Safe in Noah's Arms. Mary Sullivan

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СКАЧАТЬ than eating crow, which he wouldn’t do, the only way to appease her was to listen. “What else could I be doing?”

      For a long time she sat without speaking and he feared he’d hurt her so much she wouldn’t respond. Now that the heat of his anger was spent, he wanted to know what she thought.

      “Tell me,” he urged, touching her arm again, and this time she didn’t pull away. Her soft skin warmed his fingertips. “I want to know.”

      “Fund-raise,” she said. “Raise money so you can deliver meat and diapers and lots of other stuff with the vegetables and eggs, including a few luxuries like coffee and tea. Maybe even deliver seeds in the spring so they can grow their own stuff.”

      She was right, damn her.

      “I don’t think I’m qualified to fund-raise,” he responded.

      “I am,” she said and he heard in her a confidence that was missing on the farm.

      “How so?”

      “I was tutored by the best fund-raiser around.”

      When he looked at her questioningly, she said, “Believe it or not, my dad. He might look like he does nothing but sit around all day and have lunch at the country club, but boy, does that guy know how to network.” She lifted the hair from the back of her neck where a sheen of sweat glistened, her arms strong and firm, and her breasts high. Noah glanced away before he started some pretty hot daydreaming. “When I was little, he took me with him everywhere. I watched and listened and learned. I could set up a charity event in Denver that would bring in big bucks.”

      Noah snorted.

      Monica shot him a look. “Really, Noah, that’s uncouth. If you don’t believe me, just say so.”

      “I don’t believe you can do it.”

      “I can.” She sounded huffy, indignant, and he found it far too cute, so cute he wanted to provoke her further.

      “How do I know it wouldn’t be a waste of time?”

      “You’d have to trust me.”

      Ah, there was the rub. He’d trusted before and where had it gotten him? Screwed, royally, by a woman just like Monica, a woman who walked, talked and spoke like Monica...and who schemed like the devil.

      “Wouldn’t it be a lot of work?”

      “Yes. Dad worked his tail off when he raised funds, but he also had a host of women organizing the events, women with wealthy husbands, who donated their days to running charities. Lucky for you, I still know all of them.”

      The desire to do more and feed more people threaded tentacles of temptation through him. “You would do all of that work for my charity?”

      She looked surprised. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? I like this helping-people business, Noah.”

      A gentle, satisfied smile spread across Noah’s face. “So do I.” And it felt fabulous to share that with someone. So good, in fact, he was willing to eat crow after all and admit he had a thing or two to learn about charity from Monica. In his hubris, he’d thought the learning would go only one way.

      * * *

      ON MAIN STREET, Monica headed for the organic market, Tonio’s, hoping to figure out what she’d have for dinner.

      Until a year ago, it had been called the Organic Bud, but the Colantonios had since bought it. Now, along with local organic produce, they had introduced a lot of international products.

      Monica loved shopping here.

      As an Accord living in the town named for the founding father, her ancestor, she had always felt apart from most people. She had never had Billy’s easygoing personality that drew people to him.

      Her natural reserve had gotten in the way of her being a real part of this town. She could never figure out whether people liked her, or were awed by her background, or wanted to cozy up to her father’s wealth.

      But the owner of Tonio’s was a friend, Maria Colantonio, a woman not much older than her with whom Monica had formed a bond over a love of good food. With Maria, she felt at ease. Maria liked her for herself, no doubt about it. For that, Maria had Monica’s undying affection.

      “Hey, Maria,” she called to the open indoor window of the office through which Maria watched the store. “What’s good today? I have fresh asparagus and garlic scapes.”

      Short, round Maria ran down the four steps out of the office, clapping her hands. An attractive woman, her deep-set brown bedroom eyes lit up. “You have scapes already? Where did you get them?”

      “Noah Cameron’s farm.”

      “Oh, that guy.” Maria flipped her hand in a disparaging gesture.

      “He’s a good guy.” After watching what Noah did for local families, and seeing how much they appreciated him, Monica felt compelled to defend him. Lord knew why, except that maybe she was developing an appreciation for his charity, even if he was doing it all wrong. “He does good work.”

      “Oh, I know. He’s wonderful.”

      “Then why do you seem disgusted by him?”

      “Because he won’t sell me his lovely vegetables! He’s the only one around here growing organic. He could make a fortune selling to me, but he gives it all away.”

      “For the needy.” A swell of warm, fuzzy pride arose in Monica that she was helping him. But she was also proud of Noah, that he had the guts to buck financial common sense and everyone who screamed at him that he could be making money, so he could feed people in need. She smiled. “He’s a decent guy.”

      Maria sighed. “Oh, I know, I know, but you have garlic scapes and I don’t and I’m jealous.” She laughed and directed Monica toward the meat counter.

      “Joseph,” she called to her husband. He came out from the back, where he butchered meat. Big and handsome, he carried his dark Italian good looks humbly.

      Maria surveyed the meat on display and ordered, “Give Monica a couple of those nice thick center-cut pork chops.”

      “I live to serve.” Despite the sarcasm, Joseph’s tone was also filled with amused affection. Monica had seen him give his wife a pat on her butt or place an arm around her waist when he thought no one was looking.

      When Joseph handed Monica the wrapped meat, she blew him a kiss. He slammed his hands against his large chest, over his heart. “My day is complete.”

      Maria laughed. “You two are shameless. Monica, stop flirting with my husband. Joseph, stop playing to the balcony.”

      “Me and Monica, we’re running away together.”

      Maria drew Monica toward the front of the store, stating loudly enough over her shoulder for her husband to hear, “You can have him, Monica. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

      “Ha! I’m the guy who puts up with СКАЧАТЬ