A Season of Angels Page 0,16

stop.

"Please, will you leave me alone now?"

"Is that what you really want?"

She nodded, but refused to meet his eyes.

He stepped away from her and she immediately went about tucking her hair back into place, her hands trembling so badly that Chet had to resist offering to help.

"It was just a kiss," he said in a weak effort to comfort her, although he was beginning to feel he was the one who needed reassurance. This woman was completely unaware of what a powerful punch she packed. She'd felt good in his arms, as if that was where she was supposed to be. The thought didn't sit well with Chet. Nor was he keen on admitting how difficult it was to walk away from her.

"I . . . think it would be best if you left," she said, struggling valiantly to compose herself. She refused to look up at him.

Chet's mind was sluggish and his pulse still hadn't returned to normal. He nodded, unable to think of anything more to say. As he moved away from her, he found the small, silver bell she'd dropped on the sidewalk. Stooping, he retrieved it for her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're sure you're all right?"

She nodded and Chet stepped away from her, walking backward. He bumped into a lamp post, his shoulder hitting it hard enough against the steel column to jar him. Sucking in a deep breath, he rubbed his hand over the tender spot, turned, and walked away.

He didn't want to think about what had just happened. He'd kissed a woman who, for all intents and purposes, was living the life of a nun. It shouldn't have been this good. One kiss should have been enough to cure him of ever thinking about her again. He could tell right now that it wasn't going to happen that way.

By the time Chet returned to his office, he discovered he was shaking like a leaf. He'd faced danger a dozen times, hell, more than that, but no encounter with life or death had left him so jittery that he needed to sit down. It took a morally uptight missionary intent on saving the world to reduce him to this.

"Oh, Leah, look," Pam Hewitt said, holding up a thick cable-knit sweater the color of winter wheat. "Doug would love this." She checked the price tag and then slowly shook her head. "Unfortunately I can't afford two hundred bucks for a sweater."

"I thought we were shopping for a party dress for you," Leah reminded her friend. They'd known each other since university days and kept in close contact although they weren't able to get together often. Pam had temporarily traded in her nurse's uniform to be a full-time housewife and mother to her three youngsters. Leah loved each one, but Scotty, the just-turned three-year-old, held a special place in her heart. The baby Andrew and she were to have adopted had been born around the same time. Somehow Leah had transferred to Scotty all the love she had for the child that was to have been hers. She gave Pam's three children gifts every Christmas and invented excuses for outings with them, but it was Scotty who ruled her heart.

"I hate Christmas parties," Pam muttered, folding the sweater and setting it back on the table. She ran her hand over the top and sighed expressively. "I was thinking I'd cut down the fancy maternity dress I wore a couple of years ago and - "

"Absolutely not," Leah insisted. "We're going to find you a dress that will make you feel like a queen for Doug's Christmas party."

"That will take some doing," Pam muttered. "Two years at home with the kids and I'm afraid I've lost it."

"Lost what?"

"I don't know how to explain it," Pam admitted slowly. "I think a part of the brain starts to deteriorate after so many years of dealing with diapers, bottles, and potty training. It's like you're on the children's level for so much of the day that you lose the ability to communicate with other adults."

"All this tells me is that you need to get away more often."

"That's probably true," Pam agreed, "but you wouldn't believe the trouble it is to find a baby-sitter, especially on weekdays."

"What about taking some time for yourself while the kids go down for their naps?"

Pam laughed softly as they headed toward the escalator. "Nap time is like an oasis in the middle of the day. I treasure every moment of that hour, but lately even that time's