Faith went outside. She couldn’t see a single fingerprint on the glass pane and couldn’t help but wonder how they managed that. “You coming?”
He jerked his chin at the mess on his desk. “Kids complain about homework, but it’s the teachers who really get socked with it.”
She nodded. But a glance at his hand told her he wasn’t as calm as he seemed.
His knuckles were white.
“It’s just a sled. We’ll be careful,” she said quietly.
His gaze was focused beyond her, and she wondered what he was seeing. “If I thought otherwise, you wouldn’t be here,” he assured.
She supposed that was a compliment, and went to the side of the deck where a short staircase led to the ground and Erik waited, standing on top of the toboggan.
Faith studied the lie of the hill. The tree line didn’t pick up until well beyond the base of the hill, and beyond the trees was the road. It couldn’t have been a more perfect location if she’d taken Erik out to the hill behind the skating rink where most kids congregated for sledding.
“Alrighty, Juan. Let’s take a crack at this, shall we? We’ll go down together until you get the knack of steering, and then you can fly solo. Right?”
Cam was grateful there were no witnesses nearby when he broke out in a sweat at Erik’s first faltering attempt on the toboggan. Faith had already accompanied him down the hill more than once, with Erik tucked securely in front of her, and her sleek ponytail streaming behind them until they disappeared from his line of vision.
He went into the kitchen, shoving the bench in the breakfast nook out of his way. The angle was different there, and he could see clear to the snow-filled ravine at the base of the hill.
On Erik’s solo attempt, his son made it about ten feet before he tipped sideways, rolling like some human snowball in the snow. Faith, perched farther down the hill, darted upward, her boots sinking into the snow, and when she caught Erik up, Cam could hear their laughter ringing on the afternoon. She flipped a handful of loose snow into his son’s face and settled him back on his feet, pointing to the top of the hill again.
Cam slid back a foot, not necessarily wanting to be seen with his nose pressed against the window like some starving kid at a candy store. Erik plodded back up the hill, dragging the sled behind him by the nylon cord.
On his third attempt, he made it all the way to the base of the hill, and the whoop his son made could’ve been heard in the next county. Cam could see him pumping his arm in the air, strutting around victoriously. Then Erik grabbed the toboggan again and raced up the hill.
He spotted Cam watching and waved wildly. “Dad. Watch me!”
Cam lifted his hand in return. At the base of the hill, Faith looked up in his direction.
Then she smiled.
He was vaguely surprised the warmth of it didn’t melt the snow all around her.
“Watch me,” Erik cried again, and was off in a blur of neon green. Again, when he made it to the base, he bounded to his feet to dance around like he’d won Olympic gold. Then some lively discussion ensued, and Faith trudged to the top of the hill, the sled tucked under her arm.
She didn’t look toward the window, where she had to know he was still watching, and he wondered if it was deliberate or not.
She arranged her lithe form on the toboggan, long legs crossed in front of her. Cam caught a flash of her grin in the moment gravity took hold and she went flying down the hill.
Cam turned his back on the sight and returned to his work, but it wasn’t so easy to turn his back on the feelings churning inside him.
He stared at the textbooks in front of him. At the rate he was going, he’d be using the same final exam this year as he’d given to his students last.
Through the insulated windows, he could still hear Erik’s and Faith’s laughter.
He abruptly shut the books, went out to the mudroom located below the kitchen, shrugged into a down vest, and went outside.
The snowball smacked him in the center of his chest, and exploded into powder.
“Bull’s-eye,” Erik crowed. He pranced around victoriously in the snow. “I told you he’d come out here, Faith. Dad loves the snow.”
“Good thing.” She waved her arm at the snowy landscape. “Because this isn’t exactly the Mojave Desert.”
Cam straightened, a snowball in his hand. He lobbed it at his son, catching Erik in the shoulder. His boy laughed, and dove down. And Cam realized belatedly that Erik and Faith had already prepared an arsenal.
