Season of Joy. Virginia Carmichael
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to break the cardinal rule of giving advice: wait for someone to ask. She turned, surprised and ready with a quick retort if she saw the faintest suggestion of sarcasm.
Their eyes met. Time seemed to slow as he stood very still. His gaze wandered down to her mouth. It had been so long since any man had looked at her like that and she read in his blue eyes exactly what was going through his mind.
He moved a half inch forward. Calista felt a thrill course through her and couldn’t stop her breath from catching in her throat. The tiny noise she made seemed to remind him where they were and what they were doing. He blinked, and his gaze flashed back to the empty spot on the wall.
He cleared his throat and stepped back into the hallway. “I’ll show you the filing room so you can see the mess we have in there.” His voice was rough.
Calista nodded, following his lead without comment. She really needed to get a grip. All of this talk about purpose and change, but here she was ogling the director. Of course, there were some major sparks flying, but the poor man had enough on his plate without adding a woman like herself to it. She trudged behind him down the hallway, barely listening while making appropriately interested sounds. Everything about Grant Monohan made her want to be a better person, and that meant learning not to indulge every wish and whim. Not something she was really used to, but she was determined to make herself useful at the mission...and stay out of his way.
* * *
Grant struggled to put words together as he led Calista down the hallway toward the file room. His mind churned as he pointed out stacks of loose files, gave her a quick tutorial and then made as quick an exit as was humanly possible.
He reentered his office and shut the door, leaning heavily against it. What on earth had just happened there? One minute she was giving him sound business advice, and then next he was about to make a move on the pretty new volunteer. He felt a shiver of fear run through him. Maybe all the stress of making their low funds stretch through the holidays was messing with his head. Maybe he needed to get some counseling to make sure he was staying on track.
And being seconds from kissing a woman in his office was about as offtrack as he could get.
He didn’t even really know much about her, except she was smart, bossy and emotionally vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect her from the world. But she didn’t need him to do that. Rich people just hired someone to protect them. Grant rubbed his temples and tried to corral his thoughts.
In a job like this, you had to understand the danger of becoming too emotionally close to the people who needed your help. It was okay to make friends, to give support and encouragement; it wasn’t okay to let attraction lead to actions. To be fair, it was definitely a mutual attraction. The way her eyes looked at him told him that.
And she wasn’t a resident or someone in need of counseling. But she had already said she was working her way back from some kind of traumatic past. Her faith was new, untested. He had no right to get in the way of what God was working in her heart. It was too much, too soon. The “new chick” was going to have to find her way without any of his attention. Plus, he had bigger problems on his plate, starting with a leaky roof and a Thanksgiving dinner for five hundred. After that, he had to take another look at the financials. If anything else went wrong, anything at all, their reserves would be tapped out.
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