Hidden Pearl (9 page)

"You're a builder, an architect. I am in need of such a man for my church."

S.T. kept his expression emotionless, while his mind raced ahead. This was about the last thing he'd expected. “I am not your man. I’ve never designed nor built a church."

"Every building you've built has had a sacred quality to it. I'd like to see what you could do when your intent was to make a meditative, worship center."

"There are competent contractors closer."

Soul smiled. "How do you know that?"

"You hired away my cement contractor. I had a mild interest in finding out where he was going."

Soul managed a look of surprise. "I didn't realize Aaron was working for you."

S.T. raised his eyebrows with disbelief. "The word is present tense, not past. If Schmidt heads south before he finishes the work he's contracted for up here, he'll be bankrupted."

"I wouldn't want that. I'm sure we can work something out."

"That will be his problem, not mine," S.T. said. "If he does otherwise, he’ll end up financing my next project."

Soul laughed. "I think we can avoid that unpleasant eventuality. What about my offer? Are you angry with me for luring away your man or willing to consider my proposition on a serious basis?"

S.T. studied the blond man's face a moment. He wouldn't have picked this man for a pastor. An insurance salesman, realtor maybe, but not a pastor. Even if he hadn't already been warned about him, he'd have approached any business dealings carefully. "My schedule is pretty tight," he said finally.

"A man like you can take on whatever projects he chooses."

S.T. knew his smile wouldn’t be reflecting humor. "And what do you know about a man like me?"

"I don't hire builders I haven't investigated," Soul said. "Mind if I sit down?" He sat in the chair beside Christine without waiting for permission. "I can pay well," he said, "if that's what's concerning you. We wouldn't expect you to donate your efforts."

"I never dreamed you would," S.T. said, sitting in his own chair, leaning back a little as he studied Soul's face. Whatever was behind the public mask was well hidden.

Soul chuckled. He looked at Christine again. "Will I be permitted to view the proofs from the pictures you took of my people and me?"

"If you would like," she said without enthusiasm. She hadn't been eager to even develop the film, unsure of what she might see in the prints. Although she knew it wasn't true that the camera never lied, she'd often found taking photographs of a subject solidified her first impressions even though sometimes revealing surprises. This wasn’t a man she wanted to see into.

Soul looked back at S.T. "What will it take to convince you to take on my project?"

S.T. looked down at his desk, picked up his day-timer and flipped through it. "Maybe I can send one of my people down to gather--" 

"That would not do," Soul interrupted. "I don't want the opinion of an employee. I want your impressions of the land, the setting. I know what I want. I'll wait until you have time."

S.T. looked levelly at him as though considering. "I can’t promise anything about taking it on but might be able to work a look in at the end of the week. Or early next week." Christine didn’t doubt he had known he would do it; but for some reason, perhaps his own instincts, was playing hard to get. She wished he had said no.

"Either works for me," Soul said, rising. He looked back down at Christine. "May I drop you someplace, fair lady?"

She hated that name. She didn't hearing it from him, didn't like the speculative look that came back into S.T.'s eyes as he watched them. "I have a rental car, but thanks anyway," she said, not moving. If he wanted her to leave with him, he was in for a disappointment.

Soul looked from her back to S.T. "You will call when you know when you can come?" he asked, holding out a card.

S.T. hesitated a moment before taking the card. "Sure.”

When Soul was gone, S.T. sat back down. "You don’t like him much.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She shuddered. “I have worked with a lot of people and rarely found someone I disliked so much. I really think you ought to say no. Of course, it's none of my business, but I don’t think he’s someone you want to be involved with—not on any level."

Being the youngest in a family and having had a full helping of being told what to do, she didn't normally try to influence people as to their decisions, but she couldn't stop her words. "He's... There's something under the surface, something...” She stopped unwilling to say the word that described what she was thinking.

“I have a reason to go," he said finally.

"Rethink the reason."

"Sometimes a man can’t."

When he looked at her again, the expression in his eyes told her the subject had changed from Soul’s project to the two of them. It meant he intended to do nothing about the attraction that she knew was mutual. It was the wisest course for them both, but she wasn’t going to leave it at that.

"How about dinner tonight?" she asked surprising them both.

He gave a laugh. "You asking me on a date?”

"It could be repaying you for letting me do the photo shoot.”

