Saints and Sinners (A Classic Romance) (2 page)

"Small towns can take some getting used to. Especially after living in a big city."

"I guess she told you that, too." He probably knew her underwear size to boot.

"Nope. I just picked up certain vibes from you."

Vibes? Though dated, the word still seemed too hip for a man of the cloth to toss out. Just as the way he was hitching up his robe, propping a booted foot on the box she'd hid her beer behind, and flashing her that too-sexy smile again was not what she thought of as standard minister behavior.

"What kind of vibes?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh... like you wish I'd get the Hades out of here and leave you alone."

What was he, a mind reader? Or were her nerves so shot from ordeals and more ordeals that she behaved as snippily and on guard as she felt?
That
wasn't smart,
not to mention a lack of good manners.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Especially to a—"

"Hey, no sweat. Rough time getting settled?"

"Rough.
Very rough." Why was she telling him this? Letting anyone get too personal, even a minister, was out of the question. Though the way he was nodding his head and making her feel he understood and sympathized was about the kindest welcome she'd had in a very long time. Dee stepped back, away from the lure of his silent offering. "What I mean is, I like my privacy and that's a scarce commodity here."

"You're right. Sometimes I miss having a bit of anonymity myself."

"You?"

"Even ministers like their privacy. Especially ones like me, who come from a big city. I've only been here six months, and people... well, they're friendly and they've been very accepting, of course. But for some reason folks tend to put ministers in a sanctified slot, on a pedestal where they don't necessarily belong or want to be." He quirked a dark brow and scratched his head. "Beats me why they do it. Seems to be an occupational hazard."

Dee laughed. She laughed for the first time in what seemed ages. This reverend wasn't like any reverend she'd ever known. His dark hair was ruffled, a little long and just as sexy as his smile. His eyes were hazel and seemed a lot older than the rest of his face, which appeared thirtysomething. She liked his eyes best of all, she decided. They were so vibrant, they sort of... twinkled.

"So, Rev., why did you leave the big city to come here?"

The twinkle vanished. "Same reason a lot of people move to small towns. There's a sense of community and trust. I can leave the church doors unlocked, without worrying about vandalism, for anyone who might have a need to be there. Peace."

Peace was not what she saw in his eyes. There was something in him that she picked up on because it was so strongly in her own bones. A need to not be alone, to touch a kindred spirit, at the same time wanting to shut everyone and everything away. It had to be a trick of lighting, she decided. A man of God couldn't possibly share those feelings.

And he most certainly wouldn't be staring at her with interest. Masculine interest.

Without meaning to, she glanced at his left hand. No ring. Just a large, well-shaped hand dusted lightly with hair. When she looked up she realized the twinkle was back. He'd caught her looking! And judging from the flash of even white teeth that showed in his grin, the regard was mutual.

"Dee!" Delilah spun around in time to see thirteen-year-old Loren burst through the door, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Jason's got my favorite tape and he won't give it back!"

"Who cares?" yelled back Jason, who was ten.

"Dork."

"Dweeb."

"Kids,
please!"
Delilah glared at them both. "We have company," she said between clenched teeth. "This is Rev. Peters. What do you say?"

When Loren continued to sulk and said nothing, Jason had the good manners to shuffle his feet in embarrassment.

"How do you do, Rev. Peters," he said politely.

"Call me Rev, Matthew, Jason. Made any new friends yet?"

"No, sir. Dee said we have to be patient."

"They start school tomorrow," Dee explained.

"We'll be the new faces when everyone else knows each other." Loren pouted. "Yuck. I hate school already."

"But you'll be a pretty new face." Delilah gave her a hug. "And Jason's always the best on any team. You'll both do fine."

"Sure you will." Matthew agreed as if he had divine assurance it was true. "If the two of you want to come to a pizza party the youth group's having on Wednesday, you're welcome to join us. Good way to make some new friends, and the pizza's not bad either."

"Can we?" Jason said with excitement. "Dee, please?"

Dee looked at Matthew's friendly smile to Jason's expectant face. As much as she wanted to keep a low profile and not get involved, it was proving impossible. And the kids needed friendship and acceptance. Desperately.

"You're invited too, Dee. Chances are the other kids might take you as an older sis—" Matthew coughed. "I'm sure most women wish they looked as young for their age as you do."

Delilah pursed her lips. Maybe she should test the waters, find out how Matthew Peters juggled honesty with tact, occupational hazards being what they were. Besides, she wanted to know what the locals did think of her.

"And just how old do you take me for?"
C'mon, Mr. Minister, thou shan't lie, even if you'd like nothing better right about now.

"Ah... let's see. Somewhere in your late twenties, early thirties perhaps? I never was very good at judging age."

"How very diplomatic. Sure you're not in politics instead of the ministry?"

"Sometimes I think they're related fields." Matthew laughed easily, inducing Delilah to join him. She felt she should be ashamed of herself for baiting him, but found his candid humor too refreshing to regret her behavior. This guy was okay. Better than okay. He was devilishly attractive and personable, even if he was a minister. And it would be so good to make a friend.

She squelched the thought as well as her laughter. "The truth is, I'm twenty-seven. Loren's thirteen and Jason's ten," she said with a pointed gaze.

Matthew met her challenging stare. The way he shrugged as if to say 'So?' made her feel that he was far more comfortable and unconcerned with her status than she.

"Can I have a look at that tape, Jason?" With admirable grace he diffused the momentary tenseness. "Hammer. Rap. I've got some rap tunes at the church."

"That's totally awesome," Jason exclaimed.

"We're hip." Snapping his fingers, he chanted in a raspy voice.

