Dream a Little Dream

  Don hesitated, and Rachel could see him trying to find a way out. He didn't want to serve her, but he wasn't prepared to defy one of the town's favorite sons.

  "Uh… Sure, Gabe."

  Minutes later, they walked away from the window with two large hot-fudge sundaes neither of them wanted to eat. As they headed back to Gabe's truck, they didn't think to look across the street. If they had, they might have have seen a small, wiry man smoking in the shadows and watching them.

  Russ Scudder ground out his cigarette. Bonner must be fucking her, he decided. Otherwise, he wouldn't have replaced those tires so fast. That explained why Bonner had hired her. So he could fuck her.

  Russ shoved his fists in his pockets and thought about his wife. He'd gone to see her yesterday, but she'd refused to talk to him. Jesus, he missed her. If only he had a job, he might be able to get her back, but Rachel Snopes had taken the only job anyone in town had offered him.

  He was glad he'd slashed her tires last night. He hadn't planned on doing it, but then he'd seen her car, and there was nobody around, and it had felt good. It had felt so good he'd gone up to the Glide cottage a few hours later with a can of spray paint and painted Sinner on the wall just like some Bible banger. Maybe now she'd get the idea that she wasn't wanted around here.

  He thought old G. Dwayne might have liked what he'd done last night. Despite his Rolex watches and fancy suits, Dwayne had been a good ol' boy. He'd never meant anybody harm, and Russ knew for a fact that he prayed a lot and loved God and everything. It was Rachel had made him go bad. Dwayne wanted to keep her happy, so he'd dipped too deep into the Temple's bank account to buy her the things she nagged him for.

  It was Rachel's greedy ways that had brought down the Temple and Dwayne Snopes. Her greed had brought down Russ, too, because if it weren't for her, he'd still be working security, still working the job that had made him feel like a man.

  And now she was settling back into Salvation, just as if she hadn't done anything wrong. Now she was using Gabe the same way she'd used G. Dwayne, but the crazy son of a bitch was too stupid to see what she was doing.

  Russ had tried to talk to his ex-wife about Rachel and how she was to blame for everything bad that had happened to him, but she didn't understand. She didn't understand how none of this was Russ's fault.

  He needed a drink, and he turned toward Donny's place. A couple of drinks would settle him down. They'd make him forget that he had no job and that his wife had kicked him out and that he couldn't take care of his kid right.

  "Is he going to be here?" Edward asked on Saturday morning as Rachel parked her precious Escort behind the snack shop.

  No need to ask who he was. "Mr. Bonner's not as bad as we thought. He's given me a job and let us live in the cottage. He's also made sure I have a car to drive."

  "Pastor Ethan got us the cottage and the car."

  "Only because Mr. Bonner asked him to."

  But Gabe remained Edward's enemy, and he refused to be swayed. On the other hand, he'd developed an unbending loyalty to Ethan, who apparently sought him out regularly at the day-care center. Rachel reminded herself she'd have to thank him for that, even if she choked on it.

  Day care had been good for her son. He still hadn't made any close friends, but he was a little more talkative, a bit more demanding—although with Edward, that was relative. Twice now, when she'd told him it was bedtime, he'd said, "Do I have to?" For him, that was a major rebellion.

  "Wait till you see the playground." She handed him a shopping bag filled with some toys to keep him occupied for the day, then picked up a sack that held their lunches and a few snacks. As they walked toward the playground, Horse dangling from his hand, she saw how much stronger he looked. His legs and arms were tanned, and there was a liveliness to his movements that she hadn't seen since his illness.

  "The playground's all fixed up," she said. "And look. We added some picnic tables, so you'll have a place to sit and draw."

  She'd bought him a new coloring set that included a sixty-four count box of crayons instead of a skimpy twenty-four, then she'd purchased new sneakers for him, as well as pajamas printed with race cars. When she'd let him pick out an inexpensive T-shirt, he'd bypassed the childish cartoon designs and chosen one that said Macho Man.

