Dream A Little Dream

13

I'm a fox.

I'm a fox.

I'm a fox.

Kristy pressed the palm of her hand to her chest, which was barely covered by a scoopy little ice-blue tank top tucked into a pair of white jeans so tight they would have showed her panty line if she weren't wearing something called a thong that didn't leave a panty line, but did give her a wedgie.

As she settled behind the neatly arranged desk in her office, her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat, but she couldn't feel it beneath her palm because her breasts were in the way, monumental breasts pushed up to centerfold proportions by the Wonderbra that the saleslady at the boutique in Asheville told her she absolutely had to buy, along with several dozen other essentials that had eaten up a chunk of the savings she'd set aside to furnish the bedroom in her new condo.

She'd been building up her nerve for two weeks, ever since the night she'd told Rachel about her feelings for Ethan. In four days, she'd be moving into her condo. It was a time for new beginnings.

The breeze from the open window lifted a lock of her dark, baby-fine hair. It was cut short now and feathered. That's what the hairdresser had said: We're feathering-feathering in a simple, yet important, sort of way.

Now her simple, yet important, hair tickled her cheeks and brushed the nape of her neck. A few feathers flew over her eyebrows and into her eyes. Feathers flicked the sparkly one-karat cubic zirconia studs in her earlobes. Feathers., feathers, feathers, until she felt like a canary. It was so untidy.

When she'd walked into the cottage after her makeover yesterday and seen Rachel's jaw drop in amazement, she'd burst into tears.

Rachel, however, had burst out in delighted laughter. "Kristy, you look like a really stylish tramp! And I mean that in the very best way."

Rachel had hugged her and fussed over her and ordered her to lay out all her purchases: the clothes, and underwear, the expensive new makeup, and the trillion-dollar-an-ounce exquisitely sultry perfume that had made Edward wrinkle his nose and tell Kristy she smelled like a mag'zine.

After admiring all Kristy's new purchases, Rachel had told Her she was beautiful, then glared at her in that intimidating way she had. "You're doing this for yourself, aren't you, Kristy? You're doing it because you want to, not just because you're trying to catch the attention of that worthless Ethan Bonner."

"I'm doing this for myself," Kristy had repeated, even though both of them knew it was a lie. If she had her way, she'd have her plain old long hair back, her plain old clothes, her plain old face scrubbed clean of everything but a little lipstick. If she were doing it for herself, she'd be invisible again, because she liked invisible. She craved invisible. She was born to be invisible.

But invisible wouldn't catch the attention of the dream-boat preacher.

Her blood froze as she heard his confident step in the hallway. The church office was closed on Mondays, so there was a lot of work they had to catch up on today. Dear God, please let him be overcome with lust quickly because I don't know if I can carry this off for very long.

"Morning." He breezed into the office. "Bring me the report from the mission committee, will you, so I can look it over? And let's see if we can get the July calendar finalized." He sailed past her desk and into his office without a glance.

Good old invisible Kristy Brown.

She snatched up her purse, pulled out the tiny flagon of perfume, and spritzed ten dollars' worth into her cleavage. She did a quick check of her appearance in the mirror of her new compact: light foundation, delicately arched eyebrows, thick, smoky-brown lashes, pale blush, and a crimson hooker's mouth.

Oh, dear. That mouth. But the makeup salesgirl had insisted and Kristy remembered what Rachel had said that morning. One look at your mouth, Kristy,, and Reverend Stud Man's going to be having some very naughty thoughts. Not that you care, since you bought that lipstick for yourself.

Kristy collected the neatly arranged papers she needed, then promptly dropped them. As she bent to pick them up, she saw flashy magenta toenails peeking through the straps of a slim gold sandal, and she felt as if she were looking at someone else's foot.

I'm a fox. I'm a fox. I'm a foolish, feathered fox.

Ethan had his head bent over a curriculum catalog. Today he wore a white shirt with a narrow maroon stripe and navy slacks. His long tapered fingers played with the edges of the catalog, and she thought of those same fingers- playing with the catch of her Wonderbra.

With her heart pounding, she set the mission committee's report on the desk, automatically straightened a pile of mail, then sat in her customary place opposite him. As she crossed her legs, the tight white jeans nearly cut off her circulation, but she ignored the discomfort.

Ethan studied the report. "I wish I knew how to light a fire under them. I want this year's Compassion Campaign to be our best yet, but the mission committee's most exciting idea so far is to put a financial thermometer poster in the narthex."

