120 Mph (20 page)

Dearest Sara, can you please find it in
your heart to forgive my terrible sin against you?I have asked this of you for
quite some time, and yet hear nothing in return. If you have, or even can, you
know where to find me.

Love in my heart,

Christian
.

She set the letter upon her chest once
it was fully read. Then, she fell asleep, waiting for the sun to rise.

Four hours later, Sara Ruby’s cell door
opened. The released weight from her lungs stung as she walked out of prison a
free woman.

He was waiting for her by the gates. At
first, she didn’t recognize him. He’d changed, as much as she had. There were
shadows under his eyes where none had been before. He looked thin, almost as if
not eating properly or still chowing down on microwave dinners. His clothing
was not as tailored or as neat as before. He’d aged.

Then again, she hadn’t brushed her teeth
in nearly a week, had on only a brown sweatshirt and blue jeans too big for her
slender frame, and sold her hairbrush for a bag of potato chips five days ago.
Surely she looked no better than he.

He stepped forward as the gates closed.
He’d been leaning against his car.

Sara didn’t want to go to him just yet.
She didn’t know what to say to this man. She didn’t know how to react to the
memory of what they did in that motel room . . . and the hours after it. Thankfully,
she hadn’t gotten pregnant by the selfish acts.

Christian made the decision for her by
moving toward her. Once a mere foot from her, and smelling so damn good it
melted her heart, he put his hand to her arm, guided her into his embrace, and
kissed her as though nothing had ever come between them.

Sara backed away and slapped him as hard
as she could across his face. Seconds later, her tears fell as he pulled her
into his arms yet again.

“I know I deserved that. But do not
fight me any longer, Sara.”

She could not help but fight a man who
had made the last six years of her life truly miserable. She put her hand
between them and tried to push him away.

Christian wouldn’t let her gain the
freedom her body physically demanded.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you
here?” The tears fell steadily from her eyes.

“I’m here because I love you. I am here
. . . because you need me. I am here because  . . .”

She never let him finish. She placed her
lips against his and kissed his mouth with six full years of passion bottled up
inside her. She wanted to leave him breathless and begging for more. She wanted
this man to feel exactly how she’d felt, knowing his touch would be lost for so
bloody damn long. She wanted Christian to tell her life was going to be good
again. She did not want him to lie to her and say he hadn’t married that Tina
woman.

Sara pulled back. “Your wife finally
gave me your letters.”

“My what?” He seemed confused.

“Your wife. She came to me three days
ago and gave me these.” Sara pulled from her paper bag the manila envelopes.
She tried to hand them back to him, yet Christian only smiled, shaking his head
in refusal toward taking the envelopes from her fingers.

“Sara, my darling, I’m not married.”

“Well then, your ex-wife.” Her tone
caustic, as her heart broke into pieces thinking of him with another woman
these last six years, after spending one incredible moment with her.

Of course, this was selfish and foolish
on her part. No man would wait six years.

“I haven’t married anyone since  . . .” he
stalled on. “Well, I am not married to anyone. Nor have I been with a woman for
quite some time.”

“The woman who gave me these said her
name was Tina Mohr,” she waspishly construed.

“And you thought her to be my wife?” He
laughed.

Sara nodded. “She looked your type. And
she didn’t say otherwise.”

He smiled again. “Did she tell you she
was my wife?”

“Well, um, no, not exactly in those
actual words.”

“And you hadn’t put any thought to her
being my sister-in-law?” Christian’s cocked brow suddenly mocked her terrible
mistake.

“Your sister-in-law?”

“Yes, Sara. Tina is my sister-in-law.
She is married to my youngest brother.”

“You never said you had any brother.”

“I never said much to you about anything,
had I?”

“No. You did not.” In fact, they’d not
been together long enough to start explaining details of family history.

“And I never told you what should have
been said when I had you in my grasp,” he admitted.

“Such as?”

His answer was quick. “I love you.”

Sara shook her head, denying this. “You
can’t love me.”

“Why the bloody Hell not?”

“I  . . .”

He stood tall before her eyes. “By God’s
commanding hand, Sara, if you dare say it is because you shouldn’t be loved, I
will smack you so hard you’ll see the edge of Heaven first hand!”

