Preacher's In-Name-Only Wife Read online

  Everyone laughed and Kelly challenged him to do his best.

  Emily Bodine leaned across her husband to get Amy’s attention. “Kelly was one of those gifted children,” she explained. “She skipped high school and went right into college then medical school. She also plays the piano beautifully and can pick up most any tune by ear. Dan’s been trying to outfox her every Sunday morning.”

  Amy grinned and whispered back, “Has he succeeded?”

  “Not yet.”

  Like the marriage ceremony yesterday, the church service today was a bit unorthodox, with people talking out of turn, making comments and engaging Dan in teasing debates that had nothing to do with Bible teaching and everything to do with playfulness, love and community spirit.

  Soon enough, though, he regained order and segued into a sermon.

  As he had when he’d related the story of his and Amy’s fathers, he made the message come alive. He spoke about making one’s life count, infusing the Parable of The Talents from the book of Matthew with vivid images, putting his own spin on what the characters of old might have been thinking and feeling. He tapped into imagery every person present could relate to.

  He didn’t preach fire and brimstone, didn’t judge or come on strong, didn’t promise they were all going to hell in a handbasket if they didn’t straighten up and fly right.

  Instead, he spoke of riches and everyone’s right to them, monetary riches and life’s riches. The riches of love.

  He held the congregation spellbound, a showman who laughed often, lost his place a time or two when he got off track telling a joke, and Amy gained a new respect for Dan Lucas.

  Laughter. He embodied the emotion, inspired it in others. It was a seductive trait, as much a part of him as his name.

  She felt as though she could watch him for hours.

  A little bit of the bad boy he’d once been crept out now and again in a crazy joke or an example conveyed using a story from his own life. He never lost sight of the fact that he was human, no different than anyone else, and that made him a great teacher.

  It also made it doubly hard for Amy to rein in her thoughts. His suit fit him like a dream. His whimsical tie with chili peppers and Tabasco bottles negated the formality of the starched white shirt and gray wool jacket. His shoulders were so broad he needed no padding.

  She knew that firsthand. And the memory of his warm, naked skin sent a flush of heat to her cheeks.

  A sexy, flirtatious bad boy preaching a sermon.

  Every one of her preconceived notions flew out the window.

  He evoked fantasies she shouldn’t be having.

  Suddenly, in midsentence, he faltered, and Amy realized his gaze had collided with hers.

  She sucked in a breath, tried to pretend she hadn’t been caught staring at him like a teenager with a mad crush on a music idol.

  He recovered quicker than she did. Even from this distance, she could see the twinkle in his eye.

  He knew what she was thinking.

  By darn, this man set her nerves on fire with a mere look. It was as though he knew a secret that only the two of them shared—a sexual secret.

  It was unnerving.

  He flustered her, made her anticipate. And she felt majorly guilty for the direction of her thoughts.

  Especially in church.

  Especially since that’s not what this relationship was about.

  “THAT’S THE EATIN’EST CHURCH I’ve ever been to,” Amy said when they got home. “After yesterday, I never imagined there’d be a potluck again today. Do the ladies here ever get out of the kitchen?”

  “Amazing, isn’t it. A single man in town won’t go hungry. He just has to come to church, and he’s set for the week.”

  His body certainly didn’t show a tendency to over-eat. Flat stomach, shirt tucked in, nice pecs. “Is that how it’s been for you? Do the females in your flock keep you fed and stocked with casseroles?”

  “The females in my flock?” He laughed. “Remember the story I told you about the meddlers’ campaign? Until a couple of years ago, the bachelors outnumbered the women in this town. I’ll have you know I’m fairly adept at finding my way around a kitchen.”

  “A man of many talents.”

  “I like to think so.”

  A certain inflection in the deepening of his voice made her heart flutter. She wished she could get a handle on this man. He confused her, intrigued her…excited her.

  She reached up and started removing pins from her hair. “Speaking of kitchens—or there about—I was wondering if you’d mind if I appropriated the laundry room to set up a darkroom. It’s got the sink, plenty of counter space and no windows, so I can close it off.”

  “Sure. I told you to make yourself at home, and I meant it. Just let me know the rules so I don’t mess up your film if I stumble in to wash my dirty socks.”

  “If the door’s closed, knock first. I’ll let you know if it’s safe to enter.”

  “So, you take your own pictures and develop them, too?”

  She noticed that he was watching her remove the hairpins, realized that her raised arms caused her top to stretch even tighter across her breasts. She shouldn’t have started, but it was too late to stop now.

  “Yes. The equipment was expensive, but I’ve accumulated it little by little. And it works out cheaper in the long run, gives me the advantage of choosing which negatives are worth developing and which ones can be scrapped.” She set the bobby pins on the table, ran her fingers through her unbound hair and winced when her scalp stung from hair follicles being forced at an unnatural angle.

  “Hurt?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Here, you missed one.” He plucked a stray pin from her hair and allowed his fingers to linger for a moment, to massage.

  Amy went utterly still. His fingers felt wonderful against her scalp, raised chills on her arms.

  She stepped back, ducked her head. Think about darkrooms, Amy, ones that you develop film in. “Um…thanks.”

