Saints and Sinners (A Classic Romance) (9 page)

The wisp of silk wasn't enough to suit her sultry mood. She walked to the living room and selected a CD from the few she'd bought with carefully allocated pennies. For her solitary night of debauchery one piece of music was appropriate: Ravel's
Bolero.

She slid it into Loren's portable player, a garage-sale find, and set it on instant replay. Next she lit some candles. At least ten, and who cared if they burned down to puddles of wax.

Deciding to get drunk, so roaring drunk she'd likely swear off drinking the next morning, Dee got another bottle and set it amid the candles. Just as she stabbed the corkscrew into the cork, she heard a tap. At first she thought it was the music. But then the tapping became more insistent.

Someone was at the door.

Dee froze, sobering up fast. She needed a gun. Why the hell didn't she own a gun? If Vince or Nick or one of their colleagues weren't out there, she was taking a trip this week to an out-of-town pawn shop.

But right now she had to find out if her late-night caller was friend or foe. The only thing she could find for protection was the baseball bat Jason had left by the couch. Hoisting it over her head, she positioned herself beside the front door while her ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps moving away. She flicked on the porch light.

"Who's there?" she demanded, not having the benefit of a peephole. The footsteps again, reversing to her direction. "Who's there?" she repeated.

"Dee?" came the answer. "Dee, it's Matthew. I know it's late, but if you'll let me in I—please, Dee. We need to talk. It's important."

Chapter 6

Her relief was enormous. She dropped the bat and readily opened the door.

"Matthew. What are you doing here this time of night?"

"I know it's late, and I apologize for that. In fact, there's something else I want to apologize for. Do you think I could come in?"

She was more than happy to oblige. His presence gave her a sense of protection. Her heart was still pounding from fear; it pounded even harder with Matthew's nearness. She suddenly felt lightheaded, adrenaline mixed with alcohol coursing through her.

"You came to apologize?" She could give forgive him anything at the moment, she was so grateful he wasn't the predator she'd anticipated.

"Yes, I did. About today—" His speech came to a halt. Matthew blinked. Then he blinked again. "Were you expecting someone?" He looked at her strangely.

"Expecting someone?" she repeated, confused.

His brows drew together. The eyes beneath were unreadable as they moved down from her face to her throat to bare feet, then back up before looking over her shoulder and taking in the living room.

Dee glanced over her own shoulder, almost expecting a freak show from the peculiar expression etched into his strained features. The living room was the same as it had been minutes before. Plain. Humble. And quite cozy thanks to the flickering candles.

"I seem to have come at an inopportune time. Candles. Music. And that"—he cleared his throat— "that thing you're poured into. I also see a fresh bottle of wine. Did I get here before the first cork flew?"

Dee pressed her fingers over her lips to stifle another hiccup. Her immediate disbelief of what he was implying coincided with the need to plead innocent. But something stopped her. Pride? Offense? The sudden inner shout of "What gives him the right after shunning me at lunch?" Perhaps a little twinge of wanting to get even with Matt since she couldn't with anyone else. She decided she wasn't ready to absolve his earlier behavior after all.

"You forgot something, didn't you?" she said coolly. "Like the stud I stashed under my bed so the good minister wouldn't find out that I'm as disreputable as the adulteress he sermonized about today? Jason's got a rock collection in his room, if you want to cast a few stones, Reverend."

Even in the muted lighting she could see him flush. "That was uncalled for, Dee."

"And your tacky insinuations weren't?"

"I was simply making an observation."

"An observation distinctly tinged with disapproval."

When he scanned the living room once more, as if to satisfy himself she was alone, Dee felt her ire rise. He wasn't giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"If you're wearing this nightgown for another visitor," he replied slowly, "you're right. I don't approve."

She rather liked the fact that he disapproved. And it was kind of fun, even interesting, to see Matt off balance for a change. Especially since he'd been jerking her emotions around from day one. Giving in to the less admirable side of her nature. Dee decided to toy with him a bit before setting his mind at ease.

"But surely you realize, Matt, that I wear something like this only when I'm expecting someone."

Her deliberate taunt scored quite a reaction, she noticed with satisfaction. He looked as if an elbow had been planted in his solar plexus. Then his fists clenched and his face hardened, as if he'd like to rip the offending garment right off her and was ready to break any other man's hands that so much as tried.

"Who? Who are you expecting?" he demanded. "Is it an old lover or a new one? Tell me straight, Dee. Right now."

"Why don't you stick around and find out?" She couldn't believe what she was saying. An alarm inside her told her she was courting trouble, but still she went on. "Maybe you can pick up a few pointers on the art of misbehaving."

Dee ran her palms provocatively down her ribs and settled her hands on her hips. Her stance was deliberately sexy. Matthew's gaze heated up several degrees as he followed the movement. Dee liked that so much it made her glad she was woozy enough to do and say things she would be horrified about later. But later was later. This was now, and if she was going to play the scarlet woman, she was doing it with style.

"What's wrong. Rev. Peters? Haven't you ever misbehaved before? No, of course not. Heaven forbid that you tarnish your virtuous soul."

"I've misbehaved plenty in my lifetime," he said flatly.

"Are you bragging or just communing with a sinner before you try to make me see the light and repent for my evil ways?" Throwing herself into the role with zest, she experienced an unexpected exhilaration instead of the shame she should have felt. The dutiful mom was suddenly a bad girl. A temptress. She'd never been a temptress before. The power that came with the new role was a heady rush. Dee pouted prettily, then licked her lips.