"Why don't we get the adult-education class involved in the planning? They're enthusiastic about mission." Look up at me! Let me knock you out!

"Um. Good idea. Call Mary Lou and feel her out, will you?"

Feel me up, will you? That thought made her face turn red. She shifted and sent out a fresh cloud of perfume.

Ethan sniffed, but didn't look up.

She slid the July calendar across his desk. Surely he'd notice that she had six rings on that hand, seductive little gold and silver bangles that nestled together like lovers' hands.

He didn't notice. "We've got a conflict on the tenth. I have a synod meeting. Either we reschedule the Vacation Bible School picnic or they can have it without me."

She wanted to run from the office, but if she ran now, she'd never be able to do this again. She forced herself to her feet, then walked around the side of his desk until she stood next to him. "The children will be disappointed if you're not there. Why don't I have them shift the picnic to Thursday?"

He sneezed. She handed him a tissue from a box on the credenza, and he wiped his perfectly formed nose. "Isn't that the day we're inviting the parents in for lunch?"

"Not a problem." She pressed her hip closer to his side. "We'll move that earlier in the week."

"Okay." He tossed the tissue into the trash. "Make sure I'm there."

She couldn't take any more. Pointing to the calendar, she leaned down and popped one elevated breast right under his eyes. "The twenty-third will be the perfect day for the Friends of Jesus pageant."

Silence. A long, labored silence.

The muscles at the back of his elegant neck tightened. His lean fingers flattened on his desk, and her entire life seemed to flash before her eyes, all thirty boring years, as she waited for him to look up from her breast.

He slowly raised his head, moving inch by inch, but the power of speech seemed to have left him by the time his gaze reached her face. Finally, the muscles in his throat began to work as he swallowed. "Kristy?"

She told herself to pretend she was Rachel. What would Rachel do in this situation? She tilted up her chin and placed one trembling hand on her hip. "Yeah?" As the word came out, she nearly choked on it. She had never in her life answered anyone by saying Yeah.

He stared at her. "New… uh… New blouse-er-top?"

She nodded and tried to look bored, but it was difficult because this was the first time she could ever remember having Ethan Bonner's full attention. She began to perspire and hoped it didn't show.

He wasn't deliberately staring, she knew that. Rather, it seemed that he'd lost track of his eyes. He took in her hair, her makeup, her scarlet mouth, her breasts and clothes, back to her breasts.

He slowly began to recover. His eyebrows drew together, and there was a gruffness in his voice that didn't sound as if she'd maddened him with lust. "What've you done to yourself?"

She wanted to cry, but Rachel would kill her if she crumbled. "I-I was bored. It was t-time for a change."

"Change! You look like… like…" Once again, his eyes stalled on her breasts, then he drew a deep breath. "You can wear whatever you like when you're not working, but that's not appropriate for the office."

"What's not appropriate?"

"Well, those jeans, for example…"

"You wear jeans to the office all the time. Billie Lake wears jeans when she subs for me."

"Yes, but… All right, yes, the jeans are fine. Of course, they're fine, but…" His eyes returned to her breasts. "Your… uh, lipstick is a little… Well, it's a little bright."

She was suddenly furious. He drooled over Laura Delapino with her crimson lipstick, but because she was good old reliable Kristy Brown, he only wanted to criticize. She couldn't imagine Rachel standing silently and letting a man do this do her.

"You don't like my lipstick," she said flatly.

"I didn't say that. It's not my place to like it or not. I just think for a church office…"

Rachel would never put up with this. Not in a million years. And neither would she.

"If you don't like it, you can fire me."

He seemed genuinely shocked. "Kristy!"

She had to get out of here before she started to cry.

"Now there's no need to get upset." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure once you have a chance to think this over…"

"I have, and I quit!"

She dashed from the office, feathers flying, then snatched up her purse and ran outside to her car where she promptly collapsed against the steering wheel and burst into tears. Had she really expected him to fall in love with her just because she'd cantilevered her breasts? She was still the same dull, pathetic woman who'd lived most of her life mooning over a man who would never in a million years moon back. Except now she was jobless, too.

Through her tears, she saw the back door fly open and Ethan come running out. She couldn't let him see her like this, a pathetic loser crying over her miserable life. She snatched her keys from her purse and shoved them in the ignition.

"Kristy!"

The engine roared to life. He ran toward her. She shot out of her parking space.

He rushed to the side of her car. "Stop it, Kristy! You're overreacting! Let's talk about this."

