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  After dinner, Anya and Braxton roamed through the yacht, revisiting every room. They finally settled on the aft deck, where they sat in a full-sized leather-cushioned deck chair and enjoyed the peace of the cool winter night.

  “Braxton, I have had an incredible time.”

  He caressed her hands. “It's not over yet.”

  The sliding glass doors opened and a waiter stepped onto the deck, balancing china on a silver tray. Braxton took one of the steaming cups and gingerly passed it to Anya. She wrapped her hands around its smooth warmth, savoring the sweet pungent aroma of the hot apple cider. The rising vapor flitted over her, forming a slight mist that felt wonderful against the sea air. She took tiny sips, relishing each one.

  “Will there be anything else, Mr. Vance?”

  Braxton turned to Anya and she shook her head. “No thank you.” The waiter disappeared into the cabin.

  Holding the cup carefully, Anya leaned back into Braxton. He tightened his arms around her and snuggled against her coat. “Are you sure you don't want to go inside?” he asked.

  “I know it's cold, but it's so beautiful out here. I'm fine if you are.

  “Well, this night is for you, so whatever you want.”

  They sat silently, as shades of darkness rolled past. The ocean's wind whirled around them.

  “Braxton, I can't remember when I've had a better time. I don't want tonight to end.”

  As if on cue, the nocturnal air was suddenly filled with a soft melodic sound.

  I thought that I was through, trying to find someone exciting and new…

  Anya sat up and looked around the deck. “What's that?”

  Braxton stood and took Anya's hands, lifting her. He snuggled her against his chest. “That's for you. Something I want you to listen to.”

  You taught me how to love.

  Showed me how simple things could mean so much …

  “Who's singing?” Anya asked. “It sounds like Phyllis Hyman.”

  “That's Dawnn Lewis.”

  “She's not a singer, she's an actress.”

  “Don't tell her that. Ssshhh now, I want you to hear all the words.”

  I'd cry, I'd cry if you left my side

  I place no one above you …

  My love … is so good to me

  It's your love I need

  The music continued, but Braxton pulled back slightly.

  “I'm supposed to be so good with words. But when it comes to telling you how I feel … sometimes that's difficult. This song—this is what I want you to know. I feel so blessed to have you in my life. I will always love you.”

  She was full with emotion and this time, she pulled him close.

  As the Obsession coasted past the southern California beach cities, the words of the song continued to replay and echo into the night. They swayed to the music, though they barely moved, holding each other tightly.

  Finally, the music ended and the whirring of the yacht's motor faded.

  Anya looked over the railing. “We're not back yet, are we?”

  “I think we still have about fifteen minutes. We're going to just drift in now.”

  The wind blew relentlessly through the channel and Anya shuddered.

  “Are you sure you're not cold?” she asked Braxton.

  “No, I'm fine.”

  “Too bad.” She opened her coat and spread her arms wide. “I was going to invite you under this with me.”

  When he joined her, he brought his lips to hers, their fervor taking only seconds to build. Minutes passed before they stepped apart.

  Anya sighed. “How can I ever thank you for such a beautiful evening?”

  He stared into her eyes and kissed her deeply, running his hands along her back. “Does this give you any ideas?”

  She smiled.

  Darkness became illumined from the homes lining the Marina's coast. The ocean's motion enticed them and they explored each other, touching, feeling, connecting, as the boat drifted to its destination. When the boat's rocking finally ceased, they pulled away breathless.

  “It's time for us to go down.” His voice was husky.

  “I don't want to,” Anya whined softly.

  He pulled her toward the glass doors leading to the Ocean Room. “We'll have many nights like this.”

  “I don't think you'll be able to top this.”

  “Maybe I'll surprise you with your own yacht.”

  “Braxton, you don't have to buy me a yacht.”

  “Why not? We can afford it. I was looking for an investment and this might be a good idea. Our yacht may not be as big as this one, and we might have to call it a boat—”

  They laughed together.

  As the ship anchored, they held each other and looked out the window, taking in the last moments of the night.

  “I love the Marina,” Anya said, as she peered at the beach houses across the channel.

  “Then I'll buy you a house here.”

  “You just bought a house.”

  “I'll sell it. If you want to live here, that's what we'll do.”

  “Why are you always talking about buying me things? You don't have to—I love you?

  “That's why I want to give you the world.”

  They heard footsteps and then the captain appeared. “Mr. Vance, Ms. Mitchell,” the Captain said, “I hope you had a good evening.”

  They nodded. “Thank you, Captain Norris.”

  The captain bowed slightly and started down the stairs. Their heels clicked rhythmically over the steel floor as they followed him to the lower deck. On the pier, Anya stood to the side as Braxton talked with the captain.

  When Braxton came back to her, she said, “You're amazing.”

  “So I've been told.”

  “By whom?” She poked him.

  “No one that matters… except for you.”

  “Good answer!”

  They stopped in front of his car and Anya put her hands around his waist. “I have to find a way to thank you.”

  He smiled. “If you can't think of anything, I have a few ideas.”

