What he could not and didn’t want to reveal to Faith was that he was sole owner and president of MAC Elite Car Services and MAC Executive Air Travel. He wanted her to like Ethan James McMillan, not what he represented in dollars and cents. The year before he set up the car service, he’d purchased a converted 737. His financial planner had recommended he sell two of the three brownstones and a trio of apartment buildings he’d inherited from an aunt and uncle—a pediatrician and cardiologist respectively, both of whom had had lucrative private practices. Six months before, he’d used the proceeds from the sale of the real estate to secure a loan for the thirty-six-million-dollar G 550 business jet. His decision to buy the Gulfstream was based on the age and number of miles on the 737, and Ethan knew it would be another two years before he would be forced to ground the older aircraft permanently.
“I know how you feel,” Faith remarked after a comfortable silence.
Ethan’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “You do?”
Faith’s comment surprised him. The women he’d dated since his divorce were usually appalled when he disclosed that he’d given up a career as a pilot in order to become a chauffeur. What he didn’t tell them was that he owned the car service and the private business jets with an extensive client list that included CEOs, athletes, music industry executives and those with enough money and not enough time to wait in commercial airline terminals.
“Of course. I was trained as a chef, yet I only cook when it’s absolutely necessary. This past weekend was the exception because of a request for green eggs and ham. I work harder and put in many more hours decorating specialty cakes, but the results are much more rewarding.”
“Will you cook for me?”
“What!”
Ethan set the cruise control and removed his foot from the gas pedal. “I know you heard me the first time, but I’ll say it again. If I pay you, will you cook for me?”
“Define cook for me, Ethan.”
“Dinner.”
“When?”
“Whenever you’re free.”
Faith let out an audible sigh. “Lately I’m not that familiar with the word.”
Reaching over, Ethan placed his hand over hers resting on her lap. “You’re with me tonight.”
“That’s because I made time for you, Ethan.”
“Are you saying I should consider myself fortunate that you made time for me?”
Faith reversed their hands, her thumb tracing the outline of the signet ring on his little finger. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I’m with you tonight because I wanted to see you again.”
Faith Whitfield had just gone up several more degrees on the Ethan McMillan scale of approval. It was apparent that she wasn’t shy about speaking her mind or making her feelings known. He added supremely secure to her list of other positive attributes.
“I spent the whole week thinking about you.” He smiled when he heard her soft gasp of surprise. “You’re very different from other women I’ve known.”
Recovering quickly, Faith asked, “How many have you known?”
“You’re not playing fair. If you don’t ask me about the women in my past, then I won’t ask you about the men in your past.”
“I don’t have a lot of men in my past.”
“Good for you.”
Faith stared at Ethan in astonishment. “Why good for me?”
He exhaled a heavy sigh. “You have no idea of how difficult it is to deal with a woman nowadays, because she’s usually carrying a lot of baggage from past relationships. If it’s not her ex-husband, then it’s baby-daddy drama.”
“I have neither, so as long as we continue to see each other you won’t have to concern yourself with those issues.”
Ethan wanted to tell Faith that that was one of the reasons why he wanted to see her, because she was unencumbered. He’d gone out with single mothers, but hesitated getting too close to their children in the event the relationship wouldn’t last. The first time it happened he was completely devastated when the mother of two young boys neglected to tell him that her children’s father had been incarcerated and when paroled would come home to live with her.
“When do you think you’ll be able to fit me into your very busy schedule?”
“Probably not until after Valentine’s Day. It’s one of the busiest times for the shop and I have two weddings on that day.”
A slight frown appeared between his eyes. “How are you going to accomplish that?”
“There’s your cousin’s afternoon wedding at Tavern on the Green and the other will be held at a country club on Long Island later that evening. And I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to get a birthday cake to Palm Beach, Florida, for a client’s granddaughter’s birthday party for the same day.”
“Why don’t you ship it overnight?”
Faith told Ethan about her telephone conversations with Tomasina Fiori. “I don’t have time to fly to Palm Beach to bake a cake for her granddaughter.” She didn’t tell him that Tommi was at the top of her elite client list.
“How long will it take to bake and decorate the cake?”
“Probably about ten to twelve hours. Why?”
Ethan’s mind worked overtime as he chose his words carefully. “I believe I’ll be able to help you out.”
Shifting on her seat, Faith gave him a long, penetrating look. “How?”
“I’ll see if I can arrange for you to fly to Florida and—”
“No, no, no,” she said in protest, cutting him off.
He put up a hand to stop her. “Stop acting like a two-year-old, Faith, and hear me out.” Her jaw dropped, but no words came out. “Are you listening?”
“Yes, I am listening.” There was no mistaking her annoyance with his reference to her acting like a spoiled toddler.
“I know several pilots who fly private jets between New York, Florida and California several times each week. Valentine’s Day falls on a Saturday this year, so they can fly you down early Friday morning and have you back in New York either late Friday night or early Saturday morning.”
Faith pondered his suggestion. She and Ranee would finish both weddings cakes by Thursday evening, so that would leave her time to go down to Florida and return before Saturday afternoon.
