9

“A pastor?” Darcy grabbed Finn’s arm and forced him to follow her down the hall to the elevators. “You don’t think you could have mentioned that last night?”

He pressed the down arrow button. “Didn’t seem important.”

“Not important. You’re a man of God.”

“And you’re a woman of God. What’s your point?”

“But…” She sighed and leaned against the elevator door.

“But what, Darcy?”

How was she supposed to say she had been lusting after a man who had committed his life to God? There was probably a special holding cell in purgatory for the women who lusted after the clergy.

Mr. Hotty Stray indeed!

She blamed him entirely. No one should be as well put together as him and be a pastor. Men who looked like Finn should be aftershave models, quarterbacks, or photojournalists. Cheekbones and a perfect five o’clock shadow should not be wasted behind the pulpit.

“Darcy?” The question in his tone drew her from her mental rant. Lifting her focus to his gaze, filled with questions, she couldn’t stop the shiver zipping down her spine generated by a simple glance.

He was more than a hotty. He was a beautiful masterpiece. A beautiful masterpiece with a terrible sense of style. Yesterday’s comic book T-shirt and old jeans was a step up from today’s nearly worn through button down and paint splattered khakis. Did protestant pastors take a vow of poverty like monks? Had she missed something in catechism?

Shaking her head, she lifted the corner of her mouth. “It’s nothing. I just realized with your position I should probably keep some of my wandering thoughts in check.”

“Really?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Heat burned up the side of her neck, spreading like a forest fire across her cheeks and nose. “Well, it’s just…”

“Yes?”

Pivoting, she slammed the heel of her hand against the down arrow button of the elevator control panel. “Where’s the elevator?” As if her words were magic, the doors slid open with a ding and she nearly hopped into the welcoming wooden warmth. She pressed the lobby button.

He leisurely stepped over the metal threshold, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned against the faux wood paneled wall.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze up to his. “I’m sorry. Can we put my manic behavior down to the stress of my aunt being in the hospital, and simply focus on somehow pulling off a Christmas program worthy of Aunt Lulu, the church, and the town?”

A small crease formed between his eyes, drawing his thick eyebrows towards each other. Darcy’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Please let it drop. Her embarrassment quotient had been met ten times over in the last twenty-four hours. Having to address her instant attraction to Finn like a true adult might cause her to transform into a mute. Or worse her mouth would catch verbal toxicity and every impure thought she had in the last twenty-four hours would be spewed all over the good pastor like a four-year-old’s cotton candy after a ride on the tea cups at the fair.

The elevator chimed and announced their arrival at the lobby. The doors creaked open and Finn rested his wide palm against the metal door motioning for Darcy to exit before him. Following his nod, she quickly moved toward a set of chairs in the corner of the room.

Wrapping her arms across her middle, she sucked in a deep breath to avoid plopping onto the barrel chair angled toward the seat where Finn was lowering his long body.

“Let’s say I agree to table the unspoken until a later date, will you promise to share what you were thinking when I ask you?”

Relief poured through her entire frame. “Of course. Thank you.”

He nodded. Reaching into the front pocket of his khakis he pulled out his phone. “Well then, we have rehearsals to schedule and a program for you to look over.” A broad grin stretched his lips wide.

She matched his smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

He glanced down to scroll through his calendar and Darcy was able to enjoy one last lingering gaze. With a sigh, she reached into her back pocket for her phone. The time had come for Darcy darling’s work to begin.