  “I'm sure you do,” Anya said, just before she covered his lips with hers. The whispering wind stirred and whipped around them, although they hardly noticed.

  “You said you didn't want this night to end,” Braxton said softly. “It doesn't have to.” The words hung gently in the air and mixed with the song on the CD: A love so fine is finally mine…

  Anya said nothing and Braxton matched her silence. He guided the Land Cruiser onto Admiralty Way. A few minutes later, he said, “Let's go to my place.”

  Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment before she responded with a slight smile. “I don't think so. It's late, and we have church in the morning.”

  “Well …” He paused, searching for words. “We can get up early and I can take you home before we go to church.”

  “Braxton.” Anya closed her eyes and shook her head.

  He touched her with one hand as he continued steering. “I don't want this night to end either.”

  Anya twisted in her seat, facing him. “But I don't want it to end in a way that we'll regret tomorrow.”

  Braxton snatched his hand from her and banged the steering wheel. Anya jumped at the sound. “Don't say we, Anya. I won't regret anything. The only thing I regret is making this stupid deal with you.”

  “I don't believe this!” Anya slammed into her seat. “We had a wonderful evening and you're ruining it!”

  He inhaled deeply, filling his cheeks with air. It's your love I need— He clicked off the CD.

  The ten-minute ride dragged longer, and before Braxton stopped in front of her house, Anya was poised to flee.

  Braxton reached for her before she could move. “Wait.”

  “Braxton, I'm not going to argue with you.”

  Using his fingers, he turned her face toward him, then brushed a stray curl from her forehead. “I love you. That's the reason I keep bringing this up. I want to love you in every way. We made th
is commitment, but I don't think it's necessary now.”

  “I'm going in—”

  “Anya, just listen to me.” His words came faster. “When I agreed to stop having sex until our wedding, I thought we'd be married by now. We haven't been together in almost six months.” He took her hand. “Don't you remember how good we were?”

  She squeezed her legs together but remained silent.

  “We've set a date, Anya. There's no reason to keep this up.”

  “Except for the reason that God gives us,” she said in a low voice.

  He dropped her hand. “Be real, God isn't talking about us.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Exactly what book of the Bible says that Braxton Vance and Anya Mitchell are excluded?”

  “You know what I mean. God has already ordained this relationship.”

  She sat listless, unable to come up with any words to make him understand.

  After several minutes, she looked into his eyes and she saw love. She unfolded her arms and brushed her hand across his cheek. “Don't you realize that I feel the same way about you? Don't you know that I love you and want you to love me fully?”

  He nodded slightly. “It's just hard.”

  “For me too, but this is the right way.”

  He looked at her, opened his mouth, but then said nothing.

  She said, “We're getting married in a few months …”

  “I'm trying to understand, Anya …” His voice trailed off as if there were more he wanted to say.

  She forced herself to smile and squeezed his hand, hoping to encourage a truce. When he turned to her and smiled, she knew she'd accomplished her mission. But she still wondered how many days would pass before he complained about their abstinence again.

  “I'd better go in now.”

  He opened the door for her, taking her hand as she stood from the car. “Anya, no matter what you think, I do love you.”

  At her front door, he kissed her deeply. Then he walked away.

  The SUV's engine purred as Braxton took off into the light middle-of-the night traffic. He was too wound up to go home, so he headed toward the freeway. His tie felt like a noose around his neck and he loosened it. After all the effort and money he put into this evening, the day had almost ended the way it started.

  The night had been so perfect. She had given so many signals and, at one point, he thought they would make love right on the yacht. But she was still using God as an excuse.

  He couldn't understand it. He was a man of God and since they'd become a couple, his relationship with the Lord was as strong as it had ever been. But he was a grown man, tired of acting like a chaste teenager.

  He sighed as he turned the car onto the freeway, unconcerned with which direction he was going. Didn't she understand how tough it was for a man to abstain? He loved her, but he wasn't going to allow himself to be denied much longer.

  Anya stepped quietly through the darkened house. She was grateful that Sasha hadn't waited up. Her cousin would want a report, and she didn't have the energy. She leaned against her closed bedroom door and breathed deeply. Tonight had been one of the most beautiful times she and Braxton had ever spent together. How had it metamorphosed into a nightmare?

  She undressed quickly, dropping her clothes on the chaise, then climbed into her queen-sized bed. She spread her arms across her sheets and thought of the times she and Braxton had made love in her bed.

  In the beginning, she found ways to justify it, ignoring the feelings of guilt that filled her afterward. But, once they'd become engaged, she knew they had to change. Maybe it was the way he had asked her to marry him—in church, in front of God. Maybe that's what made her want to do this right. But this wasn't right, according to Braxton.

  It had been difficult from the first time they discussed a celibate relationship. It was a Sunday, after church, and they were sitting at M&M 's on Manchester Boulevard.

  “What's wrong?” Braxton had asked, noticing the frown that had been on her face since they'd left the service.

  Anya glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one would hear her words. “Did you hear what Pastor Ford said today?”

  It was his turn to frown. “We were in church for three hours. She said a lot of things.”

