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dormant—the last thing he had expected. Laura always described Sam as self-sufficient, able to take care of herself. But she didn’t strike Brad that way. Not even close. She seemed like someone desperately in need of just being held.
    Which was silly, of course. Based on what Laura said, Sam led a very active social life that probably included a whole lot more than just being held. So then why did she seem so lonely? And if she led such an active social life, and really wanted to get married, as Laura said, why was she still single?
    Brad raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He ought to be working on his sermon for tomorrow, not worrying about one very attractive—if troubled—redhead. He walked back to his desk and sat down in front of the word processor, determined to finish his sermon. And even though he eventually found the words, he also found himself spending an inordinate amount of time staring at the screen and looking forward to his next encounter with Sam Reynolds.
    The rain had stopped by Wednesday, but it was still unseasonably cold for April, and by the time Sam and Brad inspected the three houses she’d lined up she was chilled to the bone. She shivered as she slid behind the wheel of her car and reached over to unlock the passenger door, and when Brad climbed in beside her a moment later, he was rubbing his hands together.
    “I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing. How about a cup of coffee before we call it a day?” he suggested.
    Sam nodded as she put the car in gear. “Great idea. Can you believe this is April? I think somebody upstairs turned the calendar back a month instead of forward.”
    Brad chuckled. “It sure seems that way.”
    “Besides, this will give us a chance to talk about the houses a little more,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled out of the driveway. “Have you ever been to Michele’s?”
    “No.”
    “It’s a little European tearoom not far from here. Great pastries!” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, it’s almost noon. Would you like to grab a quick lunch while we’re there?”
    “Sure.”
    Within minutes they were being shown to a cozy booth, and as Sam started to shrug out of her coat, Brad moved behind her and smoothly lifted it off her shoulders.
    She turned her head at the courtesy and smiled. “Thanks. You’re quite a gentleman, Reverend.”
    Brad gave her an exasperated look as he placed her coat on a nearby hook. “Are we still hung up on that ‘Reverend’ bit? What’s wrong with ‘Brad’?”
    Sam watched him slip off his leather bomber jacket. He was dressed casually today, in a cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of fitted, well-worn jeans that highlighted his athletic physique. He certainly looked different when he wasn’t in clerical garb, Sam mused. Not at all like a minister. More like an ad for aftershave—one that featured a rugged outdoorsman or athlete. Handsome didn’t even do him justice, she realized. Sam glanced around the room. Judging by the discreet looks being directed his way from women at nearby tables, she wasn’t alone in her appreciation. However, he seemed totally oblivious to the admiring glances as he slid into the booth across from her and smiled.
    “Well?”
    Sam reined in her wayward thoughts and stared at him. “Well what?”
    “What’s wrong with ‘Brad’?” he prompted.
    “Oh.” She reached for her napkin and looked down on the pretense of adjusting it on her lap, embarrassed at the inappropriate direction of her thoughts. Although he didn’t look it today, the man was a minister, for heaven’s sake—and definitely out of her league, even if she was in the market for romance. Which she wasn’t, she reminded herself sharply. “Sorry. I guess I just think of you as a minister, that’s all. I’m so used to hearing Laura refer to you that way. And at the wedding you were dressed like a minister. But you do look…different…out of uniform.”
    He