For the Love of God Page 10

  His hands closed on her shoulders, the contact momentarily paralyzing. Her blouse was half in and half out, and Abbie couldn’t seem to move to finish the job.

  “That’s not a very flattering thing to say,” Seth declared and forced her to turn around. She looked everywhere but into his face, yet the sight of his manly chest, so broad and muscled, hardly hidden at all with his shirt clinging to the heated dampness of his skin, was almost equally unnerving. Abbie kept her hands rigidly tightened into fists so they wouldn’t be tempted to touch him.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she murmured tightly.

  “You indicated it was the wine that made you respond to me,” he said in a voice that was warm and indulgent. “I was hoping it might have been my kisses.”

  “It was. I mean … I just got carried away because … of the wine,” Abbie insisted.

  Seth crooked a finger under her chin and lifted it to study her face at an angle. “It wasn’t because of the wine. You were enjoying being kissed and caressed.”

  “I was, but…” She was close to tears, so anxious for him to think well of her. She had never felt so vulnerable in her life. “… I don’t want you to think I’m immoral.”

  “Why should I think that?” Seth questioned with a smiling frown of confusion.

  “Because—” Abbie couldn’t finish it.

  “Because I was touching you? Because I wanted to touch your breasts?” He was even more specific, and his bluntness was more than she could handle. “Or because you wanted me to?”

  “Seth.” She shut her eyes so he couldn’t read how right he was in her look.

  “I’m relieved you didn’t call me Reverend,” he mocked, and gave her a little shake to force her eyes open. “Abbie, I’m a man, not a saint. You are a beautiful woman with a beautiful body. Do you think I don’t feel desire when I’m near you?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Well, I do.” The corners of his mouth deepened with a smile. “Desire isn’t necessarily sinful. Promiscuity, infidelity, adultery—those are sinful. Desire is a warm and wonderful thing between two people who care for one another. You don’t need to be ashamed of it.”

  “I wasn’t, not really. I just didn’t—” She broke off in midsentence when Seth suddenly began unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it loose from his Levi’s. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m unbuttoning my shirt. What does it look like I’m doing?” he countered. “You seemed embarrassed because your blouse came unfastened. I thought it might make you feel better if mine was loose, too.”

  “Seth, that’s ridiculous.” Abbie couldn’t believe he was serious.

  His low, throaty laugh vibrated over her. His hands were at her waist to pull her into his arms. That curling sensation started all over again in her stomach as his mouth came down to probe apart the softness of hers. Warmth flooded through her limbs as his molding hands roamed her back and hips to fit her intimately to his hard, male length.

  Seth deepened the disruptively sensual embrace with consummate skill, dazzling Abbie with the ecstasy he evoked. Her hands were flattened against his bared chest, absorbing the heat of his body to add to the fire burning inside. She was trembling when he finally lifted his head to trail a butterfly kiss on her closed eyes.

  Reluctantly, she started to shift away from him, thinking that he was signaling an end to the embrace, but his arms tightened to keep her fused to the muscled columns of his legs. “Stay here,” he murmured, “where you belong.”

  His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling with the tendrils of rust-gold hair that had escaped from her ponytail, and firmly directed her head to rest on his shoulder. Of their own volition it seemed, her arms slid around his middle under his loosely hanging shirt. Abbie rested her cheek contentedly against his collarbone, breathing in the heady, male smell of him.

  There was a very definite sensation of belonging in his arms. The hard line of his jaw was rubbing against her hair in a sensual caress. With a slight turn of her head, Abbie let her mouth lightly taste the warm flavor of his skin, tanned and tautly stretched across sinew and bone.

  Her lips touched the coolness of a gold chain, reminding Abbie of her previous curiosity about it. She shifted slightly in his arms to lift a hand to follow the path of the long chain to where it ended in the center of the springy, silken gold chest hairs. They curled softly against the back of her hand as she held a plain, gold cross between her fingers.

