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Dougherty’s wife, Winifred, struck a chord.
    Cole could hear Jessamine’s clear, sweet soprano soar above the others, and a shiver went up the back of his neck. Anger sure made her voice sound beautiful.
    Then Ellie Johnson dropped her arms. “I want to mix up the voices more, to get a better blend.” Instead of standing in vocal sections, she arranged them in quartets—one soprano, one alto, a tenor and a baritone, all grouped close together.
    Cole ended up standing beside Jessamine. She held herself rigid, as if her corset stays were made of iron, and he fancied he could see sparks pop off her body.
    The choir la-la-la’d up and down a scale, and now he was quite sure fury was affecting her voice. Her enunciation was so crisp her tongue could cut paper, and the tone... Jehosephat, it was so clear and beautiful it stopped his breath.
    â€œJer-i-cho-Sil-ver-is-not-a-co-ward,” she sang up and down for the next scale. She glared at him for emphasis.
    He cleared his throat. “He-is-too-a-coward,” he sang.
    Her cheeks flushed as she attacked the next scale, this time in a minor key. “Just-you-wait-you-snake-la-la-la-la.”
    The rehearsal itself wasn’t near as much fun as the warm-up scales and the la-la-la battle with Jess. Then the words of the Messiah took precedence over the insults they were passing back and forth. Cole was halfway disappointed.
    But what almost did him in was standing next to her, catching the scent of her skin as the room warmed up, smelling her hair as that tangle of wild curls bobbed near his shoulder. He groaned without thinking.
    Watch out, Sanders. After Maryann you swore you’d never have thoughts about another woman. Well, hell, he wasn’t having thoughts . He was having feelings . Normal male feelings. Feelings of the most basic variety. Feelings of just plain wanting.
    But, he assured himself, his mind was in full control. A man could look , couldn’t he? Just as long as he didn’t let Jessamine Lassiter mean anything to him beyond admiration for a pretty rival newspaper editor. Just as long as she didn’t matter to him.
    Maybe he should just crawl onto his cot tonight and forget about watching her silhouetted form against the window blind across the street.
    At that moment she tossed her shiny dark hair back over her shoulders and he sucked in his breath. Or maybe not. Damn, she smelled good.
    Ellie had the sopranos sing the next section by themselves. Standing next to Jessamine, Cole tried to keep his mind on the music instead of surreptitiously watching her.
    â€œâ€˜For unto us a child is born...’”
    He worked hard to screen out Jess’s lilting soprano voice, but with little success. He heard every single syllable, felt every indrawn breath she took until he found himself unconsciously breathing right along with her. It was a bit like making love, he thought. Instantly he wished he hadn’t thought it.
    She moved unconsciously when she sang. Just enough to bring her body an inch or two closer to his. He began to sweat.
    Too close.
    Not close enough.
    Despite the chill in the rehearsal room, his body began to grow warm. He fought an urge to rip off his flannel shirt, but he settled for rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.
    Big mistake. As she swayed beside him, the hair on his forearms rose as if reaching toward her. The urge to feel her skin brush against his was overpowering.
    Move toward me, Jessamine. Touch me .
    Shoot, he was going nuts. Another hour of this would make him crazier than a wolf in heat. He sidled away from her, and tried to control his hammering heartbeat.
    What he couldn’t control was his groin swelling into an ache. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her...where?
    He suppressed a groan. To bed .
    Oh, God.
    That night he didn’t sleep at all.

Chapter Six
    J essamine headed across the street, her footsteps crunching against the frost-painted boardwalk; it was