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“What makes you think I take bubble baths?”
“There’s a big bottle of vanilla-scented bubble bath beside your tub, and your skin always has a delicious hint of vanilla.”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Completely,” he admitted.
She turned in his arms. “Well, it won’t work. We aren’t doing nearly enough here to protect these poor kids.”
He rested his hands lightly on her waist. “I know, but it’ll take a lot more in grant money to expand our services, and I’ve nearly exhausted every source.”
“I’m not criticizing you,” she stressed. “But the kids need tutoring, GEDs, the chance to join the Merchant Marine, to go to beauty school, whatever. They just need a whole lot more than lunch and a sympathetic ear.”
Luke dropped his hands and stepped back. “You bucking for my job?”
“No, I just want Lost Angel to offer more than pimps.”
“So do I. The awful reality of the kids’ lives grinds up the majority of our volunteers to aching little bits. I don’t want that to happen to you. Now, please go on home. We’ll work on broadening our services just as soon as we get the mural started.”
“Promise?”
He raised his hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“What about scouting?” she asked. “How many eagle scouts come through here?”
Luke opened his door. “Go.”
“I’ll be back.”
He laughed. “I’m counting on it.”
She closed the door on her way out and smiled as Pam winked at her. “How can you stand working here?” she asked.
“I came with Luke, and I’ll leave when he does. You ought to hang in there too, girl. He’s worth the trouble, and I know he thinks the world of you. He’s even come into work smiling a time or two lately, and that didn’t happen before you arrived.”
Catherine had not viewed Luke and Lost Angel as inseparable entities, and it startled her to think that maybe she should. She planned to volunteer only through the summer, and yet she’d made demands Luke couldn’t easily fulfill. Embarrassed now, she left for home burdened by the weight of a guilty conscience.
That evening, Luke stopped by Catherine’s house on his way home. “You didn’t list your email address on your application,” he told her.
He actually appeared perplexed by the oversight, but she doubted he truly was. “You have an amazing array of excuses for making house calls, Dr. Starns, but come on in. Would you like something to drink?”
He followed her into the kitchen. “No, thanks. I’m serious, Catherine, I really should have your email address.”
She’d just finished her dinner dishes, and she folded the dish towel over the rack before she replied. “It was Sam’s, and I still think of it as his. I seldom access it and then only to dump the spam.”
“I might want to send you a message,” he coaxed.
Because that was no motivation, she couldn’t help but laugh. She moved close to loop her arms around his waist. “The answer’s no, then, because I like having you deliver your messages in person.”
After a small shrug of defeat, he drew her closer still for a soft, yet increasingly luscious, kiss. He slid his fingers through her hair, then ran his hands down her back as though he wished to absorb her right through his skin. That first kiss slid into a dozen before they finally had to draw back to breathe.
Then he managed only a sad, sweet smile. “Are you seeing anyone else?” he asked.
Catherine couldn’t have been more astonished had he slapped her. “What?” she gasped. “Do you think I’d welcome you through the front door while another man snuck out the back?”
“Just answer my question.”
She shoved away from him. “No, Dr. Starns, I’m not, which should have been obvious from my kiss just now. What about you? Am I merely one of the stops on your route?”