  “Anytime. Can I do anything to help you set up?”

  She started to refuse automatically, then decided that was silly. “Sure, you can use your muscles to haul in those boxes I stacked by the front door. But let’s go change clothes first.”

  She had him by the arm and was urging him toward the stairs before she realized what she was doing. She dropped her hand.

  “I mean…you go change—if you want. I’ll go…I’ll just go to my own room and—”

  “Amy?”

  “Yes. I know. I’m babbling.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you make me nervous.”

  He grinned.

  “Are you doing it deliberately?”

  “Maybe. I like the way that Southern accent goes all soft and fluttery, the way you bite your lip when you’re flustered.”

  “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

  He winked at her. “That’s what you get for thinking.”

  Whistling, he jogged up the stairs. What had he meant by that? It was almost as though he was giving her a fair warning.

  But a warning for what? That he wasn’t going to play by the rules?

  Cryin’ all night. One of them needed to have a little strength of resistance. And she’d been counting on him being the one to have it since she felt like a hormone-laden weakling.

  AMY HAD HER EQUIPMENT laid out, and trays lined up and ready for the developer, stop bath and fixer solutions. Removing the white incandescent lamp in the overhead fixture, she screwed a red bulb into the socket and gave a burst of laughter when it cast a glow over the room that resembled a bawdy bordello.

  “Great, I’ve just created a red-light district in the rectory.”

  A knock at the open doorway made her jump.

  Dan, grinning like a sexy bad boy, leaned against the jamb. “I agree. That might raise a few eyebrows.”

  “I didn’t see you there.”

  “I know. You were busy imagining cathouses.”<
br />
  “Well, since I’m fairly certain you’re not standing in line to be a customer, what’s up?”

  “I wanted to let you know I’m going out to the reservation. I’ve got a collection of food and secondhand clothes to deliver.”

  Amy automatically grabbed her camera and looped it over her neck, checked the supplies in her backpack. “Can I come…I mean go with you?” Darn it. She was going to have to get past the double meaning of that word.

  “I thought you were going to develop pictures.”

  “Not when I have a chance to get outside and explore.”

  He gestured gallantly with his arm that she should precede him. “Then by all means, let’s go explore.” He glanced at the red lightbulb, shook his head and grinned, then flipped off the switch.

  “Bordellos in the rectory,” he muttered. “What next?”

  “Oh, stop teasing me. The red light allows me to see what I’m doing and keeps the film from being ruined.”

  He laughed. “I’m pretty sure I knew that.”

  Digging her keys out of her backpack, she went straight to her Jeep.

  “Uh, Amy?” He raised a brow and held open the passenger door of his four-wheel-drive crew cab truck.

  “Oh. You’re driving.”

  “Aside from the fact that it makes me feel manly, the supplies are already loaded in here.”

  She slipped beneath his arm and climbed into the truck. “Manly, huh?”

  His gaze connected with hers. “Yeah.”

  He’d flustered her. He could tell by the way her breath stilled, by the way her eyes widened and her mouth went slack.

  He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to flirt with her, to bait her. She brought out a side of him he hadn’t indulged in for longer than he could remember.

  A PRETTY, DARK-EYED WOMAN beamed when Amy and Dan walked into the recreation center to deliver the donated supplies.

  “Dan! I was about to give up on you.” The young woman gave him a warm hug, laughing when the box he held in his arms got in the way.

  Amy set the crate she was holding onto the floor.

  “Lily Gray Squirrel, this is Amy,” Dan introduced. “Amy, Lily.”

  She shook hands with the other woman. Lily was polite enough, but dismissed Amy right away and turned back to Dan.

  Amy wasn’t insulted. Dan had a way of lighting up a room and commanding attention. Curious, though, that he’d mentioned Lily’s last name, but not hers. Then again, why would he introduce her as his wife when it wasn’t the real thing and would cause unneeded explanations?

  She watched the interaction between Lily and Dan. He was friendly and joking. A toucher. Not sexually. He was simply social. He cared.

  And Lily Gray Squirrel was smitten.

  That was obvious from the gentle looks she sent Dan’s way, and the daggers she shot at Amy when he wasn’t looking.

  Had her sudden presence in his life messed up something between him and this beautiful woman?

  Deciding to take herself out of the line of fire, Amy slipped out the door and went to explore.

  Losing herself in the atmosphere, she took pictures of the homes and the people.

  A mud-encrusted dog lay stretched out on his side on a front porch, his muscles twitching as he no doubt dreamed of a rabbit he’d chased that had worn him out and necessitated a rejuvenating nap.

  An old man sitting in a rocking chair gazed off in the distance as though remembering a time when he was a strong young brave or pining for a loved one. A soiled bandanna rode his forehead, taming a head of long gray hair that resembled thin strands of gauzy cotton.

  She adjusted her focus, zooming in on gray whiskers poking out of a face etched by history and eyes that reflected hardship, wisdom, pride and an aching emptiness that brought tears to her own eyes.

  The urge to sit with him, ask him to share his stories, was strong, but she didn’t want to intrude. So, she simply smiled and waved when he caught her watching him, then pivoted at the sound of children’s voices.

