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Authors: Robin Lee Hatcher

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BOOK: The Forgiving Hour
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“Shh.” He loosed her hair from the two claws, dropping them on the floor. Then he stroked her head with one hand while stroking her back with the other. “It’s okay, Sara. I promise you, it is.”

“You … don’t know … what a fool I … made of myself … today.”

He chuckled, and the sound in his chest rumbled against her ear. “You’re no fool, honey. And no one would ever think you were.”

“But I —”

“No.” With a finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face upward. “You’re no fool.”

He kissed her again. His mouth was warm and firm, and he tasted wonderful.

Better than ice cream.

She forgot about crying. She forgot everything except the extraordinary feel of his body close to hers. She hadn’t felt this strong need in what seemed a lifetime.

Yet even with her hormones raging, she knew that Dakota would always cherish her. She would always be safe with him. Loving him, wanting him, didn’t seem wrong or frightening. She trusted him with herself, with her heart, with her all. She wanted him to hold and kiss and caress her.

It would be so easy …

TWENTY-NINE

Desire flashed through Dakota like a fire.

All that separated them were a few clothes. With a quick flick of his wrist, he could untie Sara’s belt. The bathrobe would fall open, and he could feast his eyes on the woman he adored.

Would it be so awful? We love each other.

But he knew the answer in his soul.

Not this way.

He took hold of her shoulders and carefully but determinedly set her back from him.

Sara opened her eyes, a question written in them, along with a fevered look of passion that mirrored his own.

“No, Sara.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat, then repeated, “No.”

“Oh, Dakota.”

“It isn’t right. Not now. Not in this way. And we both know it.”

She sighed, and a quiver passed through her. “Yes, I suppose we do.” She took a step backward, moving from beneath his hands. She clutched the front of her robe, the gesture exemplifying her sudden vulnerability. “Maybe I’d better get out of this robe and fix my hair.”

“Good idea.” The room was much too warm. He needed some fresh air, and he needed it
now.
“I’m going to step out onto the balcony while I wait.”

“I won’t be long.” She fled as if pursued.

Once outside, he welcomed the sting of the winter’s wind on his overheated skin. He needed the cold to clear his head. Only it didn’t do the trick. His lustful thoughts remained on Sara and the way she’d felt in his arms.

“I’m just a man, Jesus,” he prayed. “Help me.”

It hadn’t been this difficult before. Sure, he’d felt all the normal sexual urges, but this was different. This was Sara.

The good things we want to do when the Spirit has His way with us,
Paul had written,
are just the opposite of our natural desires.
Never had he understood that truth as much as he did right now.

He closed his eyes. “I’m doing my best, God, but I’m not sure I can win this battle.”

It is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”

That’s a mighty tough gig, Lord.

“Dakota?”

He turned quickly. She stood in the open doorway, clad in a navy blue sweater and faded jeans. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted with hot-pink polish. She’d put her hair up, back in those claw things he’d removed just a short while ago. She looked every bit as beautiful, every bit as desirable as she had before.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have —”

“You’ve never made love to a woman, have you?”

Male pride warred with honesty. When he was a teenager, guys would have sex one night and then brag about it the next day in the locker room. Here he was, twenty-four and a virgin. The world said that was odd, abnormal, unmasculine. He didn’t want Sara to think him anything less than a man.

“Have you?” Her expression was troubled.

What was he ashamed of? Obeying God? Striving to do what was right even when it wasn’t easy, even when everything around him said he was out of step with the rest of the world?

He shook his head. “No, Sara, I haven’t.”

“Because?”

“Because I made a covenant with God when I was sixteen that I’d wait until marriage.” He searched for the right words to explain. “I come from a broken home. I know how painful it is on everyone. I don’t want to repeat that pattern as an adult. I want to give my marriage every advantage for success, and the only way I know to do that is to follow God’s plan for sex and marriage.”

This was tougher than he’d expected it to be. He’d never talked about sex with a woman before, not even in general terms.

“And what is God’s plan?”

He shoved aside his discomfort and answered her as best he could. “Well, I think it’s for sex to be special and unique between husband and wife, a joining of more than just bodies. The marriage bed should be undefiled. That’s the ideal, and that’s what I want.”

She stepped to the balcony rail, gripped hold of it, and stared off toward the river. “Have you ever been tempted to break your vow?”

“I’ve been tempted plenty.”
You may never know how much.
“I’m just like any other guy. It would be easy to give in. And I know there’d be pleasure involved. But it wouldn’t last. Sort of like eating an entire chocolate cake by yourself. Tastes good at the time, but you regret it later.”

“Dakota …” She hugged herself, whether against the night chill or against something within, he didn’t know. “I’m not a virgin. I had an affair when I was nineteen.”

He waited to feel upset by the revelation, then realized he wasn’t surprised, that he’d suspected this was one of the “awful mistakes” she’d referred to in an earlier conversation.

“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” She said it softly, still not looking at him. “You deserve someone better than me. Someone … pure.”

His heart nearly broke when he heard her say those words. He moved to stand beside her, then placed his arm around her shoulders.

Give me the right words, Father. Give me wisdom.

He kissed the crown of her head. “My darling Sara, weren’t your sins forgiven when you were born again?”

“What?” She turned toward him, at the same time shaking off his arm.

“I think you’re letting guilt rob you of the joy He means for you to have in Him.”

Sounding brittle, she responded, “Then what about your
undefiled
marriage bed? I certainly can’t give it to you.”

Lord? What do I say to that?

“Can I?” she challenged.

A peace descended over him, and he had his answer. “Yes, you can.”

“How? Tell me how.”