  She glanced down at her own clothes. She cleaned the dirt and paint from her black oxfords every day, and they were holding up well. Thanks to Annie Glide's wardrobe of old housedresses, she hadn't needed to waste a penny on herself.

  Just then, Gabe's pickup swooped into the lot accompanied by a wake of dust. Edward slipped behind the turtle where, she suspected, he intended to make himself as invisible as possible. She headed for the truck and watched Gabe step out, all lazy grace and boneless elegance.

  Yesterday he'd given her the key to Cal's house so she could search for the Bible while he went out to dinner with Ethan. It hadn't been there, but she appreciated the fact that he'd trusted her enough to let her look.

  His eyes caressed her as he came nearer, and she grew dizzy with the memory of how he'd felt inside her two days earlier.

  "Good morning." His voice was deep and husky with sexual promise.

  The breeze lifted the hem of her skirt so it brushed against his jeans. "Good morning yourself." Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth.

  He slipped his hand under her hair and curled it around the back of her neck. "No electrician today."

  But they weren't alone, she was having her period, he didn't know about Edward, and he still controlled her paycheck. With a reluctant sigh, she drew away. "I can't afford you."

  "Are we back to that again?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  He didn't say anything. He simply frowned at her paint-spattered orange dress and oxfords, which seemed to annoy him more each day. "You left those jeans of Jane's on the bed when you were looking for the Bible. Why didn't you keep them?"

  "Because they weren't mine."

  "I swear, I'm buying you some today."

  She raised an eyebrow at him. "No jeans. Give me a raise instead."

  "Forget it."

  A good argument was just what she needed to distract herself, and she splayed a hand on her hip. "I'm working my butt off for you, Bonner. There's not a man in the world who would have done as much as I have for what you're paying, which, in case you've forgotten, is barely minimum wage."

  "That's true," he replied agreeably. "You're the best bargain in town."

  "I'm getting sweatshop wages!"

  "That's why you're such a bargain. And don't forget that you're getting paid exactly what we agreed to."

  A lot more, if she considered the fringe benefits of house and car. Still, at this rate, she'd never be able to set anything aside, and if she didn't find that Bible, she and Edward would be stuck in Salvation forever.

  She still needed to tell him Edward was with her, but even though he was less inclined to snarl these days, she wasn't anxious to break the news. She stalled for a few seconds by dividing her ponytail in half and pulling it tight in the rubber band.

  "I hope you don't mind, but I had to bring Edward with me today."

  A wariness came over his expression. "I don't see him."

  She tilted her head toward the playground. "He's hiding. He's afraid of you."

  "I haven't done anything to him."

  That was so patently untrue that she didn't bother contradicting him.

  He glared at her. "I told you not to bring him here."

  "It's Saturday, and there's noplace else for him to go."

  "I thought Kristy was keeping him on Saturday."

  "Out of the goodness of her heart, but I'm not imposing on her again. Besides, she'll be moving into her condo soon, and she has things to do."

  He glanced toward the playground, but Edward remained hidden. Gabe's antagonism toward her son hurt. Couldn't he see how special Edward was? How could any intelligent person meet Edward and not fall in love with him?

  "Fine," he snapped. "Just
keep your eye on him so he doesn't get into anything."

  "This is a drive-in, Gabe, not a china shop. There isn't much he can break."

  Instead of replying, he headed for the back of the pickup where he grabbed a wooden spool of cable and stalked away.

  His attitude toward Edward felt like a betrayal. If he cared about her, he should care about her son, too. If he—

  She caught herself just in time. She was thinking about Gabe as if they had some future instead of remembering that her relationship with him had only two facets: he was her boss and he was her sex toy. That was all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  « ^ »

  I'm a fox.

  I'm a fox.

  I'm a fox.

  Kristy pressed the palm of her hand to her chest, which was barely covered by a scoopy little ice-blue tank top tucked into a pair of white jeans so tight they would have showed her panty line if she weren't wearing something called a thong that didn't leave a panty line, but did give her a wedgie.

