Читать книгу Seducing The Proper Miss Miller - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 8

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.