Under the huge sycamore tree, Denise sat on a bench, reading. She had been asked to keep her eye on the new gardener, because the previous one had been caught stealing from the vegetable garden. This one, however, had been chosen well. He worked hard.
The sun beat down mercilessly and Denise looked up at him. He had removed his shirt and the sculpted taut muscles together with his twinkling blue eyes were enough to make any woman weak at the knees.
Unable to concentrate on her reading, and in her failure to divert her eyes, Denise was drawn to this man who toyed with her feelings. She felt an unusual longing, and lowered her head trying to hide a blush. Denise scolded herself inwardly, for being tempted in this manner.
He moved closer to where she sat, neatening the edges of the lawn, then stood still, stretched and wiped his brow as sweat trickled down his tanned body.
Denise's fingers trembled and she dropped her book.
He bent and picked it up.“I’m Mark,”he said, passing it to her, inadvertently brushing two fingers.
She shivered,then adjusted her wimple. “Thank you,” she replied. “I’m Sister Denise, and very late for prayers.”