by Pat Simmons
Rahn was stunned by the breaking news, and his longing to see Shae again resuscitated. “I can make that.” He could go car shopping with Marcus anytime. His friend already had a Jag. Now, where had he put the invitation? “Uh, you mind telling me the time and place again?”
Greg gave him the information, then said, “You can thank the flu bug for your good fortune.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Janet is expecting her future husband to operate at one hundred percent, so I need my rest. Now we’re even,” Greg said before ending their call.
Rahn was so hyped that he barely got any rest after talking with Greg. He had another shot at convincing Shae to go on one date with him, and he couldn’t blow it.
On Saturday afternoon, Rahn left his house, dressed to perfection from his tie to his socks. The blue suit was custom-fit, as was most of his wardrobe. A visit to the barber earlier that day had gotten him a precision trim on his mustache and beard, as well as the haircut he desired.
Rahn arrived at Rapture Ready Fellowship in record time. His determination to get to the church struck him as very ironic. Granted, his main motivation was a woman, but he figured he could receive a spiritual blessing, too.
Rahn stepped from his Audi with confidence, despite his doubts that everything would work in his favor. Jesus, I know this is not the kind of prayer You’re used to hearing, but I could really use Your help in this. Amen. Taking a deep breath, he strolled to the entrance, nodding at other guests going in the same direction. He kept his sunglasses on, hoping to conceal his identity.
He opened the door for a few female attendees, ignoring their flirtatious smiles. His mind was set on one smile, and it wasn’t theirs.
Once he entered the building, Rahn removed his shades. The church lobby boasted gleaming marble floors, with thick oak molding accenting the white walls. The artwork on several arched stained-glass windows was impressive. His heart pounded with excitement.
A young man approached him. He appeared to be in his late teens but had a thick beard like a grown man’s. Wearing a tux, he was probably one of the ushers. “Did anybody ever tell you that you look just like the Cardinals outfielder Rahn Maxwell?”
“Every day.” Rahn chuckled. “That’s what my mother named me.”
Tongue-tied, the usher pumped his hand. “Wow. Wait until I tell the others.”
“Mind if I get comfortable first?” Rahn asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” With a sheepish smile, the young man cleared his throat, straightened his stance, and fell back into his assigned role. “Please follow me.” He clicked his heels, then spun around and led the way into the sanctuary.
The first thing that came to Rahn’s mind was a winter wonderland with the abundance of white tulle decorating the end of each pew, as well as the altar at the front. It wasn’t a large church, and the snug feel added intimacy. Yet Rahn shivered from the surreal sense of God’s presence. The overwhelming feeling was a peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Rahn wanted to cling to that emotion. I need to belong to somebody’s congregation.
“What is your seating preference, Mr. Maxwell?” the usher asked.
Rahn blinked back to reality. “The bride’s side.”
He pulled out an envelope marked “Bride and Groom” from his inside breast pocket and handed it to the usher, thanking him for his assistance. As he took his seat, he overheard his name being whispered. In the past, the attention would have stroked his ego. But ever since the carjacking attempt, Rahn no longer had an ego—the Lord made sure of that. While some fans praised God he was alive, others tweeted or posted on Facebook that he’d used his name and fame to buy himself out of harm’s way.
Money couldn’t buy life. The rich and famous couldn’t bribe death. If so, his father would still be alive. Rahn knew about privilege—he’d been born into it. The Maxwell name opened doors. But along with privilege came pressure. Rahn always found himself chasing after his father’s record. The great power hitter had a .275 average and 300 home runs. During Ronald Maxwell’s immaculate twelve-year career, he had clocked in 1,250 RBIs. Rahn wished he could say the same.
So, while it appeared he had been spared because of his family’s name, Rahn knew it was God who had coaxed him out of danger and into safety. And nobody could convince him otherwise. Yet, to this day, the memory of Jesus’ words in his ear was still sketchy, while the gunmen’s threats were unforgettable. Being in church must have conjured up emotions he’d been trying to suppress.
