Heat rose in her cheeks. She’d been wondering if he was about to kiss her, not pray. She wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing.
Self-consciousness dried her throat. Public prayers in church or prayer group were one thing, but openly praying in a busy corridor, with staff and visitors and patients in wheelchairs and orderlies pushing trolleys all around them? The only person she’d ever known who could do that without any awkwardness was Dad.
Gabe’s hands squeezed hers in encouragement.
She did want to pray for Patrick. Taking a deep breath, she bent her head too as Gabe began to speak, softly and quietly.
“Dear Father, please be with Patrick. Help him to surrender his heart to You, so he can know Your healing love and the power of Your grace. Be with him, especially as he takes the treadmill test. Strengthen his heart. Heal whatever has broken it. Show him Your presence and bring him back to You. Thank You Lord, Amen.”
She echoed him. “Amen.”
The prayer flowed from him so naturally, and as he’d spoken, she’d felt the truth of God’s love, with a conviction she rarely felt. She raised her head, and looked straight into Gabe’s eyes, their hazel depths glowing with faith and something more.
A tremble shook her, as her heart fluttered in her chest. Without meaning to, her hands tightened on his.
“God does love us,” he whispered. “And He wants us to love each other, as He loves us.”
When his head dipped again and he leaned toward her, his face close, so close, the intensity of his darkening gaze told her that his kiss would be on her lips, not her forehead or cheek. Not a kiss of holy fellowship, but something more.
His nearness, the warm strength of his clasp, the way her skin tingled under his fingers, it all distracted her mind and her heart. No matter how much her head insisted that the warmth she felt for him was just the procedure, her heart whispered something else.
Though she sensed he waited for her to respond, she didn’t move closer to him.
She didn’t turn away to avoid the kiss, either. Common sense told her to pull away, put some space between them, but she didn’t want to.
Confusion froze her in place, fluttering her tummy.
As the moment stretched, he hesitated, and began to draw back. Gabe would never press her for anything she didn’t want to give.
Knowing that warmed her all the way through. He was a good man. A Godly man. Her hands broke free of his clasp, but only so she could lift her arms to slide around his back. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, as she drew him into a hug then raised her face to his.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you for the prayer, and for helping Patrick.”
Unlike in Paris, this time she was the one to lean forward and press her lips to his. Emotion flooded her as the kiss softened something hard and stony in her heart, overwhelming her with the sense she’d crossed a boundary line in their relationship.
Now she’d crossed it, she could never go back to things being as they were.
Her heart clenched in her chest as Gabe wrapped his arms around her and drew her nearer.
Please Lord, tell me I’m not going to get my heart broken again.
All the signs were, that she would.
Chapter 12
Of all the places for a real first kiss with a girl he could easily get serious about, this wasn’t anything like Gabe had ever imagined. A grim hospital corridor, under harsh fluorescent lights, with people all around, and the public address system blaring out that visiting time was over.
Yet that’s how it happened. Unplanned, unexpected, and shaking him to the core.
There might not be anything romantic about the setting, but there was about how he felt. His heart thudded against his ribs, his pulse roared in his ears, his skin tingled. His senses were more alive than at almost any other time in his life. The only other time he’d felt anything like this was the time he’d done that fundraising skydive for the animal shelter.
Kissing Zoe gave the same exhilaration mixed with a ‘Lord, help me!’ sense of things speeding too fast for him to control.
He needed the support of the wall beside them, as his lips explored hers, and his hands cradled her face, feeling her cheeks soft as peaches beneath his touch.
The taste and the scent of her dizzied him.
Zoe might have started the kiss, but he was the one to continue it. He’d wanted to kiss her again since he first saw her in the office that morning. The memory of their sweet brush of the lips at the Gare du Nord had distracted him all day.
And now he longed to keep kissing her, to deepen the tender yearning contact that seemed to touch his heart and soul.
But this wasn’t the time or the place.
He barely knew her, yet he wanted to kiss her the way a man kissed his wife, with a powerful longing for union. But that God-given urge, pure and right after marriage, was all wrong now. The slow deep lingering kisses he wanted to share with her needed to wait.
This was too much, too soon.
They had to stop what they were doing. Not in a minute. Now.
Help me Lord. Give me the strength to do what’s right.
Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his lips from hers.
Zoe loosed her embrace and pulled away from him a little, looking up into his face. Wonder glazed her wide blue eyes, along with confusion, surprise, and questions. Her breath came fast and ragged, their faces still so close he felt it warm and sweet against his lips.
The kiss had shaken her just as much as it had him.
He’d never kissed a girl with so much passion, so much meaning. It seemed she felt the same.
He didn’t know what to say, what to do, but he did know he needed to make sure he didn’t give in to the temptation to kiss her again. His hands dropped away from her face, and he pushed them deep into his pockets to stop himself touching her.
Shaking herself as it emerging from a trance, she stepped back, wrapping her arms across her chest.
