Part 9 (1/2)
Her grin made his knees weak. ”Well, then, welcome home.”
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She moved her toned body to one side so Tim could see far enough into the apartment to notice lit candles and dimmed lights. Something freshly baked mingled with a smell that was sweet and intoxicating. Her hand found his. ”I've been thinking about you all day.”
He started to step inside when another Scripture verse flew through his mind.
The thief comes only to steal and kill and- ”Tim?” Angela angled her head and studied his face. ”What's wrong with you?”
Flee from s.e.xual immorality.
Tim sighed and tossed his hands in the air. ”I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind.”
”Yeah.” Angela's smile faded. ”Me too.”
Tim felt his heart lurch. ”Everything okay?”
”Sure.” Her expression fell.
He lifted her chin, caressing her face as he did. ”Tell me the truth, Angela.
What's wrong?”
She shook her head. ”Nothing.”
He swallowed and forced a chuckle. ”You're not having second thoughts, are you?”
Angela leaned her head against the wall. ”I wanted tonight to be perfect.
But...”
The thud of his heartbeat sounded in his ears. He'd sacrificed his marriage for this woman. He had no idea what he'd do if she backed out now. ”But, what?”
She looked at him. ”I'm struggling, Tim. Really.”
He searched his memory and tried to imagine why she'd be struggling. She had everything she had wanted. Including him. He brushed a finger along her brow.
”Come on, Angela. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She exhaled softly, and after a long while she began to speak. ”My father left us when I was ten.” Her eyes met his and held. ”He ran off with another woman.”
Silence hung between them for a moment, and Tim rested 70 against the Door frame again. He wasn't sure where she was going with this, so he waited.
”I promised myself I would never date a married man.” There was a catch in her voice. ”And now here I am. No better than the woman who stole my daddy away.”
Tim could barely breathe as he considered her words. ”Should I go?”
”No. That's just it.” She looked up, her eyes a mix of sorrow and desire. ”I want you to stay. Forever, Tim. Really.”
”Good.” He felt himself relax. ”I want that too.”
She moved closer and ran her fingers along his hairline. The sadness eased from her expression. ”You know what we need to do?”
Whatever it was, he would do it. How could he not, with her standing there, sweet and beautiful and vulnerable, mesmerizing him with her every movement?
”What do we need to do?”
”Have a little wine.” She smiled, holding up a hand to ward off his objections.
”Now, look. I know you don't drink, but come on ... just one gla.s.s?” She curled her lips into a pout that made Tim weak.
”Angela, I don't...” His argument fizzled, and another verse flashed in his head.
Be holy, because I am holy.
”Come on.” She pulled at his hand again. ”I'm tired of drinking alone.” She led him into the apartment, but halfway across the entry she turned, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. The kiss lasted longer than either of them intended, and when Angela came up for breath she grinned at him. ”Don't fight it, Tim. You can't tell me no, remember? Just one drink. For me.”
And there it was, the offer he had never intended to accept, standing between them like a doorway. In that instant he knew instinctively that the Scripture verses would fade if he took the drink. What could it hurt, really? He wouldn't do anything crazy
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or over the edge, nothing life-threatening like the frat kid or Uncle Frank.
Just a gla.s.s of wine to please Angela, ease the pain, and help him think clearly.
The thief comes only to steal and kill and- ”You know, I think that'd be nice,” he heard himself say.
Angela gazed back into her apartment and lifted her shoulders twice. ”I just so happen to have a bottle of white zinfandel in the refrigerator.” Her eyes danced, and Tim realized he didn't need a drink at all. He was intoxicated just being near her.
She led the way into the kitchen and nodded toward the table. It was set for two, and the lovely smell was bread baking in the oven. There were winegla.s.ses at both their place settings. ”Actually, you have a choice,” she said. ”The zinfandel or a nice little merlot.”
He inhaled sharply and chuckled. ”I'll trust your judgment.”
She poured him a gla.s.s of pale pink liquid. It looked like the type of wine his friends used to drink years ago at more sophisticated college parties.
He gripped the stem of the gla.s.s just as yet another Scripture verse filtered through his mind.
I have come that you might have life and have it to the- ”To new beginnings ...” Tim raised his gla.s.s to hers, and the two made a clinking sound.