in the sudden silence, and Chloe’s fingers stilled on the keyboard when she saw who had entered the office.

It was Shippen, the Shirtless Wonder, now decently covered with a T-shirt. He’d taken off his cap and with her first clear glance at his face, Chloe nearly jumped out of her seat in shock.

It was him.

Oh, this was terrible. She’d wondered about him for three years, ever since one impetuous evening of rebellion had brought her into closer contact with him than she had liked, but she never expected to see him again. Geiserville might be a small place, but she moved in an even smaller circle within it, composed largely of her father’s parish. She was hardly likely to run into a wild playboy unless she went hunting him.

Which she certainly never would do. He had no scruples and fewer morals. Exactly the type of man she would avoid at all costs.

“Hi. I’m Thad Shippen. I’m the face that goes with the body outside your window.” His voice was smooth and clearly amused. He was smiling at her with warm masculine interest that she couldn’t miss, but what struck her forcefully was that there wasn’t a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

He didn’t remember her!

Well, this certainly wasn’t the time to remind him.

She looked up at him again, feeling a hot flush spread from her neck to her hairline. She couldn’t sustain the eye contact, and settled for a spot just to the left of his head. Her face felt redder than ever, but she forced the pleasant smile into place again, pretending this was just an ordinary meeting. “I’m Chloe Miller. If you need anything let me know, and I’ll try to find it.”

“Anything?”

She glanced at him again, startled by the innuendo, and saw that he was smiling, a knowing kind of smile that made every cell in her body stand up and take notice. He looked amused, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew wider.

His eyes were beautiful, the kind of eyes one of her friends called bedroom eyes. Chloe always noticed people’s eyes. In this case she could have been blind, and still those eyes would have made an impact. They were blue, the striking unusual sky color so rarely seen, an incredibly intense blue made even more so by the tanned skin of his face. It had been dark when she’d met him, and she’d never seen him in daylight, never been subjected to the full force of that blue gaze. The eyes held an intimate smile beneath their droopy lids that made her want to smile back, but she suppressed the urge and ignored his lazy grin.

“Was there something you needed in the office?”

He nodded, still smiling. “May I use your telephone?”

“Of course. Come around the counter.” She beckoned him around to her desk and set the telephone within his reach.

Thad Shippen settled one hip comfortably on the corner of her desk and picked up the telephone. His jeans were nearly white with age, stained and ragged. The fabric stretched taut over his thighs. Through a hole along one seam she could see a wedge of tanned skin and blond curl. Hastily she averted her eyes from that leg. Her stomach was tied in enough knots to satisfy a scoutmaster.

Would he recognize her? She devoutly hoped not. The memory of the night she’d met him still embarrassed her. If he brought it up, she’d just die.

While he dialed and spoke to someone at the local builders’ supply store down on Main Street, she studied him covertly. He didn’t have movie-star-handsome features, but his straight nose and the aggressively squared jaw formed a definitely masculine face. His lower lip was full and sensual, its upper mate thin and clearly defined in a manner that curled up the corners of his mouth in repose and left him looking as if he were always just a wee bit amused at the world. When combined with a high brow that invited a woman’s soothing hand and those sleepy, come-hither eyes, he was a dangerous package. She could see why it was rumored that no girl ever turned him down.

Thad put down the receiver and leisurely straightened his lean frame, smiling down at her. He was at least six feet if not a little more, she’d guess. And all muscle, a treacherous voice inside her reminded. Seated at her desk, Chloe felt small and unexpectedly feminine, vulnerable in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but one that made the knots in her stomach loosen and flutter into big butterflies.

“Thanks for the use of your phone,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She felt as if the knots had migrated to her tongue.

“So I guess it’s no coincidence that your last name is the same as the good Reverend Miller’s.”

“He’s my father.”

The corners of his lips curled higher. “I’m glad you’re not his wife.”

She felt herself coloring again. For the life of her she couldn’t think of an answer to that. Before she could form a coherent thought, he began to speak again.

“Well,” he said. “I guess I’d better get back on that ladder or I’ll get fired.” But he made no move to go.

She forced herself not to sit and gawk at him. Women probably did that all the time, and she wasn’t about to let him see how he affected her. “They won’t fire you. You came highly recommended.”

He laughed, throwing his head back and displaying strong white teeth. “I’ll just bet.” Then he sobered, focusing those incredible eyes on her mouth. After a silence that lasted a beat too long, he said, “If they knew what I was thinking right now, I’d be history.”

Again, she couldn’t reply, couldn’t form a single word. He packed more experience into that single sentence than she’d had in her entire life. Her life had been spent in a quiet world of predictable routine and studying, and since her return home, all her time and energy had been thrown into her job. Oh, she’d spent the normal amount of time as an adolescent peering into the mirror, examining her features, and she’d quickly come to the conclusion that she was never going to be a raving beauty.

Nowadays, the mirror was mostly used for making sure her flyaway brown curls weren’t sticking out in all directions. She knew there wasn’t anything special about her, anything that would attract a man like Thad Shippen. Could he be like this with all women?

Of course, said a little voice inside. Remember how he treated you? With his looks, he’s probably had encouragement from women all his life. Flirting—and more—must be like breathing to him.

Still, even though she knew he didn’t mean it, all the heat in her body responded to his sensual teasing. He caught her gaze with his, and for a long moment she simply stared at him.

He started to speak. “Would you—”

The door banged open.

Chloe jumped. She could have sworn Thad did the same. Reverend Miller came marching into the office, his back ramrod straight.

“Chloe, did you see where that man on the ladder got to? Oh.” He paused, seeing Thad standing by her desk. “Good morning, Mr. Shippen. Is there something we can do for you?”

Thad smiled widely at her father, but even from her seat she could tell that it wasn’t the warm shift of facial muscles she’d received. This one was all teeth and coolness. “Hello there, Mr. Minister, sir. Thank you, but Chloe’s already taken care of everything I wanted.”

