Something about the smell of apple crumble and fresh sunflower honey in the last weeks of summer made the time feel more special. That and the constant reminder of Father Cameron’s lips on mine. It had been a week since we’d kissed in my family’s crypt, and I could still feel his need on my lips. He’d kissed me like a man desperate to keep an ounce of his masculinity, and I let him. That night, I would have let him do anything to me, and I was grateful that the sudden howl in the chapel above us had finally pulled us apart.

Avoiding the subject of our affection for each other, during the past week I’d hidden away in the attic, searching for Jack or anything that would bring me closer to finding out whether Aaron Cortez had plans to return to Pace. If he did, I was as good as dead.

Tonight, however, for the first time since that wonderfully torturous kiss, I’d need to face Father Cameron at the summer potluck. Our relationship had not only become too complicated but also confusing. I trusted him like no other man. When I thought about a future, it was he who I saw standing beside me, no one else. But that small fact that he was a priest kept coming up, and I didn’t how to avoid it. I couldn’t. There was no way.

Three days ago, I escaped the world into my kitchen and began preparing dishes my mother used to make. Now I was staring at a table filled with wild turkey, baked stuffing, meatloaf, grilled mushrooms wrapped in bacon, yams, an apple crumble, and two strawberry rhubarb pies. I rested my hands on my hips and admired the creations once more.

“You know, they call it a potluck for a reason.” Father Cameron’s breath flowed onto the back of my neck, and I felt all the hairs there stand up. Lola had pinned it all up into a gorgeous updo this afternoon. That breath had nearly the same effect on me as his kiss — a combination of staggering nerves, quickly beating heart, and wet panties.

I turned around to face him and almost gasped. Wearing a black shirt, he looked like a delicious meal that belonged on the menu as well. Except I’d have a difficult time sharing.

“I guess I got a little carried away,” I said.

He angled his head inquisitively, looking me over as if I were the main dish being served tonight. My body heated with lust. He should have been forbidden to look at me that way. It made me think of him differently. It made me look at him differently as well, and that was dangerous.

“You look… stunning,” he said.

The room temperature automatically rose, along with my heart rate. I brushed my hands over the most festive dress I could find, with a long column of buttons all the way down to the hem, and then took my time admiring him: his freshly shaven face, combed through hair that still appeared a little disheveled, and those crystal eyes that stood out against his darker complexion.

“Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

“I’m wearing the same thing I do every day, Kate.”

Black. My favorite color, though scientifically, black was not even a color. It was composed of all colors, just like Father Cameron was… everything.

To add to his mystery behind this black outfit, Father Cameron wasn’t wearing his clerical collar. The top button of his shirt was undone, and he could have easily passed for a common man. Scratch that. Common wasn’t anywhere near the description I should have used for someone so… captivating. He looked even better than the evening we met at the Bistro.

“Well, the color suits you.”

“They say black is not a color.”

I chuckled.

“Besides, I don’t always wear black. Sometimes I wear nothing.”

“But you just said—” I caught on to his words a moment too late and felt my lips part. Why would he say that to me?

Feeling unwavering arousal return to my body, I cleared my throat. “What happened to the collar?”

“Today’s my day off.”

Oh!

“Thank you for decorating the hall,” I said, and looked up to the ceiling where a few cardboard summer decorations along with some birds sitting mid-air were hanging. “Does that look weird?”

“The birds?” he asked.

“Yes – like they were hung.”

“Because they were.”

I chuckled again. Father Cameron let out a snicker as well. My nerves were beginning to get the best of me.

“They were supposed to look like they were flying, not dead.” Desperate to hide my apprehension, I laughed even harder. “The flowers look beautiful,” I said, as a compliment to the gorgeous bouquets on each table.”

“Thanks. The Crew did most of the work.”

Which I knew was a soft lie, or maybe a stretch of the truth, because the kids told me how much Father Cameron had been hands-on this week, preparing everything for the occasion.

“Where did you learn how to cook so well?” he asked.

“My mother.”

“This is amazing, Kate. The kids will love it.”

“Thank you. I wish my mother were here. I wish I didn’t have to…”

“I’m sorry, Kate. I cannot even begin to imagine what you’re feeling.”

“She could have told me about Pace. She could have mentioned it, at least; but she didn’t.”

“Which means she had a reason to do so.”

“I know, I know. And I wish I could ask her.”

“Did you talk to Father John?”

I reached for a crooked fork and aligned it with the plate before looking back up. “Not yet. Soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Look, can we not talk about my mother or all the other stuff anymore? All I want tonight is to… breathe. I just want one night when I can pretend that my problems don’t exist.”

