“Of course I go to church.” She rolled her shoulders down and back and found her practiced smile. “Every Sunday, sugar. Third pew from the front.”
Noah eyed her, then the penny in his hand. Without any pomp or circumstance, he tossed it into the water. Then he closed the distance between them so fast, her breath hitched. “You’re not getting out of it that easily.”
“Out of what?” Bless it, but she sounded breathless. She tried to regulate her breathing instead of focusing on Noah’s warmth, on his proximity pressing the side of her leg into the fountain wall. She could ask him to step back, to give her room, and he would.
But she didn’t.
The scent of cedar and something else undeniablyNoahwafted over her. His eyes searched hers, the beckoning twilight casting long shadows over his tanned arms. He reached up, and she thought he was going to touch her face again. Leaned into it, even, anticipating his touch.
But he didn’t.
He held up another penny. “Your turn.”
She snorted, half with relief and half with disappointment, as she plucked it from his fingers. He never did play by her rules. “Funny.”
He didn’t let go, though, only used their shared grip to tug her an inch closer. The somber expression on his face was anything but joking. “I get the feeling I haven’t been the only one hurt by people not doing what they should have done.”
She risked a glance into his eyes but didn’t trust herself to speak.
Compassion and regret mingled in his dark brown gaze. “In fact, I think I might have been one of those people.” He relinquished the penny, but didn’t step away.
Elisa looked down, shook her head a little as her heart thudded loud. The coin burned hot in her hand. “We were kids, Noah. It’s all in the past.”
“Is it?” He raised her chin with one finger, his gaze dipping from her eyes to her lips and back again.
Her own gaze sought a safe place to land as her pulse hummed. She should step away, should definitelynotopen this door. Hadn’t she opened it with Noah once before? And then again with Trey? This door should be dead-bolted and triple-locked by now.
Yet here she was, fingers on the door handle and ready to turn. She was going to kiss him, heaven help her. Wasn’t there a Bible verse about fleeing temptation? Not that kissing was wrong.
But kissing Noah Hebert would be very, very wrong.
She shifted her weight, though moving too much would send her into the fountain. Maybe dousing them both with cold water was the answer.
Move. But her body wasn’t listening to her brain, and she watched as if from a distance as the penny in her hand fell to the ground. Her fingers naturally curled into the sleeves of Noah’s shirt and dug in tight.
He drew another inch closer, bumping his ball cap higher up his forehead with one hand as his other one found her waist. He leaned toward her, slowly, as if waiting for full permission, or perhaps in disbelief she was giving it.
Last chance. She swallowed. This was happening.
Unless…
Her gaze registered on his navy cap. On the gold stitched logo of legal scales and a pelican that created a triangle for three words to sit inside.
She took Noah’s face in both hands, his permanent five-o’clock shadow rough under her palms. “Don’t move.”
“Um, okay…” His voice trailed off as she angled his head down for a better view of the tiny print above the bill. She squinted.
Union. Justice. Confidence.
“Your hat! That’s it.” Elisa stepped back, and Noah’s hand slipped from her waist, leaving an immediate chill in its stead. But that was okay. She was safe again—and had their next move figured out.
Temptation avoided.
Noah’s brow furrowed, and the heated look in his eye suggested he was still about three steps behind her. “What are you talking about?”
“Our next clue.” She pointed to his hat.
He tugged his cap off and stared at the front. Then understanding registered in his expression. “UJC.”
