When she'd walked into the cottage after her makeover yesterday and seen Rachel's jaw drop in amazement, she'd burst into tears.

Rachel, however, had burst out in delighted laughter. "Kristy, you look like a really stylish tramp! And I mean that in the very best way."

Rachel had hugged her and fussed over her and ordered her to lay out all her purchases: the clothes, and underwear, the expensive new makeup, and the trillion-dollar-an-ounce exquisitely sultry perfume that had made Edward wrinkle his nose and tell Kristy she smelled like a mag'zine.

After admiring all Kristy's new purchases, Rachel had told Her she was beautiful, then glared at her in that intimidating way she had. "You're doing this for yourself, aren't you, Kristy? You're doing it because you want to, not just because you're trying to catch the attention of that worthless Ethan Bonner."

"I'm doing this for myself," Kristy had repeated, even though both of them knew it was a lie. If she had her way, she'd have her plain old long hair back, her plain old clothes, her plain old face scrubbed clean of everything but a little lipstick. If she were doing it for herself, she'd be invisible again, because she liked invisible. She craved invisible. She was born to be invisible.

But invisible wouldn't catch the attention of the dream-boat preacher.

Her blood froze as she heard his confident step in the hallway. The church office was closed on Mondays, so there was a lot of work they had to catch up on today. Dear God, please let him be overcome with lust quickly because I don't know if I can carry this off for very long.

"Morning." He breezed into the office. "Bring me the report from the mission committee, will you, so I can look it over? And let's see if we can get the July calendar finalized." He sailed past her desk and into his office without a glance.

Good old invisible Kristy Brown.

She snatched up her purse, pulled out the tiny flagon of perfume, and spritzed ten dollars' worth into her cleavage. She did a quick check of her appearance in the mirror of her new compact: light foundation, delicately arched eyebrows, thick, smoky-brown lashes, pale blush, and a crimson hooker's mouth.

Oh, dear. That mouth. But the makeup salesgirl had insisted and Kristy remembered what Rachel had said that morning. One look at your mouth, Kristy,, and Reverend Stud Man's going to be having some very naughty thoughts. Not that you care, since you bought that lipstick for yourself.

Kristy collected the neatly arranged papers she needed, then promptly dropped them. As she bent to pick them up, she saw flashy magenta toenails peeking through the straps of a slim gold sandal, and she felt as if she were looking at someone else's foot.

I'm a fox. I'm a fox. I'm a foolish, feathered fox.

Ethan had his head bent over a curriculum catalog. Today he wore a white shirt with a narrow maroon stripe and navy slacks. His long tapered fingers played with the edges of the catalog, and she thought of those same fingers- playing with the catch of her Wonderbra.

With her heart pounding, she set the mission committee's report on the desk, automatically straightened a pile of mail, then sat in her customary place opposite him. As she crossed her legs, the tight white jeans nearly cut off her circulation, but she ignored the discomfort.

Ethan studied the report. "I wish I knew how to light a fire under them. I want this year's Compassion Campaign to be our best yet, but the mission committee's most exciting idea so far is to put a financial thermometer poster in the narthex."

"Why don't we get the adult-education class involved in the planning? They're enthusiastic about mission." Look up at me! Let me knock you out!

"Um. Good idea. Call Mary Lou and feel her out, will you?"

Feel me up, will you? That thought made her face turn red. She shifted and sent out a fresh cloud of perfume.

Ethan sniffed, but didn't look up.

She slid the July calendar across his desk. Surely he'd notice that she had six rings on that hand, seductive little gold and silver bangles that nestled together like lovers' hands.

He didn't notice. "We've got a conflict on the tenth. I have a synod meeting. Either we reschedule the Vacation Bible School picnic or they can have it without me."

She wanted to run from the office, but if she ran now, she'd never be able to do this again. She forced herself to her feet, then walked around the side of his desk until she stood next to him. "The children will be disappointed if you're not there. Why don't I have them shift the picnic to Thursday?"

He sneezed. She handed him a tissue from a box on the credenza, and he wiped his perfectly formed nose. "Isn't that the day we're inviting the parents in for lunch?"

"Not a problem." She pressed her hip closer to his side. "We'll move that earlier in the week."

"Okay." He tossed the tissue into the trash. "Make sure I'm there."