He leaned in closer and I saw that spark of something naughty in his eyes. “All right. Would you rather we revisit the topic of you kissing me?”

Yeah, that definitely worked. “Look, I know I kissed you back, but… but you started it.”

He chuckled. “Is it working Kate? Does thinking about kissing me take your mind off real life?”

“Shh, Cam… I mean, Father Cameron, what are you doing?”

And to answer his question, which I wouldn’t – of course it did. All I could picture in my mind right now was the heat of his lips on mine, spreading through my body like a flash of lightning on a bright day.

“I’m curious – what did you think?” he asked.

The way his question rolled out on his tongue made me want to head for the Vatican so that I could appeal this rule of celibacy for priests. I shook the lust off, my shoulders physically moving back and forth, but it didn’t help. Nothing had helped lately, and he was making a great job at ensuring that nothing would.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked in a whisper.

“Doing what, Kate?”

“Provoking me. You make me think things and feel things I shouldn’t be thinking.”

“Like what?”

“I… what are you holding behind your back?” I stepped up on my toes as if that would give me the extra height to see behind him. It didn’t.

He brought his hand forward, holding a cookie. “It’s Mrs. Duarte’s secret recipe. I snagged the last one from the kitchen.”

“They’re gone already?”

“It’s a secret recipe,” he echoed. “Would you like to share it, Kate?”

Share it?

His suggestion should have sounded as a kind offer, but all I could think of was sharing more things with him. Like a bed.

We broke the cookie in half just as Father John came to sit at our table. I stopped the moan of satisfaction that was about to come out of mouth at the chocolaty-sweet flavors melting on my tongue. Father Cameron’s stare bore through me. I could feel its burn on my face, then my chest, and back at my face again. I knew what he was thinking, and I knew that he’d be analyzing that kiss until I bluntly admitted how much it affected me. He leaned into me, his hot breath teasing my cleavage, and whispered, “Come on Kate, let’s enjoy this feast you made.”

“I didn’t make it.”

“You made most of it, and don’t argue because you know it’s true.”

His manly yet complimentary tone revived that confusing feeling in my chest. Everything was so confusing. I was not only falling apart physically and emotionally, but I was also failing miserably in my detective work. I still had not found Jack.

As much as I wished I could have brought my mother back to her hometown for today’s Assumption Fiesta celebration, I had no more answers for her than when I first came to Pace. She remained in her catatonic state, repeating the same two words each time I called her: “Jack Pace” – even after I’d asked her whether she meant John. I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Father John about her on my own, either. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Hello, Father. I’m your lover’s daughter. Sorry she left you for my dad! Oh, by the way, I could be your daughter too.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I had looked for mannerisms and similarities between us, but even if it were true, even if Father John was my biological father, it wasn’t my place to tell him. It was my mother’s. And why hadn’t she told me?

At least I found out why she’d given me Kate as a second name. It was after my deceased grandmother, Katherine. I saw her and grandfather’s tombs side by side near the back wall of the crypt.

“Let’s begin with a prayer, everyone,” Father John announced. The hum of voices across the hall faded as the kids all gathered around their tables, folded their hands, and bowed their heads.

I watched Father Cameron close his eyes. He appeared to be lost deep in his prayer, deep enough that you felt a special presence in the room.

“Amen,” everyone responded.

The candles were lit, soft music played, and the plates were beginning to fill. I was sitting at the table with Father Cameron, Lola, and Father John. Father Cameron sat opposite me and as I ate, I couldn’t help but feel his continuous stare.

Lay off, already! I said in my mind, but that only reminded me of a joke Lola once told me about getting laid.

I snickered, and my eyes automatically darted up, meeting his halfway. I would never have thought that a man, especially a priest, could manage to turn my body into mush with one look, one word, and one gesture, but he did. Every. Single. Time.

“So, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?” Lola asked, when both priests left to the buffet for seconds.

“It feels fine to me.”

“Really? Because you look like you’re about to burst into flames, the way you’re looking at Father Cameron.”

“Do not.”

“Do too. And he’s looking at you like you’re the only one in this world. Pretty powerful.”

“Really?”

“OMG, you are hot for him, aren’t you? I knew it!”

I leaned in closer to her. “Lola, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that you two were meant to be?”

“He’s a priest.”

“And maybe he didn’t realize that he shouldn’t have been one until he met you. Maybe God put you two on the same path so that you could happily do His good deeds together. And make pretty babies. You’d have the cutest babies.”

“Come on. You’re being silly now.”