  A group of little girls with dark braids shrieked happily as they tossed a beanbag marker into a hopscotch square and teetered on one leg, trying to pick it up without putting their other foot on the ground.

  Amy remembered entertaining herself for hours out in back of her grandparents’ house, with nothing more than ten chalk-drawn squares and a rock as a marker.

  “Hey, lady. You wanna play?”

  Amy lowered her camera and grinned. “Absolutely.”

  DAN LEANED AGAINST the post of a nearby porch and watched Amy. When he’d left the rec center on his way to visit the Lightfoot family, he’d seen her playing hopscotch with the children in the street, laughing and screeching when she’d lost her balance and landed on the chalk line rather than the square.

  He imagined the extra burden of anchoring her camera against her chest with one hand had thrown off her equilibrium—or else she’d done it deliberately so as not to show up the children.

  Jenny White Cloud, smiling over the antics of the strange woman in town, had beckoned to Amy. Satisfied that she was okay on her own, Dan had gone about his business—rushed it actually—his mind on Amy.

  She was still where he’d seen her last, in the midst of a circle of women who were teaching her the art of weaving.

  He watched the way she bit her bottom lip, concentrated, laughed at herself when she tangled the yarn and had to fish the wooden shuttle back through and try again. She was a good sport, a participant.

  He recalled how she’d jumped in to help out at Brewer’s on her first day here when the crowd had grown and there hadn’t been enough hands to do the work.

  And every opportunity that presented itself, she recorded on her camera.

  He wondered if she realized that by engaging these people in conversation—people who were strangers to her—showing an interest, she was behaving exactly as a minister’s wife would.

  He decided to keep that observation to himself. Because he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

  Allowing himself to get attached, to feel pride, wouldn’t serve any purpose when she left this all behind three months from now.

  Still, in record time, his new wife was getting under his skin.

  Chapter Seven

  “So, how have you managed to remain single all these years?” In the truck on the way home, Amy couldn’t get the image of Dan and Lily’s warm goodbye out of her mind.

  “Are you asking if I’ve dated?”

  Or had sex. Oh, Amy, please! “I guess. Lily Gray Squirrel comes to mind.”

  He glanced at her. “Lily? We’re just friends.”

  “Not according to her.”

  “She said something?”

  “She didn’t have to. Cryin’ all night, Dan, the woman’s half in love with you. Surely you’ve seen it.”

  He sighed. “She’s young.”

  “All the more reason you shouldn’t encourage her unless you mean business.”

  Now he frowned. “I don’t encourage her.”

  “Not deliberately. You’re a natural toucher. You give a woman your complete attention, make her feel as though she’s the only woman in your universe at the time.”

  “Are we still talking about Lily?”

  She glared at him. “I’m making an observation. And I think I’m fairly qualified, since I spend so much of my time studying people and their nuances.”

  “For a minute there, I thought you might be jealous.”

  “Get real.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad you pointed out Lily’s feelings to me. I’d suspected, but wasn’t sure. I’ve never treated her any differently than I do anyone else, but a couple of times I’ve had a little jolt of unease.”

  “One should generally pay attention to jolts of un-ease.”

  “Yes, ma’am. As to your question about dating, it’s been a while. Aside from the lack of time and single ladies here in town, I’ve found that woman are often scared off by my vocation. They figure either a minister
doesn’t know how or is against having a good time.”

  “You’re kidding. How can anyone know you for more than five minutes and not realize you like to have fun?”

  “Beats me. It’s that title thing, I suppose. Even you reacted to it, if you recall.”

  “Guilty.”

  “I walk into a room and people still hide their lit cigarettes.”

  “From a cigar-smoking preacher?”

  “Not everyone knows I indulge,” he said in a stage whisper as though a crowd of gossipy eavesdroppers were hiding in the back seat, ears cocked. “Oh, looks like we’ve got company.”

  They drove up in front of the house just as a white truck with the green Callahan and Sons logo on the door panel was pulling away from the barn, a horse trailer hitched to the back.

  Dan braked and rolled down the window as Grant Callahan pulled abreast of them.

  “Ethan said you were looking to borrow a gentle mount,” Grant said. “I put Clarabelle in your barn. She should do right by you.”

  “Thanks, Grant. Tell Ethan I appreciate the loan.”

  Dan rolled up the window and waved as Grant’s rig slowly navigated the narrow road beside the church.

  “You’re borrowing a horse?”

  “You ride, don’t you?”

  “It’s been a while, but yes.”

  “Good. I figured it’d be nicer if you had your own mount. Easier than have you ride double with me on Moses’s rump.”

  “Were we planning to ride together?”

  “I had it on the agenda, yes.” He shut off the engine and got out of the truck.

  Amy released her seat belt and followed. “Are you determined to entertain me?”

  He seemed to think about that for a minute. “I guess I am.”

  She looked at the house, the church beyond that, then back at the barn. “I do feel a little like a guest. This hasn’t really sunk in yet. But you can’t play host for the next three months.”

  “No. But every newly married couple deserves a honeymoon. Maybe that’s what I’m giving you.”