That was when she did the unthinkable. She rolled down the window, thrust out her hand, and gave Reverend Ethan Bonner the bird.

Two days had passed since Kristy had shown up at the church dressed like an upper-crust hooker, and Ethan still hadn't gotten over the shock. "Look at the way she's carrying on!" His glare took in the Mountaineer's postage-stamp dance floor, where Kristy Brown was dancing with Andy Miels, who was nearly ten years her junior.

Her movements were a little self-conscious, but no one sitting at the bar's rustic pine tables seemed to notice.

Kristy had shown up at the Mountaineer in a tight black skirt that ended at mid-thigh and a clinging, deeply cut melon-colored top displaying a full set of breasts that no one had ever suspected she possessed. She'd accessorized the outfit with a glittery black-and-gold Y-necklace, the tip of which nestled at the top of her cleavage. Her fake diamond studs sparkled through the wisps of dark-brown hair that fluttered around her face as she danced.

Until Kristy had walked in, Ethan had been eating a hamburger and trying to extract information from Gabe about his relationship with the black widow. Last week when Ethan had caught Rachel trying to steal the chest that held Jane's computer disks, he'd wondered if his brother and Rachel might have something more going on than a work relationship. The possibility scared him to death. By now, Rachel had to know that Gabe was wealthy. He'd always been careless about finances, and she was the worst sort of opportunist. Every time she looked at him, she had to see a walking, talking cash machine.

But his probing into Gabe's private life had come to an abrupt end when Kristy arrived. "She came in here alone!" Ethan exclaimed. "She didn't even have the decency to bring a girlfriend." He glared at Kristy's dancing partner. "And I swear, Gabe, she used to baby-sit Andy Miels!"

"Doesn't look like either of them is thinking about that now," Gabe said.

Kristy was no stranger to the Mountaineer. Since the county was dry, local residents paid a minimal membership fee to belong to private "bottle clubs." The Mountaineer also had a small restaurant toward the front that offered the best food in town and a lively bar in the back that frequently served as the town meeting place.

The Mountaineer was entirely respectable, and, over the years, Kristy had lunched here often and shared dinner in the quaint dining room with family or friends, but no one had ever seen her like this. Alone. In the bar. At night. And dressed like this.

Ethan could barely contain himself. "Do you know what she did Tuesday in the parking lot after she ran out on me? She gave me the old one-finger salute. Kristy Brown!"

"I believe you've already mentioned that," Gabe said. "Three times."

"She's moving into her condo this weekend. Don't you think that someone who's probably spent the day packing up boxes should be too tired to party?"

"She doesn't look real tired."

Kristy laughed at something Andy said and let him lead her back to the table he was sharing with a couple of his college buddies, who'd come to visit. They looked like a bunch of slackers to Ethan. Caps turned backward, earrings, scraggly goatees stuck to their chins like fraying Brillo pads.

Well-built slackers, though. Andy played football for North Carolina State, and the size of the others at the table made Ethan suspect they were his teammates.

"This is all Rachel Snopes's doing."

Gabe's fingers tightened around his glass of club soda. "Her name is Stone. Rachel Stone."

"She's turned Kristy into a-a slut."

"Watch it, Eth."

"Her clothes are so tight it's a wonder she can move."

"But she's moving all right. Look at that." Kristy had just propped her arms on the table and leaned forward to hear something one of the football players was saying. "She's-she's sticking herself right in their faces!"

"It's hard to believe you never noticed that chest until now."

"You didn't notice, either."

"I haven't worked with her nearly every day of my life for the past eight years."

Ethan's frustration boiled over. "It's a good thing she quit because otherwise I'd have had to fire her. How could I have my church secretary behaving like that?"

Gabe spoke mildly. "She doesn't dress much different from Laura Delapino or Amy Majors, and you seem to admire them."

"They're not Kristy, and I don't know why you're being so stupid about this. She was fine until the Widow Snopes moved in with her. It's obvious that corrupting Kristy is just one more part of Rachel's plan to upset this town."

"You think she has a plan?"

Ethan shrugged.

Gabe's voice dropped. "You listen to me, Eth. It's taking every resource Rachel has just to keep her head above water. She's been shunned, her tires have been slashed, Annie's cottage vandalized. Don't talk to me about her plan to upset this town."

He was right, but Ethan's flash of guilt disappeared as he watched Andy tilt his beer mug to Kristy's lips. He shot to his feet. "That's it! I'm getting her out of here."