"Get real, get God. Sin's a drag and can't you see? Main Man on Sweet Char-i-ot. Yo Yo, He's watchin' over me. Be cosmic. Be cool. Brother, get this Golden Rule. Love yo' neighbor, love yo' self. S'cool. S'cool."

"Wow." Jason took the word out of Dee's mouth when Matt finished with a rapid foot shuffle. Loren pinched her lips together, refusing to smile or acknowledge the minister could give Vanilla Ice a run for his rap money.

"We'll play some others at the pizza party, so you can check them out. Here's your tape back, Loren."

She stared at his outstretched hand. Dee flushed. Just as she was about to reach for the tape herself, Loren took it.

"Thanks," she muttered, then whirled to go back inside. The screen door banged behind her. Dee shut her eyes and prayed for strength.

A rock to crawl under would be nice too.

"Jason, could you please finish unpacking your things?"

"Aw, Dee, do I have to?"

"Young man," she said in a warning tone.

"Got a football stashed with your stuff?"

"You bet I do, Rev. Matthew."

"If it's okay with your mom, we can pass it later, after all your things are put away. You know, nice and neat, the way moms like it."

"All right!"

"But one condition. Big guys like you and me, we don't get off on messing with girl stuff. Even tapes. Right?"

"Right. Yo!" Jason was gone in a flash.

Matthew chuckled. "Piece of cake." Then he winked.

He winked? At her? As if they were coconspirators. And since when did ministers wink at women they just met and flash too-sexy smiles? This was not in the game plan. Not his easy insinuation into their family and most definitely not this unexpected attraction she was experiencing. His hands. His eyes. His lips. She couldn't reconcile his appearance or personality with his profession.

She was suspicious. Then again, she had learned to be suspicious of all men, more so than even poor Loren.

"I'm sure you must be busy, Rev. Peters. Too busy to—"

"Matt."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please, call me Matt. First name minus the title."

"I was raised in a conservative church. Calling a minister by his first name seems a little inappropriate."

"No more than kids calling a mother by her first name." He said it without censure, just the statement of a fact she couldn't argue. "And I'm not too busy today to pass a football. You know us ministers, loafing on the job once the Sunday sermon's over. Besides, I'd enjoy it. Don't you think Jason would too?"

For such a clean-cut kind of guy, he sure knew how to play dirty. She hesitated, then gave a curt nod.

"About Loren. I apologize for her behavior. It was inexcusable."

"No problem. She's at a tough age, but she'll outgrow it."

"Not soon enough to suit me. If I survive Loren, it'll be a miracle."

"You'll survive."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I believe in miracles."

Something warm and fuzzy and delicious seemed to spark in his eyes. Before she could deflect it, it reached down inside her and filled up an empty place that life had hollowed out. She had a sudden urge to touch him, to discover if the feel of him was half as moving or good as the almost tactile sensation his gaze created.

With difficulty Dee broke the visual bond and hoisted a large fern from the box on the porch.

"Speaking of miracles," she said brightly, "I don't think they extend to boxes unpacking themselves. Thanks for coming by, Rev—Matt. I'm sure Jason will look forward to seeing you later."

Reaching up to hang the fern on a hook, she missed by several inches.

When she stood on tiptoe and strained higher, Matt edged closer, his voice oddly tight. "I'll get that."

Their hands brushed. White cotton met naked thigh.

She felt a distinct ripple, a tingle, where they touched. Looking up at him, Delilah felt the earlier warmth inside spread. Just as sweet. Just as welcome. But intense.

Chemical. Earthy. And something more.

This time it was he who broke their locked gazes. Matt hung the fern, then quickly stepped away. As he pivoted, his foot hit the box.

Delilah watched, appalled, when the box angled into her hidden can. It tipped, seemingly in slow motion. Yellow fizz gurgled onto the hem of his robe.

"Oh, God," she groaned. Dee dropped to her knees and reached into the box for a rag. "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"The name's Matt, Dee. Matt."

"I'm sorry. Matt. I'm—"

"Hey, it's no big deal."

She swiped the rag over the white cloth, then groaned some more when she saw that she'd managed only to grind plant soil into the soaked cotton. Wiping and rubbing only made it worse.

"This is so embarrassing, so—"

"Dee." He patted her shoulder. "It'll wash off. Really."

His voice was as reassuring as his touch. It was also disconcerting. Her head bent, she studied the mess she'd made of his robe. Dee saw the two of them as an outsider would, her kneeling at his feet like some penitent, pleading, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," and his gesture of "You are forgiven. Now rise, my child, and sin no more."

Yet his light, comforting touch conveyed no hint of benevolence. In fact, it was downright exciting, and if thinking about a minister that way was sinful, then she was a sinner, no question. An unrepentant one at that.

Delilah looked up, a final apology on her lips. The words froze and so did she. Matthew's gaze was on her cleavage, which was an eyeful, she belatedly realized. This wasn't her usual dress, but she'd been so hot, so... He shut his eyes, appearing to be caught in some internal struggle.

Did ministers have the capacity to lust? Not that she considered herself a woman who often commanded that kind of reaction from men. And this wasn't exactly a man. He was a minister, for heaven's sake.

When Matthew opened his eyes, they were carefully trained on her face. He managed a thin smile before he grasped her upper arms and helped her to her feet.

"I'll be glad to wash that, Matt."

"No need. But if you're determined to absolve yourself, you can offer me a drink. It's, ah, warmer than usual today." He let go of her arms as if they were the source of the heat.

"I have some soft drinks. Or I can make lemonade."

"I don't know, Dee, that's some pretty stiff brew you're talking there." He grinned and that pulse-pounding, heart-dropping twinkle of his nearly knocked her again to her knees. "If you've got an extra, I'd really prefer a beer."