I'm Your Santa (15 page)

“I agree,” he spoke solemnly.

She looked at him. “About the fellowship?”

He shook his head, keeping a straight face. “No, about not having any talent.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You're not supposed to agree with that part. That was so low. And you call yourself a preacher.” Her affronted air didn't last and she burst out laughing.

He enjoyed the sound. It wrapped around him, making him feel…hell, he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He thought he liked it, though.

“I had fun today,” he said, and realized just how much he meant it.

“You sound surprised.”

He shrugged. How could he answer her? He grew up in the city and had always lived in the city. He'd fought plenty of battles, lived on the edge, taken risks—but this bonding? It was something new. It scared him, but it was like an addictive drug, and he wanted more.

She pulled into the driveway of her house and came around to his side, but he already had the door open and was maneuvering out of the vehicle.

“Do you like to watch movies?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. My house. Six sharp. Dinner and a movie.”

He watched as she waltzed away. His gaze riveted on the sway of her hips in her tight-fitting jeans. His grin was slow. Bailey Tanner was flirting again. He liked when she flirted. It was damned sexy.

Except she was playing with fire. He only hoped she didn't get burned. Or worse, he hoped he didn't.

“I'm flirting with a preacher,” Bailey said into the phone.

“What's your point?” Kathy asked. “They're still men.”

She sighed and dropped down onto the sofa. “He's a man of God. I don't want to be married to a preacher.”

There was a choking sound on the other end. “He asked you to marry him?”

She frowned. “Of course he didn't. We just met. But if a relationship develops, and I won't deny there's a little bit of chemistry, and we happen to fall in love and he did ask me to marry him then I would be the wife of a preacher.”

“You think too much.”

“I only want to be prepared.”

“But you're the one flirting with him. Don't flirt.”

She pulled the pillow under her head as she scrunched farther down on the sofa. “You saw him. No red–blooded female would be able to resist flirting. He is sooo hot! I need sex. Is it wrong that I want his body? I mean, will I go to hell?”

“Not if you confess.”

“I'm not Catholic.”

“Does it matter?”

“I'm not sure.”

Kathy sighed. “So have a fling, tell me all about it, and move on. That would sort of be a confession. Oh, and ask for forgiveness.”

“I don't think they have flings. And you don't even go to church so it wouldn't be the same thing if I confessed to you.”

“It might give me a thrill, though. My sex life has been in the crapper since Chad left for his business trip. I really need sex.”

“I wouldn't tell you anyway.”

“I didn't think you would, but I have to say, if I weren't engaged, I know exactly what I'd do.”

“What's that?”

“Seduce him. You can do it.”

“And go to hell? I don't think so.”

Kathy sighed. “It might be worth it.”

They talked a few more minutes before Kathy started getting busy at the burger joint and had to go. When Bailey stood, her gaze automatically went to the guesthouse.

But she wasn't
really
flirting with him when she asked him to dinner—only being neighborly.

An hour later, she had the cheese rigatoni simmering in a pot of water, a chef salad in a glass bowl, garlic bread in the toaster oven ready to toast when Trey arrived, and all the bags and boxes in the trash. A gourmet meal in minutes without a lot of stress and work. And it would taste a heck of a lot better than anything she could make from scratch.

She went to her bedroom and slipped into a pair of beige slacks and a pink sweater. A little lipstick and spritz of perfume and she was ready.

Flirting? She'd thought about it all afternoon and she was almost certain that she wasn't. It had been flirting when she'd winked, but she'd had a good excuse. He'd been leaving her life forever. Straddling his Harley and riding off into the sunset—except the sun hadn't been setting. A little harmless wink wouldn't hurt a thing, she'd told herself.

Okay, so she'd been wrong. Now, she was only trying to make up for causing Trey's accident.

As she went back to the kitchen, there was a knock at the backdoor. Her pulse sped up. Calm down, she told herself. You're just having dinner and watching a movie.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. He stole her breath. Jeans and a black T-shirt had never looked so good, especially the way he filled them out. Nope, he didn't look at all religious. He looked wild, untamable, and sexy.

“Hi,” she said.

He thrust some weeds toward her. “I picked some of your flowers,” he said. “I didn't want to come empty handed.”

Her smile turned into laughter.

He frowned. “They're not flowers, are they?”

She shook her head. “Weeds, actually, but I always thought they were pretty.” She opened the door a little wider. “Come in.”

He followed her to the kitchen.

“You can sit in the living room if you'd like. I have an ottoman you can prop your injured foot on.”

“I'd rather sit at the bar. My foot has been propped up all afternoon.”

“Okay.” Her house was an open floor plan. The living room wasn't that far away. It made her feel good that he'd want to be even closer.

“You look pretty.”

She brushed some strands of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.” First flowers, now compliments? Maybe he was flirting with her. She drew in a shaky breath. “I hope you like Italian.”

His eyebrows rose. “You actually cooked?”

“Not exactly. Frozen rigatoni, garlic bread, and bagged salad, but I grated the cheese. Do you like to cook?”

“Not even a little.” He smiled.

She loved his smile. For a moment, she stood there and stared.

“It smells good.” He leaned his elbows on the counter.

Cooking, yes, that's what she was doing. She went to the pantry and asked, “Do you have a preference for sauce? I have white and red.”

“Red is fine.”

“Ragu it is.” She took the jar to the counter, opened it and poured the contents into a bowl. “Can you drink wine?” When she looked at him, he nodded. “I hope it tastes good. It's one I haven't tried and at ten dollars a bottle, it better be really good.”

“And you're breaking it out on my account?”

“It's the least I can do.”

“I didn't have to look back, you know.”

Her hands stilled in the process of removing the garlic bread from the toaster oven. “I guess I never thought about it like that,” she said slowly.

