Ms. Miller and the Midas Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

third-grade teacher who lived with his mother and enjoyed the fact that Tylerville was actually a state-designated bird sanctuary. And Louis Green, manager of the local Safeway, who frequently boasted of having the greenest produce in town.
    All fine men. All eager to please her. All as boring as watching grass grow.
    And so it was that she’d taken to eating her lunches in the music room at school and avoiding the third-grade classroom whenever possible, grocery shopping at the A & P, and coming in late to church on Sundays to take the last available seat among strangers—or the second to last available seat as it happened that particular Sunday. The very last space was taken by Scott Hammond, who wedged himself in beside her seconds before the service began.
    “This couldn’t have worked out better,” he said, breathless and grinning. Her insides were flipping and spinning. His Sunday best was more than enough to send her pulse racing—but under it was the bare wet chest from the day before, a thin and incredibly sexy line of dark hair straight down the middle of it, disappearing into the waistband of his pants...I’m usually too lazy to get all dressed up for church, but I saw you out the window, looking as pretty as spring’s first rose, and thought I’d give it a try. What do you think?” he asked, since he already had her ogle-eyed attention. “Is this tie okay? All my others are still packed in boxes.”
    She was speechless. After the day he’d had, he was worried about his tie? And why wasn’t she breathing?
    She was saved making a comment, one way or the other, when the congregation stood to sing the first hymn.
    “Oops. No more hymnals. I guess we’ll have to share,” he said, his dark eyes and naughty dimples twinkling happily. “You don’t mind, do you?”
    She lowered her eyes away, afraid the whole world could see just how much she did mind, and shifted her hands and the open book to the space between them—which he immediately narrowed by turning toward her and leaning close to see the music.
    He sang loud in a near perfect tenor voice, pronouncing the words clearly, modeling a devout believer—except when she happened to glance up during the second chorus and he winked at her. If a woman had curves, he had all the angles.
    They sat down and there was hardly enough room for his broad shoulders despite the fact that she was all but sitting in the lap of the woman next to her.
    “There appears to be more room in the pew behind us,” she whispered to him after a quick look over her shoulder.
    “Appearances can be deceiving.”
    “I think you’d be more comfortable back there.”
    “I’m comfortable here,” he said. He wiggled his shoulders closer to hers and smiled when she pushed back. “I like the way your hair smells, by the way.” He leaned over a tiny bit, inhaled deeply through his nose, then hummed out a little sigh. “Like a starry summer night.”
    No one but her could have heard it; still, she went hot all over and focused her eyes on the front of the church. Her pulse was pounding and she was too aware of his upper arm against hers, the scent of his aftershave, his neatly trimmed fingernails and long strong-looking fingers. And the heat. She decided there and then that it should be against the law to hold church services in August without air-conditioning. Truly, it was criminal.
    She jumped a foot when he reached over and covered her hand with his—to silence the agitated opening and closing of her hymnal that was distracting the people around them. After a little squeeze he removed his hand, leaving hers scorched and throbbing.
    “Nervous?” he muttered under his breath. As a bee in a bottle, if he was any judge.
    She cleared her throat softly and ignored him.
    “I don’t bite.”
    Ha! She bet he did. Nibbled, most likely. On tender places like necks...and maybe breasts...and the inside of a woman’s thigh...and...Humph! She wiggled and sat up a little taller. Those