"Try to make you repent when you're enjoying yourself so much? Thanks, but I'll save my breath. And as for bragging, it's not something I do, especially about things I'm not particularly proud of. Though you seem quite proud of yourself at the moment. Looks like I grossly overestimated you, Dee. I took you for a woman who sets a good example for her kids instead of one who struts her stuff for kicks before the someone she's expecting even shows."

Dee's spine stiffened. He'd actually bought it! Her baiting had begun as a get-even joke, but she found nothing amusing in his quick acceptance of it.

"Leave my kids out of this, Matthew," she snapped, all play gone now that he'd hit a tender nerve. She wanted to strike back. "You have no right, do you hear me,
no right
to pass judgment on those children or the way I'm raising them. Just keep your high and mighty opinions to yourself."

"Then cover your ears if you don't want to listen, because I have something to say and I'm not leaving until it's out." He spoke with a genuine concern that even in her agitated state she couldn't totally resent. Silently she followed him into the living room.

"Your kids are good kids, but they need stability, a wholesome influence. Jason's starved for attention, a man's attention. And as for Loren, if someone doesn't take a firm hand soon, she's going to be another statistic on the runaway list. Unless she gets pregnant first and ends up with a baby when she's still a child herself, as her mother did." He gestured to the candles, the wine, the CD player spilling out sultry music, and shook his head. "Look around you, Dee. They don't need this kind of environment. Even if you do."

His concern twisted her insides into a knot. He wanted her; in his eyes she saw that. He thought her capable of promiscuity and still he wanted her and worried about her children's welfare. Yet another facet of this enigma who was more confusing and compelling than ever.

He really got to her, as no one ever had. But men had put her through hell—including Matt—and she needed to find out just how deep his waters ran. She wanted to see him in all his colors and flaws, stripped to the bone without a stitch of control.

"And I suppose you care?" she said flippantly.

"Hell yes, I care."

"You have a strange way of showing it, Rev. Peters."

He stared at her, incredulous. "I have treated you with respect and concern."

"Have you now? Coming into my house in the middle of the night and passing judgment not only on my child-rearing techniques, but on how I choose to spend my free time, hits me another way."

"I'll tell you how it hits me. If spending your free time includes dressing up in the likes of skimpy nightgowns and waiting up for a cheap thrill, I've got a problem with that. I don't like it."

"Maybe the real problem is that you like it too much. At least, If the nightgown and thrills were reserved for you."

The restraint he'd managed to hang on to throughout the confrontation disintegrated before her disbelieving and perversely pleased eyes. Matthew leaned forward aggressively.

"That's right, Dee, gloat. Amuse yourself by watching me pant while you string me along. Dig those sharp little claws right in and don't stop until you're satisfied that I'm not immune to what you're flaunting. Don't you ever turn it off? It was all I could do to make it through this morning's sermon while you were zapping me from the front row—"

"I resent that." Dee shoved a finger into his chest. "You're in a fine position to talk, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou. I didn't do anything but sit there and listen while you looked at everyone but me and the kids."

"For your information, I slaved over that particular sermon for you and the kids, Ms. Jezebel." He flicked a crimson spaghetti strap. "Love the nightgown. Guess I'm lucky you didn't wear it to church this morning."

"I'm sorry I didn't," she retorted, pulling the strap back onto her shoulder. "Better luck next Sunday, huh?"

"Forget next Sunday. I want to know about tonight. Who is he? A one-night stand or a repeat coming back for more?"

"And just what or who gives you the right to ask?" She was beginning to wonder if Matthew unmasked might be more than she'd bargained for. Another little push, then she was backing off. "No, don't tell me, let me guess. You're ordained with heavenly guidance, and I'm your latest mission."

"Don't get sacrilegious with me. I don't like it, Dee. Not one damn bit." His gaze sliced her cleanly. Then he grabbed her arms and hoisted her up until she was on tiptoe and they were nose to nose. "As for you being my latest mission, lady, let me tell you, you're turning out to be the most impossible one I've taken on yet. And there've been some dandy gut wrenchers."

So she was right up there with the gut wrenchers.
Good.
It was nice to know that hers weren't the only ones getting squished. And now that she'd touched the man beneath the cloth, it was time to call a truce. He'd hurt her deeply with his earlier rejection, but she'd more than paid him back. He wasn't just hurt, he was jealous. And mad. Fighting mad. He was going to be even madder when he found out she'd set him up. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for a backlash.

"Actually, Matthew, everything you've said tells me what I wanted to know. Now I have something to tell you. There is no other man. Not tonight. Not any night."

Several emotions chased across his face: Disbelief, surprise, relief, comprehension. And most ominous of all, fury spiked with a calculating glint in his eye.

"You're wrong," he said softly. Too softly. "There
is
a man tonight." His grip tightened on her arms and she swallowed against an uneasy foreboding. "Me."

"Matt—Matthew, I know you're upset and I don't blame you, but—"

"Me, upset? Noooo. Why should I be upset when you've been so thoughtful? You even selected one of my favorite pieces of music. Ravel, a perfect companion to go with the
vino.
And such stimulating conversation. I can't remember a woman ever going to such lengths to impress me. Me, upset, when you've gotten us off to a rolling good start? Certainly not. I'm ready to enjoy the fruits of your labor."