by Janet Dailey
The voice from the shadows made Abbie jump. She hadn’t heard Seth come in. His black-clad form blended with the darkened opening of the entryway. He was leaning a shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed, when she saw him. She had the impression he’d been watching her for some time.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Abbie declared after the shock of discovering she wasn’t alone had passed.
“Sorry.” Seth pushed away from the door, unfolding his arms to lower them to his side as he walked to the desk and into the pool of light. There was something deeply disturbing about the way he was looking at her. Her heart seemed to do crazy, little flip-flops. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s all right. Did you just come from the church? I thought it looked dark when I glanced outside earlier,” Abbie said.
He sat sideways on the front of the desk, an amused glint in his blue eyes as he surveyed her. “Checking up on me, were you?” Seth chided dryly.
Abbie hadn’t meant to give him that impression and rushed to explain. “No, it’s just that a woman called here for you and said she hadn’t received any answer when she rang the church. I suggested she try again and let it ring. Did you talk to her?”
“No.” An absent frown crossed his rugged features. “What time was it?”
“Almost twenty minutes after nine.”
“I’d already left the church by then,” Seth admitted, then noticed the questioning look that flickered uncertainly in Abbie’s glance. An amused line lifted the edges of his strong mouth. “The groom’s parents had a late buffet supper at their house for the wedding party, which I was expected to attend. I put in a brief appearance and left,” he explained. “Did the woman leave her name or a message?”
“No. When she didn’t call back, I assumed she had probably reached you at the church.” Since Seth hadn’t been there, Abbie could easily guess what the woman had conjectured from that. She didn’t mention the snide comments the woman had made to her.
“Whatever she wanted to speak to me about couldn’t have been too important, or she would have called back,” Seth concluded, dismissing the matter from the conversation. “Since you’re all finished with the typing, how about some coffee?”
If it hadn’t been for the woman’s phone call, Abbie probably would have accepted the offer. But she was conscious of being alone with him in the parsonage. “It’s awfully late. I’d better not.” She refused with a shake of her pale auburn hair and leaned down to unplug her typewriter. It was already after ten o’clock, and someone was bound to notice her car was still parked outside.
“In that case …” Seth straightened from the desktop when Abbie stood up to wind the cord around the typewriter. “… I’ll just have to come up with some other reason to persuade you to stay.” He moved leisurely around the desk to come up behind her.
“Seth,” she protested self-consciously as he slid his hands around to the front of her waist to pull her back against him.
Her entire back was molded to the unmistakable maleness of his solid chest, flat muscled stomach, and thrusting hips. Abbie made a token attempt to push aside the hands circling her rib cage and stopping tantalizingly near the straining swell of her breasts. But she signaled the weakness of her opposition by tilting her head to the side to give his nuzzling mouth access to the bare curve of her neck.
A rising heat flooded through her veins to melt her into pliancy while he nibbled along the sensitive cord near the base of her shoulder. Her eyes drifted closed under the waves of excited sensation. His arms tightened around her, one hand sliding lower onto her stomach and igniting another kind of ache.
The ringing of the telephone was a decidedly unwelcome intrusion, but definitely a timely one, or Abbie might have yielded to Seth’s delaying tactics. She felt him stiffen in resistance to the telephone’s summons.
Drawing a shaky breath, she insisted, “You’d better answer that.”
“I know,” he muttered, and reluctantly let her out of his embrace to step toward the desk and pick up the phone. “Reverend Talbot speaking.”
Immediately Abbie took advantage of his distraction to lift her portable typewriter into her arms. If she didn’t leave now, chances were that it would be much later before she did. Seth sliced her an impatient look when he realized her intention.
“Just a minute,” he said to the caller, and lowered the receiver to cover the mouthpiece with his hand. “Abbie, you don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, I do,” she insisted, and moved out of his reach, walking toward the entryway and the front door. “It’s late and I have to work tomorrow.”
“Abbie—”
“Is that the woman who phoned earlier?” She paused in the shadowed doorway.
“Yes, I think it is but—” It was of no consequence to him; that much was clear in his expression.
“You’d better not keep her waiting,” Abbie advised, because it would probably just fuel the woman’s imagination. “Bye.”
Without waiting for him to respond in kind, Abbie left the office-study and walked with quick, purposeful strides to the screen door. She pushed it open with the side of her arm, her hands carrying the typewriter. As she stepped outside she heard Seth talking on the phone again.
Chapter Nine
A steady rain beat against the panes of her apartment windows. Gray, dismal clouds cast a depressing gloom into the living area. Abbie wandered restlessly from the window and the rain that showed no signs of letting up. She was at a loss for something to do.
There was nothing interesting on television and the radio offered no less passive entertainment. She paused in front of the low shelf of books and glanced over the titles. One seemed to jump out at her, its gold lettering gleaming against its maroon background—Holy Bible. It was the Revised Standard Version of the King James Bible, a gift from the church when she had become a member.
After a brief second’s consideration, Abbie slipped it from the shelf and carried it over to the sofa. She curled herself on one corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her and began leafing through the pages. There was a vague thought at the back of her mind that she might accidentally run across the passage Seth had been discussing at lunch the other day.