  As she settled behind the neatly arranged desk in her office, her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat, but she couldn't feel it beneath her palm because her breasts were in the way, monumental breasts pushed up to centerfold proportions by the Wonderbra that the saleslady at the boutique in Asheville told her she absolutely had to buy, along with several dozen other essentials that had eaten up a chunk of the savings she'd set aside to furnish the bedroom in her new condo.

  She'd been building up her nerve for two weeks, ever since the night she'd told Rachel about her feelings for Ethan. In four days, she'd be moving into her condo. It was a time for new beginnings.

  The breeze from the open window lifted a lock of her dark, baby-fine hair. It was cut short now and feathered. That's what the hairdresser had said: We're feathering—feathering in a simple, yet important, sort of way.

  Now her simple, yet important, hair tickled her cheeks and brushed the nape of her neck. A few feathers flew over her eyebrows and into her eyes. Feathers flicked the sparkly one-karat cubic zirconia studs in her earlobes. Feathers., feathers, feathers, until she felt like a canary. It was so untidy.

  When she'd walked into the cottage after her makeover yesterday and seen Rachel's jaw drop in amazement, she'd burst into tears.

  Rachel, however, had burst out in delighted laughter. "Kristy, you look like a really stylish tramp! And I mean that in the very best way."

  Rachel had hugged her and fussed over her and ordered her to lay out all her purchases: the clothes, and underwear, the expensive new makeup, and the trillion-dollar-an-ounce exquisitely sultry perfume that had made Edward wrinkle his nose and tell Kristy she smelled like a mag'zine.

  After admiring all Kristy's new purchases, Rachel had told Her she was beautiful, then glared at her in that intimidating way she had. "You're doing this for yourself, aren't you, Kristy? You're doing it because you want to, not just because you're trying to catch the attention of that worthless Ethan Bonner."

  "I'm doing this for myself," Kristy had repeated, even though both of them knew it was a lie. If she had her way, she'd have her plain old long hair back, her plain old clothes, her plain old face scrubbed clean of everything but a little lipstick. If she were doing it for herself, she'd be invisible again, because she liked invisible. She craved invisible. She was born to be invisible.

  But invisible wouldn't catch the attention of the dream-boat preacher.

  Her blood froze as she heard his confident step in the hallway. The church office was closed on Mondays, so there was a lot of work they had to catch up on today. Dear God, please let him be overcome with lust quickly because I don't know if I can carry this off for very long.

  "Morning." He breezed into the office. "Bring me the report from the mission committee, will you, so I can look it over? And let's see if we can get the July calendar finalized." He sailed past her desk and into his office without a glance.

  Good old invisible Kristy Brown.

  She snatched up her purse, pulled out the tiny flagon of perfume, and spritzed ten dollars' worth into her cleavage. She did a quick check of her appearance in the mirror of her new compact: light foundation, delicately arched eyebrows, thick, smoky-brown lashes, pale blush, and a crimson hooker's mouth.

  Oh, dear. That mouth. But the makeup salesgirl had insisted and Kristy remembered what Rachel had said that morning. One look at your mouth, Kristy,, and Reverend Stud Man's going to be having some very naughty thoughts. Not that you care, since you bought that lipstick for yourself.

  Kristy collected the neatly arranged papers she needed, then promptly dropped them. As she bent to pick them up, she saw flashy magenta toenails peeking through the straps of a slim gold sandal, and she felt as if she were looking at someone else's foot.

  I'm a fox. I'm a fox. I'm a foolish, feathered fox.

  Ethan had his head bent over a curriculum catalog. Today he wore a white shirt with a narrow maroon stripe and navy slacks. His long tapered fingers played with the edges of the catalog, and she thought of those same fingers- playing with the catch of her Wonderbra.

  With her heart pounding, she set the mission committee's report on the desk, automatically straightened a pile of mail, then sat in her customary place opposite him. As she crossed her legs, the tight white jeans nearly cut off her circulation, but she ignored the discomfort.

