softly spoken request froze Angela in her tracks. This was it. Her traitorous feet wouldn’t move—wouldn’t take her out the door to safety. She forced her lips into a smile as the others bid her goodnight and filed out the door.
The sound of a hymn the music team was practicing for Sunday morning poured through the open door. It did nothing to ease Angela’s taut nerves. She felt the blood draining from her face as Hosea Stevens walked over to her, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Six years of her life—gone. She would have to move. Start over somewhere new.
Angela swallowed back a sudden surge of nausea and stared down at the white knuckles on her hands as he stopped in front of her. She couldn’t make herself look up at him. She didn’t want to read the knowledge of her past in his eyes.
“Have I done something to offend you, Miss Warren?”
“What?” Angela jerked her head up. “I mean—no.” Had he not remembered? This wasn’t about her past after all. Relief made her weak. She put her hand out and gripped the chair beside the open door for support. “Why do you ask?” He glanced down at her hand and she quickly let go of the chair and stepped out into the hallway. He moved to stand beside her.
“I ask because I’ve noticed you avoid me whenever possible. And when you are forced into my company—such as at the meeting tonight—you seldom look directly at me, or speak to me.” His gaze fastened on hers. “And you always hurry off at the first possible moment.”
Angela’s heart sank—instead of avoiding Hosea Stevens’s attention she had drawn it. She looked down at the Bible in her hand and groped frantically for something to say. She couldn’t deny the truth.
“If I have said or done anything…”
Angela drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t let him believe he had committed some offense against her. The guilt was hers. “Please don’t think that, Pastor Stevens. It’s only that I’ve been…preoccupied lately.” That certainly was true.
“I see.”
There was concern in his voice. Angela lifted her head and, for the first time, met Hosea Stevens’s gaze fully. The oddest sensation struck her—a sort of tingling warmth that spread through her entire body. Her eyes widened with shock. She lowered her head so he wouldn’t notice, and started down the hall. He fell into step beside her.
“I have to say I’m relieved, Miss Warren. I thought I’d made a horrible mistake.”
She shook her head. “Not at all, Pastor. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” She made herself look back up at him. “Please forgive me.”
“Consider it done.” He lifted his hands, scrubbed them through his hair, then jammed them into his pants pockets. “Well, I’m glad that’s over with.”
Angela burst into laughter. She couldn’t help it. He looked like a little boy that had been caught out and by some stroke of luck escaped punishment.
Hosea chuckled. “I hope you won’t tell anyone what a chickenhearted fellow I am.”
Angela hugged her Bible and purse to her chest and grinned at him. “Never fear, Pastor. Wild horses could not drag your secret from me.”
Secret! Her steps faltered. She shouldn’t have said secret. What if the word triggered his memory? She hurried toward the exit door. “Was there anything more?”
“No.” Hosea reached for the push bar. “Not unless I can help you with whatever it is that has been causing your…preoccupation.” His voice softened on the word. “I’ve had good training, and a lot of experience at counseling. It’s part of my job, you know.”
Angela’s stomach knotted. She looked down and rearranged the load in her arms. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you anyway, Pastor. Good night.” She glanced up and their gazes met. That odd sensation hit her again—along with a sudden awareness of Hosea Stevens’s exceptional, dark-blond good looks. Quickly, she stepped through the door he held open.
“Good night, Miss Warren.”
There was a soft swish of air as the door closed behind her.
One o’clock! Angela laid her book on the nightstand and turned out the lamp. It did little to help her wakefulness. She threw another disgusted glance at her alarm clock, frowned at the lateness of the hour and turned onto her side. Plumping her feather pillow with her fist, she laid her head down and closed her eyes. An image of Hosea Stevens smiling down at her slid into her mind. She snapped her eyes open, flopped over onto her other side and stared at the moonlight streaming in the window.
What was wrong with her? Why should she be so agitated by a simple smile? Angela threw off the sheet and clicked the lamp back on. She was being ridiculous. Her sleeplessness had nothing to do with Hosea Stevens—she was probably just hungry.
She jammed her feet into her slippers and headed for the kitchen, but nothing in the cupboards looked appealing. It was indecent of a pastor to be so handsome and charming! But why it should bother her one way or another was beyond her. She wanted no part of any man. She had wanted nothing to do with men ever since her mother and stepfather had—
Angela snatched her mind back from the brink of that dark abyss and went to the sink for some water. She had thought she was free of the past. Now, every time she saw Hosea Stevens it all came rushing back. And if—when—he remembered…
Angela shuddered, set the glass of water on the counter and walked over to the window. Moonlight bathed her small backyard with silver radiance but she was too upset to appreciate the loveliness of the scene. She had never expected to feel an attraction for a man, but tonight, when Hosea Stevens had looked at her…when their gazes had met…
Oh, stop! Angela turned her back on the moonlight outside the window and went over to drink the water. Why was she indulging in such romantic nonsense? That odd feeling was only a momentary aberration. She was terrified to be around the man, for goodness’ sakes. At any moment he might recall that night when she had stumbled into the Crossroads Church to get away from Tony. But still—
Still nothing! Her safety depended on her staying as distant from the man as possible. She slammed the door of her mind closed on all thoughts of Hosea Stevens and headed for the library. There was one sure way to exorcise such foolishness from her mind—work. Lots and lots of work.
The image wouldn’t go away. He simply could not get it out of his mind. Hosea rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and stared down at the list of scripture references he’d prepared for Sunday’s service—all he saw was Angela Warren’s face. The problem was, he wasn’t sure why.
Was it because, as her pastor, he was concerned over what she had called her preoccupation? Or was it something more basic? Tonight, when their gazes had met he’d felt as if he’d been slammed by a pile driver!
Hosea leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the padded arms, and slowly rubbed his chin against the tented fingers of his joined hands. He’d never felt such a strong, instantaneous attraction to a woman. Maybe this was the beginning of love. Maybe this was the answer to his prayers for a woman to cherish and share his life with. He’d been praying for a couple of years now. Was Angela Warren God’s answer to those prayers? Could she—an ex-prostitute—be God’s choice for him?
Hosea looked down at the Bible on his desk and pursed his lips in contemplation. There was certainly precedent. God had told the prophet Hosea to marry a promiscuous woman as an example of God’s love and mercy toward wayward Israel.
“Whoa!” Hosea snapped forward in his chair. “You’re letting you’re imagination run away with you, buddy! It’s far too early to be thinking of marriage. And that precedent doesn’t apply. Angela is not a promiscuous woman. Her sin has been forgiven by the Lord, remember? It’s as if it never happened.”
Hosea closed his eyes. It made no difference. Whether his eyes were open or shut, Angela Warren’s face was there in his mind—her