Kali Willows BUNDLE (Shadowed Desires Series) (7 page)

“Figuratively speaking, maybe. With my wanton body only, though, no potions or chanting.” The sides of her mouth drew up at her own humor.

“Oh my God, you’re such a tramp.”

“At least I hope to be.” They both laughed.

“Fair enough, now get back to work. We’ll go costume hunting together this weekend, maybe find something sexy for the occasion?”

“Sexy for the later part of the night, sure, but something fitting for the Witch’s Ball. It’s a deal. See you Saturday.”

Chapter Two

“Samson, I assure you, no one will know about this arrangement.”

“Jacob, I appreciate your support and your discretion, but I feel like a hypocrite. The old
do as I say and not as I do
doesn’t sit well, not with me, and not with my parish.” Easing back into the hardness of the squeaky oak chair, he folded his hands on his lap.

“What they don’t know—”

“I’ll know. That isn’t proper leadership.”

“Even men of the church have needs. Being a pastor does not condemn you to celibacy.” The graying man sat across the desk with a confident gaze. “Even a senior pastor, such as myself….”

Samson’s heart skipped a beat. “Jacob? You used the service?”

“Yes, Madame Eve and I go way back.”

“What about your wife? Abigail would be—”

“Let’s just say, it happened before she and I were together, and one night of indiscretion has rewarded me with ten years of wonderful marriage.” Studying Jacob’s sly grin, he caught on to his subtlety.

“Abigail, really?”

“The luckiest night of my life.”

“What about the importance of—relations—we discuss with our parish?”

“Being a community leader has its share of responsibilities, yes. Personal abstinence isn’t one of them.”

“No, but sex without love—” Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he soothed his aching temple with his fingers.

“Gratifying your needs doesn’t reflect a personal disregard for the virtues you bestow upon your parishioners. Think of it this way—do you lay claim that one’s physical desires make him dark and unnatural?” Jacob leaned forward over the desk, appealing to him with knitted brows.

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“It’s human nature to have urges.”

“Is that what you tell your parishioners?” Jacob’s challenging tone was matched with his empathetic gaze.

“Yes, but I also give guidance about self-respect and that promiscuity is not….”

“Not?”

“Not the Christian way.” Samson straightened, his shoulders stiff with tension.

“Are you expecting to engage in harmful behavior during an interlude?”

“No, I would never harm another.”

“I know you wouldn’t. That’s the message that is most important.” His elderly confidant settled back into the chair with a gentle smile. “It’s a date, Samson. Dating is allowed.”

“Sure it is, but this date has a pre-determined outcome.”

“Meeting a lovely lady for a date is not a sin. Whatever happens throughout the course of the night will be your decision at that time, not a moment before.”

“I haven’t any answers left, Jacob.” Samson shook his head, exhaling with frustration.

“Let me put it another way. In all the years I’ve been your mentor, do you feel I have deceived you, misled you, or become a dark and negative influence in any way?”

“No, I would never say that.”

“So you would not condemn me for one night of indiscretion?”

“No, absolutely not.” Samson furrowed his brows in response to the ludicrous question.

“Well then, it’s settled.”

“What is?”

“You would not condemn me, nor I you, my friend. As your mentor and your spiritual leader, I am abolishing any judgment on you for seeking to meet your needs for this one night. During your date, you are not a pastor of this church. You, sir, will be a flesh and blood human being, seeking to have his urges satisfied. That’s it.” Jacob’s weathered grin lit up his smiling blue eyes.

“I can’t argue with that, I suppose.”

With a heavy heart, Samson swung his noisy, wooden office chair around and hit the
send
button.

“You won’t regret it, I assure you, as your friend.”

Feeling a little lighter, Samson shook his head in partial agreement.

“There is one stipulation, however.”

“What’s that?” Letting a one-sided grin escape, he anticipated what Jacob would say next.

“It is paramount that you take the time to enjoy yourself. This is a chance to be free of the confines of your religious inhibitions. You will be a better man for it, I guarantee. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and for that matter, so does Eve.”

