be conspiring against her. The music became slow, a song for lovers. Her arms mechanically wound around his neck; her cheek rested against the lapel of his jacket, and for the life of her, she couldn’t fight the riot of sensations that filled her. His pleasant, very male scent, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms. The feel of that scratchy cloth beneath the softness of her cheek. He moved with a slow and easy grace; she felt she could too easily follow him wherever he led….
But he supposedly was a man of God; yet he was playing dark games of secrecy with her. He was hiding something….
“I brought you out here,” he whispered, his breath warm as it seemed to caress the lobe of her ear as he ducked his head low, pulling her even closer, “to threaten you.”
“Threaten me!” She tried to pull from the strong grasp of his arms.
“Take it easy!” he said. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you to take things at face value.”
“Blind faith again? You’ve got it…Luke. Until tomorrow night, at least.”
“Good. Because any more questions and your meeting with Andrew will be off.”
“I can just go to the police—”
“You’re a liar, Donna. You’ve already been to the police.”
“For a priest,” Donna grated dryly, “you really are one hell of a pain in the neck. I would really rather not dance any more.”
“All right, but during dinner, we talk about New York, sports, movies—or the state of the world. We do not discuss Andrew McKennon. Got it? I’m the one who put Tricia into the middle of this situation, for your benefit. So for my benefit, you’re not going to make her miserable.”
“Oh, I got it,” Donna replied. They had pulled away from one another and stood facing each other angrily on the dance floor. He lifted a hand and a brow, suggesting that she lead the way back to the table. Donna spun about and felt his hand fall lightly to her waist. A polite touch, a guiding touch. One she resented nevertheless. Resented…and felt through to the core of her being.
Tricia was smiling when they reached the table. “That wasn’t a long dance!” She laughed.
“My ankle is bothering me a bit,” Donna murmured, annoyed that she found herself lowering her lashes over her eyes rather than meeting Luke’s speculative and amused gaze.
He pulled out her chair and she sat. As he joined her, he said something to Tricia about a new show he had seen Off-Broadway and they began to talk about the theater.
Dinner was served. Donna barely tasted her food, but what she did taste was good, and thanks to Tricia’s pleasant nature, the meal passed quickly. She was sorry when Tricia rose, telling them both to stay seated, that she had to get to work.
Luke rose anyway. “I’ll walk you out for a taxi, Tricia—”
“Don’t be silly, Luke. There’s a doorman on duty! And, oh, about dinner—”
Luke laughed, casting Donna one of his subtly amused and mocking gazes. “Don’t worry about dinner, Trish. It’s on our delightful olive-oil heiress, Ms. Miro.”
Donna managed to smile as Trish voiced her thanks, then ran out, promising to pick her up by four the next day. Luke sat down beside her again, and she met his amused gaze with irritation.
“One day,” she promised him, “God will punish you for all this.”
“Will he?” Luke laughed. “I’m sure I will deserve my days in purgatory, but not for this.”
“Maybe you’ll get to rot in hell,” Donna said sweetly.
“Maybe. None of us knows for sure.”
The check came. Luke kept smiling while Donna signed it, then pushed back her chair and rose.
“Well, Father, I suppose I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”
“Yes, I suppose you will.” He rose and took her elbow.
Donna sighed. “I can get to my room by myself, Father.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“But I won’t?”
“Very perceptive, Donna.”
“What does the church think of priests who bribe and threaten the innocent?”
“Are you
But he supposedly was a man of God; yet he was playing dark games of secrecy with her. He was hiding something….
“I brought you out here,” he whispered, his breath warm as it seemed to caress the lobe of her ear as he ducked his head low, pulling her even closer, “to threaten you.”
“Threaten me!” She tried to pull from the strong grasp of his arms.
“Take it easy!” he said. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you to take things at face value.”
“Blind faith again? You’ve got it…Luke. Until tomorrow night, at least.”
“Good. Because any more questions and your meeting with Andrew will be off.”
“I can just go to the police—”
“You’re a liar, Donna. You’ve already been to the police.”
“For a priest,” Donna grated dryly, “you really are one hell of a pain in the neck. I would really rather not dance any more.”
“All right, but during dinner, we talk about New York, sports, movies—or the state of the world. We do not discuss Andrew McKennon. Got it? I’m the one who put Tricia into the middle of this situation, for your benefit. So for my benefit, you’re not going to make her miserable.”
“Oh, I got it,” Donna replied. They had pulled away from one another and stood facing each other angrily on the dance floor. He lifted a hand and a brow, suggesting that she lead the way back to the table. Donna spun about and felt his hand fall lightly to her waist. A polite touch, a guiding touch. One she resented nevertheless. Resented…and felt through to the core of her being.
Tricia was smiling when they reached the table. “That wasn’t a long dance!” She laughed.
“My ankle is bothering me a bit,” Donna murmured, annoyed that she found herself lowering her lashes over her eyes rather than meeting Luke’s speculative and amused gaze.
He pulled out her chair and she sat. As he joined her, he said something to Tricia about a new show he had seen Off-Broadway and they began to talk about the theater.
Dinner was served. Donna barely tasted her food, but what she did taste was good, and thanks to Tricia’s pleasant nature, the meal passed quickly. She was sorry when Tricia rose, telling them both to stay seated, that she had to get to work.
Luke rose anyway. “I’ll walk you out for a taxi, Tricia—”
“Don’t be silly, Luke. There’s a doorman on duty! And, oh, about dinner—”
Luke laughed, casting Donna one of his subtly amused and mocking gazes. “Don’t worry about dinner, Trish. It’s on our delightful olive-oil heiress, Ms. Miro.”
Donna managed to smile as Trish voiced her thanks, then ran out, promising to pick her up by four the next day. Luke sat down beside her again, and she met his amused gaze with irritation.
“One day,” she promised him, “God will punish you for all this.”
“Will he?” Luke laughed. “I’m sure I will deserve my days in purgatory, but not for this.”
“Maybe you’ll get to rot in hell,” Donna said sweetly.
“Maybe. None of us knows for sure.”
The check came. Luke kept smiling while Donna signed it, then pushed back her chair and rose.
“Well, Father, I suppose I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”
“Yes, I suppose you will.” He rose and took her elbow.
Donna sighed. “I can get to my room by myself, Father.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“But I won’t?”
“Very perceptive, Donna.”
“What does the church think of priests who bribe and threaten the innocent?”
“Are you
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