He sat next to a bored-looking little girl who seemed more interested in her handheld video game than the nuptials about to take place. The child’s mother smiled and murmured a greeting. It didn’t matter if she knew his identity or not. Socializing was not the reason he’d come.
The minister entered the sanctuary and proceeded to the front. Behind him, Greg paraded in, his best man at his side. The groom’s look of confidence outdid his tux. It might be a while before Rahn wore that look, unless Shae was the reason. None of his past relationships had made him remotely think of permanency.
The pianist struck the first chord, and Shae’s voice preceded her appearance at the microphone stand close by. She was striking in her pastel outfit, and her hair was an attractive mass of curls. Even from a distance, she teased all of his senses. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. It was as if she had drugged him.
“She has such an angelic voice,” the woman seated behind him whispered to her companion.
Rahn nodded in agreement, even though the comment hadn’t been directed at him. Shae sang “The Lord’s Prayer” as if it had been penned for her voice.
Long after Shae sang the final “Amen,” the stirring music lingered in his ears. Draped in contentment, he watched as she stepped down from the podium. The next thing he knew, Shae was gathering her coat and heading for a side door. She was leaving already?
Soft instrumental music played as the mothers of the bride and groom started to process down the aisle. Glad he was on the end, Rahn exited the pew.
Rahn made a dash for the lobby, then froze, dumbfounded. There were several doors to the outside; Shae could have slipped out through any one of them. Huffing in frustration, Rahn looked one way and then the other.
That’s when he got a glimpse of the bride, Janet Harris, and was temporarily distracted from his mission. Gone was her usual business persona. In her place stood a stunning woman with swept-up hair and a wedding dress that his mother would have approved as elegant. Beaming and beautiful, Janet waved at him.
He gave her a tender smile, inwardly chiding himself for forgetting that she was the reason he was there. Then his peripheral vision caught an image of a woman going in the opposite direction. Shae.
“Congrats,” Rahn mouthed, then turned and hurried to intercept Shae before she could make a getaway.
At the door, Shae combed through her purse. There was no escaping him now. He admired how she stepped with the flair of a model on a runway. Whether it was intentional or not, he noticed. The dress showcased her shape and her nice legs, too. She was neither tall nor petite—a perfect fit, as far as he was concerned. His memory and his high-def plasma TV had done a poor job of capturing her beauty in the three weeks since he had seen her in person.
The intensity of his attraction grew with each step. He realized he hadn’t taken a breath, so he exhaled. With keys in hand, she reached for the door, but Rahn was faster. She was the fly ball he had to catch. When she glanced up, her expressive brown eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights. The element of surprise had definitely worked in his favor. “Hello, Shae.”
***
Rahn Maxwell? Shae blinked. She had to remind herself to breathe as the larger-than-life man towered over her five-foot-seven frame. He was close enough for her to inhale his subtle cologne—nice. But where had he come from?
His black beard gleamed; his thick eyebrows dared her to touch, to see if they were as silky as they appeared. And his long eyelashes were a deal brea
ker. Why did they always look better on a man? Wow. How had she not remembered all of this?
She swallowed, but no words would come out of her mouth.
His gray pinstriped suit showcased the custom fit that restrained his muscles. There was no denying he was an athlete. If a man could be beautiful and handsome, he was the epitome of both. And his attraction shone brightly in his eyes.
Just then, she remembered the flowers, notes, and sketch he had sent her. She scolded herself for failing to respond.
She gave her head a mental shake and stepped back to break the magnetism. Maybe the wedding march playing in the background was sending a subliminal message, akin to Mother Stillwell’s urgent promptings. Been there, done that. A man is never so fine that his flaws should be overlooked, she thought. And it seemed as if all men had faults—inside and outside the body of Christ.
“You never called.” His voice was low and accusatory. “And I waited.”