“Not going to kick me out of the guesthouse, are you?”

She put the toast in a basket and set it on the table before meeting his gaze. “No, I think I like having you around.”

She got the wine and a corkscrew and handed them to him. “I'm terrible at opening wine.”

“Now I know the real reason you offered me a room.”

“I'm shameless.” She brought down a couple of glasses from the cabinet and wondered how she could feel so comfortable around someone she'd met only recently. Maybe because he made her feel comfortable.

“I'm a stranger and yet, you're not nervous around me. Why?”

For a second she wondered if he could read her mind. God, she hoped not. “You said you were a preacher. I believe you.”

“I could be lying. Sometimes it's not smart to take people at face value.”

She took the glass of wine he offered and stared down into the deep red color. “Well,” she began, “it's like my brother said, you checked out when he ran you through the computer at the sheriff's office.”

“I could've stolen Trey Jones' identity.”

“You also have a bum foot and I could outrun you.”

“It'll heal.”

She wondered at his line of questioning, but then just figured he was trying to make her see she needed to be a little more cautious.

“I also have a brown belt in karate.”

His eyebrows rose.

Why did people never believe her when she told them? “No, it's true. Wade made me take karate years ago. He said I'd be going to college some day and needed to know how to protect myself in case some guy got fresh. I think he just watched too many thrillers on TV where women were victims.” She took a drink of wine, savoring the taste before swallowing. It was good. “Besides, I have two more brothers and if you harmed one hair on my head they would all three come after you, and probably Fallon, too, and castrate you.”

She turned and went to the rigatoni and poured it into the strainer before she realized she just told him they'd castrate him if he hurt her. Crap.

“Pretend I didn't say that last part.”

“You mean they wouldn't come after me?”

She could hear the laughter in his voice.
Ignore it.
She dumped the rigatoni into a bowl. “No, they'd come after you and do exactly as I said—just pretend I didn't say it. Sometimes it's really easy to forget you're a preacher.”

He mumbled something that sounded like he was agreeing with her, but she figured she must be mistaken.

“Dinner is served,” she told him as she carried the rigatoni to the table.

Trey couldn't have even said what the food tasted like after the meal was finished. He was too busy beating himself up over his twenty questions. Bailey was wrong. She
was
gullible. Hell, everyone he'd met so far had believed him. Why the hell were people so blasted trusting? Couldn't they see he was taking them for a ride?

“I'm so stuffed I feel like a turkey,” Bailey said, breaking into his thoughts. “Why don't we go to the living room?”

Why shouldn't he take advantage of what she had to offer? “Sure.” They'd wanted each other from the start. It was time to end the games.

They went into the living room and he made himself comfortable on the sofa while she fiddled with the television. That was okay, he enjoyed the view.

She turned the lights down low and sat next to him. “I didn't ask what kind of movies you like but I thought this one would be a good choice.” Her eyes were innocent as she looked up at him so trusting.

His conscience told him to back off and not destroy her beliefs. He could drift out of her life just like he'd drifted into it. No harm, no foul.

He studied her face. Opened his mouth to tell her he was a lie and he wanted to make love to her, but the words didn't come. “What movie is that?” he asked instead.

“‘It's a Wonderful Life.' You've seen it, right? I mean everyone has seen it. It's a classic.”

He shook his head.

“Really? I love Jimmy Stewart.”

He settled back on the sofa. “If you like it, then I probably will, too.” When the hell had he become such a coward?

The movie was in black and white. He preferred thrillers. Something with a little more substance. After the first five minutes, he'd already figured out this was one of those sappy movies meant to inspire people to feel good about giving at Christmas time and thus spend more money.

Midway through the movie, he was still scratching his head. Did anyone really buy into this crap? He glanced at Bailey. Her face was glowing. A few times, he'd even heard her sniff.

He couldn't stand staying quiet any longer. “He has the break he's been praying for and he won't take it. The man is an idiot. He's free.”

She stiffened beside him. “But look what he has to give up to have his freedom.”

“A worthless brother who cares more about his own life, a house that's falling apart, a marriage that forced him to give more of himself than he was prepared to give. The guy is a sap.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Jimmy Stewart is not a sap. I thought you were supposed to be a preacher. Where's your compassion?”

He could tell her now. This was the perfect opening. He looked into her face, then sighed. “I guess I've been working in the slums too long, seeing the…uh…poor and sick. After a while it starts to bring me down.”

“This movie will help.”

No, it wouldn't, but he couldn't tell her that. Too many years of having it drummed into his head by his father about the commercialism of the world had hardened him, and nothing would change how he believed. It was too late. He couldn't be changed. He looked at the world with eyes wide-open. That was the smart thing to do.

“You're right,” he told her, and pulled her next to him. He'd play his part so her ideals would stay intact, but he damn well wanted to feel her snuggled next to him. He was almost certain preachers were allowed to snuggle.

He settled back. Clarence was funny. He would at least admit that to himself. But he knew when worse came to worse no one would help poor George out. Nope, the man was going to prison and so he should for screwing up his business so bad.

He continued to watch, feeling himself getting caught up in the movie. Only because he was an actor and Bailey had been right, Jimmy Stewart was great as well as the others. The plot…he still didn't buy it.

“This is the part I love,” Bailey spoke softly.

His stomach knotted as he watched the townspeople come to George's rescue and Clarence earn his wings. It was a silly movie. People didn't come to the rescue of other people.

No one had come to his mother's rescue. Not one person, and she'd been good. He could still remember the smell of cookies baking, the warmth of her arms around him.

He drew in a deep breath. No, there'd been no one around when she'd slipped into the bathroom and taken a bottle of pills. Not one person had come to her rescue.