Her knees grew weak as she breathed out his name, an exhalation of pure pleasure. “Tom...”
“That’s how I’ve wanted you to say my name.” His voice was deep and throaty and delicious.
His mouth pressed firmly against hers. He tasted smooth and hot, like a night of sweet, dark passion. The intensity of her response rippled inside her. She was suddenly, acutely aware of a secret well of elemental hunger raging within her core.
What this man could say with just a kiss was incredible. Anne knew then that she had wasted her time with cowboys and cops. It was priests who knew how to kiss!
She wanted more of him. A lot more. She leaned forward, intending to have it.
But his mouth drew back from hers and the warmth went with him. Anne opened her eyes and found she was looking directly into his. A blaze of sheer blue heat.
Both of Tom’s strong hands clutched her shoulders now as if he was holding on to a lifeline. His voice was a velvet whisper, with nothing of its normal deep strength. “This is how I feel about you.”
His words seared her aching insides. Anne was shaken, not just physically but emotionally. She wanted him. And he knew it. What’s more, he wanted her. It blazed in his eyes.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he asked, his breath coming out in a strangled sigh.
Anne was beginning to. He had kissed her to prove to her that despite the strength of his desires, he had control over them. He would not take her, no matter how easy it would be. She could trust him.
Anne realized then that she was shaking. She groped for the back of the couch.
Tom released her shoulders and stepped back. Anne clutched the fabric as she sank onto the cushions. Tom sat beside her, but did not touch her.
“Dear heavens, can all priests kiss like that?” she asked when she had regained a sufficient lungful of air.
“Don’t know,” Tom said, his own breath not quite even. “Haven’t kissed any.”
She glanced up at him. He might be a priest, but that self-satisfied grin pulling back his lips was all man.
“My weakened condition might have a lot to do with what just happened,” Anne said, determined to wipe that grin off his face.
“Weakened condition?” Tom repeated with a note of genuine concern.
“I didn’t have a chance to eat, remember?”
Tom smiled as he rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Then the very least I can do is take you out to dinner.”
She laid her palm on his. It was warm and strong and felt so right against her own. He pulled her to her feet in one powerful, effortless move that made her legs grow weak again.
“On second thought,” she said, “let’s see what I have in the kitchen.”
* * *
T
OM
SAT
ON
A
bar stool at the center island of Anne’s mint-green and cream kitchen and watched her toss a salad of romaine and baby lettuce, sliced apples, chopped tomatoes and hazelnuts, then top it off with a generous shower of finely shredded cheddar cheese.
Her movements were graceful and sure. The overhead light played on the fiery copper strands of her hair, caressed the snow white of her skin. He studied the delicate curve of her cheek and chin, the generous line of her mouth, the full curves of her breasts, the slender turn of her waist.
She was so lovely to look at, she took his breath away. There had been times during the day when he’d wondered whether he’d ever see her again. Even tonight when he’d finally found her at the restaurant, he hadn’t been sure they could work out whatever it was that had driven her away that morning.
They probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t kissed her.
The irony of it wasn’t lost on Tom. He was a man who had disciplined himself to use the power of words in place of physical displays, only to find himself in a situation where he could not speak. He could only show her how he felt.
Her response had been heaven. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to back away and prove to her that he could be trusted.
He knew it was asking a lot. She had given her trust twice before to men and been burned. But Tom needed her to trust him.
As much as he tried to tell her and show her, he still wasn’t convinced that she understood what it meant for him to be a priest. She was a judge, used to weighing all the evidence before making a decision. He would never be able to give her all the evidence.
If Anne did not have faith in him without evidence, they would have no future.
Tom wrestled with that plaguing thought as he thoroughly enjoyed the dinner she prepared. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He was as hungry as she was. The salad was excellent, as were the roast chicken with raisin sauce and the freshly baked buttermilk rolls.
“And she cooks, too,” Tom said appreciatively after swallowing the last bite.
Anne was sitting on the bar stool next to him, sipping her after-dinner coffee. “No, what my mom does is cook,” she corrected. “Apple pies and bread from scratch. What I do is follow a few favorite recipes.”