“That could work,” she said softly.
“Of course it would work.”
Faith landed a soft punch on Ethan’s solid shoulder. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”
He shot her a dark look. “Why is it so difficult for you to thank me? I’m not going to ask for anything in return.”
It was the second time Ethan had chastised her about not thanking him. The first was when he’d waited to drive her back to WJ’s penthouse for Savanna’s engagement party. “Thank you, Mr. McMillan,” she drawled facetiously.
“I’m going to take back what I said about not asking for anything in return.”
Faith’s delicate jaw dropped slightly, her mouth opening and closing several times before she was able to say, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to ask that you spend the Valentine’s weekend with me. Give me Sunday and Monday, and we’re even.”
It took a full minute before she was able to process what Ethan had just said. “You’re buggin’.”
“No, I’m not, Faith. I’m offering to help you out with someone I assume is a very important client, and you don’t want to spend forty-eight hours with me.”
“And do what, pray tell?”
“Relax, share meals and listen to music, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”
Faith detected a hint of condescension in his voice but chose to ignore it. Ethan was right. He was presenting her with an opportunity to give all of her clients what they wanted and she was balking when he suggested she give him two days—a mere forty-eight hours.
The sound of Diana Ross and the Supremes singing “Someday We’ll Be Together,” coming through the speakers, and the beating of her heart held her spellbound. Were the lyrics prophetic
of her future with Ethan? What were the odds that someday they would become a couple?
“Okay. I’d like very much to spend the Valentine’s Day weekend with you.”
Ethan’s dimples winked when he flashed a grin. “Thank you, Faith.”
She inclined her head. “You’re welcome, Ethan. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. The only thing I’m going to tell you is to make certain you bring your passport and pack a swimsuit.”
Faith was hard-pressed not to shout aloud. She’d been fantasizing about relaxing on a beach with a warm breeze feathering over her scantily clad body. “Thank you,” she crooned laughingly, her normally throaty voice dropping an octave.
Ethan’s deep chuckle joined her seductive laughter as a slender thread pulled them closer while wrapping both in invisible warmth that signaled an intense physical awareness of each other.
CHAPTER 9
Ethan was right. What Bessie’s, named for the inimitable blues singer Bessie Smith, lacked in ambience was offset by incredible soul food, a lively crowd and a live band. The clapboard building sported a new coat of paint and a door with a security panel cutout reminiscent of those in speakeasies where the owners sold either bootleg whiskey or moonshine. Bessie’s was filled to capacity. Every chair at the many round tables and those lined up along the bar was occupied.
The octet’s repertoire included early jazz masters, swing and modern innovators such as Dave Brubeck, Charlie Parker and Miles Davis. Faith and Ethan shared a smile when after a short intermission they segued into smooth jazz. The guest vocalists, a talented husband-and-wife duo, sang selections made popular by Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Al Jarreau, Diana Washington, Anita Baker, Will Downing, Sade Adu and Jonathan Butler.
Faith wasn’t certain what she enjoyed more, the music or the food. She’d selected fricassee chicken, fried cabbage seasoned with pieces of smoked meat and potato salad, while Ethan ordered short ribs, macaroni and cheese and collard greens.
“How are the collards?” she asked.
Ethan picked up an extra fork, speared a small portion and extended it to her. “Taste for yourself.”
Her eyebrows lifted as she chewed the tenderly cooked greens. Nodding, she smiled. “Now, that’s good.”
“Do you like the chicken?” He’d suggested she order the house’s specialty.
Faith gave him a sidelong glance, noting the length of lashes touching Ethan’s cheekbones. It wasn’t fair that his lashes were longer and thicker than hers. “It’s incredible. Everything’s delicious. Good food, good music and—”
“And very, very good company,” he interrupted in a hushed whisper.
She stared at up him through lowered lids. The flickering light from the candle on the table threw the angles of his face in sharp relief, the yellow flame firing the pinpoints of gold in his strangely colored eyes.
“You’re right,” she whispered, “about very good company.”
Ethan inwardly railed against the restaurant’s hard-and-fast rule of no dancing, because at that moment he wanted Faith in his arms, her body pressed to his so he could communicate wordlessly what he was beginning to feel for her, how she’d affected him as no other woman he’d ever met or known intimately. And if he had to truthfully ask himself whether he wanted to make love to her, then the answer would be a resounding, unequivocal yes!
Once he’d realized he wanted to get to know Faith Whitfield better, he knew it wasn’t physical. Sex—that was something he could get from any woman, but a single interaction with Faith communicated that she wasn’t just any woman, at least not one who relied on a man for her day-to-day existence.
He’d become good friends with a fellow cadet who talked incessantly about marrying her high school sweetheart once she graduated the academy. They did marry and had remained married, but each time he spoke to her she bragged about how wonderful her married life was, which led Ethan to believe that she was continually overcompensating because she had to convince herself that her life was perfect. Psychologists would’ve termed her behavior a reaction formation, while he would’ve called her a liar.