  “I wondered what you were wearing around your neck,” she admitted softly. The edges were worn, a few scratches dulling the finish. “It looks very old.”

  “It belonged to my grandfather. He was a very religious man in many ways. And a very passionate man, too.” His head tipped slightly downward for a glimpse of her face. “The two can go together.”

  The sheer naturalness of being held by him had been so overwhelming that it wasn’t until his comment that Abbie realized his hand was curved to the underside of her breast, his thumb absently stroking its rising swell. Both her blouse and her cotton brassiere lay between his hand and her flesh, but his touch suddenly seemed to burn through both of them. Abbie stiffened in a delayed attack of modesty.

  Guessing the reason, Seth let his hand slide down to the curve of her waist. “I knew what my right hand was doing, so I’m not about to cut it off,” he mocked with gentle amusement. “I have the feeling, Abbie, that you are as steeped in Victorian traditions as this town.”

  Thinking he was ridiculing her for being prudish, Abbie started to pull away, but the bronzed band of his arm stopped her while he cupped his hand to the side of her face and forced her to look at him. There was smoldering pleasure in the darkness of his gaze.

  “And I’m glad you are that way,” Seth added to assure her that he approved of her keen sense of decorum. “Just remember there will come a time when there is no need to hold back your desires.”

  “Yes.” It seemed very close, too. Abbie hoped, desperately, that she wasn’t wrong.

  There was a hard, brief kiss before Seth released her from the close contact with his body. “As enjoyable as it would be to idle away the rest of the afternoon kissing you, I think we’d better get our picnic things packed away in the car so we can visit your grandmother.”

  “Grandmother Klein?” She felt stupid saying that. She was the only grandmother Abbie had—living that is.

  “You usually visit her on the weekend, don’t you?” he said. “At the moment, it seems the prudent way to spend the afternoon rather than yielding to the temptation of this blanket and you.”

  “I think you deliberately try to shock me,” Abbie declared, still not quite used to his frankness.

  He reached down to scoop up the blanket and begin folding it into a square. His side-glance ran to her, glittering with amusement.

  “I have to do something to shatter that sexless image you have of a minister,” Seth countered.

  “You’re succeeding,” she admitted, without mentioning that it was something of a revelation.

  “It’s about time,” he replied with a mocking slant to his mouth.

  It didn’t take long to stow the picnic items in the car. After Abbie had given him a general set of directions to her grandmother’s farm, they started out. Less than thirty minutes later, Seth turned the sports car onto the lane leading to the white, clapboard house.

  White leghorn chickens squawked and ran from the car with flapping wings when it rolled to a dusty halt in the farmyard. An old gray tomcat sauntered out to inspect the visitors to his territory and meowed an aloof welcome when he recognized Abbie, then eyed Seth with haughty inquiry.

  “That’s Godfrey.” Abbie identified the cat. “He thinks he owns the farm.”

  “I had the same impression,” Seth replied.

  “Where’s your mistress, Godfrey?” Abbie glanced at the house but there was no sign of life behind the gray-meshed screen door. The cat swished his tail and jumped lithely onto the rear fender
of the car to begin cleaning himself, disdaining any notion that he would lower himself to act as guide. “She’s probably in the garden,” Abbie guessed. “It’s around in back.”

  As Abbie started in that direction, Seth fell into step beside her, his hand fitting itself familiarly to the small of her back. There was something lightly possessive about his touch that made her feel she belonged to him, a sensation she definitely liked.

  Just when they entered the fenced yard, a small woman in loose-fitting pants and a flowered blouse came around the corner of the house. The slight stoop to her shoulders was the only visible concession to advanced age. Her short hair was still carrot-red, the result of a regularly applied henna dye. Her sun-leathered complexion was liberally dotted with youthful freckles. She was carrying a five-gallon bucket, loaded full of sweet corn ears, and showing no indication that it was too heavy.

  “Hello, Grandmother.” Abbie called the greeting.