“What I do is open the freezer compartment,” Tom admitted. He took a swallow of his own coffee. It was as delicious as the meal. “Your mom is a homemaker?”
“All her life. Which is why she doesn’t really understand this need I have for my work. Still, she accepts me as I am.”
“Then she is special,” Tom said. “Often the hardest thing to do is accept people as they are, not as you want them to be. What about your dad?”
“He doesn’t care much what I do.”
Tom heard an unusual note in Anne’s voice. “You don’t get along with your dad?”
“We’ve grown apart a lot in the last year.”
Tom wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes, so very clear and openly expressive at times, had begun to cloud over.
“You don’t plan on telling Hunter that Tommy is yours, do you?” she asked.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Now that Lindy is dead, Hunter’s going to expect you to turn the baby over to Child Care Services.”
“Any suggestions?” Tom asked.
She gave it a moment of thought. “Child Care Services just wants what’s best for him. I’ll convince them that you’ll provide a good foster home for Tommy until other arrangements can be made. Is that what you want?”
“It would help a lot. Thanks, Anne.”
She stared at the cup in her hands. “Hunter would have sent someone to pick up Lindy’s note, or you could have dropped it at his home in Cooper’s Corner. You didn’t have to deliver it to Fred.”
“If I hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t have had an excuse to see you.”
Her eyes met his and a soft smile curved her lips. “How
did
you find me at the restaurant?”
“I overheard you making plans for dinner with Fred.”
“You mean you eavesdropped on my conversation.”
“Next time I’d appreciate it if you’d mention the restaurant,” Tom said with a note of feigned complaint. “I had to check out a dozen others before I finally saw your car in the parking lot at the North End Ristorante.”
Anne was trying to look peeved, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I don’t think Fred’s going to forgive you for dragging me out of there. It was my turn to pick up the check.”
“I tried to find you sooner, but not knowing your address was a problem,” Tom said. “And then there were the funeral services for Joe this afternoon.”
“Oh,” Anne said. “So soon. I would have been there if I’d known.”
Tom put his hand over hers. Her skin was soft and warm and matched the expression in her eyes. She had an extremely kind heart beneath that very tough air of authority she wore so well. He found the combination irresistible. A little too irresistible at the moment. He drew his hand away.
“Mind if I use your telephone?” he asked.
Anne slipped off her bar stool to reach the portable phone sitting on the kitchen counter. “You don’t carry a cell phone, do you?”
“They always seem to intrude at the wrong moment.”
She passed the phone to Tom, but before he made his call, he felt he’d better explain. “When I handed Tommy to Maureen this evening to come look for you, he started to cry.”
Anne’s eyes widened in immediate concern. “Why didn’t you bring him?”
“Too damp and cold. I didn’t want to risk his getting another virus.”
He punched in the number for Twin Oaks. Clint Cooper answered and informed him that his concern wasn’t misplaced. Tommy had been crying steadily since Tom left him several hours before. Tom thanked Clint and hung up the phone, giving Anne the report.
“He must know you’re his father now, Tom. Just like Dr. Dorn said. When a baby his age gets used to being with his parents, he has difficulty accepting care from strangers.”
“Except he took to you the first time you held him,” Tom said.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Not to me,” Tom said. “His heart is in tune with yours.”
“And how do you explain that?”
“I don’t try to explain miracles,” Tom admitted as he brushed aside a silken strand of copper hair from her cheek. “I just know them when I see them.”
A small smile lifted the corners of Anne’s lips. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
When they got there, Tom turned to her and gently cupped her shoulders. “Come see me tomorrow?”
She nodded. “After I talk with Child Care Services.”
“Don’t turn off your cell phone again, Anne. I’d rather not go through another day like today.”
He brushed his mouth lightly across hers, needing to taste her sweetness one more time. The soft sigh of surrender on her parting lips licked flames clear through to his solar plexus. He’d had no idea a woman’s sigh could do that to him. He was going to have to drive home with the windows open and the air conditioner on in thirty-degree weather.