From across the bar, Kristy watched Ethan storm toward her. He'd ironed his T-shirt again, she noticed. It was very old, vintage Grateful Dead, but one of his favorites, and he took good care of it.

Ethan's clothes were always neat. He'd even pressed his perfectly faded jeans. His blond hair was well-cut and combed into place, his eyes liquid blue. Once his mother told Kristy the Bonner family had a great, unspoken secret. Although no one ever said it aloud, they all loved Ethan the best.

Well, not Kristy. She didn't love him the best. He'd betrayed her, and now she was immune to that Gospel-preaching, God-speaking rat.

"Kristy, I'd like to talk to you."

"Shoot," she managed, just as sassy as anything Rachel would have come up with. For good measure, she added a head toss that sent her little feathers flying.

She wouldn't let him see how crushed she'd been by his attitude Tuesday morning. Afterward, she'd rushed back to the cottage and gathered up all her new clothes to throw them out. But then the sight of her reflection in the old cherry mirror over the dresser had stopped her.

As she'd gazed at herself, she finally understood what Rachel had been trying to tell her from the beginning. If she were going to do this, she had to do it for herself, not so she could catch a stuffy glamour boy of a preacher with the emotional maturity of a sixteen-year-old. That was when she'd decided she owed it to herself to give her new image a fair test trial and see how she liked it.

"I want to speak with you in private."

He wanted to lecture her. Without thinking, she picked up a napkin and began dabbing at water rings. It had taken all her courage to come in here alone tonight, and she wasn't up to being yelled at. She shook her head.

His voice grew harder. "Now, Kristy."

"No."

"Fuck off, asshole."

Andy's roommate had spoken, and Kristy stared at him, shocked. Nobody talked to Ethan like that. And then she remembered that Jason was from Charlotte and didn't know who Ethan was.

Andy punched his friend in the arm. "Uh-sorry about that, Pastor Ethan. Jason's not from around here."

Ethan gave them both a stare that threatened eternal damnation, then turned his Elmer Gantry eyes back on her. "Kristina, come with me immediately."

The jukebox launched into "You Don't Own Me."

Kristy's stomach curled with nervousness. She gathered up a crumpled cocktail napkin, cellophane from a package of cigarettes, and moved the beer pitcher closer to the center of the table so everyone could reach it more easily.

He leaned over and spoke so softly only she could hear. "If you don't do as I say, I'm going to pick you up and carry you out of here."

He didn't look like Pastor Ethan, everybody's friend, and belatedly Kristy remembered that he had a temper. He didn't display it often, and he was always remorseful afterward, but this wasn't afterward, this was now, and she decided not to take any chances.

Rising with as much dignity as she could muster, she nodded. "Very well. I suppose I can spare you a few minutes."

Ethan was not gracious in victory. "Darned right you can."

He took her arm in a firm grasp, but as she stepped forward, she found her nervousness easing. A fuzzy pink cloud had settled over her, bringing with it a feeling of well-being. She wasn't used to drinking, and although she'd barely finished two beers, she realized it had been enough to make her a bit giddy. It felt wonderful, and she decided that Ethan could preach at her all he wanted, and it wouldn't bother her one bit.

Ethan led her toward his car. As they approached, he used his free hand-the one that wasn't fastened to her arm-to pat the left pocket of his jeans. Not finding what he wanted, he tried the opposite one, then reached around to explore the back pockets.

He'd forgotten his keys again. They were undoubtedly lying on the table inside, which was why she always kept a spare set in her purse.

She automatically reached for it, then realized she wasn't carrying her old purse of many pockets, but a trendy little quilted number on a gold chain. She also remembered that Rachel had told her to stop mothering him.

"I left my keys inside." He held out his hand. "I need the spare set."

Good old reliable Kristy Brown. His absolute certainty that she would be carrying his spare keys-even though she no longer worked for him-poked a large hole in her fuzzy pink cloud, and she realized she wasn't nearly as drunk as she wanted to be. "That's unfortunate."

He released her arm. Giving her an irritated look, he hooked the purse by its chain and drew it off her shoulder. She watched in silence as he riffled through its contents.

"They're not here."

"I don't work for you anymore, remember? I don't have to carry around your keys."

"Of course you still work for-" He froze. Slowly his hand emerged from her purse holding a small square foil packet. "What is this?"

She was mortified. Her skin flushed, and that embarrassed her even more, until she realized it was too dark in the parking lot for him to see. She took a deep breath and struggled to speak calmly. "It's a condom, Ethan. I'm surprised you've never seen one."