Yet the thought of Fate somehow intervening in our lives had always been in the back of my mind. Either that or God, because why would anyone else have put us both on the same path, knowing that we couldn’t be together? That was a sin.

“Do you know how many priests each year leave the church for a woman?” Lola asked.

“Don’t even say that. I could never forgive myself if I was the reason why Father Cameron left his calling. It would never happen.”

“What if his calling was wrong? What if he hadn’t heard his true calling – to be with a woman – until now? Do you know how great sex could be with a man who’s been celibate?”

Well, I knew for a fact that Father Cameron wasn’t completely celibate, and since the moment I’d seen his hand around himself, every night as I fell asleep I’d imagined him guiding himself inside of me.

“I wouldn’t call it great, Lola. More like quick.”

She burst out laughing. In my mind, I’d committed another sin I’d need to confess to a man who had no idea how I felt about him. Heck, I wasn’t sure what I felt about him myself. Besides, something told me that a man like Father Cameron wouldn’t be quick. He’d take his sweet time discovering every warm nook of my body. He’d be gentle at first, stretching me before pushing me hard against a wall.

“You’re thinking about it. I can tell.” Lola gently pinched my arm.

“You cannot.”

“Sure I can. And so can he.” She motioned with her head to the table set up with food, where Father Cameron was standing near the end, holding his plate and looking straight at me. There was something comfortably uncomfortable about his stare, and I shifted in my seat, praying there wouldn’t be a wet stain on my dress when I stood up.

The evening passed by in laughter. For the first time since I’d arrived in Pace, I felt like I was at home, and the possibility of remaining here for the rest of my life didn’t sound as awful as it once did. That was, if my mother could move here and if I had a guarantee that Aaron Cortez and his family wouldn’t come after her. I just couldn’t imagine the town as violent as some of the stories I’d heard.

“You sure you can handle everything else?” Lola asked.

“Yes, go. You’ve done enough.”

By ten o’clock all the decorations had been taken down, chairs and tables were folded and put back into storage, and the kids had swept the floor. Father John had retired to his room for the night.

With my hands on my hips, I stared at the stack of dirty dishes on one of the tables, wondering if I could wash them all by sunrise.

“If you think you can tackle these on your own, then you’re a brave woman.” Father Cameron’s voice behind me gave me a start.

“Why? Are you going to put away all the extra food and wash all the pots and pans?”

We had so many leftovers that there was enough for tomorrow’s lunch. The kids were excited to come back, especially since soccer game finals were on and Father Cameron promised to let them watch all together in the downstairs hall.

“Let’s put these to good use.” He reached out his hands and wiggled his fingers, and all I could do was stare at their length and thickness. While my mind searched for ways in which I could feel the strength of those giving hands, I was also desperate to return to reality. I licked my lower lip and bit it. It didn’t help. It was only his voice that pulled me away from my daze.

“Kate? Is there something wrong with my hands?”

“No, of course not. They’re…”

Perfect.

“They’re all good. I’m good. We’re good.”

I was stuttering, and Father Cameron tipped his head to the side and his brows narrowed more and more.

“I should go clean if I want to go to bed at a decent hour.” I turned on my heel, away from Father Cameron, grabbed a few pans, and headed for the stairs, then for the kitchen. Did I have to mention a bed to him? Because now I was imagining him in it. Was he following me? I didn’t dare look back, because the thought of having him behind me put my imagination into overdrive again.

Behind me.

On my knees.

On my back.

Against the wall.

I shook the thoughts away as I pushed my foot against the kitchen door, opening it. I set the dishes on the counter just as Father Cameron squeezed past me. He rolled up his sleeves and turned on the faucet. Afraid of saying something stupid, I kept my mouth shut and removed the clean dishes from his hands. I dried them and stacked them to the side.

His heat radiated toward me. The smell of his musky aroma that brought a little bit of the city back was doing something funny in my lungs. It was a strong and powerful fragrance of a man who knew exactly what he wanted from life – and he belonged to the church.

When we finished putting away the pots and pans, I leaned against the counter and lowered my head. My neck hurt. I’d woken up early in the morning to finish cooking and it had been a long day.

The touch of his fingers underneath my hairline jolted me upward.

“Shh,” he cooed. “Looks like you’re the one in need of a massage today.”