She was shocked by the taunting, deliberately provocative words, but her father didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“You’re not to be in the office bothering Chloe,” he said curtly. “She’s busy and you should be, too, if you want to keep this job.”

Thad didn’t move for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “If you don’t want the work done, I’ll just pick up my things and let you find somebody else to do the restoration.”

The minister waved a hand at the door. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Mr. Shippen. Just get on with your job and leave us to ours.”

To Chloe he said, “If he bothers you again, let me know.”

It was a clear dismissal, but as Thad winked at her and swaggered out of the office, Chloe knew who had won. Her father didn’t have the authority to fire anyone and he knew it. So why had he threatened Thad with the loss of his job?

She shook her head briskly as the minister disappeared into his office. Well, whatever it was, it had nothing to do with her, and she wasn’t going to fret about it

She attacked her work with determination, and didn’t stop again until almost noon, when her father stuck his head out of his office. “Chloe, would you mind picking up some lunch for me today? I have someone in my office and I can’t leave right now.”

“Certainly.” She smiled at him, then gathered her purse and the light spring jacket she’d worn. There was no need to ask her father what he would like; she probably knew his preferences better than he did.

As she pushed open the heavy front door of the church, she realized she would have to pass by Thad Shippen, who was still working outside though he’d moved away from her window.

The elders hadn’t specified what hours he was to work, but Thad knew the office opened at eight-thirty. And that meant Chloe Miller would be sliding out of that tiny car again this morning, pushing her skirt modestly down over her shapely legs and blushing when she saw him watching.

He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

She was very pretty beneath all that sedate courtesy, was Miss Church Secretary, though she didn’t appear to be aware of it. She must have been a few years behind him in school, but he didn’t remember her. Of course, if she hadn’t hung out at parties with a beer in her hand, waiting for a ride with any guy who had an itch to scratch, he doubted their paths had crossed.

He hadn’t paid much attention to the good girls.

Until Jean.

His hands stilled for a moment over the chisels he was selecting, then resumed their work. His mind, however, wasn’t so easily managed. It wandered back eight years in time, back to the day Jean had come banging into his kitchen, where he used to keep his business in the early days.

“I’m pregnant, Thad,” she’d announced, red hair flying in agitation. “My father’s going to kill me.”

Jean had indeed died, he thought sadly, but it hadn’t been at the hands of her disapproving father. Thad still visited her grave occasionally, though the headstone her family had chosen, with its depiction of a woman cradling an infant in her arms was almost more than he could take. It was still startling to see “Jean Lawman Shippen” inscribed on the stone.

So what was he doing, lusting after this prim little church secretary? he asked himself. He was poison, with a woman’s life on his conscience. Not to mention an unborn baby, who had never even had a chance to draw breath.

He didn’t allow himself to watch as Chloe walked into the church a few minutes later, and he was working industriously when the Reverend Miller came out a while later and drove away in his gray sedan. Around ten, he could feel his fingers getting stiff, and he decided to take a short break, maybe walk down to Main Street for a cup of coffee.

He was still climbing down the ladder when Chloe banged open the front door of the church, racing over to him in a way that seemed most unlike her. As she got close, he realized that her face was white, and the wide golden-brown eyes he thought so pretty were huge and strained.

“I smell gas,” she said breathlessly. “Get away from the church and call 911.” He instinctively put out a hand but she shrugged it off and turned, running back into the church before he could get out a single word.

“Damn!” Suddenly his heart was thumping a hundred miles a minute. He sprinted to the street and grabbed the first man he saw on the corner. “Get to a phone and call 911,” he shouted into the fellow’s startled face. “There’s a gas leak in the church and there are still people inside.”

As the man nodded, Thad turned and ran back to the church. Yanking open the door, he plunged into the main hallway. The odor of natural gas hit him full in the face, and his pulse racheted up another notch. Sprinting down the hallway toward the office, he nearly knocked Chloe and an elderly woman to the floor as they came out of an adjacent room. Chloe gave him a brilliant smile of relief when she saw him.

“Help me get her out of here.”

“Is there anyone else inside?”

“No.”

Satisfied, Thad hustled the older woman out the door. As he turned to see if Chloe was all right, he realized with a sick feeling of shock that she wasn’t behind him.

Dammit, she was still in the church!

Frantic now, he ran back again. The gas smell was even stronger. He sure as hell hoped she was right, that there was nobody else in the church. Any number of tiny electrical functions could ignite gas, not to mention a match or a cigarette. He saw her immediately through the glass window in the office, grabbing computer disks and files and everything else she could find, stuffing them into a large canvas bag. He nearly pulled the door off its hinges getting in.

“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!” It was a command, but she didn’t even look up.

“I’ll be done in a minute. You go.”

“You’re done now.” He grabbed the bag from her and seized Chloe around the waist, dragging her toward the door. She struggled for a moment, then began to run with him. They cleared the office and ran down the hallway hand in hand. He kicked open the front door, and they raced through it and down the stone steps, out across the wide lawn. At the far edge of the street, policemen were pushing back the crowd of onlookers who had gathered.

Thank God, he thought, meaning it—

Behind them an immense blast shook the world. Instantaneously, what felt like a huge fist slammed into him from behind, tearing Chloe’s hand from his, tossing him forward like a rag doll and rolling him across the ground. His head banged across a tree root, but he staggered to his feet, looking wildly around for Chloe.

She lay a few feet to his left, crumpled at the base of an old oak tree. Leaves and debris rained down around them, and as a stinging sensation penetrated his dazed senses, he realized that the tree was burning above them.

Dropping to Chloe’s side, he shielded her body with his, feeling tiny bites across the back of his neck from the rain of fire. She had a bleeding gash at one temple, where he guessed she hit the tree, but he got a pulse in her neck. He had no choice; he had to move her.