"It could?"

"Or it could be a date."

He seemed to consider. "It's a dumb thing-- for both of us. You know?"

"Do I?"

"Anything between us could only lead to trouble."

"Maybe I like trouble... or maybe I don't agree with your abilities as a fortune teller. So how about it?"

The smile was now in his eyes, but behind it she saw a troubled expression. She was unsure of his answer until he nodded. "What time works for you?" he asked.

"What time are you done here?"

"I'm never done here."

"Okay, then, how about I pick you up at six thirty?"

His expression was still indecisive. "It's a mistake."

"Possibly but live dangerously and find out,
Sandy
." She smiled more broadly.

"I might have to tell you my name if only in self-defense."

"It couldn't be worse than those my imagination has conjured up."

"Could be it’s just those initials.”

When Christine returned to S.T.'s office, she was surprised to see he'd changed into a sports jacket, slacks, white shirt, tie, shaved, and, if the drops of moisture in his hair meant anything, recently showered. "Very nice. How did you manage all that?" she asked, watching as he closed up a computer.

“I frequently need to clean up here after work. Saves time, and as for the jacket--” He grinned as he rose. "Didn't you think I owned one?"

"I'm just surprised you changed. I approve, of course."

"You look impressive yourself." His eyes ran approvingly over the white knit dress, sandaled heels, hair pulled back by a colorful scarf.

He left the desk and walked to her. "Where did you have in mind for dinner?" he asked, his body only inches from hers when he stopped. She felt his energy and sucked in a breath to get control of her reaction.

"If you approve, I made reservations at Burger King," she said, moving back a step. She had instigated this evening, but she had no intention of letting it move too fast.

He laughed. "I eat there all the time."

"Oh, well, then we wouldn't want to do that. In case of a disaster like that, I made dual reservations. How about Bernardo's?"

"Italian food. How did you dig up that place only being in town a few days?”

"Food's my hobby," she said, allowing him to rest his hand on her hip and guide her out the backdoor.

"And you keep a figure like yours," he said with disbelief.

"I don't eat a lot of anything, but I love tasting different foods. At home I cook. On assignment, I look up restaurants, ask people questions. Do you know Bernardo's?"

"If I say I do, will we have to go someplace else?" he asked, looking from his Silverado to her hybrid rental car. “Want to ride with me?"

"I guess economy models don’t offer a lot of leg room." She glanced pointedly at his long legs.

"I could probably get in it... but getting out would be the trick.”

“You aren’t a believer in carbon credits?” she teased climbing up into the truck.

“In my business, I need to carry tools. The truck makes sense. It’s a diesel. Does that count in my favor?”

“Maybe.” As he turned out onto the freeway without asking instructions, she asked, “So you have been there before?"

"I'm a man of many tastes," he said, giving her a quick glance before traffic demanded his attention.

"I suspected as much."

"I didn't figure you for a cook or was that the kind of thing women say?"

She laughed. “Perhaps sometime I’ll prove it when I have a kitchen handy.”

"Where is home?"

"An apartment in Palo Alto."

 "Well that fits. You look like you come from money."

"Not really. My father's a professor at Stanford.”

"You still live with family?"

"Of course...” She laughed. “Not.  They live nearby in Los Altos. I've the best of all worlds where I am, near bookstores, delis, the university, close enough to see my parents now and then, and just down the freeway from the airport."

"You travel a lot?"

"My work is out there." She gestured out the window. "It takes me a lot of places."

"So is that why you're not tied to some man? And since we’re having dinner, I am assuming you are not."

"You have a lot of questions for a man who doesn't answer any himself."

"I’ll answer that one before you ask. I have nobody... at the moment.”

“I don’t either. A few friends but nothing special.”

“You looking for something special?”

She smiled. “Now supposing I was. Would I tell you?”

“Not likely.”

“But no, I don’t want a serious relationship right now. It’d only get in my way. Not many men understand a woman taking off on a phone call.”

“Nor women.”

“People generally want a partner to stay put and be there at their beck and call. It seems to go with the territory of serious relationships.”

“Well, we are at least equal there—not wanting anything serious.”

“In other areas though, we are not. You are distrustful.”

“And you’re not?”

“Occasionally with someone like Soul but generally I trust people. I pay a lot of attention to my intuition though where it comes to strangers.”