The snowballs came fast and furious. Almost as fast as Erik’s laughter.
Faith was no help, either. She was most definitely in his son’s corner.
And she had a hell of an arm on her, though she left most of the work to Erik.
“You’re gonna regret this,” he warned, deflecting a hail of snowballs with his arm.
She laughed, and handed Erik another snowball.
Cam ducked his head and dove straight toward them, tackling them both into the soft snow.
Erik wriggled out from beneath his arm and jumped on his back, trying to shove snow down the collar of his shirt. Cam yelped, twisting around. He grabbed Erik and tipped him upside down.
Erik laughed so hard he looked ready to bust. “Get him, Faith. Help me!”
But Faith was still lying on her back in the snow, her legs and arms splayed, laughing herself.
Cam shoveled a handful of snow down his son’s collar and let the boy go. Erik jumped around screaming like a banshee, trying to shake the snow out.
“Monkey,” Cam said and turned to extend a hand to Faith.
She took it and he pulled her to her feet, only to have her shove a handful of snow into his face.
Erik sat down on his butt and howled. “She did it, she did it!”
Cam swiped a hand down his face. “You two planned this, then? If one of you couldn’t get me, the other one would?” He bared his teeth, holding back his own laughter.
Faith was backing away, her palms held out peaceably. “Just some good, clean fun,” she assured, breathlessly.
“Good cold fun, more like.”
Erik got to his feet and grabbed the toboggan. “I’m going down again.” He sat on the sled and pushed himself over the hill.
Cam watched him fly down from the corner of his eye as he advanced on Faith. “I see how you are,” he murmured. “Ganging up on the old guy.”
“Old.” She snorted. “Get over yourself.” She sidled sideways, ducking under an angled brace for the deck overhead. “That’s why you’ve got teenaged girls oohing and ahhing all over you.” She darted to the side, avoiding the snowball he tossed at her.
“Seems to me the only person who hasn’t had snow down her back is you.” He sidestepped, following her easily even as he scooped up another handful of snow.
“Proving the superiority of the female species,” she said blithely, and ducked again, as elusive as a sprite.
He snorted and some part of him gaped at the easy laughter coming out of him.
How long had it been?
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” he assured. “Except that your time is coming.”
Her lips twitched. “I think it’s time I be going now. I, um, I have things I need to do.”
“Things.”
“Yes. Things.” Her boots brushed through the snow, wisely widening the distance between them. From down the hill, they could hear Erik still whooping and hollering. Her bright gaze slanted, obviously gauging the distance to the deck steps.
“You won’t make it,” he murmured.
Her eyebrow peaked, Faith clearly taking that as a challenge. “I used to run a Memorial Day marathon every year when I lived in New Mexico.”
“Used to.”
She lifted her shoulder. “I moved back home.”
He thought that was an interesting turn of phrase. Hadn’t she considered New Mexico her home? “A marathon is for endurance. Sprinting is for speed.”
“I suppose you ran
track, too.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Any sport you didn’t participate in?”
“Gymnastics.”
“Not macho enough?”
He grunted. “Not flexible enough. Not fast enough for tennis, either.”
Her gaze drifted down his body. “Really,” she murmured. Then, while he was stomping down hard on the effect of that unexpected look of hers, she launched herself toward the deck stairs.
In two steps, Cam caught her, and they tumbled into the snow bank angling up the wall. He flipped her scarf loose and grabbed a handful of snow, holding it up, threatening.
She tilted her head back, laughing. She tried to grab his arm with her hands and he shackled her wrists with one hand, pinning them over her head.
“No. Really. Don’t,” she begged breathlessly.
His gaze caught on her slender throat. The smooth, long grace of it.
He let the snow fall from his hand.
Her lips parted, eyes flaring.
And rather than pushing snow against that long, slender column, he pressed his lips against it, instead.
