Brendan Flanagan was definitely not her image of a minister. His worn jeans and navy sweater, combined with that certain tough something about his jaw, made him look more like a firefighter, like the rest of his family.
“Ministers keep odd hours, then. Maybe you should have gone into the family business instead.”
“Firefighting? Some days I think it might be easier.” He shrugged. “That’s in my blood, anyway. I’m the fire department chaplain.”
“I didn’t realize.” Although she wasn’t surprised, now that she thought about it. All the Flanagans were involved in firefighting, and it seemed to be a source of family pride.
“Won’t you sit down?” Brendan gestured toward the black vinyl armchair that sat in front of his gray metal desk. His congregation certainly hadn’t put much money into furnishing the minister’s office. The wall of books behind him was undoubtedly the most expensive thing here.
“I’m on my way to work.” She reminded herself of why she’d come. “Let’s just set another time to get together about the wedding.”
“Sure thing.” He flipped open a desk calendar and slid on a pair of black-rimmed glasses to consult it. “But I still want to talk with Gabe and Nolie about this first.”
Obviously he didn’t intend to take her word for what Nolie wanted. “Fine.” She bit off the word. “I’ll give Nolie a call after I get to the office. Maybe we can get this cleared up today, so I can get going on things.”
She turned, then hesitated and reversed. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “How’s Stacy? Did you find a place for her last night?”
“Yes. She stayed at my aunt and uncle’s house.”
She might have known. The Flanagan clan seemed to stick together on everything. “Have you had that talk with her yet?”
“Not exactly.” Something wary and cautious shadowed his eyes, making them look more gray than green.
She could interpret that look. “Something went wrong. What?”
“Nothing. Well, not exactly.” He so clearly didn’t want to tell her that it was almost funny. “Aunt Siobhan called. When they got up this morning, Stacy was gone. So was fifty dollars from my uncle’s wallet.”
She’d been that desperate once. The memory of it made her stomach churn. She forced the feeling away, angry at Brendan for making her remember. “I hate to say I told you so, but—”
He frowned. “Look, sometimes these kids have to test the boundaries. She’s trying to figure out if we’re people she can count on. She’ll come back.”
“I hope you’re right about that, Pastor.”
But she didn’t think he was. In Stacy’s position, she probably would have used the money to run. Or maybe she’d have gone right back into the bad situation. That had happened more often than she wanted to recall.
“But you think I’m wrong.” He studied her face intently, as if he’d looked beneath the skin to her inner heart. “Why are you so sure?”
The sick feeling was back. Being around Brendan brought out all kinds of strong feelings, and she didn’t want any of them.
“That’s just another situation where you and I don’t agree, I’m afraid.” She pushed the subject away. “I’d better get going.”
“Wait a second.” He held out one hand, smiling at her. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
She frowned, searching for immunity to the masculine wallop that easy smile contained. The Flanagan men seemed to have more than their fair share of male magnetism.
“What kind of a deal?”
“We both think we know what Gabe and Nolie want. If you’re right about Nolie really wanting a big wedding, I’ll help you pull it off.”
She looked at that. She didn’t see a catch. “A deal has to have two sides. What’s the other one?”
“If I’m right about Stacy, then you’ll give me a hand with my teens.”
She stared at him blankly. “Your teens?”
“The kids you saw last night.” Sudden enthusiasm made his eyes sparkle. “I’m trying to help some of them learn to apply for jobs. You’re an expert at the business world. Seems as if you were made for the project.”
“Oh, no.” Words couldn’t express how little she wanted to do that. “I’m not a do-gooder. Besides, I’ll be too busy with the wedding.”
“Not if you’re right. If you’re right, I’ll be helping you with the wedding.”
She was right. So what did she have to lose?
“What do you say?” His eyebrows lifted in a challenge. “Do we have a deal?”
“All right. We have a deal.”
“Fine.” He held out his hand, as if to seal the bargain. She took it, and his fingers closed on hers, generating a wave of warmth that dumbfounded her. For an instant Brendan looked startled, as if that warmth had hit him, too.
She pulled her hand free and looked at her watch. “I have to go. I’m going to be late for work.” That was something else to chalk up against him.
The less she saw of Pastor Brendan, the better. He had a way of upsetting her equilibrium, and she didn’t like things getting out of her control.
So why had she just made a deal to work with him on the wedding arrangements? And with his group of juvenile delinquents, too?
Well, that part of it wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, she knew she was right about Stacy.
As for Brendan— She took a deep breath. Whatever effect the man had on her, she’d just have to ignore it until it went away.
Chapter Two
Claire frowned at her computer screen. The report she was compiling seemed to have lost its charm. The dry recital of statistics and probabilities faded into a background for Stacy’s troubled face.
Or maybe for Brendan’s, looking at her with that quizzical smile of his.
She swung away from the screen, exasperated. It was bad enough that Brendan had made her late for work for the first time in—well, ever. It was worse that he kept intruding on her concentration now that she was here. Work was too important to let anything else interfere with it.
No woman had ever risen to the level of assistant to the president of Gray Enterprises, until she’d managed it. She wasn’t about to stop there, either. CEO. That had a nice sound to it. Harvey Gray wouldn’t want to stay active in the company he’d founded forever. There was no reason why his trusted right hand shouldn’t become his successor, if she played her cards right. Then she’d be safe.
Safe? She rethought her choice of words, appalled. Safety had nothing to do with it. She would never let herself be a victim again, regardless of her position. It was just that encounter with Stacy that upset her.
She glanced around her office, with its Berber carpeting and built-in walnut shelves. When she moved up the ladder, she’d have mahogany, and the door with the frosted-glass window would be replaced by a solid one.
Those little nuances spelled out one’s relative importance to the company. She didn’t have to be content with a cubicle any longer, and if the frosted glass served to isolate her from colleagues, that was just part of success.
A tap at the door startled her. She frowned at the shadow behind the frosted glass before taking a quick look into her pocket mirror. It was probably just her secretary, but it wouldn’t do to be caught looking less than her best.
“Come in.”
But