His gaze dropped to her br**sts, which tingled beneath his intimate perusal. “If that’s true, your body doesn’t know it.”
“Fortunately, it’s my brain that’s in control,” she said, then she sashayed to her room, closed the door behind her and crumpled onto the grimy carpet.
Nate had no idea that raw lust could be so powerful. He stayed in the living room, feeling a bit shaken—but at least he didn’t have a hangover. Last night, he’d found only a couple of bars within an hour’s drive, and both of them had been closed at two in the morning.
He sighed. He’d known this would be a difficult assignment, but this was ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with him? They’d slept together six months ago and afterward they’d carried on as if it’d never happened. Why, after the passage of so much time, couldn’t he forget and stop wanting her?
Because they were spending almost every minute together. There was no break, no distraction. And it didn’t help that they had all the privacy in the world. They could make love for hours without fear of a single interruption….
Turning, he stared at her closed door. If they could keep their distance while they worked to bring Ethan down, they’d both be better off. He doubted that scenario was very realistic, but…
“Damn you, Milt,” he muttered. Eager to escape the trailer, he grabbed the card Rachel had dropped onto the TV and went to bathe and dress. It was time he paid a visit to Paradise. Any husband would be incensed to have some cult leader sending notes to his wife. Nate saw no reason he should be any different.
But when he entered the bathroom, he saw his computer bag and realized he hadn’t left his laptop in the truck’s toolbox the way he’d assumed. He went out to be sure. Then he checked the living room, his bedroom and asked Rachel if she’d borrowed it. She said she hadn’t touched it.
After searching the entire trailer again with no luck, he had to accept what he didn’t want to face—it was gone.
15
Ethan glanced up from some architectural designs for the new school he’d been studying with Vince Gregory, the man who’d drawn them. “What did you say?”
Bartholomew stood just inside the large room where Ethan received visitors or listened to various complaints and requests. “Nathan Mott’s here. The guards told him you were busy, but he says he won’t leave until he talks to you.”
The disapproval evident in Bartholomew’s body language seemed to shout, I told you that woman was trouble! He’d shown up in the wee hours of the morning with Nate Mott’s computer, but he hadn’t been able to access the hard drive, which was encrypted. Knowing Bart, he was still trying, but he’d admitted himself that he hadn’t uncovered any real proof that Rachel and Nate were anything other than what they claimed.
“Fine. Send him in.”
“Holy One, I think maybe—”
He gestured impatiently. “Send him in.”
With a stiff nod, Bartholomew walked out. Five minutes later, he returned with a man who was easily six feet four inches tall and two hundred and ten pounds of solid muscle. No wonder Bartholomew was worried.
Standing at the head of the conference table that took up one section of the room, Ethan told his young architect that they’d meet again later after lunch. Then he waited for the younger man to leave.
Bartholomew remained at the entrance; Rachel’s husband stood slightly in front of him.
Smiling, Ethan came around the table to greet Mr. Mott with a handshake. He found it galling to acquiesce to a tradition that put them on an equal footing, but shaking hands would make him seem more respectable in Nathan’s eyes. “Mr. Mott, welcome to Paradise. I’m Ethan Wycliff. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?”
“Did you send this to my wife?” Nate held out the note Ethan had someone deliver earlier.
Bart wasn’t happy to learn of the note; that was obvious. He preferred Ethan not to get involved until he knew more about the Motts. But as long as he was cautious, Ethan saw no reason he couldn’t befriend them while Bart conducted the type of check that would keep the church safe. “That’s the brief message I sent to Rachel, is it not?”
“You tell me. There’s no signature.”
“I apologize for that. I didn’t intend to be cryptic. I felt so confident she’d know it was from me, signing it seemed pointless.”
Nathan Mott’s greenish-brown eyes were probing. “My question is why? What do you want with her?”
Ethan shrugged innocently. “Nothing of an inappropriate nature, I assure you. She came here last night seeking spiritual healing. As a prophet concerned with her eternal well-being, I merely wanted to let her know that she’s been in my thoughts and is welcome to return at will.
“As a prophet.”
“Yes.” Ethan didn’t qualify that statement. Doing so would compromise everything he’d accomplished so far. He had to present himself in the same way every time.
Nate’s jaw jutted forward. “You have no other interest in her.”
Excitement trickled through Ethan. He recognized a worthy adversary when he saw one, sensed the potential here and suddenly knew why he’d been so intrigued with Rachel. She could be the one. After months and months of careful searching, he might finally have found the Vessel.
“Only the same interest I have in you and every other man, woman or child.” He kept his expression one of polite solicitation, but he told himself that there’d come a day when this proud man would gladly hand over his wife, even watch as Ethan rode her, and consider it a great privilege. “It’s my job to see to the eternal salvation of all those who would be saved.”
“You’ve hardly met my wife.”
“I care equally about everyone.”
“Even me?”
“Even you. So you see? You have nothing to be upset about. But I’m glad you’re here.” Ethan waved him over to the table. “You’re a cement contractor, correct?”
“I’m a photographer.”
“A cement contractor turned photographer.”
Nate nodded.
“Wonderful. I was just going over the building plans for our new school. Perhaps you could give me a bid on pouring the foundation.”
Rachel’s husband seemed reluctant at first, but it wasn’t long before he gained some enthusiasm for the project. No doubt he could use the money to support his wife.