  Anya stared past Braxton, remembering the pastor's exact words. “She said that when she became a Christian, she was still fornicating. She was only able to stop after someone told her to practice the presence of God.”

  “So?”

  “She said that once she was aware of God's presence, it became almost impossible for her to sin purposefully. When you're really in God's presence, you can't continue—”

  “Hey, hey.” He stopped her. “You're not talking about us?“

  Anya paused for a few moments. “Braxton, doesn't it bother you?”

  “No it doesn't.” His words were quick and strong.

  “It bothers me,” she said, her voice still low. “I can't stand spreading my legs on Saturday and then, on Sunday, sitting primly in the pews.”

  Braxton guffawed. “Pastor is not talking about people like us. We're in a committed relationship.”

  Anya had shaken her head in doubt, but ended the conversation when the waitress arrived with their catfish and eggs.

  The next Sunday, while they were sitting in Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, Anya said, “I can't get Pastor's words out of my mind.” She hadn't begun to eat the waffle and chicken wings that were on her plate.

  Braxton had just placed a spoonful of grits into his mouth. He waited until he swallowed before he spoke. “What is it this time?” he sighed.

  Anya ignored his tone. “She said that if you're truly saved, God has to come first. It's like she was talking to us.”

  “Anya, she doesn't know we're sleeping together.”

  “But we know and God knows. That's what I think Pastor Ford means when she said we can't be part-time Christians.”

  “So what are you saying?” Braxton didn't hide his irritation. “That two healthy thirty-somethings should abstain from sex? Are you saying that we shouldn't sleep together?”

  She paused for a moment. “I think we should think about it.”

  Those were the last words they spoke. Braxton dropped Anya off at home and sped off, leaving her standing on the curb, confused and angry.

  The next Sunday, Braxton proposed. “Honey, I love you and I should've proposed a long time ago,” he had reassured her.

  They continued their physical relationship, but Anya didn't feel the same. Her desire to walk in God's light became greater than her desire for Braxton. Within weeks, after being bombarded by conversation, Braxton had reluctantly agreed to abstain from sex until they married.

  It had not been easy. The physical struggle was obvious. But what Anya had not expected was the emotional turmoil. Since they'd stopped having sex, it had been one disagreement after another, some so serious that Anya doubted whether their relationship would survive.

  She lifted her hand. Even in the dark, the diamond sparkled. Twisting it, she wondered what was happening. Was this just the devil tempting her?

  Sighing, she turned onto her stomach. She had waited so long to be with a man of God. And she'd found him, when she met Braxton. But, she wondered, when in the last few months had she lost him?

  “Please, God,” she said aloud. “Please make this work. Make everything all right with Braxton and me.”

  But even with her prayers it was hours before she fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  The first rays of new morning light filtered through the soiled window, and the man shielded his face, protecting his sensitive eyes. He snatched the towel from the clock. It wasn't yet six. He'd been asleep for less than two hours.

  He sat up, but stiffness caused him to pause and stretch. A piece of paper crumpled under his feet, and he picked up the three-day notice that had been tacked on the door when he'd arrived in the early hours of the morning. Taking short, sluggish steps, he meande
red to the barred window and peered onto the deserted street below.

  Everything about this place reminded him of where he'd grown up. Then, he'd been so eager to escape his desolate surroundings, that he'd taken that first job as a bookkeeper outside of the city when he was just seventeen. But somehow, he had returned to his past. What was he doing here when he had his own home?

  He sighed. He knew what he was doing—living two lives like he'd done when he was growing up. After he joined the Bedford Boys, he'd had to wear two faces. It wasn't difficult to fool his mother. As long as he brought home progress reports filled with A s, she still looked at him as the perfect son—no matter what others told her.

  But it wasn't as easy to fool Sean.

  “Have you gone from being mama's boy to teacher's pet?” Sean sneered one day, as he snatched his progress report from his hands.

  He shook his head. He'd been part of the gang for two years, had been doing Sean's homework for all of that time, still to Sean he was suspect.

  “I'm not the teacher's pet,” he objected. “I'm doing what you taught me—not to bring too much attention to myself. Besides your progress report was good this time too,” he said, referring to the two A's and two B's that he'd helped Sean to receive.

  “I don't care nothin’ ‘bout school.” Sean scowled.

  But he hadn't missed the slight smile that crossed Sean's face.

  He smiled too, wondering if Sean had known what he knew, even at nine years old—that grades would be their ticket away from this place. And he'd been right. He'd been away for thirteen years, but he wished his friends could see him now, especially Sean. They'd be surprised at how well he'd done.

  But as he looked around this apartment, he felt himself moving back- ward. He'd been doing this for so long, not realizing that there was no need to lead a double life anymore. He didn't need this apartment. He could do this from his own home.

  His eyes roamed the room, pausing, reflecting, soaking up every image of her. Finally, he snatched her photos from the walls, tearing some in the process. It took him only fourteen minutes to gather what he needed and fill a box with his belongings. Surveying the room, he appraised what remained. They could keep it all. He chuckled. Sell it for the rent.