Despite his tough façade, he’d just shared another nugget of his vulnerability with her. It was usually the woman who waited. Shae bowed her head to gather her wits, then looked into his brown eyes. “I thought you were just being kind. In this business, I try not to take viewers’ notes or flowers personally.” She didn’t say that his notes had started to wear down her resolve.
“Next time, Miss Carmen, please take my actions toward you very personally.” There was no hint of teasing in his voice or on his face. “Why are you leaving so soon?”
“I have to get back to the station. I’m the weekend anchor.”
Rahn chuckled and reached for her wrap. “I know. I’ve recently become a fan—a number one fan.” When he held up the garment, Shae took that as a cue to turn around, so she could slide her arms into the sleeves.
Shae couldn’t count the number of people who had claimed to be her number one fan. Yet, for some reason, the claim sounded different coming from him. A coworker exiting the restroom gave Shae the distraction she needed.
“One moment.” She held up a finger, then waved to Sam to get his attention. Being a typical male, he acknowledged Rahn first, with a handshake.
“Excuse me,” Shae interrupted. “Sam, if you’re coming back to the station, would you mind bringing me a piece of wedding cake?”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll try to remember. No guarantee.” Then he nodded to Rahn and headed back into the sanctuary.
Just like a man, Shae thought. Her coworker had probably forgotten her request already. She wanted that cake! As Brecee had said, sweets were her weakness, and wedding cake was near the top of her list.
“I’ll be more than happy to bring you a slice,” Rahn offered.
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you. It was nice seeing you again. God bless you.” She didn’t want to address her avoidance of him. When she tried to move around him, Rahn pivoted and fell into step with her. It was comical, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Where are you going?”
“I’m walking you to your car. Crime is up, you know.”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “That’s what we report, but I’m on God’s property, so I think I’m safe.”
“Never can be too careful.” He moved closer to her. “Consider me your bodyguard.”
She could imagine him fending off criminals on her behalf. Even in that carjacking incident, he probably would have tried to protect her unto his death. That thought endeared him to her as he opened the door, and she breezed outside under his arm as if they were dance partners and Rahn was about to spin her around.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.
Shae gulped. “I’m not available.”
He seemed to shorten his strides to keep pace with her. “That wasn’t my question.”
This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She had no intention of being lured into another relationship for years to come, maybe a lifetime; but the allure was tangible. When they reached her car, Shae faced him, ready to try to prune whatever was growing between them. “I’m sure you’re a nice guy—”
“If that were the case, then you would give me an answer.” His stare was so intense, Shae knew he wasn’t going to back down. Nor could she dismiss him as easily as she had his notes.
Unfortunately, her heart and head weren’t in sync. His scrutiny forced her to glance away. “I’m not in a position to find out how nice of a guy you are. I’m sorry.”
When he appeared to have no comeback, Shae exhaled, feeling a mixture of relief that he had accepted her decision and disappointment that she had connected with his vulnerability. She unlocked her car, and Rahn opened the driver door for her. She smiled at him. “Thanks for being my bodyguard.”
As she drove away, she found herself wishing again for a slice of wedding cake—her own. Like any single woman who believed in love, Shae wanted to be married, too. But she needed a little more time to sharpen her female instincts before she took another swim in the dating pool. The Lord knew she couldn’t handle another decoy Christian.
8
Done. Shae unclipped her microphone from the neckline of her dress, stretched her arms, and stepped off the platform. It had been a long day, from serenading Greg Saxon’s nuptials to anchoring the evening news.
Upon entering the newsroom, she spied several red metallic balloons, bearing the words “Thinking of You,” bobbing in the air. They definitely hadn’t been there before the newscast. Rounding the wall to her cubicle, Shae was surprised to see they were on her desk. She fingered the clear plastic box that anchored the balloons. It contained a chunk of chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting that was too much for one person, even for a cake lover such as herself.
