Читать книгу Seducing The Proper Miss Miller - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 9

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.