She couldn't take any more. Pointing to the calendar, she leaned down and popped one elevated breast right under his eyes. "The twenty-third will be the perfect day for the Friends of Jesus pageant."

Silence. A long, labored silence.

The muscles at the back of his elegant neck tightened. His lean fingers flattened on his desk, and her entire life seemed to flash before her eyes, all thirty boring years, as she waited for him to look up from her breast.

He slowly raised his head, moving inch by inch, but the power of speech seemed to have left him by the time his gaze reached her face. Finally, the muscles in his throat began to work as he swallowed. "Kristy?"

She told herself to pretend she was Rachel. What would Rachel do in this situation? She tilted up her chin and placed one trembling hand on her hip. "Yeah?" As the word came out, she nearly choked on it. She had never in her life answered anyone by saying Yeah.

He stared at her. "New… uh… New blouse-er-top?"

She nodded and tried to look bored, but it was difficult because this was the first time she could ever remember having Ethan Bonner's full attention. She began to perspire and hoped it didn't show.

He wasn't deliberately staring, she knew that. Rather, it seemed that he'd lost track of his eyes. He took in her hair, her makeup, her scarlet mouth, her breasts and clothes, back to her breasts.

He slowly began to recover. His eyebrows drew together, and there was a gruffness in his voice that didn't sound as if she'd maddened him with lust. "What've you done to yourself?"

She wanted to cry, but Rachel would kill her if she crumbled. "I-I was bored. It was t-time for a change."

"Change! You look like… like…" Once again, his eyes stalled on her breasts, then he drew a deep breath. "You can wear whatever you like when you're not working, but that's not appropriate for the office."

"What's not appropriate?"

"Well, those jeans, for example…"

"You wear jeans to the office all the time. Billie Lake wears jeans when she subs for me."

"Yes, but… All right, yes, the jeans are fine. Of course, they're fine, but…" His eyes returned to her breasts. "Your… uh, lipstick is a little… Well, it's a little bright."

She was suddenly furious. He drooled over Laura Delapino with her crimson lipstick, but because she was good old reliable Kristy Brown, he only wanted to criticize. She couldn't imagine Rachel standing silently and letting a man do this do her.

"You don't like my lipstick," she said flatly.

"I didn't say that. It's not my place to like it or not. I just think for a church office…"

Rachel would never put up with this. Not in a million years. And neither would she.

"If you don't like it, you can fire me."

He seemed genuinely shocked. "Kristy!"

She had to get out of here before she started to cry.

"Now there's no need to get upset." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure once you have a chance to think this over…"

"I have, and I quit!"

She dashed from the office, feathers flying, then snatched up her purse and ran outside to her car where she promptly collapsed against the steering wheel and burst into tears. Had she really expected him to fall in love with her just because she'd cantilevered her breasts? She was still the same dull, pathetic woman who'd lived most of her life mooning over a man who would never in a million years moon back. Except now she was jobless, too.

Through her tears, she saw the back door fly open and Ethan come running out. She couldn't let him see her like this, a pathetic loser crying over her miserable life. She snatched her keys from her purse and shoved them in the ignition.

"Kristy!"

The engine roared to life. He ran toward her. She shot out of her parking space.

He rushed to the side of her car. "Stop it, Kristy! You're overreacting! Let's talk about this."

That was when she did the unthinkable. She rolled down the window, thrust out her hand, and gave Reverend Ethan Bonner the bird.

Two days had passed since Kristy had shown up at the church dressed like an upper-crust hooker, and Ethan still hadn't gotten over the shock. "Look at the way she's carrying on!" His glare took in the Mountaineer's postage-stamp dance floor, where Kristy Brown was dancing with Andy Miels, who was nearly ten years her junior.

Her movements were a little self-conscious, but no one sitting at the bar's rustic pine tables seemed to notice.

Kristy had shown up at the Mountaineer in a tight black skirt that ended at mid-thigh and a clinging, deeply cut melon-colored top displaying a full set of breasts that no one had ever suspected she possessed. She'd accessorized the outfit with a glittery black-and-gold Y-necklace, the tip of which nestled at the top of her cleavage. Her fake diamond studs sparkled through the wisps of dark-brown hair that fluttered around her face as she danced.