  The woman stopped and waited for them to come to her, but she didn’t bother to set the bucket down. Sharp, green eyes made a thorough inspection of Seth, not leaving out a single detail.

  “I thought you were probably in the garden,” Abbie said. “I wish you wouldn’t work out there during the heat of the day.”

  “I’ve gotta keep moving at my age,” her grandmother insisted, and turned her gaze once more to Seth. “So, you’ve finally brought a man for me to meet. It’s about time.” She didn’t give either of them a chance to speak as her glance went past them to the dark green sports car. “Is that your car? I always wanted to go tearing down the road in one of those racy convertibles—with my hair flying in the wind. I used to wear it longer, when I was young.”

  “I’ll take you for a ride in it anytime you say, Mrs. Klein,” Seth offered with an engaging half-smile. “I’m Seth Talbot.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Seth Talbot,” her grandmother replied and looked at Abbie. “You’ve picked out a strong, virile man. I’ll wager he’ll have you pregnant a week after you’re married.”

  “Grandmother!” Abbie was aghast. She’d never said things like that before. There had always been the urgings to get married and start a family. Being a farmer’s wife, she had always been very casual about the mating habits of animals. Despite this, her grandmother’s remark probably wouldn’t have struck her as being so scandalous except that—“Seth is a minister.”

  “So? He’s a man, isn’t he?” It didn’t seem to make any difference to her grandmother. “He might as well know that I’d like to have a great-grandchild before I die.”

  “There’s plenty of time. You aren’t that old,” Abbie protested as she sought a tactful way to explain that her grandmother was misreading the situation.

  “Considering how long it’s taken you to find a suitable man, I wouldn’t say there’s plenty of time. I was married at seventeen, and had my first baby in my arms when I was eighteen. You’re twenty-three years old already, Abbie. You’ve taken your own sweet time about becoming engaged, let alone married.”

  “Seth and I aren’t engaged, Grandmother,” she corrected.

  “I thought that’s why you brought him out here with you.” Her grandmother looked taken aback, and perhaps a little bit embarrassed. “You haven’t ever brought a man with you when you’ve visited me before.”

  “I was the one who suggested we come here this afternoon,” Seth stated, taking the responsibility for the decision. “Abbie had mentioned that she usually visited you on the weekends. Since we had picnicked not far from here, it seemed logical to stop by.” He took a step forward, apparently untroubled by the initial conclusion the older woman had reached. “Would you let me carry that sweet corn for you?”

  “I can manage it.” Her grandmother was a little flustered by her mistake, not liking to appear old and foolish.

  “I’m sure you can,” Seth agreed easily. “But my father would have my hide if I didn’t carry it for you, the way a gentleman should.”

  Abbie was amazed to see her grandmother surrender the pail of corn to him. Any time she had offered to carry something heavy, her grandmother had impatiently waved her off, insisting she didn’t like being fussed over.

  “You can set it on the back porch,” her grandmother instructed. “Then we’ll all go in the house for some cold lemonade.”

  “These are good-looking roasting ears, Mrs. Klein.” Seth complimented her on her garden produce.

  “It isn’t easy staying one step ahead of the raccoons. Between them and the deer, they play havoc with my garden.” She always claimed to have an ongoing battle with the wildlife in the area. “I’ll get you a sack, Abbie,” she said as they started toward the back door. “So you can take a couple dozen ears of this corn home for you and your folks. You can take some home with you, too, Mr. Talbot. Or should I call you Reverend.”

  He slid a dryly amused glance at Abbie. “‘Seth’ will do fine, Mrs. Klein.”

  When Seth and Abbie walked out of the house more than an hour later, they were each laden with sacks of goods. In addition to the sweet corn, Grandmother Klein had sent along jars of her freshly made tomato preserves and peach butter. She followed them out to the car to bid them good-bye.

  “Alice said she was coming out Tuesday to help me put up the corn,” Grandmother Klein remarked as Abbie settled into the passenger seat. “Tell her to bring some jar lids.”

  “I will,” Abbie promised.