Lifting her carefully into his arms, Thad staggered away from the tree, on toward the street and the knots of shocked people watching him approach. He could hear sirens shrieking, careering closer. Two men darted forward. One reached out and took Chloe from him, the other put a supporting shoulder beneath his arm. “C’mon, buddy, you’re almost there.”

But he couldn’t. His knees wouldn’t lock, wouldn’t hold him up. As he slowly sank to the ground, his body twisted. The last thing he saw was a giant bonfire as the church was engulfed in flames.

He heard the technicians talking; before he opened his eyes he knew he was in an ambulance. One look confirmed it. He knew why, and he knew what he needed to know before he could relax. “Is Chloe okay?”

“Welcome back,” said a woman in a blue medical technician’s uniform. “Is Chloe the woman who was with you?”

He nodded, then was sorry as everything whirled around him.

“She’s coming to the hospital with another unit,” the woman said. “She wasn’t conscious when we loaded you, so I can’t tell you anything else.”

Then they were at the hospital. To his annoyance, they carried him in on a gurney like he was severely injured, and he was poked, prodded and X-rayed about four hundred times. He was given an ice pack for his head, and some sadistic nurse cleaned and bandaged an assortment of bums and cuts he couldn’t remember receiving.

He asked about Chloe at least a hundred times but nobody would tell him anything. Finally, after yet another nurse had backed out of his cubicle with a vague promise to check on Miss Miller’s condition, he got off the uncomfortable bed and eased his way into the burned and bloody T-shirt they’d taken off him, then started for the door.

“Whoa, fella, where are you going?” One of his nurses, with a build and a grip like a fullback, snagged his arm.

He jerked himself free and glared at her. “I’m going to find somebody in this damned place who will tell me how Chloe Miller is doing.”

The fullback scowled back. “We’re checking for you. You have to be patient, Mr. Shippen.”

“I’ve been patient,” he snarled. “And now I’m done. So just scratch me off your little list, lady, because I’m getting out of here.”

“Mr. Shippen?” Another nurse came toward them, but he was in a stare-down with the fullback. Finally, with narrowed eyes and a sniff, she looked away first.

Ridiculously pleased at the small victory, he was a little happier when he turned to the second nurse. “What?”

“Miss Miller is undergoing some tests. She’s been admitted to the Critical Care Unit, room 338. That’s the—”

“Tests for what?”

“Routine tests for head injury. She suffered quite a blow to the head, apparently.”

“When she hit the tree,” he said, mostly to himself.

The nurse looked sympathetic. “It could be hours before she is allowed to have visitors other than family. Is there someone who can take you home after you’re released?”

Thad didn’t bother to answer her as he turned and started toward what he hoped was the exit from the Emergency Department into the rest of the hospital.

“Wait, Mr. Shippen!” The nurse’s voice was a panicked squeak. “You haven’t been discharged yet.”

“Tough.” He didn’t look back.

The nurse scurried along beside him, waving a clipboard under his nose. “You’ll get me in big trouble if you leave here without being discharged.”

The note of genuine dismay in her voice was the only thing that penetrated his determination. He halted. “I’ll give you sixty seconds to get a signature on that.”

She hesitated, then apparently realized she didn’t have time to argue. Her jacket flapped behind her as she raced back down the hall.

Thad rubbed his forehead, then swore under his breath when his fingers brushed over the raised lump where he’d hit the tree root. He glanced through the glass windows of the double doors leading from the emergency area, noting a sign directing visitors to the elevators. When he turned back, the nurse was coming down the hall with the doctor who had initially looked him over striding behind her.

The man frowned at him. “We’re busy people around here, Mr. Shippen. I was dragged away from a seriously ill person for this.”

“So sue me.” Thad frowned right back. “If you’d signed me out of here when you saw me, I’d be out of your hair.”

The doctor ignored him, stepping forward to shine a small light into each of Thad’s eyes. “Touch your right index finger to your nose.”

“Give me a break.” But he complied.

The doctor lifted the clipboard and scribbled his name across the paper. “You should be admitted for additional observation, although you don’t seem to be concussed. I assume that hard head protected you. If you have any episodes of blurred or double vision, any feelings of vertigo or dizziness, call your doctor or come back. Change the dressings on those bums tonight and tomorrow. After that you may remove them. See a doctor if you suspect any infection.” He handed the clipboard to the nurse, who immediately dashed away again. “Any problem with that?”

Thad grinned unwillingly. “Nope. Thanks.”

The doctor grinned in return. “Now get out of here and go find your girl.”

Thad didn’t bother to answer as he banged through the double doors and headed for the elevators.

He had just punched the button for the Critical Care Unit’s floor when he heard the commotion behind him.

“That’s him! Hey, Mr. Shippen!”

“Thaddeus Shippen?”

“Mr. Shippen, give us your version of what happened in the gas explosion today.” A woman with sharp features and frosted hair stuck a microphone under his nose.

Another man raised his pencil in the air. “I’m from the Valley First Edition. Is it true that you reentered the building to rescue the church’s secretary?”

“Mr. Shippen, what were you doing at the church? Are you personally involved with Miss Chloe Miller?”

Thad sagged against the wall, wishing the elevator would hurry up. He hadn’t even thought about the press, but he guessed something like this was a national story just as that plane that had crashed right into a house over in Waynesboro a few years ago had been. He might as well get this over with or they’d only get more intrusive. The last thing he wanted was this crowd following him up to Chloe’s floor.

He smiled at the woman reporter. “This will have to be brief.”

“Certainly.” She was smooth and way too polished for him as she launched into her first question. As he answered, everyone around her was nodding and scribbling in little notepads.

“When did you first realize there was a gas leak in the church?”

