Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(205)

Unfortunately, she was too busy humming an old Whitney Houston tune and tapping away at her computer to notice. He couldn’t decide which was worse: the coffee, that cheerful humming, or the fact that she was wearing her old clothes to work.

Her shapeless khaki dress was driving him even crazier than the empty coffee pot. He’d seen it dozens of times before. It was roomy, comfortable, and utterly devoid of style. Where were the clothes he objected to? Those tight white jeans, the skimpy breast-hugging tops, those silly gold sandals?

And if she’d decided to turn herself back into the old Kristy, why hadn’t she gone all the way? Why hadn’t she tamed that little feathery haircut of hers and left her red lipstick in the drawer at home, along with that killer perfume that made him think of black lace and body heat?

As her hands flew over the keyboard of her computer, the tiny gold and silver rings on her fingers flashed in the sunlight that streamed in from the window behind her, while those fake diamond studs glimmered in her earlobes. His gaze fell on the bodice of her ugly khaki dress. If only he didn’t know what nestled beneath it.

Think of other things, dear, Marion Cunningham advised in her sweet, understanding voice. Concentrate on your sermon. I’m sure if you give it just a little more effort, it will be your best yet.

He flinched. Why did the great Mother have to show up just when he was thinking about breasts?

The tapping stopped. Kristy rose from her desk, glanced over at him, and ducked out of the office to head for the rest room down the hall.

As soon as she got home, he knew she’d take off that ugly dress and slip into one of her new pairs of shorts and a top that showed off too much. And he wouldn’t be there to see it because she’d made it more than clear that she didn’t want him at her condo. No more home-cooked meals, no more dropping by to spill out his troubles about an unreasonable parishioner. Jeez, he missed her. He missed his friend.

He stared at her empty desk and thought about how she’d gone out to dinner with Mike Reedy again last night. That was twice now. On Saturday, Mike had taken her to a restaurant in Cashiers, and last night they’d eaten in the Mountaineer’s dining room. Three people in the congregation had made sure he found out about it.

She wasn’t back yet, and his skin grew clammy. He knew where she kept her purse. In the bottom left drawer, along with a small box of tissues and a first-aid kit. All his life, even during his wild days, he’d tried to behave honorably, and what he wanted to do wasn’t honorable at all, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

He shot across the office, jerked open the drawer, and pulled out her purse, the same little black number she’d taken to the Mountaineer last week when they’d had their disastrous conversation and she’d told him he wasn’t her friend.

A real minister, someone who wasn’t so flawed, someone with a true calling, would never do this. He flipped open the catch and looked inside. Wallet, comb, Tic Tacs, some makeup, car keys, a Daily Word devotional book. No condom.

He heard her footsteps, shoved the purse back in the drawer, and pulled out the first-aid kit.

“Is something wrong?”

A few minutes earlier, the expression of concern on her face would have lightened his mood, but not now. “Just a headache.”

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you some aspirin.”

He handed her the first-aid kit and, for the first time all week, she started fussing over him, bringing him a glass of water, giving him the aspirin, asking if he’d gotten enough sleep last night. Unfortunately, her fussing didn’t feel nearly as good as it should have because he couldn’t remember a single time when she’d mentioned a headache and he’d brought her aspirin.

What had happened to that condom? Just the thought of her passing it over to Mike Reedy made him feel sick. Part of him knew he should be happy that she might have found someone, but not Mike Reedy, even though he’d always liked Mike and couldn’t think of a single thing wrong with him, except that he shouldn’t be making love with Kristy Brown.

After he’d swallowed the aspirin he didn’t need, he gazed at her and wondered why it had taken him so long to notice how pretty she was. Not in a flashy way, even when she got dressed up, but in a quiet, sweet way.

“You know the drive-in’s opening Friday night,” he found himself saying.


“I just hope someone shows up. A lot of people in town are angry with Gabe for helping Rachel, and they’re talking about a boycott.” Kristy looked worried. “People can be so mean.”

He spoke casually. “We both want to be at the drive-in on Friday night when it opens, so why don’t I pick you up at eight?”

Kristy stared at him. “You want to go to the drive-in together?”

“Sure. How else are we going to show Gabe our support?”

The telephone rang on his desk. Kristy studied it for a moment before she finally picked it up. He soon realized she was talking to Patty Wells, the coordinator of the daycare center.

“Yes, Ethan’s here. Of course. Send Edward right up, Patty.”

She replaced the receiver and frowned. “He’s been asking all morning to come talk to you. Patty tried to distract him, but he wouldn’t give up. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

Both of them had been around Edward long enough to know that he never demanded anything, and they shared a wordless moment of concern.