"Of course I've seen one!"

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I want to know what it's doing in your purse."

Her embarrassment faded, replaced by anger. "That's none of your business." She snatched it away from him, slipped it back into her purse, and returned the strap to her shoulder.

Two couples, one of whom belonged to Ethan's congregation, came out of the Mountaineer. Ethan grabbed her arm again and pulled her toward his car only to come to a stop as he remembered he couldn't get in. He glanced toward the couples, who were just beginning to move off the porch, and she knew he wanted to get away before he was spotted.

The Mountaineer was located on a quiet dead-end street between a children's boutique and a gift shop, both of which were dark for the night. Across the street was a small, wooded park with some picnic tables and play equipment. Ethan apparently decided the park was the closest escape because he turned her toward the street, and, with a none-too-gentle grip, led her there.

On nice days, local businesspeople ate their lunches on the picnic tables that were scattered underneath the trees. Using the light of the street lamp to keep from stumbling, Ethan led her to the most secluded of the tables.

"Sit down."

She didn't appreciate his bossy manner, so instead of sitting on the bench where he indicated, she stepped up on it and sat on the tabletop. He had no intention of relinquishing his authority by sitting below her, so he took a place at her side.

His legs were longer than hers, and they bent at a sharper angle. As she glanced over at him, she thought she saw him looking down her top, but when she heard the stuffy note in his voice as he spoke, she decided she'd been wrong.

"I'm your pastor, and the fact that a single woman in my congregation is carrying around a condom is very much my business."

Why was he acting like this? Ethan always respected people's choices, even if he didn't agree with them, and she'd heard his youth-group lectures on sexual responsibility. He vehemently preached abstinence, but he was also blunt about birth control and AIDS prevention.

"Every single woman in your congregation who's sexually active had better be carrying some of these around," she observed.

"What do you mean, sexually active? Who are you-I mean-But-How-"

Ethan Bonner, known for his sexual straight talk, was sputtering. He finally gathered himself together. "I didn't know there was a man in your life."

The last of her fuzzy pink cloud evaporated, and a sort of desperate boldness took its place. What, after all, did she have to lose? "How would you? You don't know anything about my life."

He seemed genuinely shocked. "We've known each other since elementary school. You're one of my oldest friends."

"Is that the way you see me?"

"Of course."

"You're right, I'm your friend." She swallowed, mustering her courage. "But you're not mine, Ethan. Friends know things about each other, but you don't know anything about me."

"What do you mean? I know lots about you."

"Like what?"

"I know your parents, the house where you grew up. I know that you broke your arm two years ago. I know lots of things."

"A hundred people know things. But they don't know me. Who I am."

"You're a decent, hardworking Christian woman, that's who."

"It was no use. She had tried to talk honestly to him," but he wouldn't hear. She began to stand on the bench. "I have to go."

"No!" He drew her back down. In the process, her breast brushed the side of his arm. He drew back as if he'd touched radioactive waste.

"Look, I'm-I'm not trying to offend you. Your sex life is your business, not mine, but, as your pastor, I'm here to advise you."

She hardly ever got angry, but that sparked her temper. "I'm not asking for advice, Ethan, because I've already made up my mind! That condom is in my purse because I'm making changes in my life, and I want to be ready for them."

"Sex before marriage is a sin." He didn't sound at all like himself. He shifted uneasily next to her, as if he realized he was being unbearably pompous. Once again, his gaze seemed to linger on her breasts. He looked away.

She spoke forcefully. "I believe it's a sin, too. But I also believe there's a hierarchy of sins. Don't try to tell me that murder and sexual molestation don't rank a lot higher on the list than a thirty-year-old unmarried woman finally deciding she's had enough of being a virgin."

She waited for him to express some surprise at her untouched state, but he didn't, and her spirits sank even lower as she realized he assumed she was a virgin.

"With whom do you intend to have it?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm looking. He obviously has to be unmarried and intelligent. And sensitive." She emphasized the last word, so that he'd understand this was a quality he'd never possess in a thousand years.

He bristled like a porcupine. "I can't believe you're ready to throw away a lifetime of propriety for a few carnal thrills."

, He was sounding stuffier by the minute. "What's propriety gotten me? I have nothing that's important to me. No husband, no children. I don't even have a job I like."

"You don't like your job?" He sounded both hurt and mystified.

