Tempest in Eden Read Online Free

carry into the candlelit dining room, she added, "I'll try not to disgrace you in front of your new husband and stepson, Mom."
    Celia's dinner did her proud. She had a knack that made stoneware and stainless look like priceless china and silver. She had arranged spring flowers in a crystal bowl for the centerpiece. Her cooking was unsurpassed. The years she had lived alone in widowhood had deprived her of the opportunity to use her home-making talents. Now she was again in her element. Shay winked at her with a proud smile.
    They commenced eating after John had asked Ian to say grace. Had it not been for Ian's deprecating glances across the linen tablecloth, Shay would have enjoyed the dinner immensely. John was a gentleman in every sense of the word, bridging the infrequent lapses in conversation with new topics of discussion.
    "Your mother tells me you work in a gallery part-time, Shay," he said politely.
    "Yes." She blotted her mouth with a napkin and pushed aside what little remained of her strawberry shortcake. "We cater to clients with excellent taste but limited budgets. For someone with a discerning eye, we carry an appreciable number of artworks."
    "You must know quite a bit about art, then," John said, lighting an aromatic cigar with one of the candles.
    "I should." Shay laughed. "I spend a great deal of time in art studios with artists."
    "Oh? In what capacity?"
    "She's worked for some of the best," Celia inserted nervously. "She's… They say no one else… Her…"
    Shay's eyes slid across the table to Ian, who was sitting with his chin propped on his fist. His elbows rested on the arms of his chair. Candlelight gleamed on his black hair, which seemed perpetually tousled. He was staring into space with vacant blue eyes, apparently bored with the conversation.
    Tossing her head defiantly, Shay determined to rout him out of his insouciance. "What my mother is tiptoeing around so timidly is that I'm a model. A highly specialized model." She paused dramatically. "I pose nude."
    She turned toward the handsome man who was glowering at her with stern disapproval and countered his expression with one of smug triumph, knowing that the revelation would rattle him to the foundation of his bigoted soul.
    But he met her dark eyes without flinching. His lips barely moved as he said softly, "And I'm a minister."

Chapter Two

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    F or several stunned seconds Shay stared at Ian. Tearing her eyes from his at last, she looked to her mother for verification. "I … I thought I mentioned that it was Ian who married us," Celia said in a soft whisper.
    Acute embarrassment made Shay's cheeks burn with hot color. A dull roaring filled her eardrums, yet her mother's voice had the magnified, distorted pitch of someone speaking in a dream. "No," Shay croaked. "No, you didn't mention that Ian was a minister."
    What had she said to this man? What had she done? Damn! He didn't look like any clergyman she'd ever seen. He didn't wear a Roman collar or robes or any of the solemn trappings she associated with the ministry. It wasn't fair that he sneaked around like a normal person, incognito, waiting to catch someone red-handed in a transgression.
    Her embarrassment began to change to simmering anger for his not telling her about himself. He'd made a fool of her, and that stung her pride. But lashing out at him would only distress her mother. Instead Shay put on her most ingratiating smile, faced him, and said sweetly, "I hope my part-time occupation doesn't shock you, Reverend Douglas."
    He took a sip of coffee nonchalantly. "Nothing you do would shock me."
    She heard the undercurrent of scorn in his voice and pressed her lips into a thin line. Before she could offer a comeback, her mother intervened.
    "I don't want either of you to get the wrong idea about what Shay does. She doesn't pose for men's magazines or anything like that." Celia laughed nervously.
    "I don't need you to defend me to him," Shay said, aiming her ire exclusively at