Tempest in Eden

For a moment he seemed stunned by her abrupt change of mood, then he answered levelly, "No, not directly. We were talking about you one day, and she expressed her regret that you weren't married, didn't have a family, and lived alone. I asked her if you'd been … involved … with anyone since your husband, and she told me no."

"What were you doing?" Shay asked, rising to her feet. She made a beeline to the plants in the bay window, where she viciously pinched off a dead leaf. "Checking up on me to see if I was good enough to be seen with you, the holy pastor of Brookside?"

"Now, Shay," he said tightly, also coming to his feet and planting both hands on his hips, "don't fly off the handle and lose your temper."

"I'll lose my temper if I damn well please. And you would too if someone were sneaking around, snooping into your private affairs."

"I wasn't sneaking," he denied. "I was having a conversation with your mother. She brought you into it, I didn't. Why are you getting so upset? There weren't any affairs for me to find out about."

"But if there had been, what then?" she fired back. "What if she'd told you I'd had a horde of lovers since the day my divorce to Anson became final? Would you have come here today pouring out your pretty poetic speeches and kissing me?"

He ran an agitated hand through his hair as he made an attempt to control his own rising temper. "I have the same drives and needs of any man. I'm attracted to you. I want you. I've confessed that to myself, to you, to God."

He went to stand in the other window. She stared out sightlessly. The sun was beginning to set. A dog barked. "I'm trying to be totally honest with you," Ian said. "I'm a man, Shay. But I'm also a minister. I take my commitment to God very seriously. Everything I do, every decision of my life, has to revolve around that."

She had no argument for such an avowal, and her furious bearing slumped in defeat. She turned her back to him and absently picked up a brass atomizer to mist a fern. "Then why did you come here? The situation is hopeless. I am what I am, and you are what you are."

She heard his heels on the hardwood floor only a moment before he lifted the mister from her hand. He set it on a black wrought-iron shelf nearby and turned her to face him. "If I thought it was hopeless, I wouldn't be here. I've known nothing but torment since I saw you last. The only way I could cope with myself and the fantasies I was having was to come here and lay all my cards on the table. I, probably more than you, realize that it won't be easy. Nothing may come of it. We might part as mortal enemies or great buddies or unfulfilled lovers, but I have to find out, Shay. We owe it to ourselves to see what happens, don't you think?"

"I don't know," she said with a groan. "Ian, you're a minister. A minister. In all my wildest imaginings, I never thought of being involved with a clergyman."

His teeth shone whitely when he smiled. "Believe me, I never imagined myself courting a nude model either." His grin softened and faded until his countenance grew serious again. "How do you feel about spiritual matters, Shay?"

The quiet intensity of the question told her how important her answer would be to him. "I was raised a Protestant. Mom and Dad and I attended church every Sunday when I was growing up, more because Mom wanted to go than Dad. I think he felt as I do, that it's not the organization that's important but what one feels inside that counts, an individual's personal relationship with God. Anson forced me to attend services with him. I went, but rebelliously. He attended to see and be seen, not for any spiritual uplifting. I abhor that kind of hypocrisy."

"So do I. We probably have more in common than you think."

He was trying for a lighter mood, but she was still concerned. Uppermost in her mind was the thought that she might be hurt again. She had married a man who had wanted to change her. She had made him unhappy because she obviously wasn't what he had really wanted. The wounds he had inflicted on her spirit had been slow to heal. He had made her feel unworthy, shameful. And if she'd been made to feel that way by a social climber like Anson, how would she fare with a spiritual man like Ian? Dismally.

"I couldn't change, Ian. I wouldn't if I could. I prefer to think freely, to form my own opinions about things, and to voice those opinions when and where I feel like it. I'd never want to cause you embarrassment or shame, but I couldn't be stifled."

"I knew all that when I came to see you today. I like you as you are, or I wouldn't be here. As I said earlier, you're a far cry from the women who are usually pawned off on me."

"Do you have blind dates arranged for you by so-called friends?"

"When I don't adamantly refuse them. You know, so-and-so's cousin who's visiting from Iowa, or so-and-so's kid sister who just graduated from an all-girl school and has a 'very good personality.'"

Laughter took away her worried expression. "I think we have the same friends!"

He pulled her to him, and they rocked from side to side as they laughed. She wondered how she had spent the whole weekend with him yet never realized how much fun they could have together.

"Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand are going to be at Madison Square Garden next Friday night," Ian said. "Would you meet me in the city for dinner and the concert?"

"You like Neil Diamond, too? Along with Blondie and the Bee Gees?"

"Don't forget the Beach Boys," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"I'll never forget the Beach Boys." She sighed as hi

s mouth closed over hers. His tongue sought out the vulnerable spots in her mouth and stroked them. He was an inordinately talented kisser, and Shay meant to ask him how he had acquired such a technique, but he was asking his own question.

"Will you meet me? Those tickets were expensive, and I live on a minister's salary, don't forget."

She struggled to back away from him. "Are you sure you want to pursue this, Ian? I won't hold it against you if you want to shake hands and part friends now." She might die, but she wouldn't hold it against him.

"I want to do more than shake hands with you." The kisses he was planting on the side of her neck confirmed that.

It was incomprehensible to her how his mouth could so effortlessly convince her that what they were about to do was wise. "I'll meet you," she heard herself half-whimper, half-sigh.