He took them through a short version of what had happened. From their questions, it was obvious they had talked to the elderly woman he had escorted out before he’d gone back after Chloe.

“How does it feel to be a hero, Thad?” The newswoman lightly squeezed his arm.

Thad pulled himself away as the elevator opened. “I wouldn’t know. I just did what anybody else would have done. Sorry, folks, gotta go.”

He turned his back on the reporters and stepped into the elevator, then pushed the button for the third floor. When the door opened, he sprinted down the hall to where signs directed him to Critical Care. He wondered where the nurses’ desk was. Hospital architects must all take the same course in How to Confuse the Public. He’d never been in a hospital yet that was easy to get around.

As he turned the next corner, he came face-to-face with Reverend Miller.

Great. Mr. Holier-than-Thou.

Behind Miller was a group of people with grave-looking faces. He recognized the man who had hired him for the job at the church, as well as the woman he’d led out of the building before it blew.

“Young man!” she twittered. She leaped to her feet with amazing speed and came over to drape herself all over him. “Thank you, thank you. You saved my life!”

Thad could feel his neck getting hot. Damned if he wasn’t going to blush! “Chloe saved your life,” he corrected. “I just helped out a little bit.”

The lady didn’t miss a beat “Well, thank you, anyway, dear boy. If it hadn’t been for you, I’m sure Chloe never would have made it out of there.”

The other man, Hastings, he thought his name was, extended a hand. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Shippen. Nelda here tells me Chloe was gathering up church documents when you found her.” He indicated the bag the old gal was holding up. It was the bag Chloe had been stuffing full of discs and papers when he’d dragged her out of her office.

Thad almost smiled at the memory, but he was too worried about Chloe. “Yes, she was. Can someone tell me how she’s doing?”

Reverend Miller stepped forward. “We haven’t heard much yet. They’re doing some tests and they will let us know as soon as they know anything.” He cleared his throat and glanced away, then extended his hand to Thad. When their eyes met again, Thad could see the sheen of tears in the older man’s eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Shippen, for saving my daughter’s life. I heard that you risked your own life to go back in after her and that you carried her to safety. Chloe’s mother passed away years ago. She’s all I have. If she hadn’t gotten out...”

“What are the tests for?” Thad couldn’t take the man’s obvious grief. It reminded him too much of another time in another hospital.

“Head injuries, among other things,” Mr. Hastings said gently. “Would you like—”

“Mr. Shippen has been through quite an ordeal of his own,” Chloe’s father said. “He needs to go home and rest.”

“I’ll run him home,” Benton Hastings said.

“Just take me back to my truck,” Thad requested. “I can drive from there.”

Reverend Miller gave him a sober look. “Your truck was parked in front of the church. It was destroyed.” He put an arm around Thad’s shoulders and turned him toward the door. “Don’t worry. Our insurance will replace it for you. Thank you again for saving Chloe. Someone will call you tomorrow and update you on her condition.”

Thad started to protest, but everyone was nodding. Mr. Hastings took him by the elbow, and before Thad knew it, he’d been escorted to the man’s car for the short ride home to the old trailer in which he lived.

Two

He didn’t sleep well. Bumps and bruises in places he hadn’t even realized he had nerve endings made themselves felt throughout the night, courtesy of the blast that had thrown him to the ground. His head ached, despite the ice pack he draped over the largest lump. The spots on his back where superheated bits of debris had burned through his clothing stung and, sore as he was, he could barely reach most of them to put on the ointment from the hospital. His favorite T-shirt, washed and worn to the ultimate in comfort, had to be tossed out.

And on top of it all, he still hadn’t heard how Chloe was doing. He should have made sure she was behind him when he’d first found her in the gas-filled building. Who would have thought anybody would be dumb enough to go back into that building after a bunch of files?

Well, he had work to do. He resisted the urge to snatch up the phone and call the hospital. He’d hear soon enough how she was doing. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, no big deal. He was only interested because she was a fellow human being. She might have tripped his switch a bit more than any woman he’d met in a long time, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t live without her.

Going to the card table that served as his desk in the tiny living room, he flipped through his calendar. Now that his work on the church was a moot point, he could take on a new project.

Would the church elders still want to pay him for the work he’d done? It would probably be tacky to ask for payment, he decided regretfully. The best thing to do was to get on with another job. He called the woman who was next on his list and explained that he could start her fireplace mantel restoration sooner than expected, but she wouldn’t hear of him coming over.

“Take a day or two and rest, Thad. I’m sure you must be a bit shaken up after coming face-to-face with death. How about we start on Wednesday? And if you aren’t feeling up to it that soon, you just let me know, and we’ll postpone a bit. I feel almost guilty taking advantage of the church’s misfortune, after all.”

All right. Fine. He washed up his breakfast dishes and set them in the drainer, then made a beeline for the small cinder block garage he used for a workshop. If nobody wanted him to work, he’d spend the day on his own projects.

When the telephone on the wall rang just before lunchtime, he leaped for it. Maybe it was Chloe calling.

“This is Joseph Miller. May I please speak to Thaddeus Shippen?”

“Speaking.” Disappointment sliced through him and he covered it with flippancy. “Hi, Rev. I guess you don’t need me to work today.”

“Hardly.” The minister’s tones sounded cooler than yesterday, when he’d been falling all over himself to thank Thad. “I’m calling to inform you of Chloe’s condition, as I promised.”

“So inform me.” But his heart leaped into his throat. Wasn’t she okay by now?

Miller went on, though he sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “Chloe regained consciousness yesterday. She’s doing well and is expected to leave the hospital today. There’s no need for you to make a special trip just to visit.”

The message couldn’t have come through more clearly. Chloe didn’t want to hear from him and had sent her father to let him know. She’d woken up yesterday and hadn’t bothered to let him know. He guessed he couldn’t blame her. Miller had probably told her about what he did to young, innocent girls, and she’d decided to heed the warning. Oh, well. She was too much of a Goody Two-shoes for him, anyway. He preferred his women ready and willing, the kind who could look out for themselves. No more virgins for him.

