The Trouble With Angels Page 0,32

of uttering anything more than weak, unintelligible sounds.

Thom scooted his chair close to hers, angled toward her, and dropped a row of soft, delicate kisses along the underside of her chin and up toward her ear. Slowly, in heart-stopping increments, he brought his lips back to hers.

"I...think...you...should...leave...now." Maureen swore it took five minutes for the words to untangle themselves from the end of her tongue.

"I haven't had my coffee."

"Coffee." She'd almost forgotten about it. Surely the pot was ready by now. All she need do was pour him a cup and usher him to the door. Then her duty would be complete.

"Coffee." She was about to stand but discovered, to her chagrin, that her arms were wrapped securely about him. She hadn't clue when that had happened.

Leaving him proved to be far more difficult than it should have been. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stiffened immediately. There, standing just inside the kitchen, were Karen and Paula, staring at them with wide eyes, their young faces creased with approving smiles.

"Wow," Karen whispered as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "Your dad just kissed my mom."

"He did? Great. This is really, really great," Paula said in the same awe-filled voice.

"If they get married, does that mean we'd be sisters?" Karen wanted to know.

Apparently an answer wasn't necessary for the two to celebrate. With their arms wrapped around each other, they let out a whoop and did a little jig about the kitchen.

"We aren't getting married," Maureen said forcefully, bolting out of her chair. She wanted to blame Thom for this, but she'd been as much a partner in the kissing episode as he.

He touched her, and the emptiness inside her echoed like a shout down a dry well. The years hadn't lessened the pain of her marriage, and this evening with Thom left her to face the haunting self-doubts. Brian had turned to another woman. He'd found her lacking, found her inadequate. Another man eventually would, too. She dared not risk that again. She didn't know if she could live through it a second time.

"Great going, Dad." Paula gave her father the thumbs-up sign. Thom's thumb went up in response.

"It might be a good idea if you girls let us two adults talk."

"Sure," Paula said, scooting out a chair and sitting down. She propped her hands in her face and looked to her dad. Karen sat next to her friend, her eyes as bright as fireworks against a dark July sky.

"Privately," Thom whispered to the girls.

"They want to be alone." Paula said this, apparently for Karen's benefit.

As soon as the two left the kitchen, Maureen started pacing. "That shouldn't have happened."

"What? Us kissing or the girls seeing us?"

"Both."

"The kissing really bothers you?" he asked.

Maureen knew this was another one of those incidents where he was well aware of her answer. "As a matter of fact, it does. If you want my opinion, I think you should be concerned yourself."

"Well, to be honest, I'll admit your kiss packs quite a wallop." He rubbed his hand down the side of his face as if to say he'd been surprised by the impact she'd had on him.

Maureen ignored his comment. "We've had exactly one dinner together, not even a dinner date, and already our daughters are talking about becoming stepsisters. Frankly, I think this is a cause for concern."

She breathed in deeply in an effort to gain perspective. Everything seemed to be happening much too fast. She wasn't like other women who floated easily in and out of relationships.

Ever since her divorce she'd been living in a vacuum, living off her bitterness. Brian had taught her well, and she wasn't looking for a repeat of that experience. "I won't allow you to pressure me into a relationship," she announced, her back ramrod straight.

He opened his mouth as if he intended to argue with her, but the phone rang just then and he apparently changed his mind.

Maureen glared at the phone.

"Go ahead and answer it," Thom advised after the third ring.

She walked across the room and reached for the receiver. "Hello," she said, knowing she sounded nothing like herself.

"Maureen." Her name was followed by a slight hesitation. "It's Brian. We need to talk."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about Paul Morris," Goodness told her fellow prayer ambassadors. They sat on the bench in front of the church organ in Paul Morris's church. "What he really needs is one big, dynamic miracle to snap him out of this lethargy," Goodness said. She'd thought long