by Lily Harlem
Hardly boyfriend material.
Hell, he probably had no intention of ever having a girlfriend, a wife, or settling down. He was married to the church and to God. It was the path he’d chosen, and for all she knew he could be off on a mission by the end of the week.
Suddenly an overwhelming sensation of despondency gripped her. She quickly slotted the album away and clasped the handle of the bag as she tugged it onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”
“Clara?” He stood, unfolding to his full height.
She felt small next to him as he loomed over her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern creasing his brow.
“Yes.” She nodded sharply. “I just need to get home.”
“Which is?”
“Only a five-minute walk from here.”
He nodded at the high window, which was now in blackness. “It’s dark.”
“There are lampposts.” She stepped away, needing to put some physical distance between her and Mark before she grabbed him, pulled him close, and kissed him the way she used to. It would surely get this ridiculous growing crush out of her system, put a halt to it, but it would also likely give Reverend Gerald a heart attack.
And she didn’t want that on her conscience.
“I should walk with you, make sure you get home safely.”
“I’ve done it a hundred times.” She turned to Reverend Gerald and raised her hand. “Goodbye, Reverend, see you on the ward tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.” He smiled then returned to his conversation with Derek.
Before Clara had even reached the door, Mark was pulling the handle. He held it open, his jaw set in a steely, determined line, one she recognized from his younger days.
She sighed. There was no point arguing. He’d made his mind up. The trouble was she didn’t trust herself, especially now she’d had a glass of wine and darkness would be a cape of privacy around them.
Within minutes, she’d pulled on her cardigan, and they were heading east toward her block of apartments.
“Do you miss the countryside?” Mark asked, striding along beside her.
“A little, but there’s plenty of open spaces here if you look for it. Lots of wildlife, too.”
“I’m glad I grew up with fields and woods,” he said. “It made for a fun childhood, plenty of freedom.”
“I agree.” Again, she thought of the barn, of the freedom they’d had back then to go for a romp in the hay, undetected, undisturbed. “That day in the…” Her words trailed off.
He appeared to hesitate then. “Go on.”
She should just say it, get it off her chest. “That day in the barn. Do you remember it? When we—”
“Of course.” He stopped suddenly and turned to her.
Also drawing to a halt, she looked up at him. A light was directly behind him, and she could only just make out his features. “Oh,” she said. “I’m glad, that you remember.”
“How could I forget?” He reached out and took a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s the one and only time I’ve ever had intimate relations with a woman.”
“It is … then … with me?” It was as she’d suspected, but still Clara was shocked. How the heck did a gorgeous guy like Mark resist all the females that must have flirted and attempted to seduce him over the years?
And why, much to her annoyance, did that increase her attraction to him tenfold?
Only with me? Really?
He spread the strands of her hair out, watching his own movements as he did so. “Yes, that day is imprinted on my memory. Of course it happened before I made my commitments to God, our relations, and I’ve made my peace with the fact we were out of wedlock.”
“We were young, in love, experimenting the way all teens do.”
“In love.” His gaze lifted and connected with hers. “Yes, we were, very much so.”
She bit on her bottom lip. Could he love her again? Was there still a kernel of longing in his heart for her? They’d ended so brutally, like a Band-Aid being ripped from a wound that hadn’t healed, and for her at least, it still hadn’t healed. It was raw, and it ached in the very center of her soul.
He leaned forward a little, his attention now on her mouth.
Damn it, she wanted to kiss him, even if it meant going to hell. Surely burning for all eternity would be a small price to pay to have his lips on hers once more.
Does he want to kiss me?
Suddenly he straightened and looked in the direction they’d been walking. “We should…”
“Yes. Come on, this way.” She snatched in a breath and balled her hands into fists. She had to stay strong. Reverend Mark was off limits, no matter how tempting he was.
Chapter Five
Mark
Mark’s belly was tight, his muscles tense as he walked alongside Clara. Her perfume filled his nose and he realized he’d never been tested as much as he was being right now.
Being in this woman’s company thrilled him. It made him feel complete, and something in his soul, which had been dormant, lying so low he’d forgotten it was even there, had risen to the surface with the speed of an erupting volcano. Clara was special, so special. There was no one else on the planet like her.
He wanted her, again. There was no disputing that. Her lips were so enticing, and he was sure they’d taste of sugar and cherries the way they used to. Her alluring shape, the heat of her body, the way her smiles came easily and went straight to her eyes. He was hooked. Cupid had fired an arrow years ago, and it was still there, in his heart. He knew full well Corinthians stated sex outside of marriage was immoral, sinful, and should be condemned. But damn it, Mark was pretty sure sex, right now, with Clara would be wondrous, special, and deeply connecting.
As they walked, he was aware of himself hardening. He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets again.
Sex with Clara right now was not going to happen. He was simply seeing her safely do her door, the way a good Christian man should.