“Thanks,” he drawled, “but you didn’t have to call. I figured I’d hear about it if she up and died.”

There was a moment of shocked silence from the other end. He heard Miller draw in a breath, and in a very final tone, say, “Thank you again for your courageous assistance in rescuing my daughter and Miss Biller, Mr. Shippen. They would have been a great loss to our parish and to the community, as well as a personal loss to me.”

Unlike you. The unspoken message came through loud and clear.

Thad sat for a very long time with the dial tone buzzing in his ear before he slowly lowered the receiver and moved to hang up the phone.

“I’m not even allowed to dig around a little to see if anything is left?” Chloe stood, disbelieving, on the scorched grass near the twisted rubble that had been the church. Her parents had been married here when her father was just a young seminarian. She’d been baptized here and confirmed, as well. When her mother had died, the funeral service had been held at the church. Afterward, all the ladies of the parish had contributed mountains of food for the reception.

She’d always assumed that someday she would walk down the aisle on her father’s arm to her waiting groom. Her eyes burned at the thought, but she fiercely shook away the tears. A church is not the building where worship occurs, she told herself. A church is all the people who worship God together.

Thanks to Thad, no part of the true church had been lost. It was a test of faith to make herself believe that, as she mourned for the loss of the building before which she stood. The structure had been reduced to an impassable, jumbled mound of brick, blackened wiring and ash. Fire following the initial explosion had quickly decimated anything that remained, including her car and Thad’s truck, which had been parked directly in front of the building. Thank Heaven the church had been set well away from the street in the middle of an enormous lot. Even so, she’d been informed that only the quick actions of the fire company had prevented the fire from spreading to surrounding buildings. Yellow tape completely encircled the jumbled mess, prohibiting the public from getting too close.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Her father put a comforting arm around her. “The fire chief said everything would be too smoke and water damaged to salvage. Let me take you home to rest.”

“Everything...everything is gone. I still can’t believe it.”

Reverend Miller shuddered. “I can. I was four blocks away when it blew, and it felt like it was right next door. The vibration knocked Mrs. Murphy’s knickknacks right off the shelves. I thank God you weren’t in there.”

Thank Thad, you mean, she thought. Thinking of who had dragged her out dampened her spirits even more. A sob pushed its way into her throat, and she swallowed it, fiercely narrowing her eyes to prevent threatening tears from falling. She was in shock, overly emotional, that was all. It had nothing to do with Thad Shippen.

He hadn’t even stuck around to see if she was all right. When she’d regained consciousness, her first question to her father had been about Thad. He’d assured her that Thad was all right, that he’d been treated for minor burns and bruises and released already. Tears threatened again, and she swallowed hard, willing them away as her father escorted her back to his car and headed home.

She had no business mooning over Thaddeus Shippen. He might have rescued her, but deep down he wasn’t a gentleman, and she had firsthand experience to prove it.

Laying her head against the back of the seat, Chloe let her mind drift back to her first days home in Geiserville after her graduation from the all-girls Christian college where she’d received her teaching degree. Coming home to live hadn’t been easy after having her freedom for four years. It wasn’t that she’d been wild or undisciplined, but she wasn’t used to having to explain where she would be every time she walked out the front door.

Then, only weeks after she’d come home, the church secretary had resigned when a brother who lived on the West Coast had a stroke. Dear Elizabeth, who had served the church faithfully for over twenty years, went to California to nurse her brother, and Chloe had agreed when her father had asked her to fill the position on a temporary basis until the elders could find a suitable replacement.

Chloe had intended to use the summer to begin preparations for the preschool she hoped to open. Instead, weeks dragged on into months, and not much was said about hiring another secretary. Each time she mentioned it to her father, he told her how capably she had filled Elizabeth’s shoes and how lucky they were to have her.

One day she had been filing documents when one of the elders walked out of her father’s office. “Let me be the first to welcome you officially. I’m delighted to hear you’re going to be staying,” the man had said.

Chloe stared at him, wondering if he was speaking to the right person.

“Er...staying where?”

“Why, here at the church.” Mr. Barlow beamed. “Your father just told me that you will be glad to continue working as the secretary, and I don’t mind telling you how pleased I am. I’m sure there will be no problem making it official. You have filled Elizabeth’s shoes so capably we’ve barely noticed she’s gone.” The man reached for her hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Couldn’t have worked out better, could it? You have a good day now.”

As the elder sailed out of the office, Chloe turned her head and stared at her father’s closed door for a moment before starting across the room. She felt like screaming, like throwing something, but she forced herself to turn the knob and step into the inner office without slamming the door behind her.

“Hello, dear. I didn’t hear you knock.” Her father glanced up from his desk.

“That’s because I didn’t.”

At her tone, Reverend Miller’s bushy white eyebrows lifted. “What’s the matter, Chloe?”

“Daddy...” She was so angry she was shaking. “No one asked me to fill the secretary’s position permanently. Why did you tell Mr. Barlow I’d accepted?”

Her father pushed his chair back from his desk and spread his hands. “Why, honey, I thought you’d be pleased. It’s a measure of how well you’ve done that the committee is eager to have you here permanently.”

“I spent four years training to teach. Just because I can do this well doesn’t mean I want to.”

Her father sighed. “This is my fault, I guess. If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I’ve been selfish. I missed you while you were away at school. Your lonely old father’s been a happy man since you came home again, and we made such a good team I just forgot you weren’t wild about the idea.”

Chloe struggled with the guilt his words evoked. Oh, she recognized manipulation when she heard it, but it was hard to resist, coming from her own father. Resentment rose, as well. Every time they disagreed, her father undermined her anger with his apologies and his gently worded reasoning. Even though she knew his feelings were genuine, she still disliked the way he always made her feel like she was the one who should apologize.