For the tenth time that night, Tom reminded himself he was stronger than his urges, then he pulled back from her warmth and forced himself to leave.
* * *
“A
RE
YOU
GOING
to be able to trace the green van that was chasing her?” Maureen asked Scott Hunter as she spoke to him from the private phone in her office.
“Pretty slim chance,” Hunter said. “The hikers only got a quick look at both vehicles.”
“And you still don’t know who she was?” Maureen asked.
“Lindy’s the only name the priest could give me—or would give me. We’ve taken her prints and put them through the system. They’re performing the autopsy now. The accident investigation team is at the site. We should have some answers soon.”
“Sounds like you have everything in control,” Maureen said, knowing from her previous experience as a New York detective that Scott was right on top of things.
“Maureen, I don’t think this woman’s death has anything to do with Nevil’s threat against you, but I’ll follow up every lead.”
When Maureen was with the NYPD, she had helped to send murderer Carl Nevil to prison. His brother Owen had been out for revenge ever since. Scott Hunter was one of the few people in Cooper’s Corner who knew of the man’s attempts on her life. Scott was a good ally and friend.
“I appreciate your keeping me in the loop, Scott.”
“Truth is, I had an ulterior motive for calling,” Hunter admitted. “How well do you know Tom Christen?”
“Pretty well. He arrived here around the time Clint and I did. Why do you ask?”
“He knows something about this dead woman he’s not telling me.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. He pulled his priest thing on me.”
“Well, he is a priest, Scott. He’s got rules to follow, too.”
“And I’ve got what could be a murder here. Maureen, if you have any influence with the guy—”
“Anne Vandree is who you should be talking to if you want someone with influence over our Father Tom. He’s asked me about her a couple of times now. Unless I miss my guess, he’s got a thing for our pretty judge.”
“She’ll be a big help,” Hunter said sarcastically. “She didn’t even tell me the kid she was holding at the crash site was the dead woman’s.”
“She didn’t?” Maureen smiled. “Well, well. That’s not like our proper judge at all. And just three days ago Anne was such a nonbeliever in that love stuff. How the mighty have fallen.”
“Excuse me for interrupting your glee over the matchmaking, but I have an investigation going on here and I could use some help. You’re friends with Anne. Why don’t you try talking to her?”
“Okay,” Maureen agreed. “But I can’t promise it’ll help. Last time I attempted to broach the subject of Father Tom with Anne, she was suddenly off talking about the beautiful scenery.”
“Still, it can’t hurt to try. I’ll call you as soon as I have any news. And Maureen?”
“Yes?”
“Watch your back. Even if this investigation has nothing to do with him, that bastard Nevil is out there somewhere. We don’t want any more accidents.”
* * *
I
T
WAS
LATE
Tuesday morning when Anne arrived at the Church of the Good Shepherd. She found Tom in the parish hall, rehearsing a choir made up of preteens. The singing sounded slightly off-key, as if the voices of the boys hitting the fragile high notes were changing right in the middle of the hymn.
And yet it was a happy sound, as exuberant as their youth, full of hope and untapped resources. Anne sat on a chair in the back, enjoying their energy, as they finished the hymn.
Tom told them they did great with such enthusiasm that even the hardest nut among them was smiling. He got them to promise to continue practicing before meeting again the next week, then dismissed them to go back to school. The kids took off at a run, stampeding out the door like a herd of rhinoceroses.
As Tom turned, Anne saw Tommy in a baby holder wrapped around his chest. The little boy was sound asleep. Anne shook her head, amazed that the baby could sleep through both the choir rehearsal and the stampede.
Then she remembered this was the child who slept through the noise of car engines and native drumbeats.
Tom smiled as he saw her and quickly closed the distance between them.
Something squeezed inside Anne’s chest at the sight of his smile. All night long she had tossed and turned, reliving his incredible kiss. Yet she didn’t feel at all tired today. She felt alive—more alive than she had felt in a very long time.