Chapter Three

She flipped her black canvas bag open on the bathroom counter and fished through its contents. Bypassing the shaving cream, she propped up her foot on the side of the tub and inspected her smooth, hairless leg. The esthetician in the salon downstairs had done an excellent pampering job. Waxing, facial, manicure, pedicure. No need for excess grooming, just a nice hot shower in her luxurious suite and then slip into her costume.

Taking out her small array of candles and incense, she inhaled deeply, cherishing the woody patchouli and lavender fragrances. Eyeing the telling red light on the smoke detector, she clicked on the ceiling fan to mask the smoke and set her earthy tools for relaxation alight. Turn on the water, switch off the light, and she had the makings for a soothing shower.

She peeled off her heavy, rustic knit sweater and skinny jeans and stepped into the black marble cubicle. The heated water splashing down soothed her tense body. The anxiety-ridden lead up to tonight had taken a toll on her muscles. A complimentary bottle of body wash on the shelf appealed to her, so she grabbed a cloth and lathered up with the lemon balm scented potion.

“Ahh.” The flickering light of the candles shimmered along the gleaming walls and steam soon filled the spacious bathroom. Wisps of patchouli floated past her nose. She had officially arrived in heaven.

“Excuse me?” A deep voice cut through the serenity of her steamy oasis.

She screamed and reached through the curtain, grabbing the nearest towel and draping it across her soapy body. Ready to face whatever invaded her tranquility, she yanked the shower curtain open.

“What the hell?”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, but what are you doing in my suite?” Through the candlelit mist, she saw the silhouette of a man waving what appeared to be a room card.

“Yours? This is my suite.” She clutched the white terry cloth like a lifeline, while suds dripped down her face. Her heart thudded with ferocious force as she worked to catch her breath and fumbled with the tap. First, a torrent of scalding hot water shocked her then she turned the knob the other way, and instant icing encased her trembling body. Shutting the water off, she glared at the mysterious figure while securing the towel under her arms.

“There must be a mistake. I had—reservations made on my behalf.” His voice softened a little though she couldn’t get a look at his face, as he remained cloaked by steam. Flustered, she stepped out of the shower.

“No kidding, a mistake.” Her cheeks growing hot, she stepped forward. As the air began to clear and the stranger’s face emerged her soapy, wet feet slipped across the cold marble. With a shriek, she flew forward and braced for impact, but instead of crashing to the floor, she landed in his arms.

“Whoa, I got ya.” He held tight. Her shock was outweighed by the erratic pounding of her heart against the confines of her terry-covered chest; gasping for air, she stared up at his remarkable golden brown eyes.

“I’m fine. You can let go now.” Pushing away from his chest, she reached her feet to the floor, trying to escape his grasp. When her toes barely touched the wet surface and she tried to steady herself, she slid again. Easing her onto the safety of the mat, he stepped back. He kept his gaze on the card in his fumbling fingers, avoiding her venomous glare.

Despite her irritation with his presence in her private suite, she took a closer look at his striking face and broad shoulders. A well-groomed man with salt and pepper hair, chiseled features, full lips, and smooth, flawless skin. Clad in faded blue jeans that molded to his lean thighs and a button-down denim shirt, she found him remarkably handsome, in an annoying way, of course. The faded brown cowboy boots didn’t hurt either.

***

“I am sorry for the confusion, Ms. Ledger and Mr. Langley. The reservation would appear to be correct.”

“For two?” Tessa’s irritation was exacerbated by her wavy wet strands dripping water down her forehead.

“Yes, in both your names.”

“Who made the reservation?” His deep, smooth voice distracted her from her intended bludgeoning of the concierge.

“One moment, please.” The clerk typed away on his keyboard, staring at the monitor.

“I can’t seem to find that information. The reservation was made in-house by Mr. Castillo from our flagship resort in Las Vegas. I can call him if you like?”

Tessa chewed on her lower lip. Her suite was part of the package she’d booked through 1Night Stand. Along with the date, who must be…? She sighed.