“That probably wasn’t a good idea,” she murmured, voice low and hesitant. “I guess I was upset about Patrick. And we did that stupid procedure.” As if daring him to contradict her, she raised her chin. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”
He wished she meant to forget the procedure. If only they could forget that ever happened, start as if they’d met and developed this closeness naturally. But he knew she meant she wanted to forget the kiss.
He longed to tease the truth out of her, get her to admit that Patrick and the procedure were only parts of it. The smallest parts.
Her lips and her arms and that glowing wonder he’d glimpsed in her eyes told him beyond any doubt that she’d kissed him because she wanted to, because something in them called to each other with a rightness that couldn’t be denied.
She’d wanted that kiss just as much as he’d wanted to kiss her.
And she wanted to kiss him again, just as much as he wanted to kiss her again.
But talking about their feelings probably wasn’t a good idea. It was too new, too raw, too deep, too wild. He didn’t want only a few snatched kisses with Zoe. He wanted a lot more, a whole lot more. He was starting to think, a lifetime’s worth of more.
That needed time, and it needed trust. If she didn’t believe how they felt for each other was a good basis to start a relationship, he needed to find out what she did believe in.
And working together for the next six weeks was an added complication. While she’d gone to talk to the nurse, Patrick had asked him to supervise her research. The rules of her scholarship required it, yet he knew she’d resent it.
Besides, he still didn’t know where they stood with the university rules.
Everything meant they had to cool it.
For now, the wisest choice was to play along with her. Act as if he didn’t feel as strongly as he did for her. Give her time to realise, what was between them was more than the procedure.
“Pretend what never happened?” he said
with what he hoped was a good imitation of a smile. “We prayed for Patrick then shared a hug, right?”
“Right.” Her smile looked just as wavery as his probably did. “Thank you for offering to stay with him. I know he appreciates it.”
Talking about the university and Patrick was safe territory. The territory they needed to stay in.
He nodded. “It seemed the best solution. He needs some live-in help, I need somewhere to stay, and I’ll need to discuss what he wants me to do with his students. I’m guessing he’d fret if he felt he’d lost contact with what was happening with his work.”
She nodded. “His work has been his life, from what he says. He never married, and lost touch with everyone back in his home town once his parents passed on.”
“He’s achieved a lot, but that’s sad.”
Not what he wanted anyone to say about him when he was nearly sixty. Though that was the direction he’d be heading too, if he didn’t change course soon.
He dragged his gaze away from Zoe, and started to walk toward the exit.
Movement meant he could keep some distance between them.
As they walked along the hall and down the stairs, she chattered frantically about the students and Patrick’s classes, making sure they couldn’t speak of anything personal. It seemed the wisest move.
He longed to reach out and take her hand, to tell her it was all okay, but he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Not without messing things up even further between them.
As soon as they reached the exit, she dashed off, refusing his offer to walk her home. He could only stand and watch her go.
Taking things slow and giving Zoe time wasn’t going to be easy, when emotion this strong caught them both by surprise. Emotion Zoe still wanted to insist wasn’t real.
Mom had always said, “If it's real, you'll know.”
But how did one know? God wasn't going to send a thunderbolt to strike him, or a plane towing the message, 'This is the girl for you,’ across the sky.
That would be too easy. God wanted him to figure that out for himself.
He knew he wanted to spend more time with Zoe, and he couldn't regret that God had thrown them together again. He was beginning to understand what Mom meant when she said she’d known straight away his Dad was the one for her. And what Dad meant when he said he’d decided the day they met he wanted to marry Mom.
Their marriage had been living proof that it was possible to recognise love at first meeting, but he’d never imagined it would happen to him.
Now, he knew it had.
Forget Zoe’s theory about the procedure.
This was the real deal.
He wanted to grow old with Zoe by his side.
That feeling wasn’t the procedure. It was Zoe. All that she was.
Annoying, stubborn, contrary, sure. But also intelligent, beautiful, and caring.
Most of all, the woman God intended for him. He had a sureness he rarely felt, usually content to drift with what other people wanted, or wait for God to give him a sign too obvious to ignore.
This time, Zoe herself was the sign.
It didn’t matter that they’d only known each other a few days. He knew. Zoe was the girl for him. For life.
Convincing her of that would be a lot more difficult. With her mistrust of limerence, and her insistence what they felt for each other was just the experiment, it would take a lot to get her to agree that what they felt was enough to build a committed relationship on.
But with God, anything was possible. If He wanted them together, He’d make it happen.
In the meantime, Gabe knew he’d need to pray for patience.
He just hoped God would give it to him soon.
He’d need it, with Zoe.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Zoe almost skipped as she walked into the university. Her nine a.m. tutorial with the first year students was one of the small group follow-up sessions to Monday’s lecture on love and limerence.
Funny how she felt differently about the topic now than she did then.
The thought of last night’s kiss still warmed but confused her. The memory of Gabe’s lips on hers had kept her awake way longer than if should. Pretending it never happened probably wasn’t the answer.
