Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

F R A N C I N E R I V E R S
her tense at his touch. “Come home with me,” he said softly. “Be my wife.”
Angel shrugged his hands off angrily and moved away from him. “No,
thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to leave, that’s why. Is that a good enough reason
for you?”
“If you won’t go with me, at least let me get a little closer.”
Finally. Here we go. “Six steps ought to do that, mister. All you have to do
is put one foot in front of the other.”
“I’m not talking feet and inches, Mara.”
All the feelings slowed inside her and spiraled downward as though they
were draining away into a black hole beneath her feet. “Angel,” she said.
“My name is Angel. Have you got that? Angel! And you’re wasting my time
and your dust.”
“I’m not wasting anything.”
She sat on the bed again and let out her breath. Tilting her head to one
side, she looked up at him. “You know, mister, most men are fairly honest
when they come. They pay, take what they want, and leave. Then there are a
few others, like you. They don’t like being like the rest. So they tell me how
much they care and what’s wrong with my life and how they can fix it.” Her
mouth curved sardonically. “But eventually they all get past that and get
down to what they’re really after.”
Michael drew in a breath. She didn’t mince words. Fine. He could talk
plain, too. “I only have to look at you to be made aware of my body. You
know pretty well how to feed frailty. Yes, I want you, but you’re wrong about
how much and for how long.”
She grew even more uneasy. “You shouldn’t feel so bad. It’s just the way
men are.”
“Hogwash.”
“Now you’re going to tell me about men? That’s something I know all
about, mister. Men.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Every man likes to think he’s different from the last. He likes to think
he’s better.” She patted the bed. “Come here, and I’ll show you just how
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