“Well, I’m not wild about the idea,” she said, not caring if her voice was sharp. “Whether or not I’ve liked working with you isn’t the issue. What I want to do with the rest of my life is.” She turned and walked out of the inner office, closing the door behind her. Picking up her purse, she started for the main door.

Her father’s door opened behind her. “Where are you going? It’s past lunchtime.”

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” she had said without stopping or turning around. “I need to think about what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

On Tuesday afternoon, Chloe closed the drawer of the desk at which she sat. The local business and community associations had worked long hours to arrange help for the burned-out parishioners over the weekend.

By Monday, another local church had offered to change their times of worship so that Reverend Miller’s congregation could use their facilities on Sundays. A temporary office had been located rent free in an empty storefront on Main Street. An assortment of donated office furniture had been used to furnish it, and she even had a computer and a copier with a fax machine on loan from an office equipment firm.

She’d spent the day doing little but checking the disks she’d saved from the explosion, purchasing necessary supplies and planning how to reestablish an office routine. It was 4:30 p.m. now, the time the office closed, and she was so exhausted she could hardly wait to lock the door and go home.

But first she had something she had to do.

In the parking lot, she climbed into the rental car she’d picked up on Saturday. Before setting her purse on the seat, though, she pulled a slip of paper from it and examined the address she had copied from the telephone book earlier in the day.

Driving out of town through the green countryside, she told herself that a phone call simply wouldn’t have done the job. Thad had risked his life to save her. She certainly owed him a personal thank-you. As she crossed the creek and turned onto a narrow road that led past a hog farm, she wondered again why he hadn’t come to see her, either in the hospital or since.

Then she remembered the way her father had treated him in the office just last week. Thad probably didn’t want to run into that kind of attitude again. Suddenly she felt much better. She ignored the little voice inside her head that reminded her that Geiserville was a very small town, and like most towns of its size, it would have been extremely easy for Thad to find out when her father was visiting and when he left.

Past the hog farm, she entered a small wood. She was looking for a house, so she almost missed the rusting metal trailer tucked back in a clearing. As it was, she had to reverse and check the mailbox again to be sure she had the correct address.

Could this be right?

The trailer once had been an odd shade of aqua and white, but decades of neglect had faded the white and dulled the aqua unevenly where some patches had received more sun than others. Rusty stains of orange and brown oozed dry rivulets of corrosion from every seam. The pathetic structure’s only saving grace was the well-maintained landscaping that surrounded it. She recognized the swollen glory of forsythia about to bloom, the variegated leaves of the mountain laurel, lilac, rhododendron and pussy willow catkins. Shoots poked from the ground, signaling the advent of iris, tulips and bushes of sweet-scented peony. Even this early in the year it was obvious that someone cared for things that grew.

Chloe checked the numbers on the mailbox one more time. Yes, this was definitely Thad’s address from the telephone book.

Turning left off the road, she directed the rental car onto the rutted lane that disappeared around the other side of the trailer. A smaller building, hidden by the trees, came into view. Beside it was parked a late-model truck and she realized the pickup she’d seen Thad driving when he was working on the church probably had met the same fate her car had.

This second building was far newer than the first, built of sturdy cinder block. At first she thought it was a garage, but there was no bay for a truck.

Climbing from her car, she started to follow the driveway back to the modest front door of the trailer, but the high whining sound of some kind of machine caught her attention. She cocked her head to listen. The sound was coming from the cinder block structure, so she started in that direction.

A poured cement rectangle served as a porch. Chloe stepped onto it and peered through the dusty panes of glass, but she couldn’t see anyone. Lifting a hand, she rapped sharply on the door with her knuckles.

The whining motor stopped abruptly. Footsteps clomped across the floor, and the door was yanked open.

Thad was framed in the doorway. Despite the brisk April breeze outside, he was shirtless again. When he caught sight of her standing on the doorstep, his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Well, look what the breeze blew in. What brings you out this way?”

The warn greeting she had planned died in her throat. “I...I, uh, wanted to thank you for getting me out of the church.” She tried a smile.

“No big deal.” He grabbed a sweatshirt from the back of a nearby chair and pulled it over his head, shoving his arms through the cut-off sleeves and pulling it as far down his broad chest as it would go. “I’ve already been thanked. There was no need for you to drive all the way out here.”

Confusion at his attitude and a depth of hurt that she wouldn’t acknowledge cut into her. But she had driven out here, and she was determined to have her say.

“I don’t believe many people would have gone back into the church after me. You saved my life, and I’m here in person to thank you because I wanted to, not because I needed to.” Her gaze dropped to the ground, and she swept the toe of one polished pump restlessly across the concrete, sweeping away minute specks of mud. “You have no idea how many people have come into my office to tell me how proud they are that I managed to save so many files and records. They all tell me that was quick thinking, but the truth is, I was an idiot, staying in that building so long.”

Thad was silent, and when she finally looked up at him, a half smile flirted at one corner of his mouth. “I’d have to agree with that.”

Chloe smiled back, a bubble of happiness welling up inside her. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

“I can’t believe you did, either. I won’t repeat the words I said to myself while I was running back inside after you.”

She giggled. “I bet the sight of you hauling me out of there was pretty funny.”

Thad smiled with her. “I was too busy to notice if anyone was laughing.” Then he nodded, as if in approval. “I’m sure that quick thinking you’re so determined not to take credit for saved the church a tremendous amount of trouble. Just think what it would have been like to have to try to piece together all those records.”

She shuddered in mock dread. “That was all I could think of. I learned early to be practical. It isn’t a habit that goes away.”