My body stilled. The thought of his fingers elsewhere on my skin, even if only massaging, was tingling me everywhere. I turned around with caution, letting his fingers slowly draw around my neckline, over my shoulder, and to the front. He gently skimmed his thumbs along my collarbone. I looked up and felt the sparks between us ignite a flame that had been patiently waiting to be lit. His entire front was pressed against me, his weight forcing my behind against the kitchen counter.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kate. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

I wasn’t breathing, and I sure as hell wasn’t thinking because my rising chest pushing into his, my lightly open mouth, trembling thighs, heated breaths, and hard nipples – my entire body, in fact – were doing all the thinking for me.

“Why are you saying that to me? You know I don’t want just any man.” My voice was only a whisper, but given that my words flowed directly into his lips, which were about two inches away from mine, he probably heard me.

“Who do you want, then?” he asked ever so naively, slowly tracing his fingers up my neck to my jaw line, his thumbs skimming over my cheeks back and forth.

“You.”

His hot breath did that magical dance along my skin again, right over my lips, sending shivering excitement through my body. Had I just told Father Cameron that I wanted him?

“We’re playing a dangerous game here, Kate. And I’m not going to sacrifice your beliefs for one night full of mind-blowing sex.”

Why did he have to say it that way? The sin he spoke of sounded even more appetizing when it came from his mouth. At his lengthened words I felt another drip stain my panties, and I pushed my thighs closer together.

“You see, Kate, I can’t be having all these thoughts about you, every hour of every day. I’ve been sinning in my mind since the day I met you. I’ve dreamt of you spreading your legs for me, tasting all your flavors, imagining just how hard I’d have to pinch your pink nipples to hear you moan. Every. Single. Second of my day is filled with you.” He was staring again, and I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear his need. With his lips tickling against mine, hovering there patiently, the inevitable was going to happen. We both knew it.

What did he just say about my nipples?

“What the heck. I’m going to burn in hell for this anyway.” As the vibrations of his words left my lips, he took my whole face between his hands. Raw need tensed the corners of his jaw and he stole my mouth with his.

Please forgive me, I thought.

The kiss flew through me like a shock wave, pleasant at first, intensifying with each prod of his tongue. He nipped my bottom lip with his teeth, hungry for more, and I opened wider for him, yielding into his arms, which were as confused as I was, sliding over my body in search of a comfortable spot. He finally tilted my head to that perfect angle, allowing us to completely connect. I breathed him deep into my lungs. His essence swirled inside me, and that was the moment I realized that I couldn’t live without him. If this was our only kiss, then I wanted to die. Living out the rest of my life without him, and knowing what his lips felt like on mine, would have been torturous.

I held onto his arms, gripping them so that he wouldn’t let go. I wouldn’t let him go. I dragged my fingers upward, feeling his strong biceps and wide shoulders. I was holding on for my life.

And just as suddenly, he pulled away. His breaths were heavy as he held me at arm’s length.

“Kate, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, you should.” I stepped up on my toes, a little closer to him, and looked up. That hunger and need was still there. I had a feeling that it would be there forever.

He smacked his lips to mine again. But that second-long look in his eyes just before he kissed me put me in panic mode. It was a look that reminded me of someone who was saying goodbye. I’d seen it in the past in my father’s eyes before he left on a job and never came back. It ruined my mother, and I wouldn’t lose another person I cared about so deeply. This time, it was me who pulled away.

“Don’t tell me this is a once in a lifetime kiss.”

His breaths were heavy, my words somewhat waking him up from the spell we’d both fallen under.

“I’ve already crossed a line I shouldn’t have,” he replied.

“What if I want you to cross that line?”

“It’s not your decision to make.”

“Whose is it, then? God’s? Because He certainly put you in my path. I’m not sure why just yet, but I know that He did.”

I watched Father Cameron struggle to understand me. I watched him fight an internal demon he wanted to overcome. And then, I watched him compose himself.

“Kate, your faith is strong. I can’t ruin that. I can’t be the reason you doubt what you believe in. I’m sorry that I kissed you. I’m sorry that I touched you. It won’t ever happen again.”

He took another step back, and I took one forward.

“You’re going to confess and forget about what we shared, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes. So should you.”

I felt my shoulders droop. It was better this way. It was better he didn’t know that I wanted to tell him that his confession would be one big lie because I knew what I felt in my heart. And I knew what our time together meant to him as well.

“Kate, if it were a different place and a different time… maybe. But I can’t.”

“Then lie to me. Tell me that you’re not a priest. Please lie to me because I can’t lie to myself any longer. I can’t pretend that I don’t have these feelings for you. I don’t understand how they just happened, but they did.” I looked in his eyes. Our gazes connected and held in that special way. Energy sizzled between us, nearly igniting. I felt my lungs tighten as my voice lowered some more. “I’m begging you, lie to me and sin with me until the morning.”