Since Seth was a minister, the chances were good that there would be more conversations like that one, and her ignorance of the Bible would only become more noticeable. It was something she needed to correct.
A noise made itself heard above the steady patter of rain on the roof. Abbie lifted her head to listen, but she didn’t hear anything more. She flipped through a few more pages, then stopped, out of loyalty to her sex, to read the Book of Ruth in the Old Testament. Halfway down the first column, she heard footsteps on the stairs.
The knowledge ran swift and sure within her that it had to be Seth. Even though there hadn’t been any definite arrangement for him to see her this Saturday, she had guessed he would come by or call if he was free. She swung her feet to the floor, leaving the Bible lying open on the cushion beside her, and hurried to the door.
There was a knock just before she reached it. Abbie opened the door to see Seth standing outside, rainwater dripping from his jacket. He was wiping the wetness from his face, then shaking it from his hand.
“It’s raining,” he offered wryly.
“I never would have guessed.” Abbie laughed and opened the door wider to let him in. “I’ll get you a towel.” She walked to the kitchen area to fetch him a hand towel from a cupboard drawer. “Don’t you have an umbrella, or did you forget to put the top up on your car?”
“An umbrella, that’s what I forgot,” Seth mocked as he shrugged out of his jacket.
The rainy autumn weather had brought a damp chill to the air. Abbie noticed Seth was wearing an ivory pullover in a wide-ribbed knit as a concession to the cooler temperatures. It emphasized the width of his shoulders and the solidness of his muscular chest, tapering as it did to his narrow waist and hips. The rain had darkened his hair to a br
onze brown, gleaming in the apartment’s artificial light.
“Do you have any plans for this afternoon?” he asked when she returned with the towel, giving it to him and taking his jacket.
“Nothing. As a matter of fact I was becoming bored with my own company.” She hooked his jacket on an arm of the wooden clothes tree by the door. “Why? Where were you thinking of going?”
“I wasn’t thinking of going anywhere, but right here,” Seth replied. When Abbie turned to look uncertainly at him, he looped the towel around her neck and held both ends to pull her toward him. There was a heady excitement in the lazy way he looked at her.
“And do what?” she asked, not really meaning to sound provocative.
Bending his head, Seth kissed at her lips. Weak-limbed, Abbie clutched at his forearms for support. “What were you doing when I came?” he murmured between kisses, the heated warmth of his breath mingling with hers. “Whatever it was, that’s what we can do—among other things, like this.” His mouth closed onto her lips, finally giving her a chance to respond. When he lifted his head, Abbie was contentedly lost in a glorious daze. “Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?” he chided.
“Have a seat.” Her hand moved through the air to obligingly second the invitation.
He released one end of the towel and swept it from around her neck, then took her hand to bring her with him as he walked to the sofa. The opened Bible occupied the middle cushion. Seth picked it up to move it so they could sit together, then recognized the holy book. He cocked a curious look at Abbie.
“What’s this?” he asked, and glanced at the book it was opened to. “You were reading the Book of Ruth?”
A smile teased her mouth as she remembered his earlier question. “That’s what I was doing when you came.”
“Any particular reason?” An eyebrow was lifted with speculating interest. “Or are you just trying to impress me?” He sat down on the middle cushion while Abbie bent a knee under her to sit on the end.
“Since I didn’t know you were coming, I can’t be guilty of trying to impress you,” she denied, aware his question had been only half-serious. “I admit I was slightly prejudiced when I picked out the Book of Ruth to read, since it’s about a woman. It seemed to be the fair thing to do, to stick up for my sex.”
“It’s a very logical choice,” Seth agreed, leaning against the back rest. “I apologize if I was wrong the other day at lunch when I indicated you weren’t well enough acquainted with the Scriptures to offer an opinion.”
“You don’t need to apologize, because you were right,” Abbie admitted with a rueful shrug. “That’s why I picked it up to read and learn more about what’s in it than the stories they taught me in Sunday school.”
“I see,” he murmured, absently looking at the opened pages.
“It’s a shame there isn’t anyone around who could tutor me.” She sighed in mock regret, a teasing sparkle in her glance.
“Is that a broad hint that you want to spend the afternoon with me—reading the Bible?” Seth countered with a glittering look that lingered on her mouth, made softer by his kisses.
“You were the one who suggested we could spend the afternoon doing whatever I was doing when you arrived,” Abbie reminded him with a small, dimpling smile.
“So I did.” His smile was turned down at the corners but no less filled with amusement. “And ministers don’t lie, so I guess I’ll have to read to you from the Bible.” He began turning pages. “Do you have any requests?”
“No.” Abbie shook her head. “You choose.”
“Let’s see.” Seth paused, partially closing the book to skip ahead. “What would you like to hear?” It was a rhetorical question, absently murmured aloud. “Something for Abbie. Abra, the namesake of Solomon’s favorite. The Song of Solomon.” He reopened the Bible to that book of the Old Testament and arched her a glance. “Does that sound appropriate?”
“Very,” she agreed, and turned to lean against the sofa’s armrest, facing him more squarely.