He straightened away from the door frame and stepped outside with her. The stoop immediately seemed too small and crowded, though she moved to one side to give him space. Thad took a deep breath of the moist spring air and loudly exhaled it. “Ah, this is great. I needed a break.” Then he turned to pin her with a penetrating gaze again. “Why did you learn to be practical early? And what’s ‘early’ mean?”

Chloe shook her head, fondly recalling her childhood. “My father spent most of his life with his head in the clouds. Somebody had to be practical.”

“How about your mother? Didn’t she fill the bill?”

“My mother died when I was nine. Daddy wasn’t cut out for running a household, especially one with a child. He had a hard time remembering essential details like grocery shopping and paying bills. I think he simply had too many other thoughts in his head.”

“Being a pastor doesn’t leave room for parenting?” Thad appeared to be genuinely curious rather than critical.

“Daddy takes good care of those who need him in our congregation, even when they don’t realize they need him. I was part of his team, rather than one of his responsibilities, and I liked it that way.”

Thad had sobered at her last words. Now he looked away from her, squinting at the bright light dappling the woods beyond his garden. “Part of his team...that sounds cozy. My childhood was more of a solo flight.”

How did one respond to that? Chloe paused, searching for the right thing to say. But there was no right thing. The gossip she’d heard about him sprang into her head, that he’d run wild as a child, that his mother had entertained men on a regular basis, which was the church folks’ way of saying she slept around. Chloe stood in tongue-tied silence, and after a moment he glanced back at her, his expression mocking.

“Sorry if my upbringing offends your Christian sensibilities. Unfortunately, everybody doesn’t live by your high standards.”

“I’m not offended.” She felt color springing to her cheeks. “I was merely weighing my words. You have this prickly attitude that makes me afraid I’ll offend you. I was thinking that flying solo is a really tough way to grow up.”

“It is.” Thad exhaled, absently running a hand over his chest, but he didn’t volunteer anything more. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little defensive.”

A little? She almost laughed aloud. Thad waved his indifference to people’s opinion in their faces like a matador challenging a bull. But since he’d just apologized, she supposed it wasn’t the time to tell him so.

“So what are you working on now that you don’t have to remodel the church?” Perhaps a change of subject was for the best.

He glanced behind him into his wood shop. “I have several other things lined up to start on, but today I was just hacking around with some different techniques.” He grimaced. “I don’t imagine the church will want me to finish that job now.” He chuckled, inviting her to laugh with him.

It was good to see him lighthearted. She chuckled, too, but after a moment the laughter died away and she was left replaying those frantic, fearful moments when she’d thought they weren’t going to make it out of the church in time. Thad was holding her gaze with his. His face sobered, and she knew he was sharing the memories.

“Thank you,” she whispered as her lower lip began to tremble. If he hadn’t come after her, she wouldn’t be here now, feeling the heat from his body—

“Don’t think about it.” Thad raised one hand and covered her mouth with his palm, pressing firmly for a moment. “We made it. That’s all that counts.” Then he dropped his hand, reaching for her palm and lacing his fingers through hers.

She stared at their joined hands. His curled around her fingers, almost hiding them. His skin was hot and dry, the palm tough from the work he did. The very center was wet where it had pressed against her lips, and a strange sensation tickled the pit of her stomach as a mental image of those lips sliding onto hers slipped into her head.

“So. Did you drive out here just to thank me, or do you have something else to do in the area?” Thad was speaking to her but he wasn’t looking at her eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on her lips. Sensation magnified. She was conscious of her breath rushing in and out over those lips, of a quivering excitement in the muscles of her stomach. Belatedly she remembered that she had come only to thank him, that her father would be expecting her for dinner any moment.

“I have to leave.” Her voice sounded strange to her, low and strangled, but he must not have noticed. He stepped off the stoop, her hand still firmly gripped in his, and led her toward her car.

In her mind she could still feel the rough, warm press of his palm across her lips. She’d wanted desperately to lick them, to taste him so she could carry the taste with her when she left. But a combination of shyness and common sense had held her back, and she knew she would have been asking for trouble.

And of course, the last thing she wanted was trouble. Thad Shippen was trouble with a capital T and if she had any sense she’d get out of here right now. She’d done her duty and proffered her thanks. Her obligation was ended.

Too bad her fascination wasn’t.

When Thad stopped beside the driver’s door of her car she looked around, surprised. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten here, but she had the awful suspicion that she might have floated. All she could think about was the way his hand cradled her much smaller one; the rough, callused warmth of his fingers where they were linked with hers; the way that hand and its mate would feel exploring her smooth, sensitive skin.

She couldn’t look at Thad, afraid he might read her thoughts. Then her flustered senses jangled a warning, and she did glance up at him. He was smiling down at her as he lifted her hand to his lips. His lips. She was riveted by the sight of those chiseled male lips forming a kiss. Then he lightly pressed his mouth to the very tip of her middle finger. She wanted to jerk away—no, she wanted him to keep touching her like that. Never in her life had she been around a man who drew her as this man did. As she stared at him, she felt her heartbeat speed up. The tip of his tongue whisked across her fingertip, moistening the pad, and her breath caught in her throat, then rushed out on a sigh. Her knees felt weak. At the apex of her thighs, a warm throbbing awoke. She longed to press her body against his and...and what, Chloe?

Thad raised his other hand and gently lifted her chin with his index finger. She raised her eyes to his and found in them an answer to her longing.

“Would you like to stay for a while?” His voice was a low growl that made her toes curl inside her shoes.

She knew what he meant, and she knew that she shouldn’t be giving this man the impression that she was the kind of girl who would—would stay. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Thad smiled as if he’d expected her answer. “Then you’d better get out of here while you still have a choice, sweet thing.” He dropped his hands away from her and stepped back, hooking his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans.