She tasted as golden as she looked. And he felt the hitch in her breath as she inhaled sharply.
Her captive wrists jerked against his hold, then went still, and he lifted his head.
She stared up at him, her eyes wide. A living, breathing snow angel, with rosy color riding her cheekbones and unmistakable desire turning her eyes mossy green.
He released her, and she slowly lowered her arms. Her gloved fingers flexed against his shoulders, but didn’t push him away. Her lips slowly formed his name, soundless.
He lowered his head. Grazed the coolness of her lips with his.
His down vest crinkled softly as she touched his chest. He lifted his head. Stared down at her, need ripping up his spine.
Her pupils dilated. A swallow worked down her lovely, bared throat.
He swore. And slammed his mouth on hers.
She gasped and he swallowed it. He knew he was too rough, tried to temper himself, only to realize she was right there with him, her mouth open, and her tongue tangling as desperately as his.
Then there was nothing but sensation.
The heat of her.
The softness.
The crunch of snow beneath them when her arms twined around his neck and he caught her waist, hauling her hips against his.
He’d never wanted anything in his life as badly as he wanted her.
The realization yanked him back.
He let go of her, and shot to his feet.
She lay there, swollen lips parted, eyes glazed. Her breath was an audible hiss. Her hair was coming loose of her ponytail. Her coat was open, the waist of her sweater pushed up beneath the swell of her breasts, displaying the bandages that had been necessitated by her rescue of his son.
God.
What the hell was he doing?
She slowly drew her sweater down her stomach. Pushed up with one hand until she was sitting in the snow. “Cameron?” Her voice was low. Husky.
Laura’s voice had been higher pitched. More…fragile.
Guilt clawed at him, and still the want didn’t abate. “I’m sorry.” His voice was harsh. Flat. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not interested in—” The lie only went so far.
It didn’t matter. His tone had done the job.
“I see.” Her chin angled away. She looked down. Slowly pulled her coat together and adjusted her gloves. “Please tell Erik goodbye for me.” Her voice sounded thick. She rolled gracefully to her feet before he could even offer a hand.
He didn’t think it was possible to feel lower than he did. Apparently, it was. “Faith—” But he didn’t know what to say to her.
So he said nothing.
He just watched her walk away from him.
And still, he wanted her.
“There’s an order of baseball gloves in the back that needs to be checked, if you have a chance to get to it.”
Tanya’s voice sounded harried over the phone and Faith glanced around the interior of Extension Sporting Goods. “There’s only been two customers this afternoon,” she commented. “I think I’ll probably get to the order. Are Monday evenings always this slow?” She was filling in for Tanya only because her friend was home with a sick Toby.
“It’ll pick up when baseball season starts. I really appreciate you coming in. Are you sure you didn’t have something else to do?”
Faith closed off the image of Cameron standing over her, his regret for touching her nearly flashing neon from his face. “I’m sure. Take care of your son. Everything here will be fine. I’ll drop off the day’s receipts in the night deposit at the bank on my way home after I close up.”
“You’re the best.”
“That’s what I tell all my friends and relations,” Faith assured dryly and Tanya chuckled as she hung up, as Faith had intended.
She replaced the phone and picked up the towel she’d been using to polish the glass display case that served as the checkout counter. The customer who had been browsing came over with his ski wax selection, and once Faith rang him up and the man left, the store was silent, except for the low music coming from the radio. The Beach Boys singing about California girls.
It was going to be a slow evening, which was unfortunate. Faith had hoped—when she’d offered to help out Tanya—that she’d be kept busy enough to keep what had happened between her and Cameron the other morning off her mind.
So much for that.
She went to the back room and began unloading the new shipment, taking extraordinary care to check every label, every detail.
Still, she couldn’t get it out of her head. It had been that way all weekend.
The unspeakable feeling of Cam’s kiss, followed by him jumping away from her as if he’d found her poisonous.