  “Don’t forget, Seth, you promised to take me for a ride in this car sometime,” her grandmother reminded him.

  “How about next Saturday?” Seth suggested, setting a definite time. “You and I can go for a spin while Abbie fixes lunch.”

  “It sounds like a terrific idea,” she agreed in youthful vernacular.

  “It’s a date.” He started the engine and revved it up a few times for the old lady’s benefit, then turned the car in a circle in the farmyard to head down the lane. “Your grandmother is quite a woman,” he said to Abbie, raising his voice to make himself heard above the noise of the motor.

  Abbie responded with an affirmative nod, not attempting to compete with the car or the whipping wind. The noise increased with the acceleration of the engine as they turned onto the state highway and headed for Eureka Springs.

  It seemed an exceedingly short ride—and a short day, too, but it was already after five when Seth stopped the car in the driveway. Abbie climbed out of the car and reached for the sack stowed behind the seat.

  “I’ll carry that up for you,” Seth volunteered.

  “Thanks, but I’m going to divvy it up with my parents first,” Abbie explained and stood awkwardly, holding the sack in her arms. “And I had a wonderful time, and the picnic was delicious.” She remembered the last time he’d taken her home and threatened to kiss her in full view of anyone looking. But she hadn’t any excuse for going to her apartment, then coming directly down with the sack. It would be just as obvious to anyone watching.

  “I’ll see you in church tomorrow,” he said and bent his head, lightly brushing her lips with his and drawing away before she could react.

  It was only after he’d backed out of the drive that Abbie noticed her laundry still sitting in Mabel’s backseat. She could have had Seth carry it upstairs for her. It would have been the perfect excuse. She sighed over the lack of foresight.

  Her father came out the back door, carrying the kitchen wastebasket. “That was the reverend that just left, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. We were out to Grandmother Klein’s.” She waited near the back door while he emptied the wastebasket into the garbage can. “There’s a bunch of sweet corn here for you and Mom.”

  “Have you been with the reverend all day?” He took the sack out of her arms. “I thought you were in your apartment typing all this time.”

  “We went for a picnic, then to Grandmother’s,” she explained.

  “Are those bells I hear?” he teased.

  “Dad, you’re impossible.”

  “Why?” he count
ered lightly. “Is the reverend the type that fools around? I’ve heard Bible salesmen are notorious philanderers. Maybe ministers are too.”

  “That isn’t funny.” She didn’t want to think that Seth might just be toying with her.

  Chapter Eight

  The menu lay unopened on the table in front of her. Abbie took another sip from her water glass and glanced at her watch. With the advent of September and the start of school, there was a lull in the tourist trade. She hadn’t taken it into account when she left the office early to stop at the post office before meeting Seth for lunch. They had agreed to meet at twelve noon, and it was still five minutes before the hour.

  In the last month, she’d seen him on a fairly regular basis. They usually lunched together twice a week and went out to dinner or a local show one evening a week. Unless he was working on his sermon, they usually spent part of Saturday together, too, sometimes visiting her grandmother, who was positively mad about his car.

  “George, isn’t that the young Reverend Talbot talking to the judge by the door over there?”

  Abbie perked up visibly when she heard the woman in the next booth mention Seth sotto voce. She looked around, but she couldn’t see him from where she was sitting.

  “I think it is,” the man in the next booth, obviously George, responded to the woman’s low question.

  “He isn’t wearing his collar again,” the woman said in disapproval, and Abbie hid a smile, reaching for the water glass. “His behavior isn’t at all proper for a minister.”

  “You can’t very well condemn the man just because he takes his collar off once in a while,” George defended him carefully. “It’s probably like wearing a tie. When I’m not working, I don’t want one around my neck.”

  “It isn’t only that, George,” the woman insisted. “It’s the way he’s carrying on with that Scott girl.”

  Once she had started eavesdropping, it was impossible for Abbie to stop. She knew the gossip was running rampant because of the frequency of her dates with Seth. It was to be expected.