Attached to the lid were a pink rose and a silver fork wrapped within a napkin. She loosened the card.
Shae,
Take this personally. I sensed your disappointment about wanting the cake, so I stepped up to the plate. Enjoy.
Rahn Maxwell
Her heart melted at his sweet gesture. Tears moistened her tired eyes, and she fanned herself to keep them at bay. It was a good thing she was alone in the newsroom. Her colleagues loved gossip, especially when it involved one of their own, but nobody stuck around after the Saturday night newscast. Shae sat down at her desk and removed the fork from the napkin. Then she bowed her head, said grace, and ceremoniously sampled her first bite. She closed her eyes, savoring the frosting.
You’re making it hard for me to resist you, she thought as she slid another bite in her mouth.
“Why try?” she could hear Brecee say.
If only her baby sister wasn’t working the overnight shift. Shae would love to call and discuss her conflicted feelings. Brecee would definitely argue that she should go for it.
Her office phone rang, interrupting her musings. She debated whether to answer or let it go to voice mail. It could be a viewer complaint, a compliment, or a hot tip. She was in no rush to get home, with no one waiting there, so she picked up. “Shae Carmen.”
“Miss Carmen, you have a guest in the lobby,” the overnight guard informed her.
Shae smiled. She didn’t have to ask who it was. She suspected it was a tall, handsome male. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
***
Under the watchful eyes of the security guard, Rahn paced the floor, waiting for Shae to appear. The guard had assured him Shae always left through this entrance when going home.
Shae’s eyes were so expressive; Rahn wished he could have seen her reaction when she first saw the balloons. The more her pouty lips told him no, the more her brown eyes revealed she wasn’t sure if she meant it. Her reservations and confusion were so raw that Rahn knew she wasn’t playing games with him.
Finally, Shae emerged through the door. Her eyes weren’t as bright as earlier—she looked tired—but it didn’t detract from her beauty. Shae was just as pretty, and the evidence of her dining pleasure was in the way the corners of her mouth slanted up.
“Thank you for the cake,” she whispered, meeting him half
way. “Did they serve chocolate at the wedding?”
Rahn took the liberty of wiping a dab of icing from her lip, and she blushed. He felt in tune with her, for some unexplainable reason.
“Busted. But I was told by the bakery that their cakes were just as good. I came to share, if you haven’t devoured it already.” Grinning, he pulled a fork out of his jacket pocket and waved it in front of her face like a fan.
She laughed, gifting him with the same engaging smile that infatuated him on camera, only it was electric in person. Jutting her chin out, Shae scrunched her cute nose. Did the woman know she was flirting with him? Rahn inhaled, taking in the scent of her perfume.
“You know I couldn’t eat that whole thing on my own. Wait here while I get my things. We can sit and share it in the break room.”
She returned several minutes later, trying to juggle her bag, the boxed cake, and the balloons. He came to her rescue, freeing her of the burdens, then followed her into a room that resembled a kitchenette/lounge/café, where he set everything on a table.
The ambiance of the break room didn’t come close to the atmosphere he would have wanted for their first date, and he wasn’t even a fan of sweets, but if that’s what it took to woo her, he could manage.
While pulling out a chair for Shae, Rahn wondered what was going through her mind as she grabbed a plastic knife from a box on the counter and meticulously divided the slice in two. He covered her hand with his and helped her. The contact increased his heart rate. He glanced at Shae, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
She forked off a piece of cake and stuffed it in her mouth, while Rahn sat back and folded his arms across his chest. He much preferred just watching her eat. “You said earlier that you’re sure I’m a nice guy. What’s wrong with nice guys?”
She kept her eyes averted, and for a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer. Finally, still focusing on the cake, she said, “I trusted someone when I shouldn’t have—a nice guy, or so I thought. In hindsight, I believed I knew him—and myself—but I was wrong on both counts. It wouldn’t be fair to jump back in and indirectly make someone else pay for the faults of another man.”