Led into Temptation. Cara Summers

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      3

      “YOU’RE SURE you don’t mind?” Avery had arrived with her room service order and they’d shared a meal and some wine. Now he lounged on one of the love seats, his long legs extended beyond the edge of the coffee table that separated them. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

      “I’m sure I want to meet with Father MacFarland in the morning.” And she was. However, Naomi noted that Avery didn’t look completely convinced. That was entirely due to her initial reaction to his news that Father Dane MacFarland had requested a personal meeting with her in the morning.

      She’d dropped the wineglass she’d been holding, then she’d cut one of her fingers in her hurried attempt to pick up the shattered shards.

      And that had made her angry enough that she’d immediately agreed to meet with the priest. In fact, she’d insisted on it. She was not going to allow herself to get caught up again in a ridiculous adolescent fantasy. After all, she was an adult woman. An attorney. She’d been engaged to a man she’d thought she loved.

      And then she’d been dumped and fired. Was it any wonder her nerves were on edge? A lesser woman might have had some kind of breakdown. Or at least asked her personal physician for some really good drugs.

      Instead, she’d come to Haworth House to put her life back together. And she wasn’t going to hide out in her room simply because of … a priest.

      “Father MacFarland seems to be a charming man,” Avery said. “If Tess hadn’t spilled the beans that one of the owners was in residence this week, I might have been able to handle it myself. But he specifically requested you. And his idea of booking a block of rooms together with conference space to hold spiritual retreats as a recruiting device for new seminarians is brilliant.”

      “Doesn’t the church already have facilities for holding retreats?” Naomi asked.

      “Sure.” Avery spread his hands. “But there’s a growing shortage of priests in the United States, and Father MacFarland is hoping a venue like this will increase attendance.”

      “And you began to hear the little echoes of cha-ching, cha-ching in the back of your mind.”

      Avery grinned at her. “Well, that, too. If Father MacFarland likes the place, it could be very profitable for the hotel in the off-season.”

      “I’m happy to talk with him,” Naomi said. “In fact, it could be good for me. I haven’t been out of the tower floors since I got here.”

      “Then I’m happy I let myself get carried away,” Avery said as he rose. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll ring the good father’s room and let him know that it’s all arranged—ten o’clock tomorrow morning in the courtyard. One more thing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

      Naomi glanced at them. “What?”

      “If we’re going to get you out of your room, you’ll need transportation. As long as you’re on the island, I want you to have full access to my car.”

      Her eyes widened. “Your Corvette?”

      “That would be the one.”

      Naomi knew how much he treasured his car. “Avery, I can use the car Jillian keeps here if I want to go into town.”

      He moved toward her, took her hand and dropped the keys into her palm. “Think of driving it as part of your exploration of discovering the new Naomi Brightman. I’ve always found when something’s troubling me, a fast ride in a car with the top down helps, and it’s a lot cheaper than therapy. Try it.”

      “Okay.” She threw her arms around Avery and hugged him. “Thanks.”

      Stepping back, he grinned down at her. “Enjoy. And since my mission here is accomplished for tonight, I’ll get my nose back to the grindstone.”

      The moment Avery left, Naomi locked the door and turned around. While they’d eaten, the sky had darkened, and the only illumination in the room came from the moonlight streaming through the filmy curtain she’d drawn across the closed balcony doors.

      Another surge of anger at herself had her pacing to the balcony doors and throwing them open. It was bad enough that she’d run away from her troubles in Boston. She was not going to allow herself to hide out in her room. That was not the way she was going to explore who the new Naomi Brightman was.

      That’s when she saw him. He was in a room directly across from hers and one level down. Naomi’s throat went dry. The doors to his balcony were open, and the drapes billowed inward. Because he had the lights on, the thin material of the curtains had become transparent, and she could see him very clearly.

      There was no Roman collar now, nothing to indicate he was a priest. But she recognized that body. And this time she could see a whole lot more of it. He wore only a towel around his waist as he strode across the room and picked up a phone.

      He stood with his back to her, his dark hair wet and slicked back, his broad shoulders still glistening from a shower.

      Her mouth literally watered as her eyes traveled down the well-muscled back to his waist. The towel was short and damp and clung like a second skin to the curves of his tight butt. It would be hard to the touch, she thought, then marveled at the tingling rush of heat in her fingers. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to run her hands over every plane and hard angle of that body.

      And she wanted to taste him, too.

      As she thought of doing both of those things, her insides melted. СКАЧАТЬ