Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(225)

“Uh . . . Bernadine was my name before I went into the convent. Then I became Sister Kristina.”

Ethan snorted.

The waitress turned to him. Ethan was as handsome as ever, and she was clearly interested. “So what’s it like not bein’ a priest anymore?”

He jerked his thumb toward Kristy. “Ask her.”

“He’s . . . Well, it hasn’t been easy. Nothing’s easy for people who turn their backs on their true calling.” She twisted the cap off the ketchup bottle and cleaned the crusty rim with another paper napkin before she handed it to him. “They feel empty. Hollow. They try to fill that hollow with liquor, and the next thing you know, they’re lonely alcoholics who’ve lost their looks.”

The waitress brushed his shoulder with the tip of a frosted blue fingernail. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Father.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

As the waitress sauntered toward the bar, Ethan openly enjoyed her swinging rear door. She returned with his scotch and departed with a smoky smile.

“Eat your dinner before it gets cold,” Kristy snapped.

He sipped from his fresh drink. “What do you care whether my food’s cold or not?”

“I don’t.”

“You’re a liar.” He glared at her so intently that she wanted to squirm. “You know what I think? I think you’re still in love with me.”


“And I think you’re getting drunk.” She willed herself not to flush. “You’ve never had a head for alcohol.”

“So what if I am drunk? ”

That made her angry. “You haven’t turned in your resignation yet, Ethan Bonner! You’re still an ordained minister.”

“Not in my heart,” he retorted angrily. “In my heart I’ve already resigned.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he winced. She watched as he went very still, almost as if he were listening to an internal voice speaking a message he didn’t want to hear. Finally he muttered something she couldn’t quite make out and picked up his fork to stab the catfish.

“It’s already dead,” she pointed out.

“Just pay attention to your own food and leave mine alone. Where’s the salt?”

“Right next to you.”

He reached for it, but, as angry as she was with him, she still loved him, and she couldn’t watch him poison himself, so she whipped the salt shaker up before he could touch it and scrubbed at the corroded lid with another napkin, then thrust it at him. “Try not to touch anything.”

His long fingers curled around the salt shaker at the same time his eyes curled around her. “You know what I want to touch, don’t you?”

Her tongue wouldn’t move.

“I want to touch you. Just like I did that night at the drive-in.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, either.” He pushed aside his catfish, picked up his scotch, and gazed at her over the rim of the glass. “I want to do it.”

She knocked over her Coke can, then scrambled to right it before it spilled all over the table. Her skin felt hot under her dress. “We . . . We have to be in Knoxville in half an hour.”

“We’re not going to make it. As a matter of fact, I don’t care if we make any of the conference.”

“But you’ve already paid the registration fee.”

“So what?”

“Eth . . .”

“Let’s get out of here.”

He tossed down a few bills, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her outside. Her pulses raced. This was a new and dangerous Ethan she’d never seen.

He drew her down the stairs, and the next thing she knew, he was pressing her against the side of his Camry with his hips. “I can’t stop thinking about that night.”

He rubbed her bare shoulders with his thumbs, and she felt the heat from his body through the knit of her dress. A truck buzzed by.

“You care about me,” he whispered. “Shouldn’t I be the one you lose your virginity to instead of somebody you don’t care about?”

“How . . . How do you know I haven’t already lost it?”

“I just do.”

Her conscience went to war with her desire for him. “It’s not right.”

He dipped his head and she felt his jaw move against her hair. “Why don’t we lose our virginities together? ”

“You’re not a virgin.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve had sex that I feel like one.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t believe it works that way.”

“Sure it does.” His lips touched her earlobe, and his scotch-soft breath brushed her cheek. “Yes or no. Your decision.”

He was the snake, tempting her. He knew the way she felt about him, and it wasn’t fair for him to deliberately manipulate her emotions like this.

“I don’t love you anymore,” she lied. “I never loved you. It was just infatuation.”

His hands curved around the sides of her hips, and his thumbs brushed the tiny elastic ridge left by her skimpy panties. “You smell so good. I love the way you smell.”