The Everlasting Chapel Read Online Free PDF Page B

store. Staci trails after me.
    “Rob said I should take over for you. Aren’t
you going?” she asks.
    “No,” I snap.
    “But he was so romantic down on one knee and
with the flowers,” she says.
    “Then maybe you should go out with him.” The
second the words fall out of my mouth, I wish I could take them
back. Both because, for whatever crazy reason, I don’t want him to
go out with her, and as her supervisor, I shouldn’t be saying those
kinds of things.
    I stop walking. “Sorry. That was
inappropriate.”
    Michael stands by the exit. Dammit! Why am I
still attracted to him? Because he’s sexy as hell, my alter-ego
reminds me. Yeah, but he is a compulsive liar, I retort. And
amazing in bed, my alter-ego snaps back. I glare at him a while
longer, which I really shouldn’t do considering my past and what
happens when I do glare at him too long.
    I step behind the counter and pretend to be
busy, while Staci takes care of the three customers that are in
here.
    After a few minutes, Michael approaches me.
“Listen, it’s just lunch. That’s all. Or coffee. Or dessert, I
suppose, since you already ate with the doctor.”
    He stares at me from across the counter, and
I do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t affect me in
any way. But then when he picks up one of the feather pens and
starts to blow on it, I can’t help but remember the plane ride and
how he used a feather to taunt me, tease me, and drive me
absolutely crazy. Suddenly, goosebumps speckle my arms and thighs.
And then my inner muscles clench.
    “What are you doing?” I ask, although I know
exactly what the sexy scoundrel is up to. No good, that’s what he’s
up to.
    “You don’t remember?” he asks, a teasing
smile at his lips.
    “Remember what?” I ask nonchalantly, peering
at him in all innocence. But then heat rushes to my cheeks and I
have to look away so he won’t notice.
    He grins, making his wickedly sexy dimples
come out. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember,” he says in a low,
gruff voice, peering at me from underneath his lashes. “Listen, I
promise I won’t make a move on you.”
    I give him a ‘really?’ look.
    “I’m not a teenage boy who can’t control
myself, Scar,” he says.
    “I—”
    “I just want to talk,” he continues.
    “I—”
    “You don’t have to—”
    “Will you just shut up and listen?” I yell.
All three customers turn around and glare at me.
    I huff and lower my head. “Fine. Wait here.
I’ll get my purse.”
    “You don’t need it,” he says.
    “Yes, I do.” I stomp back to the office and
snatch it. “You have thirty minutes,” I say, storming past Michael.
He runs after me, a wide, boyish grin on his triumphant face.
    And against all the reasonableness and
resolve I have managed to muster over the past two weeks, my
stomach has the nerve to turn into a swarm of butterflies.
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    Michael takes me to Sierra’s, one of
Portland’s most expensive restaurants. He doesn’t say anything on
the way over, but is a perfect gentleman, opening all the doors for
me. We sit down across from each other by a window table. Not a
second later, the waiter is there taking our order.
    “Just coffee for me,” I say. “Three sugars,
one cream.”
    “I’ll have the ahi tuna salad,” Michael
says. “And a glass of chardonnay.” The waiter smiles, and vanishes
to the back.
    “So, what is it?” I snap.
    “Scar…”
    “As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing
more to talk about.”
    He leans in. “You know that’s a lie.”
    Damn him and his holier than thou attitude
right now. “Okay. I don’t want to talk to you.”
    “I can understand that.”
    “Can you? Because you sure as hell don’t
know everything there is to know about me and what has happened
over the past two weeks.” I think about the letter and check Diane
sent me. I should tell him about that, although if I do, I lose all
the money. This is just messed up, and what’s worse is,