Page 195 of Those Who Are Bound

“Isn’t that how all romantic stories start? Couples thrown together because of the rain? It sure is,” Vanessa said to her but smiled again at Rick.

Elliott dared a glance at Jonah; his return look was downright carnal. Their story hadn’t started in the rain, but there had been that night in the rain… it was clear that’s where his mind was as he stared at her like that, and it was where her mind was…

How wet are you, kitty?

She was surprised she didn’t feel herself dripping down her thighs—thatwet—all from his look, from the memory, from his proximity. As the flush worked its way over her, she looked at the tablecloth so no one else would guess her thoughts.

A double-tap of his finger on the tabletop told her he was aware, regardless.

“But I’ve been a pastor here for the past eight years. And when I retire, I hope to pass the job on to Jonah.”

Elliott was glad she was looking down so only the table could see her expression of horror at the thought. Not the retirement, but the job.

Lucy piped up, “What? Retire?”

Vanessa chuckled. “Not for years, don’t worry. But I want this man to stick around. Find his home base; decide it’s here, in Kansas City.”

When Elliott lifted her head, Vanessa was looking pointedly at Jonah. As if she’d had conversations with the man about his decision to return to Oregon.

Vanessa then turned her attention to Elliott and gave her one of those looks only women understood. Taking up her own champagne glass, she imitated a mock toast. “I think the inducement has finally arrived.”

Well, that wasn’t subtle.

Her attention snapped to Jonah, certain he would jump in and set his pastor straight. But no. He was taking a drink from his flute as though drinking to Vanessa’s toast. What the hell was going on? Maybe Jonah hadn’t caught her up on current events yet; he had been gone, on a rock. Elliott imagined he wasn’t taking calls or texting while dangling from a rock face.

Elliott prompted, “Do you want to… clarify something?”

He smiled behind his flute but didn’t say anything.

“Relationships are a funny thing. Ups, downs, tried, and tested,” Vanessa said. Running her hand along her husband’s arm, she imparted, “They aren’t easy. The strongest are the ones who overcome adversity, not the ones who never faced it.”

Rick chuckled. Another shared memory apparently passed between them.

“I would enjoy nothing more than staying longer, but I have a bride-to-be to find and pray with, and we have a babysitter to relieve.” Vanessa nudged her husband.

They said their goodbyes; handshaking and hugs. Vanessa approached her and gave her a hug. Pulling back, she said with certainty, “I’ll be seeing more of you, Elliott.”

Preferring to misinterpret her, because the thought of the woman’s insinuation panicked her, Elliott remarked, “Of course, I’ll probably be around tomorrow.”

Vanessa’s grin broadened. “Mm-hmm. Okay.”

When they walked away, Elliott looked at Jonah accusingly. “We aren’t in a relationship; we don’t have a relationship. How many times do I need to remind you of that?”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened. There was a slight pursing of his lips.

“Don’t do this, please,” she begged.

She noted his brutish look before he dropped his gaze to peruse her; he could only see so far, but the intent behind the look was to lay possession—it worked all too well. Those sparks flying between them threatened to ignite. The blood rushing hotly through her veins, her breath catching at the power of his perusal. How was he able to create such a response in her?

“What am I doing, Elliott?” he finally asked.

At least he couldn’t see her squeezing her thighs together. A desperate sound sneaked out between her lips, however, before she could silence herself by finishing off her champagne. Slamming down the glass, she deflected, “I’m going to check on Killion.”

Skirting the table, she tried to walk past him. He met her eagerly, hand on her waist, now admiring the whole of her as he pulled her in. But she braced a hand on his chest even as she allowed herself a full-body rub.

Reaching up, she slid her hand around his neck to curl into his hair, pulling his head down. Her lips to his ear, she whispered, “I’m a stronger fighter than you are. Remember that.” With a nip at his lobe, she pulled away.

Her words were meant to put him on his guard, not to entice or excite. But she wondered if she’d made a fatal error, because that look he gave her?

All hungry wolf.

It took every ounce of will to walk away calmly.

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