Morning Cup of Murder (22 page)

“I thought pastors were supposed to know all the answers,” she said.

He shook his head. “Pastors are supposed to know where to
find
all the answers,” he replied. “And I do, but it’s going to take some time while I study my bible and pray about it.”

Tosh was possibly the only person she knew who could say that in a sentence and have it sound sincere.

“That doesn’t help me much; I need answers now.”

“Here’s my advice to you: you have a good head and heart. Use them.”

“I have been accused of possessing a tender conscience,” she admitted.

“You call it conscience, I call it God. Whatever the case, listen to that inner voice and you’ll know the right thing to do when the time comes.” He sat up and leaned forward again. “Are you sure you’re busy tonight?”

She nodded.

He sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to go out and actually meet some more people in this town. Do you know any other single women you could set me up with?”

“There’s Peggy at the coffee shop. She’s never been married, and I’m fairly certain she still has all her own teeth.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” he asked.

“No. Peggy’s free to go out with whomever she wants.”

He laughed. “And what are you going to be doing this evening while I’m wooing Peggy with prunes and arthritis cream?”

“I’m going to talk to Jason.” His smile faltered, and she hurried on. “About the things you and I were just discussing. I’m going to try and convince him to let Bryce go.”

“Do you think it will work?” he asked, sounding slightly mollified.

“I don’t know, but I have to try. I don’t think sending four old ladies to jail is the right thing to do.”

“There’s a chance that might not happen. They could cop pleas and avoid jail time.”

“But their reputations would be ruined,” she said.

“Maybe they should be,” he argued. “You could have died if Bryce had hit you any harder. They had no guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt you or kill you. They did something wrong.”

“Yes, but they did it to
me
. Doesn’t that mean I should be able to forgive them if I want to? And they had no idea what they were getting into. They were naïve enough to feel invisible on the internet. They’re way over their heads here.”

“So are you, but I think you’re very sweet and merciful. It gives me hope that you’ll extend the same grace to me someday if I mess up.”

“I probably would, but there’s one way to know for sure,” she said.

“What’s that?” He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, bestowing a kiss on her palm.

“Don’t mess up,” she said. She gave his hand a squeeze and let herself out of his office.

Chapter 18

Lacy worked hard to make herself look good for her evening with Jason. After her breakup with Robert, she had purged most of the things that reminded her of him, but there was one thing she was unable to get rid of: her little black dress. He had liked the dress and always complimented her profusely when she wore it. That alone would have been reason enough to do away with it except for the fact that she liked it, too.

It was perfect--not too revealing, and not Puritanical. It hung exactly right, highlighting her curves without looking like an invitation to explore them. Somehow it could either be dressy or casual, depending on what she wanted it to be. Tonight she was aiming for casual, and with her ballet flats and low-key jewelry she succeeded in hitting the right note.

After securing her hair in a loose chignon and touching up her makeup, she was ready to go.

Jason lived in a small house on the far side of town, which was another surprising thing about him. They were only twenty five. Lacy couldn’t imagine owning a house yet, especially not by herself. When she was financially able, she planned to move to an apartment for a few years until she either got married or decided it was time to buy. Apartment living went with the carefree lifestyle she imagined Jason to have. A house seemed so…stable and traditional--two words she hadn’t previously associated with Jason Cantor. But she was learning there was more to him than met the eye, even though what met the eye was so appealing one was tempted to linger there forever.

Lacy knocked on the door and stood waiting nervously for Jason to answer.

“Lacy,” he said, blinking at her in surprise as he looked her up and down.

“I decided to take you up on your offer tonight,” she said, trying to feign a confidence she was far from feeling.

He closed the door, blocking her view into the room. “Oh, I wish I had known. I’m sort of busy.” He threw a furtive look over his shoulder.

Lacy wanted to shrivel up and die. Why hadn’t she called first? “Oh, that’s okay, I was just in the neighborhood, and I…” She trailed off and turned toward her car, hoping a rescue would miraculously appear there.

Jason chuckled. “I’m teasing you.” He opened the door wider. “Come in.” He didn’t move aside. Instead he raised his arm, forcing her to duck under. When she was right beside him, he dropped his arm like a bar, trapping her between him and the door.
“I feel a little silly,” he said.

“Why?” she asked, trying hard to breathe through her mouth so she wouldn’t have to inhale his mind-numbing cologne.

“Because I thought you looked as good as possible in running shorts. I should have withheld judgment until I saw you in a dress.”

It was happening again. Lacy felt herself almost swaying toward him, as if she were being drawn in like a fish on a line. She couldn’t do this tonight; she needed all her faculties to have a rational conversation with him. But then she looked down and saw his charcoal gray t-shirt conforming to his magnificent chest, and some of her resolve wavered. She also noticed a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

“Did I interrupt you in the middle of something?” she asked, hating how her voice emerged as a faint squeak.

“I was doing the dishes,” he explained.

“You do the dishes?”

He smiled. “Did you think I have a maid?”

Was that a casual question or a subtle dig at Tosh who did employ a maid?

 
“Have you eaten?” he asked. “I was just about to grill something.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” she protested. “We could go out. My treat.”

“I was under the impression your funds were limited right now,” he said.

Lacy’s pride prickled. “What makes you say that?”

“You live with your grandmother and you don’t own a car.”

“I love my grandmother, and I enjoy walking,” she snapped.

