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“How can I help you?”
    She
lowered her chin. “I was hoping we could meet alone.”
    “I
thought you said you were already a member. Why were you in the visitors’
receiving room?”
    A
grin slithered across her face. “I’m glad you noticed.”
    Mark
wondered when the game had changed. When did women get so transparent about
their intentions? Shouldn’t she at least ask for him to touch and agree? 
Prayer for her chest area? Even if he were going to consider cheating on
Sharla—which he was not—but if he did , he would cheat with
somebody who had the decency to at least act decent.
    “Sister,
I don’t know why you joined New Vision, if you joined New Vision, but
this is a family church. I’m a family man, happily married to my wife of fifteen
years, and—”
    “Sixteen,
Pastor,” she cut him off. She waved the visitors’ information brochure before
his eyes. “You’ve been married sixteen years.”
    Mark
coughed. How could I have forgotten? “Right. Anyway—”
    “And
your wife should have been here,” she interrupted again.
    “Don’t
tell me where my wife needs to be.” Mark felt the heat rising in his face. “ You need to be on the altar.”
    The
woman dropped her face, laughing softly. She batted her eyelashes twice. “The
truth hurts, but it will set you free, Pastor.”
    Mark
fixed his lips for a rebuttal, but the woman turned and walked away, her hind
quarters switching from side to side in perfect harmony with the stride of her
long legs.
    Mark
tore his eyes away from the picture of temptation set before him and locked
himself in his private sanctuary. He stepped to the side of his desk, swiveled
the chair toward him and dropped to his knees in prayer.
    “Lord,
I need You. Your word says You always make a way out of temptation,” he
started. But he really wasn’t tempted. Not totally . The problem was the
situation more than anything. This woman’s advances weighed heavily on top of
Sharla’s…fussing, resisting him in bed, nagging him about Amani, being off in
her own world now that the church was up and running.
    “God,
I don’t know what’s going on, but You do. Show me. And help me. Amen.”

Chapter 5
     
    Rev.
Jackson, who might have been a perfect mentor to Mark if he hadn’t been so busy
sneaking off to the boat to gamble on the first of every month, opened the
meeting in prayer. Mark had done his best to surround himself with upstanding,
older men of good character when he founded New Vision. Some of them had even
come from Greater Fountain of Hope, where Mark had been spiritually fathered by
that church’s pastor, Dr. Kevin McMurray.
    And
yet, Mark had come to the realization that his pastoral staff, consisting of
two older brethren and one younger, were still people. Each man had his
struggles and problems. If not gambling, cursing. If not cursing, pride. Maybe
a combination of all three, if the state lottery jackpot got to be over 50
million.
    One
good thing about his crew, though, was that they ran a tight ship with regard
to church funds. Thanks to a sound system of checks and balances Mark set in
place, New Vision had been nearly impeccable in handling its members’ tithes
and offerings. Though they weren’t quite a megachurch, the membership was able
to generously support four full-time (including Mark) and three part-time
employees. These bi-monthly meetings were an integral part of sound fiscal
management.
    “Gentlemen,
Jonathan has prepared the reports for our review,” Mark said as he slid a
packet to each man seated at the cherry wood table.
    Despite
the ornate appearance of the room, Sharla had once again, worked her decorating
skills to create a professional, welcoming atmosphere without breaking the
church budget.
    Mark
took his place at the head of the table. He gave his leaders a moment to digest
the information contained on the spreadsheets, which included the departmental
budget requests for the upcoming quarter, the average contribution of