“You’re not taking that, are you?” he asked curiously. “I mean, you’re not going to serve sushi or something, right?” He frowned down at her, his finger stroking the line of his jutting chin. “You know? Not right after Henry’s, er, demise?”
Sasha pointed her chin in the air and ignored his rudeness. She had never even seen sushi!
“If you hurry,” she intoned snottily, “you might get back with that goldfish in time to go with us.” Her eyes flashed indignantly. “Not that I’m inviting you, you understand. I wouldn’t want to be accused of pursuing you like some man-hungry female on the make.”
She didn’t bother to sugar-coat the words although Sasha wondered later if it was exactly the right phrase to use with a minister.
“Yes, ma’am,” he quipped, moving toward the door. “I got that message loud and clear.”
His eyes glanced across the blur of yellow sticky notes dotting her refrigerator. Each note had a cat prancing across the top and a word scrawled across the bottom. His eyes glimmered with some hidden vestige of humor as he studied their curious poses.
“I think it’s only fair to mention, however, that Cody is not an ailurophile. In fact, he’s allergic.”
He sauntered out the door, a smug smile of superiority curving his lips as Sasha frowned at his retreating back. He was trying to get back at her, make her feel inferior. Well, she’d show him!
She ignored his departure and concentrated on filling her picnic basket. But, finally, when she could resist no longer, she gave up and dashed out the door after him.
“A what?” she called.
Jake Windsor turned toward her. “An ailurophile. A lover of cats.” His gray eyes opened wide, mocking her ignorance. “I was sure you would know that one.”
But Sasha was ready for him. “I don’t go for bombastic words,” she told him saucily. “Too pretentious for a rural area like ours.”
With that she marched back into her house to prepare Cody’s picnic. And all the while her mind enumerated the indubitable assets of the newest inhabitant to Allen’s Springs.
So what if he was tall. Taller than her in fact.
And dark.
And handsome.
She was interested in the son, not the father.
Her mind echoed the unusually descriptive word Jacob Windsor had used earlier.
You’re interested in him all right, her subconscious asserted. But it won’t do you any good. He’s gun-shy. And you’re supposed to be focusing on a different goal.
Sasha picked up the hamburgers and stored them in a corner of the large basket before checking her appearance in the mirror for the sixth time. Her mouth tipped downward in just the tiniest way as she considered her actions.
Primping! Yuk!
But her mind wouldn’t stay off the subject of Jacob Windsor. She’d been truly sad to see Pastor Dan leave after so many years. But now there was Pastor Jacob Windsor. He did present a whole new range of possibilities.
Of course, they have nothing to do with the fact that he’s young and good-looking and four whole inches taller than me, she assured her subconscious in a severe tone. Nothing at all!
She knew she lied.
Chapter Two
“Amen.” Cody’s loud voice reverberated through the solemn silence of the woods later that afternoon.
Jake watched as Sasha Lambert leaned down to drop a few handfuls of the rich dark soil onto the tiny box that held his son’s dead goldfish
Cody wasn’t quite so dainty and Jake grinned as the little boy heaped up piles of the rich black soil with his bare hands. His pants were dirty and stained and there was a tear in one leg. Again! It was doubtful the shirt would be good for much but the rag basket after today. And Cody’s shoes? Well, they could probably be restored to something like their former state.
Somehow.
“We can have the lunch now,” his son told them cheerfully. “They always have lunch after funerals. To celebrate the person’s life, right, Dad?” He looked from Sasha to his father for confirmation. Jake felt another pair of eyes fasten on him, as well.
“Yes, well, uh, that’s right, Cody,” he mumbled, and felt embarrassed at the strange look she gave him. She was probably right. A five-almost-six-year-old shouldn’t know so much about funerals.
“Sorry, guys.” Sasha’s cheerful voice broke the silence. “I haven’t got a lunch. I’ve got supper!”
He watched her kneel beside Cody.
“I’ve got hamburgers and potato salad and pickles and chips and double-chocolate brownies. How about that, sport?”
Cody grinned. “I’m not a sport.”
Jake heard him giggle as Sasha tickled him under his chin.
“You’re not,” she said, pretending astonishment. “I was sure you were a good sport.” She rippled her fingers across his stomach and under his arms, drawing out squeals of glee. “Are you sure you’re not?”
He watched them cavort in the sun-dappled woods and thought how long it had been since he’d heard his son laugh so readily. Cody seemed to have developed a strong rapport with the owner of the local craft store in a remarkably short time.
Not that she wasn’t remarkable herself. Sasha Lambert was every bit as curious as the name she had given to her business. She was tall, stretching to just above his chin, and well rounded in all the right places. He knew that because she was wearing a yellow kind of skirt-shorts thing that showed off those long legs and a scooped-neck knit top that gave him a very good view of all of her assets. He tried to ignore the top’s bilious purple color, which bore a significant resemblance to the shade of her unusual furniture.
She was a pretty woman with that black cap of feathery hair cut close to her scalp, cupping the regal lines of her neck. The deep richness of its raven tones highlighted her round, expressive eyes and lent their green hue a clarity that was very effective in raising his temperature when she focused them on him.
He hated that flutter of awareness that tingled low in his stomach. It was, well, a betrayal of Angela somehow. A denial of the place his late wife should hold in his heart. The fact that Angela had died at the lowest point in their marriage was something he refused to think about.
Angela was gone. Why, then, did he feel so guilty? Why couldn’t he let her rest in peace?
It was a punishment; he understood that now. He hadn’t appreciated his wife’s fragility, her inability to handle the myriad problems that came with his job. He’d ignored her complaints and focused solely on the opportunity to get ahead. After all, they would have time later on.
Only they hadn’t. And Jake couldn’t ever say the words of apology that haunted him yet. He would live with that for the rest of his life. He shoved the thought away.
Despite his best intentions, Jake’s eyes persisted in their scrutiny of the vibrant young woman in front of him.
Sasha Lambert was nothing like Angela. She had a wide strong face with prominent cheekbones and a straight nose that tipped at the bottom just a bit. It was her mouth that really told him about her, though.
It curved and slanted and tipped in a thousand different ways when she spoke. Wide and mobile, with flashing white teeth, Jake was fascinated by the many moods delineated on that expressive face. He knew a word that exactly expressed the intangible quality he had seen in Sasha Lambert.
“Gallimaufry.” A hodgepodge or mixture of unrelated things. He wondered if he would see that look of delight cross her face again if he told her.
“Can we, Dad?”
Jake awoke from his study to find two pairs of eyes fixed on him. “Uh, I’m not...”
She took pity on him.
“We were just going to go over to the picnic area to get our fire started, Mr. Windsor. Are you coming?”
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