She gave him a slight shrug of her
shoulders to state it mattered not a hill of beans to her. “No one ever has. I
just figure it best no one ever does.”

He looked her in the eyes. Quietly, he
offered, “I have . . . and do.”

Her tone was anything but quiet when she
openly demanded, “Have you?”

“Yes, Sara. I do love you.” Again, he
looked her in the eyes. “I always will love you.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough about you to be aware that
how I feel can’t be changed.”

“No one can know enough about another to
place heartfelt emotion into it. We were together less than a week. Physically,
we were together only once. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe I have
not seen your face in nearly seven years.”

Since he’d not been at her trial, that
time apart added up quickly.

“And yet you just kissed me as though we
made love only yesterday,” he ruled.

Okay. The man had a real point there.
She did kiss him as if they’d been lovers.

“Can you take me away from here?” she
suddenly asked.

“So you can make love to me again?”

“No! So we can have this conversation
without witnesses dressed in police uniform. So I can take my first real shower
that isn’t being watched by others. And so I can get as far from this place as
possible.”

She watched Christian check for anyone
within earshot. There was no one. They were quite alone on the sidewalk in
front of the prison.

“Who’s going to hear our conversation,
Sara?”

“Please, Christian?”

He smiled, giving in. “Get in the car.”

She nearly dove into the front seat.
Once inside, she touched the smooth leather. She played with the fancy buttons.
She cranked the air-conditioning without permission.

“Are you done playing with my car?” he
chuckled.

“That depends,” she informed him. “Are
you done with the twenty questions?”

Christian turned on his seat and stared
at her face. “I have only one more question to ask you, Sara Ruby. But it will
have to wait until I have taken you as far from this place as can be possible
in one day.”

He started the engine, pulled from the
curb, and wouldn’t tell her where this was.

Sara didn’t care where. As long as it
was many miles from the last six years of her life, she wouldn’t argue against
it.

She never put thought to his intended
destination as being a Church.

Chapter
Twenty-two

Sara refused to get out of the car.

At first, she thought it a badly made
joke by a man she hadn’t seen in seven years; although after having read his
letters she felt as if she’d known Christian a near lifetime.

Why would he do this to her? Why would
he pick her up on her day of release, only to punish her by bringing her
straight to the steps of his church?

His name was on the sign outside. It
wasn’t the same church as before. Sara knew it wouldn’t be. He’d quit his
first. He even quit God for a while, since he stated this as so in one of his
letters.

This was his new beginning—perhaps as
much as it was Sara’s new beginning. Still, she wouldn’t get out of his car.

He held out his hand. Sara refused to
take it.

“I can stand here all day,” he told her.

“I can sit here all day, far longer than
you can stand. I’ve nowhere else to go.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Stubborn pride and refusal to cooperate held her firmly to her convictions. No
way, no how, was she stepping foot inside a church. Not today; perhaps no other
day within the next five hundred years—suspected apocalypse coming or not.

Christian kept a firm hand held out.
“Five minutes. That’s all I ask of you.”

Five minutes inside a church would physically
kill her. Very slowly, she turned her head and glared. “Why are you doing this
to me? Haven’t I been through enough?”

“Why are you so afraid to go inside a
church?”

“Ah, yes. There you are. The man who
only asks another question and never truly answers one asked to him. I’d been
wondering when he would come out to play.”

Christian smarted, “And I’ve been
wondering when the real Sara would show up.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me? The real
Sara?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “The real Sara. The
woman who I know gives life a punch in the face, a middle finger if it suits
her fancy, and a hard swift kick in the groin just for spite.”

“I don’t . . . ,” she started to say,
then paused.

“You do, Sara. You might want to do
everything in your power to deny this, but you’re one hell of a fighter when
you feel it’s warranted.”

“If I am so terrible a person then why
did you pick me up today?” she ground out.

“I never said you were terrible.”

“Your kind words about my character have
explicitly stated that character as questionable.” She made it sound as nasty
and tart as she could muster.

Christian’s left hand was set on the top
of her open door. His right hand again held out to her. “Five minutes. I
promise.”

“And then you’ll take me away from this
place?”

“And then I will take you to Heaven and
back if that is what you wish.”

His grin didn’t help his cause, however.

She felt as if she was making a deal
with the devil instead of sharing five short minutes with one of God’s own, yet
she cautiously placed her hand into his.