Even now, humiliation burned inside her. And she hated it just as much now as she had when Jess had found her wanting, too.
She gathered up an armload of baseball mitts and carried them out to the front just as the door jingled.
Cameron and Erik entered.
The mitts tumbled from her arms, spilling over the countertop and thudding onto the sturdy brown carpet. “Faith!” Erik’s face lit up. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
That was painfully evident, given Cameron’s frozen expression. “I’m friends with Tanya Winters. She owns this place.”
“Cool.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from sneaking a look at Cameron. Not that it mattered, since he was most assuredly not looking at her.
But Tanya trusted her to fill in for her, and no matter how much she’d have preferred to go hide in the back room, she made herself round the counter and approach them. “Can I help you find something?”
Erik had shrugged out of his parka and shoved it into his dad’s hands as he raced across the spacious store toward the display of climbing gear hanging on one wall. “Cool. Can I climb up it?” He pointed at the mock rocks.
Faith shook her head. “Not that one, I’m afraid. It’s just for looks.”
“He needs a tennis racket.” Cameron’s voice was abrupt.
Faith lifted her eyebrows. “Tennis?”
“It’s for school.” Erik’s hands were exploring the display. “I gotta play summer in the chorus. Dumb, huh?” He hefted up an enormous coil of nylon rope above his head and nearly tipped over.
“Erik.” Cameron grabbed the rope with one hand and hooked it back over the heavy-duty hook. “Leave the stuff alone.”
“Tennis rackets are in that aisle.” Faith pointed toward a rear corner. “Not a very large selection right now, though.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something.” Cameron stepped around her, heading toward the display.
Faith’s teeth sank into the inside of her lip, watching. But her thought wouldn’t be contained. “Be less expensive to borrow a racket from someone. The school, even.”
Cameron slid one of the
three racket styles out of the rack. The grip seemed eclipsed by his long fingers. “Erik.” He extended the racket to his son.
Erik barely glanced at it. He was still fascinated with the climbing display. “Whatever.”
“It’s for your play, buddy,” Cameron reminded.
Erik made a face. Dragged his feet across the carpet and gave the racket a close-up once-over. “It’s pink.”
“It has a red stripe,” Cameron countered.
Erik grimaced. “Da-ad. It’s pink!”
“Magenta, actually,” Faith put in. She reached carefully past Cameron and pulled down the second style. It was a slightly larger racket. “What about this one?”
Erik’s expression looked no happier. “I don’t see why I gotta be in a dumb old program, anyhow. Just ’cause I ain’t tone-deaf like—”
“Erik,” Cameron prompted blandly. “Pick a racket and be done with it.”
“It’s yellow, Dad. I’ll look like a geek.”
“Well, your only other choice is this one.” Cameron pulled out the last style. “And since it has little pink kittens on the grip, I figured you wouldn’t be interested.”
“Plenty of guys use these two styles, even with the magenta or yellow,” Faith said peaceably.
Erik’s head lolled back on his neck. He looked as put upon as any person in the history of the world. “Whatever.”
Cameron looked like he was gritting his teeth. “Erik.” His tone said volumes.
Faith quickly slid the rackets back in place. “I have a black one at home. He could borrow it.”
“No, thank you,” Cameron said over Erik’s suddenly interested “cool.”
“Aw, Dad.”
“Pick a racket.”
The two males looked at each other, clearly in some battle of wills. The best thing for her to do would be to stay out of it. “I really don’t mind,” she said, proving she had never learned her lesson about doing what was best. “It seems a shame to spend this much on a racket that he’s only going to use for one school program. Unless you’re planning to learn tennis?”
Erik looked askance.
Cam looked irritated. “You don’t have to go out of your way.”
She had her own share of irritation rippling down her spine. She eyed him. “Believe me. I won’t. If you want the racket, you’ll have to come by and pick it up.” She waited a beat. “I’ll leave it on my front porch for you.”
All He Ever Wanted Page 10