Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(55)

Oh, dear. That mouth. But the makeup salesgirl had insisted and Kristy remembered what Rachel had said that morning. One look at your mouth, Kristy, and Reverend Stud Man’s going to be having some very naughty thoughts. Not that you care, since you bought that lipstick for yourself.

Kristy collected the neatly arranged papers she needed, then promptly dropped them. As she bent to pick them up, she saw flashy magenta toenails peeking through the straps of a slim gold sandal, and she felt as if she were looking at someone else’s foot.

I’m a fox. I’m a fox. I’m a foolish, feathered fox.

Ethan had his head bent over a curriculum catalog. Today he wore a white shirt with a narrow maroon stripe and navy slacks. His long tapered fingers played with the edges of the catalog, and she thought of those same fingers playing with the catch of her Wonderbra.

With her heart pounding, she set the mission committee’s report on the desk, automatically straightened a pile of mail, then sat in her customary place opposite him. As she crossed her legs, the tight white jeans nearly cut off her circulation, but she ignored the discomfort.

Ethan studied the report. “I wish I knew how to light a fire under them. I want this year’s Compassion Campaign to be our best yet, but the mission committee’s most exciting idea so far is to put a financial thermometer poster in the narthex.”

“Why don’t we get the adult-education class involved in the planning? They’re enthusiastic about mission.” Look up at me! Let me knock you out!

“Um. Good idea. Call Mary Lou and feel her out, will you?”

Feel me up, will you? That thought made her face turn red. She shifted and sent out a fresh cloud of perfume.

Ethan sniffed, but didn’t look up.

She slid the July calendar across his desk. Surely he’d notice that she had six rings on that hand, seductive little gold and silver bangles that nestled together like lovers’ hands.

He didn’t notice. “We’ve got a conflict on the tenth. I have a synod meeting. Either we reschedule the Vacation Bible School picnic or they can have it without me.”


She wanted to run from the office, but if she ran now, she’d never be able to do this again. She forced herself to her feet, then walked around the side of his desk until she stood next to him. “The children will be disappointed if you’re not there. Why don’t I have them shift the picnic to Thursday?”

He sneezed. She handed him a tissue from a box on the credenza, and he wiped his perfectly formed nose. “Isn’t that the day we’re inviting the parents in for lunch?”

“Not a problem.” She pressed her hip closer to his side. “We’ll move that earlier in the week.”

“Okay.” He tossed the tissue into the trash. “Make sure I’m there.”

She couldn’t take any more. Pointing to the calendar, she leaned down and popped one elevated breast right under his eyes. “The twenty-third will be the perfect day for the Friends of Jesus pageant.”

Silence. A long, labored silence.

The muscles at the back of his elegant neck tightened. His lean fingers flattened on his desk, and her entire life seemed to flash before her eyes, all thirty boring years, as she waited for him to look up from her breast.

He slowly raised his head, moving inch by inch, but the power of speech seemed to have left him by the time his gaze reached her face. Finally, the muscles in his throat began to work as he swallowed. “Kristy?”

She told herself to pretend she was Rachel. What would Rachel do in this situation? She tilted up her chin and placed one trembling hand on her hip. “Yeah?” As the word came out, she nearly choked on it. She had never in her life answered anyone by saying Yeah.

He stared at her. “New uh . . . New blouse—er—top?”

She nodded and tried to look bored, but it was difficult because this was the first time she could ever remember having Ethan Bonner’s full attention. She began to perspire and hoped it didn’t show.

He wasn’t deliberately staring, she knew that. Rather, it seemed that he’d lost track of his eyes. He took in her hair, her makeup, her scarlet mouth, her breasts and clothes, back to her breasts.

He slowly began to recover. His eyebrows drew together, and there was a gruffness in his voice that didn’t sound as if she’d maddened him with lust. “What’ve you done to yourself?”

She wanted to cry, but Rachel would kill her if she crumbled. “I—I was bored. It was t-time for a change.”

“Change! You look like like . . .” Once again, his eyes stalled on her breasts, then he drew a deep breath. “You can wear whatever you like when you’re not working, but that’s not appropriate for the office.”

“What’s not appropriate?”

“Well, those jeans, for example . . .”

“You wear jeans to the office all the time. Billie Lake wears jeans when she subs for me.”

“Yes, but . . . All right, yes, the jeans are fine. Of course, they’re fine, but . . .” His eyes returned to her breasts. “Your . . . uh, lipstick is a little . . . Well, it’s a little bright.”

She was suddenly furious. He drooled over Laura Delapino with her crimson lipstick, but because she was good old reliable Kristy Brown, he only wanted to criticize. She couldn’t imagine Rachel standing silently and letting a man do this do her.