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bright and full of wholesome welcome.
    He didn’t buy it.
    The tattered jeans she’d chosen from the box of donated goods were a little too short and way too tight, fitting her like a second skin. Oddly enough, she’d paired them with an oversized misshapen sweatshirt he assumed to be one of Bruce’s castoffs. So she wasn’t advertising her body right now. Maybe it was her off hours.
    She shifted under his gaze, and Bryan noticed her bare feet and painted pink toenails. Even dressed in ragged clothes, with all the artificial enticements stripped away, she looked incredibly beautiful.
    I’m a preacher, Bryan reminded himself. And not just any preacher, but his brother. What would his brother do in this situation?
    For sure, Bruce wouldn’t stare at her breasts, which rounded out the sweatshirt real nice. And he wouldn’t reach for her hips, thinking how it’d feel to hold her as she sank down onto him, lifted, sank… Damn it.
    Okay, he had it. Bruce would realize that she not only looked sexy enough to eat, but also sweet and innocent and carefree. She may have been just that once long ago, but not anymore. Now she sold herself to any slimy bastard with enough money in his hand, probably out of sheer desperation. Right.
    She was desperate and needy.
    He pitied her.
    He felt sorry for her….
    Until he looked beyond her and saw her dress, bra, and wispy little panties draped over the kitchen chairs to dry.
    Ah, shit. Not her panties.
    She’d definitely done that on purpose. Left those lacy little bits of nothing out just to provoke him. And that had to mean she wasn’t wearing any underclothes now at all.
    All women knew how to draw men in. Hookers would be especially good at it.
    But it wouldn’t work on Bryan. He was here for his brother, and no woman, regardless of her appeal or lack of underwear, would make him blow that.
    Bringing his attention back to her smiling face, he said, “Sure, sweetheart. Tea’d be great. Thanks.” Tea. Just thinking about it almost made his stomach turn. He’d rather have a beer, but Bruce didn’t drink, so there wouldn’t be any around even if he dared deviate from his brother’s habits.
    As he stepped into the small confines of the kitchen, she didn’t move. So, she wanted to tease? Fine. Two could play that game.
    He skimmed past her, holding her gaze, letting his chest brush her breasts oh so slowly until her breath caught and she moved back.
    He contained his smile of triumph. “Where’s Barb?” Barb he could handle. Barb was surly most of the time, outrageous the rest. Barb didn’t make him hot.
    Flushed, Shay leaned against the counter. “She said she had a slight headache. I sent her to put a cool cloth on her forehead. I hope that helps.”
    Apparently Shay took charge with ease. That didn’t surprise him. “Barb suffers from migraines.” Bryan lightly tossed the items from Bruce’s office onto the Formica table. The spare key made a clinking sound as it landed. The notepad and pen fell beside it. “She has a prescription but hates to use it since it makes her sleepy.”
    Shay’s gaze flickered to the table and back to his face. “She told me. She said she had to stay alert to fix you something to eat and to finish cleaning up afterward. But I told her I’d take care of it.”
    Giving her a direct, hard stare, Bryan said, “I’m thirty-five and I haven’t starved yet. I know how to feed myself.” And he wasn’t masochistic enough to want to spend his dinner with her.
    “But Barb said she cooks all your meals.”
    “Barb just likes to stay busy. It’s in her nature.”
    “She said you brought her here when she had nowhere else to go.”
    Bryan couldn’t hide his surprise. Bruce had told him all about Barb’s situation, but Barb wasn’t a person given to sharing confidences. So far, she’d commented on his body, told him it was a shame he didn’t share his “sweet self,” and she sneered or complained. She set out food, picked up around the