Hand in hand, they walked toward the
door. Christian opened the glassed panel for her, set his palm to the small of
her back, and guided her into the darkened interior.  Although it was sunny
outside, the inside of the church was dim and smelling old.

“Nice place you have,” she smarted. The
sound of her voice echoed throughout the empty building. “Bring all your dates
here?”

He was still holding her hand. Christian
gave it a quick squeeze. “You don’t have to try so hard Sara.”

“Try what?” She was trying her best to
get his goat, but every attitude and unkind word brushed right off the saintly
man.

“Being nasty,” he ruled. “I know you’re
scared. I know you’re angry. I know that what we had will have to be found
again.” He moved them toward the pulpit.

Sara dragged her feet. She sure as hell did
not want to go up front. It seemed too eerie to be inside an empty church. But
since it was a Thursday, not many folks would be gathering here at this time of
day. They were out sinning so they could be forgiven for those sins come Sunday
morning—as always.

“I’m not trying to be nasty, and you are
down to three minutes, Reverend.”

He gave her an easy smile. “Then I guess
I had better get on with it.”

“Get on with what?”

He smiled again. With slight pressure,
he turned her to face him. They stood facing each other in front of the huge
cross of the crucified Jesus.

“Sara Ruby, from the moment you bumped your
ass into mine, you have been stuck in my heart. What I did to you seven years
ago to shove you out of it has kept my heart damaged and unhealed. I know I
should have said this to you back then. Perhaps it is too late to say it to you
now. But I must. And it must be said here.”

Sara’s eyes widened. She had no clue to
where this was all going. Christian’s hands had her trapped. She could not
escape or hide, as she wished to do.

“I love you, Sara. I asked you to marry
me three times. This will be my fourth, and last. If you say no I’ll have to leave
it at that and let you walk away. I’ll let you be alone . . . and very lonely,
as I have been for most of my life.”

“Way to really sweep a girl off her
feet, Reverend. Sure you don’t want to add if I say ‘no’ the gates of Hell will
swallow me up.”

Her eyes widened even more when he
started to chuckle.

He’d never actually asked her to marry
him. He’d written the question onto paper as love letters. Letters of which
were never sent. Technically, this would be the first time she ever heard it.

“Okay. So never in actual heard words .
. . but my broken heart asked.” Christian then gave her a gentle smile.

Sara’s knee-jerk reaction was to try to
pull from his grasp.

Christian held firm to her hands, not
allowing the escape.

“There is only one soul in our lives
that we should share our love with; one soul, who God had made for each of us.
As young fools we will take whoever turns our fancy, call that person
The
One
, then spend the rest of our lives unhappy and unfulfilled. I know. I
did.”

Sara was about to comment on this, but
Christian stopped her words with the shake of his head. “Please, Sara? Let me
finish.”

She bit down on her lower lip. When said
that way, what choice did she have?

“I brought you here to ask you to marry
me. I brought you here to tell you that you are
The One
. I know you’re
going to do everything in your power to tell me otherwise, argue against it, try
proving me wrong somehow.” He smiled, then continued. “And I know you will try your
damnedest to tell me we don’t know each other—at all.”

This surprised her, because these were
the exact thoughts running inside her head.

“And though we spent less time together
than any  . . .”

Sara yanked her hand from his and held
it up in front of his face. “No. Don’t you dare finish that, or tell me anymore
of whatever you have running in your head.”

Christian was about too, but Sara
stepped forward and kissed him. She molded her mouth to his. Her hand went to
his chest and her fingers splayed across the muscle beneath his shirt.

Christian’s hands fell to his sides,
likely too startled to do anything with them.

Satiated, she pulled back and watched him
lick his lips. He gave her a genuine smile as thank you for the kiss. The smile
then turned sinful.

“That was  . . . ,” he started.

“The end of your five minutes,” she interrupted
with.

Christian’s easy grin slipped from his
face.

Sara brought it back, posthaste. “But it
surely can be the beginning to the rest of our lives, can’t it?”

“Are you saying . . .?”

“That I will marry you?” she prompted.

Christian nodded. He looked as if a
grown man stuck in a kid’s candy store. Or, in this case, a man who was about
to get his every dying wish.

“Yes, Reverend Mohr. I am saying that I
will marry you.”