me a sinner?”
She picked gingerly at a piece of fish. “All have sinned and so forth.”
“That isn’t what you meant.”
She suddenly became very interested in her coleslaw, prodding it with her plastic fork.
“How is it you know I’m a sinner?” he asked, not intending to let her off the hook, because this was just so fun. Hell, he’d gone and hired himself a church secretary, so might as well play with her a little bit.
“I didn’t mean that,” she insisted, her cheeks turning pink. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush.
“Well, if it helps at all, I don’t know your brother well. I just buy alcohol from him on the weekends. But you’re right. I am a sinner, Hayley.”
She looked up at him then. The shock reflected in those stormy eyes touched him down deep. Made his stomach feel tight, made his blood feel hot. All right, he needed to get a handle on himself. Because that was not the kind of fun he was going to have with the church secretary he had hired. No way.
Jonathan Bear was a ruthless bastard; that fact could not be disputed. He had learned to look out for himself at an early age, because no one else would. Not his father. Certainly not his mother, who had taken off when he was a teenager, leaving him with a younger sister to raise. And most definitely not anyone in town.
But, even he had a conscience.
In theory, anyway.
“Good to know. I mean, since we’re getting to know each other, I guess.”
They ate in relative silence after that. Jonathan took that opportunity to check messages on his phone. A damn smartphone. This was what he had come to. Used to be that if he wanted to spend time alone he could unplug and go out on his horse easily enough. Now, he could still do that, but his business partners—dammit all, he had business partners—knew that he should be accessible and was opting not to be.
“Why did you leave the church?” he asked after a long stretch of silence.
“I didn’t. I mean, not as a member. But, I couldn’t work there anymore. You know, I woke up one morning and looked in the mirror and imagined doing that exact same thing in forty years. Sitting behind that desk, in the same chair, talking to the same people, having the same conversations... I just didn’t think I could do it. I thought...well, for a long time I thought if I sat in that chair life would come to me.” She took a deep breath. “But it won’t. I have to go get it.”
What she was talking about... That kind of stability. It was completely foreign to him. Jonathan could scarcely remember a time in his life when things had stayed the same from year to year. He would say one thing for poverty, it was dynamic. It could be a grind, sure, but it kept you on your toes. He’d constantly looked for new ways to support himself and Rebecca. To prove to child services that he was a fit guardian. To keep their dwelling up to par, to make sure they could always afford it. To keep them both fed and clothed—or at least her, if not him.
He had always craved what Hayley was talking about. A place secure enough to rest for a while. But not having it was why he was here now. In this house, with all this money. Which was the only real damned security in the world. Making sure you were in control of everything around you.
Even if it did mean owning a fucking smartphone.
“So, your big move was to be my assistant?”
She frowned. “No. This is my small move. You have to make small moves before you can make a big one.”
That he agreed with, more or less. His whole life had been a series of small moves with no pausing in between. One step at a time as he climbed up to the top. “I’m not sure it’s the best thing to let your employer know you think he’s a small step,” he said, just because he wanted to see her cheeks turn pink again. He was gratified when they did.
“Sorry. This is a giant step for me. I intend to stay here forever in my elevated position as your assistant.”
He set his lunch down, leaning back and holding up his hands. “Slow down, baby. I’m not looking for a commitment.”
At that, her cheeks turned bright red. She took another bite of coleslaw, leaving a smear of mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he leaned in and brushed his thumb across the smudge, and along the edge of her lower lip.
He didn’t realize it was a mistake until the slug of heat hit him low and fast in the gut.
He hadn’t realized it would be a mistake because she was such a mousy little thing, a church secretary. Because his taste didn’t run to that kind of thing. At least, that’s what he would have said.
But while his brain might have a conscience, he discovered in that moment that his body certainly did not.
It was like striking a match, his thumb sweeping across her skin. It left a trail of fire where he touched, and made her feel hot in places he hadn’t. She was... Well, she was immobilized.
Like a deer caught in the headlights, seeing exactly what was barreling down on her, and unable to move.
Except, of course, Jonathan wasn’t barreling down on her. He wasn’t moving at all.
He was just looking at her, his dark eyes glittering, his expression like granite. She followed his lead, unsure of what to do. Of how she should react.
And then, suddenly, everything clicked into place. Exactly what she was feeling, exactly what she was doing...and exactly how much of an idiot she was.
She took a deep breath, gasping as though she’d been submerged beneath water. She turned her chair sideways, facing the computer again. “Well,” she said, “thank you for lunch.”
Fiddlesticks. And darn it. And fudging graham crackers.
She had just openly stared at her boss, probably looking like a guppy gasping on dry land because he had wiped mayonnaise off her lip. Which was—as things went—probably one of the more platonic touches a man and a woman could share.
The problem was, she couldn’t remember ever being touched—even platonically—by a man who wasn’t family. So she had been completely unprepared for the reaction it created inside her. Which she had no doubt he’d noticed.
Attraction. She had felt attracted to him.
Backtracking, she realized the tight feeling in her stomach that had appeared the first moment she’d seen him was probably attraction.
That was bad. Very bad.
But what she was really curious about, was why this attraction felt different from what she’d felt around other men she had liked. She’d felt fluttery feelings before. Most notably for Grant Daniels, the junior high youth pastor, a couple years ago. She had really liked him, and she was pretty sure he’d liked her, too, but he hadn’t seemed willing to make a move.
She had conversations with him over coffee in the
