Secret Agent Minister by Lenora Worth Page A

behind. Lydia’s heart ached with all that had happened, all that he’d tried to save her from seeing. Not only did he have the burden of his friend’s death back in Atlanta, but he had the burden of protecting her. And the memories of a past he’d tried to leave behind.
    She couldn’t stay mad at him. He was still a good man, still her hero, even if he did regret kissing her. She reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to complain, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to take one little kiss seriously. One little, heart-changing, mind-altering kiss.
    He gave her a long look filled with a dark intensity that scared her. She sent him a hopeful smile as a counteraction. “I’m okay. And right now, I’m so hungry, I’d even be willing to eat prune cake.”
    His eyes grew bright again, then he looked away at the rich green pastures of the Texas hillside while he swiped at his face with his dirty jacket sleeve. And when he looked back, his eyes were dry. And blank.

NINE
    L ydia relaxed in a luxurious robe, her face slathered in a mud mask, wondering how she’d gone from a drowned rat to reclining diva in a matter of minutes.
    It was those women. The three with the big hair and the even bigger diamonds. Wishing she had her journal—which, along with Pastor Dev’s trusty briefcase full of gadgets, had been left behind at Kissie’s place—Lydia thought back over this morning’s events, trying very hard not to think about that kiss that had started them on yet another grand adventure.
    At least they were safe here in this country club retreat deep in the Texas hill country. After they’d gotten off the watermelon truck—and Lydia felt as if she’d fallen off the watermelon truck—Pastor Dev had turned her over to some of the richest matrons in Texas—or at least from the way they talked and acted, Lydia had surmised that. Then after telling her he’d see her later, he’d promptly disappeared to give a “briefing” to someone.
    Lydia herself had been briefed on what to expect, but this briefing was more of a flutter of chatter and chuckles coming from her three matrons as they each introduced themselves and gave her a little bit of background.
    “Hello, darlin’, bless your heart.” This from Lulu Anderson. Lulu had old oil money to burn, from everything Lydia could glean. And she had the bouffant blond hair and expensively altered skin to back it. “You just come with us, suga’. We’re gonna get you all cleaned up and polished like a new set of pearls.”
    Lydia could only nod as she was ushered into a big, sprawling Spanish-style ranch house. The interior was light and open, with cool terra-cotta tiles and soft leather furniture everywhere. Out back, a large pool bubbled and flowed in never-ending serenity in front of a beautiful view of the distant hills and vistas. Servants hurried here and there, following Lulu’s clipped, cultured instructions.
    “We’re putting Miss Lydia in the French suite,” Lulu told an aging butler. “Hurry now, Alexandre.”
    “Don’t worry about a thing, honey,” Sally Mae Barton said, her black hair shimmering in its chignon. “We know how to handle these situations.” Sally Mae reminded Lydia of an aging Scarlett O’Hara. And she seemed just as formidable.
    “Are you all members of CHAIM?” Lydia, shocked and fatigued, asked.
    “No, sweetie pie, not anymore. Now we’re just married to men who are.”
    That caused Lydia’s mind to venture into a territory she probably shouldn’t be exploring at all. “So, CHAIM members are allowed to have families?”
    “Sure, honey. Not only is it allowed, but it makes for a good cover.” The third woman wrapped a plump arm around Lydia’s shoulder. “I’m Rita Simpson. I’m an executive director with Mary Kay. You need a mask. Immediately.”
    “Of course she needs a mask, and a long nap, too,” Lulu said, rolling her heavily lined blue eyes. “She’ll get all of that, and yes, Rita, you can give her a