  Ethan studied the report. "I wish I knew how to light a fire under them. I want this year's Compassion Campaign to be our best yet, but the mission committee's most exciting idea so far is to put a financial thermometer poster in the narthex."

  "Why don't we get the adult-education class involved in the planning? They're enthusiastic about mission." Look up at me! Let me knock you out!

  "Um. Good idea. Call Mary Lou and feel her out, will you?"

  Feel me up, will you? That thought made her face turn red. She shifted and sent out a fresh cloud of perfume.

  Ethan sniffed, but didn't look up.

  She slid the July calendar across his desk. Surely he'd notice that she had six rings on that hand, seductive little gold and silver bangles that nestled together like lovers' hands.

  He didn't notice. "We've got a conflict on the tenth. I have a synod meeting. Either we reschedule the Vacation Bible School picnic or they can have it without me."

  She wanted to run from the office, but if she ran now, she'd never be able to do this again. She forced herself to her feet, then walked around the side of his desk until she stood next to him. "The children will be disappointed if you're not there. Why don't I have them shift the picnic to Thursday?"

  He sneezed. She handed him a tissue from a box on the credenza, and he wiped his perfectly formed nose. "Isn't that the day we're inviting the parents in for lunch?"

  "Not a problem." She pressed her hip closer to his side. "We'll move that earlier in the week."

  "Okay." He tossed the tissue into the trash. "Make sure I'm there."

  She couldn't take any more. Pointing to the calendar, she leaned down and popped one elevated breast right under his eyes. "The twenty-third will be the perfect day for the Friends of Jesus pageant."

  Silence. A long, labored silence.

  The muscles at the back of his elegant neck tightened. His lean fingers flattened on his desk, and her entire life seemed to flash before her eyes, all thirty boring years, as she waited for him to look up from her breast.

  He slowly raised his head, moving inch by inch, but the power of speech seemed to have left him by the time his gaze reached her face. Finally, the muscles in his throat began to work as he swallowed. "Kristy?"

  She told herself to pretend she was Rachel. What would Rachel do in this situation? She tilted up her chin and placed one trembling hand on her hip. "Yeah?" As the word came out, she nearly choked on it. She had never in her life answered anyone by saying Yeah.

  He stared at her. "New… uh… New blouse—er—top?"

  She nodded and tried to look bored, but it was difficult because th
is was the first time she could ever remember having Ethan Bonner's full attention. She began to perspire and hoped it didn't show.

  He wasn't deliberately staring, she knew that. Rather, it seemed that he'd lost track of his eyes. He took in her hair, her makeup, her scarlet mouth, her breasts and clothes, back to her breasts.

  He slowly began to recover. His eyebrows drew together, and there was a gruffness in his voice that didn't sound as if she'd maddened him with lust. "What've you done to yourself?"

  She wanted to cry, but Rachel would kill her if she crumbled. "I—I was bored. It was t-time for a change."

  "Change! You look like… like…" Once again, his eyes stalled on her breasts, then he drew a deep breath. "You can wear whatever you like when you're not working, but that's not appropriate for the office."

  "What's not appropriate?"

  "Well, those jeans, for example…"

  "You wear jeans to the office all the time. Billie Lake wears jeans when she subs for me."

  "Yes, but… All right, yes, the jeans are fine. Of course, they're fine, but…" His eyes returned to her breasts. "Your… uh, lipstick is a little… Well, it's a little bright."

  She was suddenly furious. He drooled over Laura Delapino with her crimson lipstick, but because she was good old reliable Kristy Brown, he only wanted to criticize. She couldn't imagine Rachel standing silently and letting a man do this do her.

  "You don't like my lipstick," she said flatly.

  "I didn't say that. It's not my place to like it or not. I just think for a church office…"

  Rachel would never put up with this. Not in a million years. And neither would she.

  "If you don't like it, you can fire me."

  He seemed genuinely shocked. "Kristy!"

  She had to get out of here before she started to cry.

  "Now there's no need to get upset." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure once you have a chance to think this over…"