Page 44 of Sin With Me

“Well, wherever you got that strength to climb a hundred-foot tree, thank you. God truly does look out for the faithful.”

“God looks out for all of us, Kate.”

“Of course.” A faint red line crossed his cheek diagonally from the lip to his ear. It couldn’t have been deep, as it wasn’t bleeding. “You cut yourself, Father.”

I automatically reached out with my hand, wanting to touch the wound on his cheek, but stopped myself.

He drew his hand over the cheek, his smudged fingers pulling over the cut. “It’llheal.”

“Well, now it could get infected. I have antibiotic ointment in my cabin.” I started walking, hoping he’d follow. He walked behind me massaging his left shoulder.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“I grabbed that last branch with my right hand first.”

It never ceased to amaze me how our conversation could so quickly switch from a formal one to one between old friends.

“I think I pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine.” He shook off the pain and caught upme.

“Your father would have been proud of what you did today.”

“Thank you. But I think he would have been more proud if I could have prevented Matt, or anyone else for that matter, from climbing that tree in the first place.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. Teenagers can be unpredictable.”

So can be horny women.

Feeling sudden guilt, I bit my lip and pushed the door to my cabinopen.

There goes my confession.

I’d just have to try harder to remind myself that Father Cameron was out of the question, but the thought of harder, all I could picture were his hard abs, twisting and tightening as he climbed up that spruce.

Thankfully he was behind me and couldn’t see myface.

Behindme.

Now that conjured a whole new image.

Stopit!

I went to my suitcase to get the ointment.

“I think we all have an ounce of unpredictability inside of us, don’t you?” He gave me a crooked smile, and it took all the strength I had not to swoon in front ofhim.

He’s a priest.

Why did he make it difficult to look at him as such? It was those tight shirts: black or white, the color was beginning to make less difference tome.

I pointed to the chair and he sat down. I pulled out an antiseptic wipe from a sealed pouch and gently cleaned around the wound on his cheek. I squeezed a drop of the ointment on my finger and drew it across the reddened mark. He sat completely still, without breathing or blinking, until I was done. Only then did he let out a long exhalation.

Our gazes connected, and it seemed like too long before I broke the stare.

I gasped on the inside, wondering what he was thinking. Was he wondering the same? And if so, why? This was wrong. I was crossing that line again, and while it felt good for a moment, afterward it felt wrong. But how could something that felt wrong also feel so right?

Before I pulled away he grasped my wrist with his hand. The hold was strong, too strong for him use as a priest; if I was reading him correctly, right now he was holding me like aman.

“Kate, I need to talk to you.” I waited, not wanting him to let go of myhand.

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