“Shall I change the reservations?” The young concierge glanced between Tessa and her stranger.

“No—uh—yes—uh, can you please give us a minute? Come here.” She grabbed the stranger’s wrist and guided him to the side.

“Let’s just take a second here and catch our breath.” He eased her clenched fingers off his wrist.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little worked up.”

“A little.” One side of his mouth curled up, sending a flush of warmth and frustration shooting through her.

“What is your name, anyway?”

“I’m Samson. And you are? “His devilishly charming grin lit up his face.

“Tessa.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Like a gentleman, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.

“We can’t—it’s not private down here.” Tessa pulled away. “We should go back upstairs to talk about this.” Scanning the vast lobby of the resort for any familiar faces, she straightened her shoulders and gave him a stern glare.

“That’s fine, let’s go.” He waved her ahead of him toward the elevator.

“Will that be all?” the concierge stared from one to the other, looking worried.

Tessa glared at the gangly man and nodded briefly.

The man who was—apparently—her date for the evening, ushered her into the narrow compartment.

Chapter Four

The
Do Not Disturb
sign dangled from the outside handle as Tessa pushed the heavy door closed and secured the entrance. The sound of the clicking lock sent a spasm of nerves through her chest.

“I’m confused. Are you not interested in having a—date—with me?” Samson walked to the bathroom, grabbed a dry towel, and passed it to her.

“Of course I am. Why would you think that?” She rubbed the fluffy material through her dripping hair.

“You seem, I don’t know…tense.” He sat down on the king sized bed and watched while she dried her locks with frantic hands.

“You think? If I had known we were sharing a room, we wouldn’t have had to broadcast our sleeping arrangements in the lobby for everyone to hear.”

“I see.” He nodded.

“Why do you look so smug?”

“I do?” With knitted brows, he caught her gaze.

“Maybe you don’t need to be discreet, but I live in this town, and I don’t want anyone to find out I’m using a dating service.”

“Perhaps we need to clarify something. I need as much discretion as you do, if not more.”

“More?” The display of anger grew tiresome, and she realized she could lose her chance for frolicking if she kept up the disgruntled redhead bit much longer. Taking in a deep breath then exhaling, Tessa sat down on the end of the plush mattress. She twisted and twirled the corner of the damp towel while she eyed him more directly.

“I live close by as well, and my line of work—”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a—community leader. I have to maintain appropriate decorum for the people who seek my guidance.” He heaved a sigh and looked to the side with pursed lips.

“That’s pretty vague. Are you married or something? Are you looking for a quickie affair?” Her unease started to gain momentum.

“Heavens no.”

Reclaiming eye contact, she searched his face for any hint of deception and saw none. “I’m not expecting anything past this evening; you don’t have to worry about me becoming some needy cling-on that expects a wedding band or anything.”

“I’m not concerned about anything like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I have always worked to set a positive example for my community. If anyone finds out about this—interlude—I may lose their respect.”

“Sweet Jesus, you sound like a priest or something.” She snickered.

The sudden raising of his brows and flaring of his nostrils sent a shock wave through her stomach.

“Oh no, no, no…. Are you?” Inching away in discomfort, she rambled on. “Because if you are, there is no way I’m going to—”

“No, I’m not a priest. I’m not sworn to celibacy.”

“But…?”

Biting his lower lip, he looked to the side, avoiding her eyes. “I am a pastor. This is embarrassing for me.”

“Samson, is it?” Tessa edged closer to him.

“Yes.”

“Please don’t be embarrassed. This isn’t something I would normally do either.”

“It isn’t?”

“Of course not.” She paused and steadied her voice. “It’s only—one night.” Placing her hand over his, she squeezed a little and canvassed his glum expression.

“Yes, one night.” The residual disgrace in his expression faded when he looked directly at her and tightened his grip, returning the supportive gesture.

“Are you embarrassed or ashamed?” Curiosity made her ask.
It seems so strange for a pastor to seek out a one-night stand. Why would he do it?

“Is there a difference?”