Baby Dreams And Wedding Schemes

And handsome.

She was interested in the son, not the father.

Her mind echoed the unusually descriptive word Jacob Windsor had used earlier.

You’re interested in him all right, her subconscious asserted. But it won’t do you any good. He’s gun-shy. And you’re supposed to be focusing on a different goal.

Sasha picked up the hamburgers and stored them in a corner of the large basket before checking her appearance in the mirror for the sixth time. Her mouth tipped downward in just the tiniest way as she considered her actions.

Primping! Yuk!

But her mind wouldn’t stay off the subject of Jacob Windsor. She’d been truly sad to see Pastor Dan leave after so many years. But now there was Pastor Jacob Windsor. He did present a whole new range of possibilities.

Of course, they have nothing to do with the fact that he’s young and good-looking and four whole inches taller than me, she assured her subconscious in a severe tone. Nothing at all!

She knew she lied.

Chapter Two

“Amen.” Cody’s loud voice reverberated through the solemn silence of the woods later that afternoon.

Jake watched as Sasha Lambert leaned down to drop a few handfuls of the rich dark soil onto the tiny box that held his son’s dead goldfish

Cody wasn’t quite so dainty and Jake grinned as the little boy heaped up piles of the rich black soil with his bare hands. His pants were dirty and stained and there was a tear in one leg. Again! It was doubtful the shirt would be good for much but the rag basket after today. And Cody’s shoes? Well, they could probably be restored to something like their former state.

Somehow.

“We can have the lunch now,” his son told them cheerfully. “They always have lunch after funerals. To celebrate the person’s life, right, Dad?” He looked from Sasha to his father for confirmation. Jake felt another pair of eyes fasten on him, as well.

“Yes, well, uh, that’s right, Cody,” he mumbled, and felt embarrassed at the strange look she gave him. She was probably right. A five-almost-six-year-old shouldn’t know so much about funerals.

“Sorry, guys.” Sasha’s cheerful voice broke the silence. “I haven’t got a lunch. I’ve got supper!”

He watched her kneel beside Cody.

“I’ve got hamburgers and potato salad and pickles and chips and double-chocolate brownies. How about that, sport?”

Cody grinned. “I’m not a sport.”

Jake heard him giggle as Sasha tickled him under his chin.

“You’re not,” she said, pretending astonishment. “I was sure you were a good sport.” She rippled her fingers across his stomach and under his arms, drawing out squeals of glee. “Are you sure you’re not?”

He watched them cavort in the sun-dappled woods and thought how long it had been since he’d heard his son laugh so readily. Cody seemed to have developed a strong rapport with the owner of the local craft store in a remarkably short time.

Not that she wasn’t remarkable herself. Sasha Lambert was every bit as curious as the name she had given to her business. She was tall, stretching to just above his chin, and well rounded in all the right places. He knew that because she was wearing a yellow kind of skirt-shorts thing that showed off those long legs and a scooped-neck knit top that gave him a very good view of all of her assets. He tried to ignore the top’s bilious purple color, which bore a significant resemblance to the shade of her unusual furniture.

She was a pretty woman with that black cap of feathery hair cut close to her scalp, cupping the regal lines of her neck. The deep richness of its raven tones highlighted her round, expressive eyes and lent their green hue a clarity that was very effective in raising his temperature when she focused them on him.

He hated that flutter of awareness that tingled low in his stomach. It was, well, a betrayal of Angela somehow. A denial of the place his late wife should hold in his heart. The fact that Angela had died at the lowest point in their marriage was something he refused to think about.

Angela was gone. Why, then, did he feel so guilty? Why couldn’t he let her rest in peace?

It was a punishment; he understood that now. He hadn’t appreciated his wife’s fragility, her inability to handle the myriad problems that came with his job. He’d ignored her complaints and focused solely on the opportunity to get ahead. After all, they would have time later on.

Only they hadn’t. And Jake couldn’t ever say the words of apology that haunted him yet. He would live with that for the rest of his life. He shoved the thought away.

Despite his best intentions, Jake’s eyes persisted in their scrutiny of the vibrant young woman in front of him.

Sasha Lambert was nothing like Angela. She had a wide strong face with prominent cheekbones and a straight nose that tipped at the bottom just a bit. It was her mouth that really told him about her, though.

It curved and slanted and tipped in a thousand different ways when she spoke. Wide and mobile, with flashing white teeth, Jake was fascinated by the many moods delineated on that expressive face. He knew a word that exactly expressed the intangible quality he had seen in Sasha Lambert.

“Gallimaufry.” A hodgepodge or mixture of unrelated things. He wondered if he would see that look of delight cross her face again if he told her.

“Can we, Dad?”

Jake awoke from his study to find two pairs of eyes fixed on him. “Uh, I’m not...”

She took pity on him.

“We were just going to go over to the picnic area to get our fire started, Mr. Windsor. Are you coming?”

“Well,” he prevaricated, watching her closely. “I’m not sure I’m invited.”

She said nothing, waiting for Cody to give the word.

“Sasha always says ‘the more the merrier,”’ the little boy quoted. “I do, too.”

With a whoop of excitement, Cody whirled off after Sasha’s dog, tearing wildly through the overhanging boughs.

“‘Sasha always says,’?” he questioned softly. “Just how long has Cody been coming into your store, Miss Lambert?”

“About five days, on and off. Long enough to hear me say that, I guess.” She kept on walking, glancing placidly around at the trees. “And please call me Sasha. No one in Allen’s Springs calls me Miss.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Jake declared out loud. “He shouldn’t be bothering you at all, let alone at work. My housekeeper, Mrs. Gamer, is supposed to be watching him.” His gray eyes searched hers. “And my name is Jake,” he told her. “You can forget all that Reverend and Mister stuff.”

He frowned, wondering what else he had missed about his son’s current life. Hadn’t they made any progress after that desolate year when he’d been content to let his parents deal with Cody’s and his needs rather than force himself to deal with the raw edges of his own life?

Her voice drew him out of his reflections.

“Actually, I like it when he shows up in the store. I’ve been thinking of trying a new line of kids’ crafts for the children we get in when their parents come to use the spa. Cody’s been sort of test marketing things.” He watched her eyes close for a moment. “When I was a kid, there were always children around. I miss that.”

She glanced fondly at the boy and the dog, hunched together at the bottom of an old oak tree. “He gives Oreo a run for her money, too.”

Jake stared. “Oreo?” This was a dog’s name?

“Well, she has three chocolate spots and I thought she looked like a cookie when she was a pup.” She met his appraising glance with an embarrassed look. “It’s probably not appropriate for her breeding title, but who cares.” Her shoulders shrugged with indifference.