She watched him turn a couple of pages as if selecting a particular passage, then stop when he found what he was looking for. There was something vaguely enigmatic in the glance that ran over her face.
“From the Song of Solomon,” Seth repeated, and began reading in a voice that was vibrant with expression and pitched low.
“How fair and pleasant you are,
O loved one, delectable maiden!”
The words seemed to send a caressing finger down her spine. It was not what she had expected to hear. The beat of her pulse picked up a little in anticipation, her gaze locking onto his face and watching his mouth form the words when he continued.
“You are stately as a palm tree,
And your breasts are like its clusters.
I say I will climb the palm tree
And lay hold of its branches.”
Her breathing stopped at the passion and promise in his low voice. A fiery warmth burned through her veins, heating her skin with the things he was saying—the boldness of them, and the beauty of them.
“Oh, may your breasts be like clusters of the vine,
And the scent of your breath like apples,
And your kisses like the best wine that goes down smoothly,
Gliding over lips and teeth.”
Seth lifted his gaze from the pages, his deeply blue eyes turning their attention to her. Abbie was helpless to conceal how much the passionate selection had affected her. She was trembling with the desire it had aroused.
Taking the book, he turned it and offered it to her. “Now, it’s your turn to read to me.” She took it with both hands and glanced dazedly at the page. “Start from here.” His fingers pointed out where she was to begin.
Her voice had a husky sound as Abbie began reading the words, and feeling them, too.
“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields, and lodge in the villages;
Let us go out early to the vineyards, and see whether the vines have budded,
Whether the grape blossoms have
opened
And the pomegranates are in bloom.
There …”
Abbie paused, her voice dropping to a whisper as she lifted her gaze to Seth. “‘…I will give you my love.’”
“Will you?” he murmured and leaned toward her.
“Yes,” she whispered with an aching need to give to him, seduced by her own undeniable love for him.
She didn’t know he took the Bible from her hands and laid it aside. She seemed not to be aware of anything but the pounding of her own heart and the deeply blue eyes that held her forever captivated by their fire.
“Then come here, my delectable maiden.” His hands closed firmly on her waist, near her hipbones, and impelled her to slide toward him.
Like a willow, she bent under the leaning force of his body. His mouth was mere inches from hers as he gently lowered her to the sofa, the weight of his hard body pressed alongside hers. It was a moment lost in time, without a beginning or an end.
It could have been seconds or minutes before Abbie felt the warmth of his mouth on her lips. It was a kiss of raw wonder that searched and explored the boundless limits of pleasure, then deepened with the insatiable hunger that grew more intense with each taste. Her lips parted under the hungry probe of his tongue to know more of her. Abbie trembled at the fullness that came with the exchange, and the appetite it aroused for still more.
Her legs were tangled with his as her hands roamed over his sweater-covered shoulders, feeling his muscles flex and ripple beneath the ribbed knit material. His mouth rolled over her parted lips while his tongue lightly traced the sensitive inside corners, drawing a moan from her throat.
“Your kisses are like wine, Abra,” Seth murmured into her mouth. “Intoxicating and smooth, ‘gliding over lips and teeth.’”
And he drank of them again, but Abbie was certain she was the one who was drunk with
love for him. It was a shattering experience to be helpless with longing, desperately needing what another person had to give. She strained closer to the raw heat of his body, hard and aroused against her side. His mouth was on her lips, her throat, her ear, her neck, wildly delighting her wherever it touched and tasted.
His fingers were on the buttons of her blouse, deftly slipping them free from the stitched holes, surely working their way downward. Briefly her flesh was exposed to the coolness of the air until his hand warmed it, spreading his heat and making it hers.
Then his head was turning to look at the feminine beauty he had exposed. Abbie felt no need to conceal her body from his gaze. She loved him and his desire was for her. She wanted him to be pleased with her—with all and everything that made her unique.
“You have lovely breasts, Abra,” he declared thickly. “Lovely.”
His hand cupped a creamy breast in his palm; his stroking fingers evoked an intimate pleasure so intense it was like pain. His mouth came down to ease the ache and make its own tactile exploration of the hills and valleys and hardened peaks of her breasts. She was a tightly coiled spring inside, wanting to absorb him into her flesh and needing the absolute closeness of love’s consummation.
“Love me, Seth,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the faint dampness of his hair. It was less a request for physical possession and more a prayer for emotional commitment—that it be as beautiful and meaningful to him as it was to her.
He dragged his mouth roughly across the hollow of her throat, a groan coming from deep inside him. “Abbie, don’t ask that of me,” he protested.
“But—” The sharp ache of rejection choked her voice, stabbing her with remorse.
“It can’t be,” he insisted with a trace of hard-jawed anger. “Not for you and me.”
His hands pulled her blouse closed, firmly crossing the material. Then he gathered her hard into his arms, flattening her breasts against his chest and burying his face in her hair. The tautness of his long body was pressed into hers, making its male angles intimately felt. It was almost torture to have him so close and know there would be no satisfaction. Abbie wasn’t sure why. Her thoughts were too muddled with unfulfilled desires to make anything clear. She clung to him.