Missionary Daddy. Linda Goodnight

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      Eric faked to the left, then bounded down the court, dribbling past two boys, both determined to slay him in their weekly game of Eric and the girls against the guys. Tonight was the first meeting of the picnic committee, but important things like basketball had to come first. He was ready to go up for the short jumper when the girls on his team suddenly gasped and stopped playing.

      “It’s her,” Gina squeaked. “It’s Samantha Harcourt.”

      Eric’s heart stumbled. So did his feet. Sam was here.

      He hoped that didn’t mean what he thought it meant.

      “Walk!” Caleb Williams blew his whistle, clapping his hands for the ball, but Eric forgot all about the game.

      He stared at the entrance of the Youth Center. A tall, gorgeous blonde had come into the room, accompanied by her sister, a young mother Eric knew from church.

      “I didn’t know she was back in town,” Gina gushed, eyes sparkling with admiration. Every teenager in the place was staring, drop-mouthed. Eric worked hard not to do the same.

      Get it together, Pellegrino. You know what she really is. Another rich girl gone slumming.

      Wasn’t that what everyone back in his college days had said about Katrina before she’d dumped him for the country-club set? The same warning applied here.

      “Is she going to help out in the center?” Nikki, another of the youth group, asked with that same sound of adulation.

      Eric’s lip curled, even while his traitorous heart slammed against his rib cage. “I think she’s here for the meeting.”

      “No way,” one of the kids said in hopeful disbelief.

      “Way,” he admitted, trying not to show his reluctance. “Rachel Cavanaugh asked her to work as my cochair.”

      He was not too happy about it, but he knew better than to say anything negative in front of a bunch of teenagers. In truth, he was ashamed of his negative reaction, but he’d been burned before. With Sam, he’d had no warning and she’d left her mark on him.

      Gina, the shy, quiet one of the bunch, stared at Eric. “You know her?”

      Though the rest of them were sweating like pigs, the slender teen wore a baggy sweater.

      “Know her?” He shook his head. “Not really.”

      Which was perfectly true. The beautiful, compassionate woman he’d met in Africa clearly did not exist, and he felt like an idiot for building up this fantasy that she was his one and only, sent by God. Man, what a joke.

      “If she helps with the fund-raiser, maybe we can get her to stick around here and help with other things.” As youth director, Caleb was always on the lookout for more adult volunteers.

      Eric stifled a protest. More time with Sam was the last thing he wanted. If he wasn’t so committed to the work in Africa, he’d drop out of this fund-raiser himself.

      “Maybe she’ll start a fitness class,” Gina said hopefully. “Models are usually great at staying in shape, and some of us need to work out more.”

      Eric found the remark amusing. Gina didn’t have an ounce of fat on her.

      “Whoa baby!” seventeen-year-old Jeremy murmured. “If Sam starts a class, I’m joining.”

      To everyone’s amusement, Gina elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs.

      When the nonsense died down, Caleb nudged Eric. “Are you going to welcome your helper?”

      “Do I have to?” he asked and instantly regretted the reflexive response.

      His friend shot him a strange look. Eric flushed, embarrassed to have Caleb see him so discombobulated. He needed to lope out the side door and get his head together.

      “Eric,” Sam called, the perfect smile lighting her face as she crossed the distance between them. “It really is you. I couldn’t believe it when Rachel said we’d be working together again.”

      Eric’s stomach sank to his toes. So, it was true. She had agreed to cochair. Dandy.

      “Hello, Sam,” he said coolly, mouth tight. “How’s the modeling business?”