She couldn’t pretend that well.
What if they acted like the feelings were real, as if the procedure was simply a jump start to something genuine, something that would have happened anyway? If they hadn’t met in Paris on Saturday, they would have met in the office on Monday morning, with no history.
How would she feel about him now, if that was the case?
So hard to untangle things. Doing the procedure complicated everything. Feelings complicated everything.
She forced herself to forget Gabe and focus on the tutorial, instead. Discussing the questions in Patrick’s handouts connected nicely to her own research, got them discussing love and limerence.
She wouldn’t tell them love was bad or wrong. It wasn’t.
Romance addiction, believing limerence was the real thing, those were the problem issues.
Her role in the tutorials was to get them questioning how far individual beliefs and feelings were shaped by outside factors. Family, friends, society, church, the media.
This week, it was their ideas about love. Something she particularly wanted them to question. Especially if they saw love as a passion that would sweep them away, excusing bad behaviour and irrational decision making. Or something you chased from relationship to relationship, as soon as the initial warm fuzzy glow faded, no matter how much heartbreak you left behind.
Those views of love left people playing in the shallow end, when they could dive deep.
Of course, the deep end was scary….
She wouldn’t let herself think about that right now.
The class went well, right up to the end.
“What about this one, the romance beliefs questionnaire, aren’t we discussing this?” Clare, one of the brighter girls asked, waving another handout. She tilted her head to one side, seeming puzzled Zoe hadn’t mentioned it.
Zoe’s knees shook as her heartbeat stuttered. They’d discussed all the handouts Patrick had posted to the online files.
She had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
As if her words weren’t making Zoe’s world crumble around her, the smiling girl kept speaking. “You asked some excellent questions there. Way more thought-provoking than the usual Cosmo love questionnaires. I photocopied it. My friends will want to do it, too.”
Somehow, Zoe resisted the urge to snatch the paper from Clare and look, knowing beyond a doubt she’d see her own questionnaire.
What was Gabe playing at? This could totally wreck her research.
Dragging in a deep breath to steady her voice, she forced out a question to the entire class. “Who hasn’t filled it in?”
Only a couple of hands sheepishly lifted.
“I liked it,” one student said.
“Yeah, it was good,” said another. “I’d like to talk about the answers.”
The vocal approval around the room sank her heart even further. She’d hoped to see most of them raise their hands. The one time she wanted students to skimp on their work, of course they’d done it.
The bell rang to announce five minutes to the hour.
She’d never been so glad for a class to end.
“Maybe next week,” she muttered, praying she’d find a solution by then.
As the class filed out, one of the girls handed her some papers. “I picked up two copies of the handouts by mistake.” Then the girl blushed, and ducked her head. “Is that cute professor going to keep giving us our lectures?”
“Till Professor Fowler comes back, yes,” Zoe replied, way more schoolmarm-y than usual, cold and repressive.
Of course students would develop crushes on Gabe.
No way was she the teensiest bit jealous that a pretty eighteen year old thoug
ht he was cute.
Anyway, her mind was on those papers. If Gabe had casually handed out the questionnaire she'd devised, her own personal work, a new and original grading scale, it could destroy her chances of publication.
As soon as the last student filed out the door, she snatched up the handout.
It was her questionnaire. Weeks of careful work.
And it had been passed out to all the first years, to scan and copy and hand around. Her copyright notice was still on every page, but too many people ignored that, or didn’t understand what it meant.
Next thing she knew, her survey form would appear in the student newspaper, or on the internet. Not too big a jump after that to someone passing it off as their own work or declaring it public domain, and she’d look as if she was the one who’d copied it.
It was Adrian, all over again.
Everything she'd most feared, her research going public before she was ready, and Gabe had done it to her.
How could he?
Her fists balled as her stomach tightened.
The worst sort of betrayal, just when she’d started to trust him.
She could scream.
Or kill him.
Or maybe both.
Instead, she forced herself to take another deep breath, and prayed. She needed forgiveness for her thoughts, and an answer, fast. Surely God would show her a better way to deal with this than plotting murder.
If He was going to show her, He’d better do it fast, before she exploded.
She picked up the papers, stomped back to the office, and slammed the door, with a satisfying bang.
Gabe jerked upright in his seat. “What’s wrong?”
She thumped the handout down on his desk. “This. The questionnaire I designed for my own research. And you’ve handed it out to a hundred and twenty students, and who knows who else besides? My research will be ruined.”
Apology and bewilderment battled in his eyes as he looked up at her. “I'm sorry. I only handed out what was there on Patrick’s desk, in the folder with the other lecture materials.”
His stupid excuse only heated her anger more. If steam could come out her ears, it would be fizzing out right now.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t lie to me. I looked, remember? There wasn’t any folder.”
Forget Paris: Sweet and clean Christian romance in Paris and London (Love In Store Book 4) Page 9