However, Faith appeared to be the complete opposite. She’d talked about not wanting or needing a man to entertain her. She was independent, and she and only she determined what she wanted to do next. He knew he’d pressured her to go away with him, but Ethan knew that if she truly hadn’t wanted to go then she would’ve said so. The fact that she acquiesced was a sign that she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.
And, more than anything else, he wanted her to have a choice, the choice whether to see or not see him and the choice to end their fragile relationship whenever she felt it had run its course.
“Amazing,” he said reverently, unable to pull his gaze away from her sexy mouth.
A hint of a smile parted Faith’s lips as she turned to look at the vocalists staring into each other’s eyes as they sang a romantic ballad. “Yes, they are amazing.”
Ethan wanted to shake Faith until she begged him to stop. Didn’t she know that he was talking about her? He found it hard to believe that the woman with the incredible face and drop-dead-gorgeous body could be that self-effacing.
“I agree,” he said in a tone that he doubted sounded very convincing.
“Are you working tomorrow?” Faith asked. Ethan had asked her to cook for him, and she would.
If he was surprised by her query, it wasn’t evident in his expression. “No, I’m not. Why do you ask?”
“I’ll cook brunch and dinner for you.”
This time Ethan was hard-pressed not throw back his head and laugh out loud. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a kiss on her palm. His mouth seared a path up her arm and over her shoulder, fastening itself to the side of her exposed neck. “Bless you,” he whispered close to her ear.
A wave of heat swept over her body as his rapacious mouth nibbled her neck. “Stop it, Ethan!” she said in protest. The couple at a nearby table was staring at them.
Pulling back, he stared at her. Her chest was rising and falling heavily as if she’d run a grueling race. “What’s the matter, honey?”
“People are looking at us.”
Ethan kissed her shoulder again. “If you don’t look at them, then you won’t see them looking at you. You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”
“Where do you eat?”
“I usually order takeout from a neighborhood restaurant.”
Her eyebrows lifted with this disclosure. It was no wonder he was so slender. “Do you cook at all?”
He nodded. “I can heat up a can of soup or warm up leftovers in the microwave.”
Faith rolled her eyes at him. “That’s hardly cooking, Ethan.”
“At least I’m attempting to learn,” he said defensively. “I bought several cookbooks and I have a set of All-Clad cookware.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Damn, sweetness, can’t you cut me a little slack?”
Kissing her fingertips, Faith pressed them to his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
He inclined his head, smiling. “Apology graciously accepted. What’s on tomorrow’s menu?”
Faith angled her head, her gaze meeting and fusing with Ethan’s. The look in his eyes was similar to clients who waited to see if what she’d created met their specifications and expectations. He’d admitted that he wasn’t very complex, that what she saw was what she’d get. But there was something about Ethan McMillan that silently communicated that he wasn’t being wholly forthright with her, and she wanted to attribute her suspicions to the number of frogs she’d dated. Well, it would pay for her to watch Ethan carefully if she were to have a relationship with him.
“I’m thinking about a Lowcountry brunch of shrimp and grits and Chinese spareribs, shrimp dumplings and stir-fry veggies for dinner. In between brunch and dinner we can go on a walking tour of the Village.”
“I have a better suggestion.”
“What’s th
at?” she asked.
“Why don’t you cook at my place?”
A slight frown appeared between Faith’s eyes. “That would mean you coming to New York, picking me up and then driving me back only to turn around to go back to Jersey. Then there’s the problem of buying what I need to cook.”
Shifting on his chair, Ethan cradled her face between his palms. “That’s not going to be a problem. You can spend the night with me.” He held up one hand when she opened her mouth to protest his suggestion. “I have more than one bedroom, so we won’t be forced to share a bed.”
“Show-off,” she drawled.
Shaking his head, he couldn’t stop the smile crinkling the lines around his eyes. “I wasn’t dissing your apartment, Faith.”
“What-everrr,” she drawled again.
Struggling to keep a straight face, Ethan closed his eyes for several seconds. There was one thing he could count on Faith to do, and that was make him laugh. It’d been a very long time since a woman had been able to do that.
“We can either go shopping tonight or tomorrow morning. There’s a supermarket in the area that stays open 24/7, and I’m willing to bet it stocks everything you’d need. And remember I have a set of pots that need breaking in.”
“I usually go to mass on Sunday.”
Ethan winked at her. “I can assure you that there’re a few Catholic churches in Englewood Cliffs.” He paused. “What other excuse do you have for not spending the night?”
She returned his wink, then wrinkled her short nose. “Give me time. I’m certain I’ll think of something.”
The musical selection ended, followed by rousing applause. The band members stood up and bowed along with the vocalists. Cupping Faith’s elbow, Ethan eased her off her chair. “Let’s get out of here before the band takes another intermission.”
“Are you trying to avoid your uncles?”
“Yes.”
Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he removed a bill from the monogrammed clip, leaving it on the table. He signaled for the waiter at the same time he steered Faith toward the exit. “My uncles are known to strong-arm me into playing with them,” he explained once they reached the parking lot.
The Sweetest Temptation Page 11