"Sure thing, Jack."

Gottler ushered us out of the conference room, past sets of double doors and columns and portraits and plaques. I read the plaques as we walked by, my attention caught by a huge arch of limestone over black walnut doors with stained-glass insets. The stone was engraved: for with God nothing shall be impossible, Luke 1:37

"Where does that door lead?" I asked.

"To my offices, actually." A man had approached the door from another direction. He paused and turned to face us, smiling.

"Pastor Cardiff," Gottler said quickly. "This is Jack Travis, and Miss Ella Varner."

Noah Cardiff shook Jack's hand. "A pleasure, Mr. Travis. I had the chance to meet your father recently."

Jack grinned. "Hope you didn't catch him on an ornery day."

"Not at all. He's a fascinating gentleman. Old-school. I tried to talk him into attending one of my services, but he said he wasn't finished sinning yet, and he'd let me know when he was." Laughing quietly, Cardiff turned to me.

He was dazzling. A big man, though not quite so tall as Jack, and built on a more slender scale. Whereas Jack looked and moved like an athlete, Noah Cardiff had the grace of a dancer. It was striking to see the two side by side, Jack with his sexy, earthy appeal, and Cardiff, refined and austerely beautiful.

The pastor's complexion was fair, the kind that blushed easily, and his nose was narrow and high-bridged. The smile was angelic and slightly rueful, the smile of a mortal man who was all too aware of human frailty. And the eyes were those of a saint, benevolent light blue, his gaze making you feel annointed in some way.

As he stepped close enough to shake my hand, I caught the scents of lavender and amber spice. "Miss Varner. Welcome to our worship facility. I hope your appointment with Pastor Gottler went well?" Pausing, he sent a quizzical smile to Gottler. "Varner… didn't we have a secretary…?"

"Yes, her sister, Tara, helped us out from time to time."

"I hope she's well," Cardiff told me. "Please give her my regards."

I nodded uncertainly.

Cardiff held my gaze for a moment, seeming to read my thoughts. "We'll pray for her," he murmured. With a graceful hand, he gestured to the plaque over his doors. "My favorite verse, from my favorite of the disciples. It's true, you know. Nothing is impossible in the Lord."

"Why is Luke your favorite?" I asked.

"Among other reasons, Luke is the only disciple who relates the parables of the Good Samaritan and the prodigal son." Cardiff smiled at me. "And he's a strong supporter of women's roles in the life of Christ. Why don't you come to one of our services, Miss Varner? And bring your friend Jack with you."

As Jack and I went outside, I went over the meeting in my mind, I rubbed my temples, feeling as if rubber bands had been wrapped tight around my skull.

Jack opened the SUV door for me and went to the other side. We both stood with the doors open, letting the heat pour out before we got into the vehicle.

"I can't stand Mark Gottler," I said.

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"While he was talking, I was overwhelmed by the realization that here is this hypocritical asshole who took advantage of my sister, and I'd like to… well, I don't know, shoot him or something… but instead there we were, negotiating."

"I know. But he's stepping up to the plate. Let's give him points for that."

"He's only doing it because we're forcing him to." I frowned. "You're not on his side, are you?"

"Ella, I just spent the last hour and fifteen minutes with my boot up his ass. No, I'm not on his side. All I'm saying is, the situation isn't all his fault. Okay, we can get in now." Jack turned on the car. The air-conditioning huffed ineffectually in the scorching heat.

I buckled my seat belt. "My sister is in a clinic with a nervous breakdown after being seduced by a married church pastor-are you somehow claiming that this is her fault?"

"I'm saying there's enough blame to go around. And Tara wasn't seduced. She's a full-grown woman who uses her body to get what she wants."

"Coming from you, that's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" I asked, smarting.

"Here's the facts, Ella: your sister's about to get a house, a new car, and an allowance of fifteen thousand dollars a month, all for the simple reason that she managed to get knocked up by a guy with money. But no matter how good a deal the lawyers work out, she'll have to find another sugar daddy someday. Problem is, it won't be as easy next time. She'll be older."

"Why don't you think she'll get married?" I asked, increasingly irritated.

"She won't settle for a regular guy. She wants a rich one. And she's not the kind they marry."

"Yes, she is. She's beautiful."

"Beauty is a depreciating asset. And that's the only thing Tara brings to the table. In trading terms, that makes her a short sale, not a buy-and-hold."

The blunt assessment took my breath away. "Is that how rich guys really think? "

"Most of us."

"My God." I was fuming. "You must assume every woman you meet is after your wallet."

"No. But let's just say it's easy to spot the ones who would drop me in a red-hot minute if something happened to the money."

"I don't give a shit about your money-"

"I know that. It's one of the reasons I-"

"-and if you hate my sister so much, why are you bothering to help her?"

"I don't hate her. Not at all. I just see her for what she is. I'm doing all this for Luke's sake. And yours."

"For my sake?" Startled out of my rising anger, I gave him a round-eyed glance.

"There's not much I wouldn't do for you, Ella," he said quietly. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

While I sat there in stunned silence, he pulled the SUV out of the parking space.

Disgruntled and riled and roasting-it would be a while before the air-conditioning would make any headway against the braised interior of the car-I was quiet for a while. I saw my sister differently than Jack did. I loved her. But did that prevent me from seeing the truth? Did Jack have a better grasp of the situation than I did?

I heard my cell phone ring. Reaching for my handbag, I dug around until I found the phone. "It's Dane," I said tersely. He rarely called during the day. "Do you mind if I take this?"

"Go right ahead." Jack continued to drive, his gaze on the midday traffic. Vehicles lurched and clotted like cells pushing through a hardened artery.

"Dane. Is everything okay?"

"Hi, sweetie, everything's great. How did the meeting go?" I gave Dane the in-a-nutshell version, and he listened with reassuring sympathy, making none of the judgments that Jack had. It was a relief to talk to someone who didn't push my buttons. I found myself relaxing, the air-conditioning blowing over me like the breath of a glacier.

"Hey, I was wondering," Dane said, "are you up for some company tomorrow night? I'm driving over to pick up a flowmeter from Katy for a system we're building. I'll take you out to dinner and spend the night. Meet this guy you've been spending so much time with."

I froze until Dane added with a laugh, "But I won't change his diaper."

My answering laugh was a shade too high-pitched. "No diaper-changing required. Yes, we'd love to see you. I can't wait."

"Good, I'll be there around four or five tomorrow. Bye, sweetie."

"Bye, Dane."

Closing the phone, I saw that we were back at 1800 Main, pulling into the underground garage.

Jack found a place near the elevator bank, and he stopped the SUV. He turned off the car and stared at me in the shadowy interior.

"Dane's coming to visit tomorrow," I said, aiming for a matter-of-fact tone but only managing to sound tense.