"No, Ethan. I don't like it."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because I've been a wimp. It was safer for me to be depressed about my life than make changes."

"Then why did you stay all these years?"

That was one question she couldn't answer honestly. He probably knew anyway that she'd stayed because she was in love with him. "Fear of change. But I'm not afraid any longer."

"Rachel is responsible for this, isn't she?"

"Why do you dislike her so much?"

"Because she's taking advantage of Gabe."

Kristy didn't believe that at all, but Ethan was in no frame of mind to listen to reason. "You're right. Rachel is responsible because she's given me courage. I've never met a woman I admire more. She's living her life on the edge of catastrophe, but she never complains, and she works harder than anyone I know."

"Gabe's made it easy for her. He's given her a job and a car. He lets her stay in Annie's cottage and pays for Edward's day care."

"That's confidential. And Rachel has given Gabe a hundred times what he's given her. It's as if he's come alive since she's been here. He even laughs sometimes."

"His grieving has run its course, that's all. It has nothing to do with her. Nothing!"

Arguing about this with him was hopeless. For some reason, he was determined to be blind and stubborn when it came to Rachel.

His mouth set in a stubborn line. "I'd appreciate it if you'd at least give me the courtesy of two weeks' notice instead of leaving me in the lurch."

He had a point. Quitting like that hadn't been right, no matter what he'd done. She thought about how difficult it would be seeing him every day for the next two weeks. Still, she'd been doing it for eight years. What difference would another two weeks make? And it would be nice to have a paycheck while she looked for a new job. "All right. But only if you keep your nose out of my private life. And my wardrobe."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Kristy. It was the shock of seeing you look so different."

She rose from the table. "I'm chilly. I'm going back inside now."

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Forget the two weeks' notice."

"All right. Sorry. Go on in. You can sit with Gabe and me."

"No. I want to dance."

"I'll dance with you."

"That'll be a big treat." Obviously he thought the only way he could save her from sin was to force himself to dance with her.

"Why are you being so difficult?"

"Because I like it!" Her heart pounded. She was never rude, but she couldn't seem to help it, and the words kept rushing out. "Because I'm tired of twisting my own life in ten directions just to make things easier for other people."

"You mean easier for me."

"I don't want to talk any more."

She brushed past him and headed for the Mountaineer, even though all she wanted now was to go home and be alone.

As Ethan watched her disappear, guilt swamped him even as he told himself he had nothing to feel guilty for. "You have a wonderful life!" he called after her. "You have the respect of everyone in the community!"

"Well now, isn't that something cozy to cuddle up with on a cold winter night." As she shot the words back over her shoulder, she stepped into a pool of light from the street lamp. It defined her figure in a way that made his palms sweat.

The entire world had gone crazy, he decided. Right before his eyes, Kristy Brown had turned into a babe. As the light washed over her, her dark hair seemed to have fireflies dancing in it. She wasn't beautiful; her features were too ordinary for that. Although they were pretty, they were hardly exceptional. Instead, she was… sexy.

It bothered him to think of Kristy as sexy. There was something unnatural about it, like throwing lascivious glances at a sister. But ever since Tuesday morning he'd been thinking about those breasts.

Pig, Oprah said. There's a lot more to Kristy Brown than big breasts.

I know that! he shot back. It was the whole package: the small waist and rounded hips, the slender legs, that flighty hairstyle, and a new vulnerability-maybe that was the sexiest thing of all. Kristy no longer seemed so supremely competent, but like an ordinary person who had the same insecurities as everyone else.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and tried to figure out why he was so upset by the changes in her. Because he was losing a darned good secretary, that was why.

Wrong, Oprah said. You are so wrong.

All right! There was too much truth in what Kristy had said tonight. He did regard her as one of his oldest friends, but until now, he hadn't realized how selfish that friendship had been.

She was right. Everything had been one-sided. He knew the events of her life, but nothing more. He didn't know how she spent her spare time, what made her happy, what made her sad. He tried to recall what she liked to eat, but all he could remember was the way she made sure there was always a supply of spicy brown mustard in the church refrigerator for his sandwiches.

When he thought of Kristy, he thought of a…

He flinched.

He thought of an efficient doormat. Always there, always willing to extend herself to help out. Never demanding anything for herself, only for others.

He stared off into the night. What a phony he was, calling himself a minister. This was one more example of his flawed character and why he needed to find another profession.

Kristy was a good person, a good friend, and he'd hurt her. That meant he had to make amends. And he only had two weeks to do it before she would disappear from his life.