Chloe stood dumbly for a minute, then mentally shook herself and reached for the handle of her car door. She wasn’t interested in a fling with Thad Shippen. There was a big difference between thinking someone was attractive and deciding to engage in premarital se—oh, my goodness! Chloe’s eyes widened. Her gaze had wandered down his body involuntarily until it reached the faded blue jeans that fit him like a second skin. The bulge distending the zipper shocked her silly, leaving no doubt in her mind what he was thinking. Her gaze flew back to his face and she could see the smirk beginning.

“Like what you see?” Thad was openly laughing now.

Hastily she yanked open the door and slid into her car, slipping it into gear and reversing out of his driveway. As she drove away, she tried to work up outrage, anger, disgust...but all she could think was that if he had taken her inside that trailer she’d be learning right now what would assuage this anxious yearning within her.

Three

Every time he came through town the following week, she was in his way. He couldn’t avoid her if he tried.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he drove at a snail’s pace past the storefront on Main Street where the church had set up a temporary office in the donated space. He tapped his brake, slowing a little more. She’d been seated at her desk all morning, intent on some sheaf of papers. Sure would be nice if she’d get up and sashay over to the filing cabinet so he could watch her.

The guy behind him honked his horn impatiently, and at the sound of the horn blaring, Chloe glanced up from what she was doing at the desk that looked out toward the street.

Quickly he slouched down in the rental truck, turning his face away. He hoped she hadn’t seen him. She was liable to think he was watching her or something. It wasn’t his fault that he’d had to make four trips to the hardware store this morning. And it sure wasn’t his fault that the hardware store was two doors down from where she was working.

No, he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. He found her attractive, but she wasn’t his type. No, his type wasn’t afraid to show off feminine charms. He liked women with bold eyes and tight clothes, women who knew the score and the rules of the game. Jean had been the only exception to that, and she’d fooled him when he’d first met her...a nice girl posing as a party babe.

Still, he’d been interested when he first laid eyes on Chloe through that window at the old church. Very interested. She’d been watching him, and when she’d seen him looking back, she’d become all flustered and turned five shades of pretty pink.

Pretty. It was a good word for her. Chloe was pretty in an old-fashioned, quietly elegant, peaches-and-cream way that was rarely seen anymore, a ladylike prettiness that was distinctly less than fashionable in today’s world of carefully rumpled, clumpy-shoes-and-shapeless-clothes glamour. If there was one thing Thad knew about, it was women. Courtesy of his mother, he’d been raised around women who spent big bucks and long hours trying to achieve beauty.

He could spot mascara at fifty yards and knew exactly how much time and mousse it took to create a headful of tousled curls that invited a man to dream about what they’d look like spilled across a pillow while he ravished their owner. He knew what a petite size in women’s clothing was and if a perfume was musk or floral based, whether nail polish was frosted or crème and when a woman was wearing a push-up bra to help enhance what Mother Nature had skimped on.

Mother Nature hadn’t skimped on Chloe, he remembered. Beneath those modestly buttoned blouses she wore with her prim suits was the figure of a goddess. The day she’d come to see him, she’d left her suit jacket in the car. He’d been so distracted by the firm mounds beneath the ivory silk of her short-sleeved blouse, he’d barely heard half of what she’d said.

For a few insane moments, he’d actually contemplated asking her out. But a few minutes into that fantasy, he’d come to his senses. Chloe was a sweet, sheltered, minister’s daughter. And not just any minister, either, but the one who had conducted his wife’s funeral service. She also was modest and courteous and kind to everybody—kind enough to make a big deal out of him saving her life, when she had to know her father would have thanked him already.

He, on the other hand, had never been sweet or sheltered, and he seriously doubted any woman anywhere would consider him modest, courteous or kind. A sudden vision of Chloe’s face when he’d kissed her palm sailed into his head and with no more encouragement than that, his body began to respond as strongly as it had when she’d been standing right in front of him, confusion and arousal clouding her wide eyes. He’d wanted to pull up her modest skirts right there and bare every long, silky inch of her to his seeking hands—and the knowledge that he couldn’t had frustrated him in a way he hadn’t experienced in years. It had been rude and cruel to tease her like he had, but he’d wanted to shock her into leaving before he gave in to the inner voice shouting at him to haul her out of her car and into the trailer.

He could still see the way her pupils had dilated in shock as she’d realized she was looking at a fully aroused man. And she had been shocked, no question about it. It was just one more difference between them. Most of the women he knew would have laughed and snuggled right up.

Hell, he’d been raised watching his mother do exactly that. Chloe was the antithesis of his mother, genteel rather than coarse. He sensed that beneath her sedate surface there might be a smouldering ember waiting to burst into flame, but unlike his mother, she wouldn’t allow the nearest man to feed her fire. No, Little Miss Miller would undoubtedly wait for Mr. Deadly Dull But Approved by Daddy and get a ring on her finger before she let anyone close enough to get warm. She and his mother couldn’t be less alike.

But as he circled around through the high school parking lot and turned the rental truck back down Main Street one more time, he had to admit that in one way, Chloe and his mother did share something in common. Chloe was kind to everyone. That had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her. Just like his mother. She might have been easy with her favors before she’d gotten old and ill, but she’d always had a big heart.

She’d do anything for a friend who needed her, anything for him. He might have had a mother who liked the male of the species a mite too much, but he’d been loved.

As he drove past the temporary church office yet again, a car swung out of a parking space just ahead of him.

Fate.

He’d always been one to step right up when Lady Luck called. That empty parking space was a clear directive. He was supposed to stop and talk to Chloe. In fact, maybe he was even supposed to ask her out.

He considered the idea for a moment, pretending it was the first time it had occurred to him. Maybe she wasn’t normally his type nor he hers, but what the heck.

Why else would that parking spot have opened up at that exact moment in time?

He sensed the exact moment she saw him. He didn’t know why, but as he stepped out of the truck and popped a quarter into the meter, he knew she was watching him. He felt her... awareness of him as clearly as if she’d made eye contact.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.