“This is it,” she said, pausing at a flight of concrete stairs.
He glanced at the tall high rise. “I’ll come up with you.”
She laughed softly. “You don’t have to. It’s a lot of steps.”
“I can cope.” He strode ahead, glad of the darkness to hide the bulge in his pants, but also wishing Clara had somewhere better lit, a bit more welcoming, to call home. Was this really safe for her?
Eventually they reached the top of the stairs. As they headed along the walkway open to the elements, London twinkled into the distance and the breeze lifted Clara’s hair off her shoulders.
She came to a halt at a red door with a black letterbox and the number one hundred and twenty pinned to it. “This is me.”
Mark glanced left and right. “It’s very quiet around here.”
“Considering there are so many people living in this block, yes, it is. Mainly families, a few teens who can be excitable at weekends with their skateboards and bikes, but it’s an okay home, for now.”
“You’d like to move?”
“Of course, one day. A garden would be heavenly.”
He smiled at her use of the word. “I can imagine you growing prize roses and cultivating a vegetable patch full of tasty, nourishing treats.”
“How did you know that’s what I wanted to do?”
He studied her face, doused in shadows. “Because I do know you, remember.”
“It’s been such a strange day, to see you again,” she said quietly.
“Are you calling me strange?” He tipped his head and smiled.
“No, of course not, I think you’re…” She touched her fingers to her lips, as if holding in words.
“You think I’m what?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“I think you’re off limits.”
He frowned.
“This.” She flicked her hand between them. “What we had … it’s over.” Pain flashed in her eyes, and her bottom lip tre
mbled.
Mark could stand it no more. It was the word over that hit him like a punch to the chest. It snatched his breath away. Reaching for her face, he cupped her cheeks, pulled her near and set his lips over hers.
She gasped, her body tensing, but she didn’t fight him as he probed his tongue into her mouth.
The next thing he knew, she’d wound her arms around his neck and aligned her body with his.
He held in a groan, his abating erection springing back to life.
Clara was everything he remembered and more. As a girl, she’d captivated him; as a woman, she’d ignited his passion and pushed everything in his life to one side, including God.
She ran her fingers into his hair. Tangled her tongue with his.
Mark was giddy with longing. He pushed her backward, against her door and ran his right hand down the side of her torso, to her ass.
Quickly she lifted her left leg and wrapped it around his thigh.
He tilted his head, deepened the kiss, and ground up against her. If only they were naked right now, he could plunge deep. Do what he’d wanted to do all that time ago. Act out the things he’d dreamed off and finally find fulfilment.
She tore her mouth from his. “Hang on, my key. We can’t … kiss … here.” She was breathless as she dug into her bag.
Mark stepped back, his lips bruised and tingling, and his arms empty without her in them.
She pulled out her key and turned to the door.
Now what? He was going to go in there, to her flat and they’d have sex outside of the confines of marriage? A sin he’d promised himself never to commit.
But this is Clara. You’ve gone most of the way there with her anyway.
But that was before you committed your life to His work.
He had an angel on one shoulder, the devil on the other. His head spun. His emotions were at war with the needs of his body.
Clara opened the door and stepped in. She slung her bag to the side and faced him.
He stood stock still, his feet frozen to the floor.
“Mark?”
“I can’t.” He shook his head as his mouth dried and his throat constricted. “I’m sorry, Clara, I don’t know what came over me.”
She pressed her lips together and tilted her chin up. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she nodded. “Of course, I’m sorry, too.”
“No, you have no reason to be sorry. That was my fault, I shouldn’t have…”
“Done what every fiber in your body wanted?”
“It’s not that. I mean, I do want to, with you.” He paused. “It’s only ever been you. I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again.”
“Well we have, and it seems our lives are to be running parallel.”
“I agree, and that brings great joy to my heart.” He pressed his fist to his sternum.
“But makes you uncomfortable somewhere else, huh?” She glanced at his groin.
“I, er…” He didn’t know how to respond to a comment about his cock. It wasn’t something usually brought up in conversation.
“It’s perfectly fine. You’re married to God and the church, and there’s no room for a woman in your life.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it’s what you’re trying to say.” She reached for the door. “Good night, Reverend Mark. God bless.”
He was left looking at the red door, the echo of its slam ringing in his ears.
After pushing his hand through his hair, sighing deeply, he turned and slowly made his way back to the concrete steps. Part of him wanted her to open the door, beg him to go in. The other part of him was grateful she’d been strong and stopped it going any further.
Because if he’d kissed her for another few seconds, her sweet body seducing his and erasing all thoughts of the Bible’s teachings, he’d happily be getting sweaty and naked with her right now. Sod the price he’d pay, the dent in his faith and conscience. It would be worth it to have Clara as his, in his arms, in his bed. Even if it was just once.
