feels inside that counts, an individual's personal relationship with God. Anson forced me to attend services with him. I went, but rebelliously. He attended to see and be seen, not for any spiritual uplifting. I abhor that kind of hypocrisy."
"So do I. We probably have more in common than you think."
He was trying for a lighter mood, but she was still concerned. Uppermost in her mind was the thought that she might be hurt again. She had married a man who had wanted to change her. She had made him unhappy because she obviously wasn't what he had really wanted. The wounds he had inflicted on her spirit had been slow to heal. He had made her feel unworthy, shameful. And if she'd been made to feel that way by a social climber like Anson, how would she fare with a spiritual man like Ian? Dismally.
"I couldn't change, Ian. I wouldn't if I could. I prefer to think freely, to form my own opinions about things, and to voice those opinions when and where I feel like it. I'd never want to cause you embarrassment or shame, but I couldn't be stifled."
"I knew all that when I came to see you today. I like you as you are, or I wouldn't be here. As I said earlier, you're a far cry from the women who are usually pawned off on me."
"Do you have blind dates arranged for you by so-called friends?"
"When I don't adamantly refuse them. You know, so-and-so's cousin who's visiting from Iowa, or so-and-so's kid sister who just graduated from an all-girl school and has a 'very good personality.'"
Laughter took away her worried expression. "I think we have the same friends!"
He pulled her to him, and they rocked from side to side as they laughed. She wondered how she had spent the whole weekend with him yet never realized how much fun they could have together.
"Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand are going to be at Madison Square Garden next Friday night," Ian said. "Would you meet me in the city for dinner and the concert?"
"You like Neil Diamond, too? Along with Blondie and the Bee Gees?"
"Don't forget the Beach Boys," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
"I'll never forget the Beach Boys." She sighed as his mouth closed over hers. His tongue sought out the vulnerable spots in her mouth and stroked them. He was an inordinately talented kisser, and Shay meant to ask him how he had acquired such a technique, but he was asking his own question.
"Will you meet me? Those tickets were expensive, and I live on a minister's salary, don't forget."
She struggled to back away from him. "Are you sure you want to pursue this, Ian? I won't hold it against you if you want to shake hands and part friends now." She might die, but she wouldn't hold it against him.
"I want to do more than shake hands with you." The kisses he was planting on the side of her neck confirmed that.
It was incomprehensible to her how his mouth could so effortlessly convince her that what they were about to do was wise. "I'll meet you," she heard herself half-whimper, half-sigh.
"Penn Station? Six o'clock? Will you have any trouble getting a train?"
"Penn Station at six will be fine, but I'll drive. I don't want to take the train home late alone."
"Good idea."
More exquisite kissing followed. Finally Ian raised his head and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I've got to go so you can get your dinner."
"I could fix something for both of us," she said hopefully, swaying toward him.
He shook his head. "We've got to take this slowly. An invitation to coffee was the only way I could see to get you out of the shop and alone. I can't tell you how glad I am that there's a scarcity of coffee shops in this town."
"Absolves you of guilt?" she teased.
He grinned. "Something like that."
Still holding her hand, he hooked his sportcoat over his shoulder and went to the door. "Till Friday?"
She nodded. "Till Friday."
They stood very close, the tips of her breasts lightly grazing his shirtfront. Long ago she'd given up trying not to look at him, to pretend indifference. Having survived the
"So do I. We probably have more in common than you think."
He was trying for a lighter mood, but she was still concerned. Uppermost in her mind was the thought that she might be hurt again. She had married a man who had wanted to change her. She had made him unhappy because she obviously wasn't what he had really wanted. The wounds he had inflicted on her spirit had been slow to heal. He had made her feel unworthy, shameful. And if she'd been made to feel that way by a social climber like Anson, how would she fare with a spiritual man like Ian? Dismally.
"I couldn't change, Ian. I wouldn't if I could. I prefer to think freely, to form my own opinions about things, and to voice those opinions when and where I feel like it. I'd never want to cause you embarrassment or shame, but I couldn't be stifled."
"I knew all that when I came to see you today. I like you as you are, or I wouldn't be here. As I said earlier, you're a far cry from the women who are usually pawned off on me."
"Do you have blind dates arranged for you by so-called friends?"
"When I don't adamantly refuse them. You know, so-and-so's cousin who's visiting from Iowa, or so-and-so's kid sister who just graduated from an all-girl school and has a 'very good personality.'"
Laughter took away her worried expression. "I think we have the same friends!"
He pulled her to him, and they rocked from side to side as they laughed. She wondered how she had spent the whole weekend with him yet never realized how much fun they could have together.
"Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand are going to be at Madison Square Garden next Friday night," Ian said. "Would you meet me in the city for dinner and the concert?"
"You like Neil Diamond, too? Along with Blondie and the Bee Gees?"
"Don't forget the Beach Boys," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
"I'll never forget the Beach Boys." She sighed as his mouth closed over hers. His tongue sought out the vulnerable spots in her mouth and stroked them. He was an inordinately talented kisser, and Shay meant to ask him how he had acquired such a technique, but he was asking his own question.
"Will you meet me? Those tickets were expensive, and I live on a minister's salary, don't forget."
She struggled to back away from him. "Are you sure you want to pursue this, Ian? I won't hold it against you if you want to shake hands and part friends now." She might die, but she wouldn't hold it against him.
"I want to do more than shake hands with you." The kisses he was planting on the side of her neck confirmed that.
It was incomprehensible to her how his mouth could so effortlessly convince her that what they were about to do was wise. "I'll meet you," she heard herself half-whimper, half-sigh.
"Penn Station? Six o'clock? Will you have any trouble getting a train?"
"Penn Station at six will be fine, but I'll drive. I don't want to take the train home late alone."
"Good idea."
More exquisite kissing followed. Finally Ian raised his head and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I've got to go so you can get your dinner."
"I could fix something for both of us," she said hopefully, swaying toward him.
He shook his head. "We've got to take this slowly. An invitation to coffee was the only way I could see to get you out of the shop and alone. I can't tell you how glad I am that there's a scarcity of coffee shops in this town."
"Absolves you of guilt?" she teased.
He grinned. "Something like that."
Still holding her hand, he hooked his sportcoat over his shoulder and went to the door. "Till Friday?"
She nodded. "Till Friday."
They stood very close, the tips of her breasts lightly grazing his shirtfront. Long ago she'd given up trying not to look at him, to pretend indifference. Having survived the
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