When Bruce Met Cyn. Lori Foster

like he truly cared, like he didn’t judge them as the sludge of humanity. She peeked at his heavily shadowed form, and couldn’t quite dredge up an image of him beating the evilness out of a woman.

      “Shay also did some community work,” he said, pulling her from her thoughts. “She opened a bigger, nicer safe house in the same area where I had mine. A dear friend of hers runs it now, and things are going great, so I thought I’d try my hand at something else.”

      Like saving recently retired hookers from annoyed truckers? She shook her head at herself. “Like what?”

      “Easy there, watch your feet. There are sticker bushes.”

      His gallant consideration got on her nerves. It wasn’t what she was used to. It sure as heck wasn’t what she expected. “You can see pretty good in the dark, can’t you?” The cold tried to sink into her bones, making her entire body shiver, but Bruce pulled her closer and his warmth settled over her, as comforting as a heated blanket.

      “Well enough.” And with tons of innuendo:

      “Being a preacher doesn’t make me blind.”

      He led her over the bushes, and then she could see his car on the road, the headlights still on, sending scant illumination around the area. He stopped and turned her to face him. For a long moment, she got lost in the dark mystery of his eyes, until he said, “So, what’ll it be?”

      He wanted to know if she’d ride with him. But he’d already told her he wouldn’t just leave her alone, and she’d been dumb enough for one night.

      She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

      An increasing breeze, damp with the threat of rain, lifted a long tress of her hair, sending it past her face and against Bruce’s throat. She watched him draw in a deep breath, then mentally shake himself. He smoothed her hair back, tucked it behind her ear. The moon shone down on him, giving his masculine form an almost divine aura.

      Damn, but he took her breath away.

      His warm fingertips grazed her cheek, and then he dropped his hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

      Odd, but what she wanted most at that moment was to curl into him and beg to be held. No one had ever really held her, not without expectations. No one had ever really cared about her, about what she wanted and needed, and suddenly, she craved his comfort.

      But she hadn’t begged for anything in years, not since she’d gone off on her own, and she sure as certain wouldn’t start now.

      Besides, she’d known since she was sixteen that her looks presented her as a sexual being, not merely a female. If her mother and Palmer Oaks hadn’t made that clear, the Reverend certainly had. He blamed her for the way Palmer reacted to her. He told her that her soul was carnal.

      Reverend Thorne was wrong, she knew that now, but men did look at her and get ideas. She wouldn’t encourage those ideas with too much touching. Not anymore. Not even a man who seemed genuinely kind. She just didn’t know enough about honesty to judge him.

      “Naw, I’d rather ride than walk.” And to dismiss the moments past, she laughed. “Sorry I freaked on you.”

      Bruce accepted her decision with a nod and they continued on toward the car. When she limped again, he asked, “Are you sure your leg’s okay?”

      “It’s nothing.”

      “You’re limping.”

      Her laugh sounded loud in the otherwise quiet area. “I’ve limped worse after being on my back all day.”

      His gaze zeroed in on her like a homing beacon. “Meaning?”

      He knew damn good and well what she meant, but she said only, “You’re a preacher, right? So I better not melt your ears with my sordid tales of debauchery.”

      “You have a colorful way of putting things.”

      “I’m a colorful kind of gal.”

      “I’ll take a look at it if you want.”

      “No.”

      “Okay, then.”

      The idle chitchat distracted her. She needed to plan out the rest of the evening.

      “I’m building a church,” he said, as if the last fifteen minutes hadn’t happened.

      He treated her like any other woman he might have encountered, not as a crazy ex-hooker who leaped out of cars, not as a woman who looked like the original temptation.

      It was…nice. “You mean in Visitation?”

      “Yes. The closest one is almost two hours away, and a lot of the locals use that as an excuse not to attend service. Because I always liked working in the streets, I haven’t limited myself to a single church in a very long time. But now, I don’t know. It feels right to build a church right in the town proper. I feel the…pull to be there again, addressing a congregation, delivering a sermon. Do you know what I mean?”

      He opened Cyn’s door for her and she sat down, but kept her legs out. The interior lights spilled out in a soft arc, exaggerating Bruce’s features, sharpening his bone structure, making his hair lighter, his eyes darker.

      So many contrasts the preacher had.

      “Sure. I felt the pull to come to Visitation.”

      “That’s why you’re here?”

      It was probably past midnight. By the minute, the air grew heavier with the scent of an approaching storm. But Bruce seemed in no real hurry to be on their way.

      Cyn wasn’t sure what to think of that. “Yeah. Like you with your church, I’m ready to change my life, too.”

      “And you chose to do that in Visitation?”

      “Visitation was the place that chose me.”

      He smiled again. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe fate is lending a hand. For both of us.”

      Cyn licked her dry lips. All things aside, a girl couldn’t be too careful. “I’ve gotta ask you something, Bruce.”

      She’d kept her tone light, but his look was full of serious regard as he stared down at her. “Of course. Anything.”

      She nodded, thought about how to put her question, then just blurted it out. “You into hitting women or kids? For any reason?” She watched him closely, waiting for any telltale sign that might give him away as a liar or a fraud.

      There was no hesitation. “Never.” His fingers touched her chin, tilting her face up to his. His thumb brushed at a little dirt on her jaw. “And I’d do anything in my power to stop anyone who did.”

      Cyn wasn’t sure about that. No one had ever really intervened on her behalf before—but then again, she remembered the trucker and how Bruce had rushed out to defend her.

      Just as he had before, he dropped his hand the moment he realized that he touched her. “Good men don’t abuse others, and I wouldn’t want to think of myself as less than a good man. Not perfect, mind you, because God knows I have my flaws.”

      Cyn nodded. “Picking up strangers is one of them.”

      He grinned at her quip. “I have nothing but disdain for anyone who deliberately hurts another person.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what you’re afraid of? That someone will hurt you?”

      She shrugged, wary of dredging up the past and the ugliness of it. It was incredible that she’d told him so much already. She’d never shared her awful secrets with anyone. “If a man thinks he’s justified, then who’s to stop him?”

      Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets. The fact that they were alone on a deserted road in the middle of the night didn’t disturb him. “There is no excuse, none, for ever hurting a woman or child. Unfortunately, bad people