****
The next morning dawned bright. Mark awoke in the small house he’d been assigned to beside the church. Reverend Gerald lived in the larger one next door. Having never married, he enjoyed the company of two small terriers whose excited yaps echoed around Mark’s courtyard garden.
Mark made tea and stepped outside. Clara was on his mind, and everywhere he looked something reminded him of her. Right now, he was sipping his morning brew and studying a pink rose bush and thinking how much she’d like it. A few seconds later he was examining a sunny corner and wondering if it could house a vegetable patch and perhaps a small greenhouse for her to potter around in.
He closed his eyes and allowed the heat of the sun to caress his face. What was he doing? Clara would never live here, with him. He’d never get to see her working in this garden, her hands busy, the scent of flowers surrounding her.
Sadness washed over him. It was such a chilly feeling that even the warm sun couldn’t take the coldness from it. For years he’d been satisfied as a single man. Okay, he’d had urges that at times had meant he’d had to take himself in hand, and lately, before the move to London, he’d been having vivid dreams about being with a woman.
And now, as he thought about it, that woman always had curly red hair, long, pale limbs, and a bright smile.
Clara. She’d been with him all this time. She was the one he’d dreamed of. How had he not realized that?
The phone in the kitchen ringing caught his attention. He wandered back into the house and picked it up. It was an old fashioned one, black and polished with a spiral cord.
“Mark?”
“Good morning, Reverend Gerald. I trust you slept well.”
“Like a baby. Listen, I’m going up to the hospital this morning as planned, but you should know Hilda was taken in overnight with chest pain.”
“Oh dear, I hope she’s okay.”
“God willing, yes, me too.” Reverend Gerald paused. “I wondered if you might come with me, as you’re learning your way around and it would be good to show your face.”
“Of course, though you did want me to do that admin work today.”
“Oh, there’s not much, a few hours at the most. Come with me. Hilda is on the ward Clara works on.”
Mark set down his tea, a small drip sloshing over the side. “I see.”
“You seemed to be getting on rather well, and I would have thought you’d enjoy seeing where she works.”
“Yes, of course.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He’d hoped to have a few days to clear his head, get his thoughts and body back under control before he had to see Clara again. And now here he was, heading off to the hospital in a matter of hours.
“Great, I’ll knock for you at eleven.” Gerald ended the call.
Mark closed his eyes and sighed. He could still taste Clara on his lips, he was sure of it. And the press of her chest to his, the way she’d wrapped her leg around his thigh, it was imprinted, so fresh, so damn sexy.
What the hell was he going to do? Temptation, it seemed, was on his doorstep and around every corner he turned, every moment of every day.
How was he supposed to stay strong, and true to his belief in the Bible’s words? He was just a man, a mere mortal, and a beautiful woman who filled his dreams and his fantasies had bewitched him.
Chapter Six
Clara
The ward was busy with the usual drug rounds, consultant visits, and new arrivals. Clara’s head was full of all the things she needed to do. She couldn’t forget one, and that meant, luckily, she had no head space for thinking about Mark.
Because Mark was the last thing she wanted to think about. Their kiss the evening before had been one of the most sensual, erotic moments of her life. It blew every other kiss, and intimate experience, with men out of the water. And it was for one reason and one reason only. It was Mark. The one who’d gotten away. The man her heart had never stopped beating for.
And that was something she was going to have to accept.
She set up an intravenous drip on a patient suffering from dehydration, then assisted an elderly woman to the bathroom. After two phone calls, one to the pharmacy, and one to a junior medic who was late, she headed into the sideward to see Hilda, who’d been brought in the night before.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Clara asked.
Hilda rubbed her sternum. “Much better now they’ve told me the tests are normal.”
“Yes, I saw the notes. Nothing more than a nasty dose of indigestion. Are the tablets working yet?”
“A little.” Hilda frowned.
“You’ll be able to go home soon. I’ll organize transport to take you back to Southwark.”
“Thank you, dear. You’re so kind. It’s lovely to see your face in this big, scary place.”
Clara smiled and took her hand. “I’m just relieved it’s nothing more serious, Hilda. You’re very special to us all.”
Hilda smiled, her eyes a little moist. Her trip to hospital had clearly rocked her safe little world.
“Ah, there you are, my dear.”
Clara turned at the sound of Reverend Gerald’s voice.
He walked into the room holding a small bag of green grapes. Behind him Mark appeared. He wore jeans, a black shirt, and of course, his clerical collar. His hair appeared a little damp, as though he wasn’t long out of the shower.
Clara’s breath caught. Images of him kissing her, pushing her up against the door, folding her in his arms, besieged her. Damn it, why did he have to be so God-fearing like his parents? Why couldn’t he have thrown caution to the wind and made up for it with a ton of confessions and absolutions afterwards?
She pulled her gaze from him. The pain and passion were too much to bear. “I’ll go and organize that transport, Hilda.”