“Okay. You’re rolling in cash. My mistake.”

She relaxed, realizing how uptight she sounded. “Sorry. Funds are a little tight right now. Money is a sore subject. But I’m going to make it.”

“I know you will,” he said.

His confident tone caused some of the anxiety constricting her chest to ease a little bit.

“Everyone thought I was crazy to leave my editing job in
New York
,” she confessed. “It paid well.”

“Did you like that job?”

“It was good,” she said.

“Are you where you want to be and doing what you want to be doing now?” he asked.

She laughed humorlessly. “Are you kidding me? I’m scraping bottom.”

“If you liked your job there and don’t like it here, then why did you come back?” he asked.

Somehow she had stumbled right into the one topic she wanted to avoid. “Sometimes you just need a change, you know?”

“No,” he answered. “I have no plans to ever leave here.”

“Why? You could have done anything.”

“I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do.” Now it was his turn to look cagey and uncomfortable. Lacy thought it was a good thing their friendship was temporary and would most likely end when she moved away. It wasn’t destined to get off the ground if neither of them was willing to open up to the other.

Jason opened the fridge and pulled out a large steak.

“Can I help?” Lacy asked.

“Sure. I’ll take care of the meat. You can do the side dish.”

“What do you want me to make?” she asked.

“Surprise me.”

She couldn’t believe he was giving her carte blanche to search his kitchen, but she was soon to be disappointed by what she found. His possessions were Spartan and neatly arranged, offering no surprises.

“You’re very clean,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“I’m not sure that was a compliment.”

“I am,” he said. “Tidiness is a virtue.”

She paused in her search for a vegetable, turning to him with a smile. “Jason, you’re such a boy scout.” Her amused tone held a hint of wonder. He wasn’t turning out to be anything like what she had thought. Before tonight she would have thought his bachelor pad was a hovel, lined with pizza boxes and empty cans.

“You think so, Lacy?” Jason asked, his tone considerably warmer than hers. “Maybe I’ll have to change your mind about that.” His glance fell to her lips, and then he picked up the platter of meat and headed outside.

How does he do that?
Lacy wondered. She opened the freezer and stuck her overheated face inside. While there, she noticed some steak fries and mixed vegetables so that when Jason reentered the house and asked her what she was doing, she was able to pull out the food and hold it up for his inspection.

When he left again, she arranged the fries on a tray and popped them in the oven, then found a pot for the vegetables. Her grandmother had a secret white sauce recipe she always used for vegetables. Lacy crossed her fingers that Jason would have the proper ingredients, and then felt vaguely disappointed when he did. Why would a bachelor have such a well-stocked pantry if not for some female who did it for him? And since he had said his family lived far away, that must have meant that some girlfriend at one time bought him nutmeg and evaporated milk. It was too easy to imagine some female trying to worm her way into his heart and life by setting up camp in the kitchen.

While she was waiting for the food to cook, she also decided to make a dipping sauce for the fries. Because she tended to be a messy cook, she pushed the mixing bowl and ingredients to the far side away from the counter so as not to splash on herself while she stirred.

“Now what are you doing?” Jason slid open the patio and set the platter of steaming meat on the counter.

“You don’t have any aprons,” she told him. “And I don’t want to spill.”

He opened a drawer to his right and took out a large dish towel, flinging it open with a flick of his hand. Lacy froze as he moved close and used both hands to tie it around her waist.

“There,” he said, not touching her, but also not moving away. “Is that better?”

“Uh-huh,” she answered, though now she was in more danger than ever of dumping everything her quaking fingers touched.

“I’ll set the table while you finish up,” he said. He reached for the cabinet over her head, drawing his body nearer hers so that he was almost but not quite touching her. She was oh-so-tempted to lean back, to give in to the urge to rest her weight against him with no care for what might happen next.

With the plates in hand, there was no reason for him to linger, but he did. His free hand rested on her hip, and his face pressed against her neck, inhaling. “You smell nice,” he said, his breath blowing warm on her neck.

Two things Lacy realized right away: First, she had missed this male/female interplay. She had missed touching, loving, and cuddling with a member of the opposite sex. Second, much as she had missed it, she wasn’t ready for any of this. Her nerves felt overstretched and on the verge of snapping. At any moment, she was either going to break down into a fit of hysterics or do something equally mortifying like turn and throw herself at him.

Thankfully he let her go and turned toward the table. There was something to be said for being with someone who had a lot of experience. He seemed to possess a sixth sense about when to press and when to let things go, unlike Robert who had steamrolled her into every action or Tosh who seemed afraid to make any move at all.

The food was ready and they sat at his cozy kitchen table to eat. The evening was beginning to take on an intimate undertone, and Lacy was beginning to feel the edges of panic creeping in. Her anxious feeling was made worse when she felt his sock-clad feet slip over her bare ones in a gentle caress.

Lacy couldn’t believe that not only was Jason playing footsies with her, but that his light and casual conversation gave no indication of the cozy action going on beneath the table. She was torn between appreciation for his technique and chagrin over how many times he must have practiced it on other women.

Her feet had always been sensitive. Robert hadn’t liked feet and had never touched hers, even though she would have been delighted by a massage. And now she was practically on sensory overload, trying to come to terms with the fact that Jason was gently caressing her feet while talking about baseball and eating a steak.

“The steak is delicious,” was the only coherent thing she could contribute to the conversation for a while. “Do you grill often?”