Mortal Sin Read Online Free PDF Page A

a chair in my study. I’ll be right in.”
    An antique walnut desk, flanked by a pair of matching jade plants in terra-cotta pots, dominated the room. A faded Oriental carpet covered the floor. The twin casement windows wore curtains of a soft green, a hue that was picked up in the fabric of the two plush chairs facing the desk. Built-in bookshelves, heavy with books, lined two walls.
    The overall effect was one of warmth and coziness. She took off her coat, perched on a soft chair, and scrutinized book spines while she waited. Most of them were bulky religious tomes. Heavy reading, in every sense of the word. He returned with the coffee in a ceramic mug, and she accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around it for warmth.
    “Thank you,” she said. “That cold out there is nothing short of barbaric.”
    He shut the door behind him and said, “You’re not from around here.”
    “Tell me, Father, was it the frozen hands or the tirade about Boston drivers that gave me away?”
    He settled his lanky frame into the chair behind the desk. Leaning back, he studied her with those oddly leonine eyes. “I can hear it in your voice. Just a hint of it, but it’s there. Deep South. Mississippi, maybe Alabama or northern Florida. It makes me think of moonlight and the scent of magnolias.”
    “Louisiana,” she said. “Most recently, New Orleans. But I was raised in a bayou town so small, it doesn’t show up on any maps.” She took a sip of scalding coffee, used it as an excuse to study him further. His hair was a little too long, a little too shaggy, and he possessed the pale, almost ethereal coloring so common among the dark-haired Celts. He wasn’t quite handsome; his features lacked the polished refinement that marked classic handsomeness. But he was striking, with a wild, dark beauty all his own. Heathcliff, wandering the windswept moors.
    “So,” he said, “you’re a friend of Josie’s.”
    “Actually, I’m her boss.”
    Warmth flooded those golden eyes. “Of course. You’re the lady who just bought the bookstore. Josie’s mentioned you.”
    “Then you have a distinct advantage over me, Father, because she’s never mentioned you until now. And you’re not at all what I expected. You’re so—” She paused, searched desperately for the right word.
Dark. Intense. Intriguing. Sexy
.
    He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “So… ?”
    “Young,” she said, breaking eye contact and focusing on a single dark blue paperback sitting on a lower shelf, just at eye level.
Catechism of the Catholic Church
. She supposed if he ever suffered from insomnia, the cure was readily available, right here on his bookshelves.
    “Ah,” he said. “You were expecting someone like my predecessor, Father O’Rourke. Some crotchety priest from the old school who believes in bringing people to God by beating religion into them with a stick.”
    When she turned back to him, she noted the gleam in his eye. “Are you making fun of me, Father?”
    “Maybe just a bit. You know, when I first meet people, they generally react to me in one of two ways. Some of them try very hard to convince me how devout they are. They’re looking for brownie points that’ll give them an in with the Big Guy upstairs.” He tapped a fingernail against his coffee mug. “The rest are terrified I’ll see right through them and send them directly to hell.”
    “I see. And where do I fit into this little scenario?”
    “I’m still trying to figure you out. You’re an anomaly. You don’t fit in anywhere.”
    “Maybe that’s because I’m not Catholic. I don’t aspire to heaven, and I don’t believe in hell. So I have no reason to fear you.” She took a sip of coffee and studied him over the rim of the cup. “Or to impress you.”
    “An infidel,” he said. “What a shame. So what can I do for you?”
    Her gaze wandered to the desktop, worn by time to a gleaming patina. On one corner, beside an open jar of hard candies, perched a