“Because when you accepted Christ, His blood washed you white as snow. You’ve been born anew into someone totally different. He removed your sins as far from you as the east is from the west. They’re gone, Sara. They aren’t just covered over, like trash beneath the snow. They’re
gone”

The defiance left her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. “Maybe that’s true, Dakota. But
you’ll
always know what they were. You’ll always know what I’ve done. If we let this go any further, if we … if we let ourselves love each other,
you
would always know another man took me to his bed. Maybe you don’t think so now, but there would come a time when you’d look at me and see me as … as soiled goods.”

He placed his palms against the sides of her head, forcing her to look at him. He spoke carefully, letting everything he was feeling and thinking and hoping resonate in his words. “Sara, I see a woman who loves God, who is seeking His guidance and wants to serve Him. I see a woman who was forgiven of all her past mistakes, all her failures, all her sins, someone who was saved by grace through faith when she gave her heart to Jesus. Just like I was.”

“But —”

“No buts. He didn’t say, ‘I’ll remove everybody’s sins
except
Sara’s.’”

Even as darkness closed around them, he could see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

“You want to know what else I see?” He lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you. I see the woman I love, the woman I know in my heart God has sent to me.”

“But what if you’re wrong? What if God has someone better in mind?”

Tenderly, “An excellent wife, who can find? For her worth is far above jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil all the days of her life.” He paused, then added, “You are the woman I want for my wife, the woman I want to live with all the rest of my days. You’re the woman I want to make love to, the woman I hope will be the mother of my children and my companion in old age.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Will you be all those things for me, Sara? Will you marry me?”

As if only now understanding what he’d been saying, she sucked in a quick breath. “Marry you?”

“Yes, marry me.”

“You said we weren’t going to rush into anything. You said we were going to go slow.”

“Are we rushing?” He caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. How can that be rushing?”

“But you
haven’t
known me forever. There’s a great deal you still don’t know about me.”

“Do you love me?”

She started to shake her head, then stopped.

“Do you?”

She nodded.

“And if we were married, would you be able to promise that you would stay with me, forsaking all others, till death do us part?”

“You don’t understand. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t marry you.”

“Could you promise me those things if we
did
marry?”

She hesitated, then whispered, “Yes.”

“Then I know everything I need to know, everything that’s important.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her back into the apartment and straight to the couch. With a gentle pressure on her shoulders, he urged her to sit. Then he dropped down on one knee in front of her and took hold of her right hand with both of his.

“Sara Jennings, I love you. I believe in my heart that God has ordained this moment. If you marry me, I promise I’ll never be unfaithful, that I’ll love you as Christ loves His church, enough to die for you. I promise I’ll cherish you, and I’ll try always to think in terms of two made one instead of just thinking of myself. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I’ll make mistakes. I’ll make you angry. But I’ll never hurt you intentionally, and I’ll strive to make things right when I fail you. Marry me, Sara. I love you. Make me the happiest guy alive.”

For several tense heartbeats, while silence stretched between them, he feared she might refuse his proposal. Then, ever so slowly, a tentative smile curved the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, Dakota. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

THIRTY

Claire leaned over the table and stared at the blueprints. “I’m not sure about the conference room layout,” she told Adam Fogerty, the general contractor. “Maybe we should modify it slightly.”

“Whatever you say, Ms. Conway. We’ll just need to know no later than next Friday.”

“I’ll notify you right after I speak with Mr. Quade.” She straightened. “He’s supposed to be in the office today.”

“I’m here now.”

She spun around, and there Kevin stood, framed by the doorway, looking entirely too handsome for Claire’s peace of mind.

Since it was Saturday, he’d once again foregone suit and tie. This time he wore stonewashed jeans and a sweatshirt that, judging by the faded slogan on the front of it, appeared to be a longtime favorite. He looked ten or fifteen years younger than his actual age, despite the gray that peppered his hair.

Her pulse skipped a beat even as Alana’s words repeated in her head:
I knew it! You
are
interested.

“Sorry it’s taken me so long to get over here. This week’s been a zoo.” Kevin approached, his smile relaxed and friendly. “It looks like things are really moving along. You’re doing a great job, Claire.”

“Thanks.” Hoping she wasn’t blushing like a teenager, she turned toward the blueprints on the table. “You should look at these. I thought the conference room should be modified from our original plans. I’m not sure we’re using this space to its potential. Mr. Fogerty said it wouldn’t be a problem to change.”

Kevin stepped up beside her. “Show me what you have in mind.”

She could hardly answer him. He was standing too close. She would have sworn she could feel his body heat coming through his sweatshirt. And there was his cologne, a particularly appealing scent although she couldn’t name the brand. She hadn’t paid attention to a man’s cologne in years.

Somehow, despite the distraction Kevin presented, she managed to express her ideas in a halfway intelligent manner instead of sounding like a blithering idiot.

“Hey, Fogerty!” a workman shouted from another area of the building. “We need you over here.”

“Let me know when you’ve decided,” the contractor said, striding out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Kevin looked at Claire. “You’ve got a keen eye. Let’s go with your ideas.”

“Don’t you want a little while to think about it?”

He shook his head. “Isn’t necessary.” He smiled again. “How are you? I’ve missed our talks while I was gone.”

“I’m good.”
I missed you too.
“I took your advice.”

“My advice?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“About my ex.”

Kevin didn’t say anything; he waited for her to continue.

She drew in a quick breath. “I always thought forgiveness was something I had to feel first, and I knew I didn’t feel it for him. But I understand now that my part is to be obedient. So I
chose
to forgive Dave, just as you told me.”

“It wasn’t me who said that’s what we’re to do.”

She felt a twinge of irritation; she’d wanted his approval. She wanted him to tell her what a good person she was for having been obedient. To be honest, she wanted him to be impressed by her self-sacrifice. He didn’t seem to be any of those things.

BOOK: The Forgiving Hour
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