“Yeah, we’re going to be late if you don’t get out of the car and up those steps,” he growled. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”
Sara slanted a sideways glance at Crow, listening to the minister’s prayer with only half an ear.
Crow had his head lowered and his hands folded. If he wasn’t concentrating on the pastor’s words, he was a great actor. Actually, throughout the service, he’d seemed to be the one paying attention while her thoughts kept wandering.
On the way to the church, he’d told her several times how much he liked her pink dress. It was actually salmon colored but she didn’t bother to correct him. She was too busy directing him to the church and admiring him.
It wasn’t just the suit though; if she hadn’t known his income, she’d swear the garment was hand tailored. It was his easy self-assurance, that little dimple in one cheek that flashed unexpectedly and the spicy masculine scent of his cologne.
She inhaled deeply.
“Sara.” Crow’s hand cupped her elbow and his voice was soft as a whisper. “Stand up.”
Sara shot to her feet and warmth touched her cheeks. While she’d been mooning like some love-struck teenage girl, the prayers had ended and they’d risen for the final hymn.
Crow held out the hymnal, already open to the proper page. Her fingers closed around the book and in the process brushed against his. A spark of electricity shot up her arm.
She pretended not to notice and started in…on the wrong verse.
His lips twitched.
She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
His smile widened.
She shot him a quelling glare and turned her attention to the hymnal.
The song was soon over and the minister motioned for them to sit while he read the weekly announcements. After reminding the members about the change in the choir rehearsal time and the need for extra desserts for the upcoming soup supper, Pastor Dave shifted his remarks to plans for the new sanctuary.
“Thanks to Sara Michaels’s substantial gift in support of this project, I’m pleased to announce we have now reached our goal and we’ll be breaking ground next spring.”
Applause broke out and Sara flushed with embarrassment.
“I asked him not to say anything,” Sara said to Crow.
He’d just leaned his head toward hers to hear her comment when a flashbulb exploded in front of them.
Crow reacted immediately and surged to his feet. “What the—”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “It’s just Ken, the photographer for the church newsletter.”
“I don’t like having my picture taken,” he said, his jaw setting in a stubborn tilt.
“Well, neither do I,” Sara said calmly. “But there’s not much we can do about it now except be gracious.” She emphasized the last word so he’d be sure not to miss it.
His eyes shot ebony sparks. “I don’t like being surprised.”
“Just chill.” Sara smiled through gritted teeth and waved at an older couple coming toward them. “It’s not a big deal. We’re talking about the front page of an online church newsletter, not the Post-Dispatch.”
“Good,” he muttered.
Sara wondered why he even cared. As far as she was concerned, it wouldn’t matter if the picture did make the St. Louis paper. Because the one person she’d hoped to leave in the past had already found her.
Chapter Thirteen
Sara settled back on the sofa and gazed unseeing at the sheet of music in her hand. She knew she needed to concentrate on business, but ever since Sunday, all she could think about was Crow.
After church, they’d decided to do an impromptu picnic. Returning to Sara’s house, they’d packed a basketful of food, changed clothes and headed to Upland Park on the northern edge of the city.
Sitting on an old plaid blanket, they’d feasted on ham sandwiches, grapes and chips. Sara grinned, remembering his response when he’d reached for a brownie and she’d told him it would cost him a kiss. When his lips had met hers, she knew the heat coursing through her body had little to do with the bright sun overhead. And later when he’d kissed her again—just because the brownie was “extra-good”—all she could do was smile.
He liked kissing her as much as she liked kissing him. And, more importantly, she was beginning to believe that he truly cared.
That was the oddest part in this whole equation—that she should be so attracted to a man like Crow. But the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d realized that, aside from the long hair and tattoo, Crow was her type of man.
He was a Christian and he cared about others. When he let it slip that for the past two years he’d been coaching a boys’ basketball team at the local Salvation Army recreation center, she realized that in his own way he’d been living his faith.
Sara dropped the sheet music to her lap. And what had she done lately to help others? When she’d dreamed of a career, she’d been filled with thoughts of proclaiming Christ’s saving message with her voice and helping disadvantaged kids realize their worth and their potential. Children living the life she’d once lived.
God had blessed her many times over, allowing her to do what she loved and in the process to touch people with her music. But couldn’t she be doing more?
“What’s that frown about?” James breezed into the room and brushed a kiss of greeting across her cheek. He looked particularly dashing in a light gray suit with a charcoal shirt. “Bad song?”
“Song?”
James gestured to the music sheet in her lap.
“Oh, this? I’ve just glanced at it but I like the changes.” She picked up the sheet and set it on the end table. “By the way, how’d you get in? I didn’t even hear the doorbell.”
“Your bodyguard let me in,” James said, taking a seat next to her on the sofa. “I don’t know his name. It was one of the fill-ins. Where is the main man anyway?”
“Crow?”
“No, the president,” James said. “Of course, Crow.”
“It’s his day off.” Sara shrugged. “I’m not sure where he is.”
“He certainly seems to take a lot of time off,” James said. “He might want to watch that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the guy may soon find himself unemployed.” James sounded more than a little pleased at the prospect. “Think about it for a minute. You haven’t received any more notes. How much longer is Meg going to be able to justify keeping him on the payroll?”
Sara thought of the note she’d received last week. The one she’d burned yesterday. “You’re right. It probably won’t be much longer.”
At one time she’d dreamed of having Crow gone and her life to herself. Now the thought of him leaving filled her with dread. Would she ever see him again if he left?
“And if that’s not good news enough….” James reached into his briefcase and with a flourish pulled out a copy of the newspaper.
“Since when has an edition of the Post-Dispatch been a cause for rejoicing?” Sara said dryly.