by Beth Andrews
AT SEVEN O’CLOCK, Nick rapped his knuckles against Faith’s door. The thump of a ball being dribbled mingled with laughter and shouting as a group of kids played basketball a few houses down the road. He searched for Austin among them but didn’t see him.
The kid had come a long way since that night at Nero’s when he’d refused to play video games with Trevor and his friends. During the last few practices Nick had seen him joking with the other kids, and Austin and Trevor had hung out a few times, as well. But there was still something…off about Austin. Something that told Nick whatever Faith was hiding affected her young son, too.And Nick no longer doubted Faith was hiding something. His instincts, plus her surprise dinner invitation followed by that shocker of a kiss, confirmed it for him.
A salt-scented breeze off the ocean ruffled his hair as he knocked on the door again, this time harder. Hell, he’d been so fired up after leaving the salon the other day he’d headed straight for his desk at the police station. But as he sat at his computer, ready to dig into Faith’s past, he’d realized he was letting his personal feelings—and, okay, his ego—get in the way of his better sense. He needed to keep things in perspective, take a step back and treat this thing with Faith as he would any other case he had to solve.
No more getting personal.
The door opened and Nick turned.
Aw, shit.
His heart beat frenetically as he skimmed his gaze over Faith. Her dress was the color of a summer sunset, with a plunging neckline. The swinging hemline ended at midthigh. A pair of sandals added several inches to her height. She wore bright peach polish on her toes. She’d done something to her eyes, too, making the green seem darker. Sexier.
“What the hell did you do to your hair?” he asked.
She flinched, but recovered quickly, even as her hand brushed the flutter of long bangs to the side. “Britney gave me a trim.”
“It’s different,” he said grudgingly. “Lighter.”
“She added a few highlights.”
He tugged on his earlobe. Here he’d been planning to subtly interrogate her over dinner, in a safe environment, all the while keeping his emotional and physical distance from her. And she ended up looking like some damned blonde bombshell straight out of a fantasy.
So much for that brilliant idea.
“You’re beautiful.”
She plucked at the fabric of her skirt and cleared her throat. “Thank you. But I can’t take any credit. Britney played stylist. I think she felt it was like having a life-size Barbie doll. With more realistic measurements.”
His fingers twitched to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked, her skin as smooth. He stuck his hands in his pockets and tried not to think about her measurements. “Ready to go?”
“Let me get my purse.”
A minute later, they made their way down her front walk to his car. Their arms brushed and the hair on his stood on end. After opening the car door for Faith, Nick took his time walking around the back of the car to the driver’s side. He needed to get a grip. Just because the way she looked, the way she made him feel, threw him for a loop didn’t mean anything had changed.
“I hope Italian’s okay,” he said, sliding into the car and starting the engine. He pulled away from the curb. “I made reservations at Borgo Romano’s.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s about twenty miles inland.” He glanced at her. “You seemed so upset that people saw us together at Nero’s, I figured you’d be more comfortable away from Kingsville.”
“That—that’s really—” if she said nice, he’d kick her out on her lovely ass “—sweet of you.”
He clenched the wheel, grinding his teeth. Sweet? That was even worse. “I had selfish motives,” he said. “I didn’t want to have to worry about you being nervous the entire evening. Though I sort of thought we were past that.”
“We were. We are.” She shifted and he felt her hesitation before she laid her hand on his leg. He wanted to jump out of his skin, but managed to keep still. “And I have to admit,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “I’m glad we’ll be out of town and away from people who know you. It’ll be…nice…not to have to share you with anyone else tonight.”
He gently squeezed her hand, then set it back in her lap before gripping the wheel again. Did she think that just because she’d toned down the sex-kitten act, he wouldn’t recognize it for what it was? Why couldn’t she be straight with him? Whatever she needed his help with must be big for her to put on an act that obviously made her uncomfortable.
For the remainder of the drive, Nick worked to set Faith at ease. They discussed the baseball team and especially Austin’s joy at being named starting pitcher. Faith told Nick how she and everyone else in the salon had teared up when a mother and three daughters came in and had their waist-length hair cut off so they could donate it to Locks of Love, an organization that provided wigs to ill children. By the time Nick held open the restaurant’s door for Faith, she was smiling at his story about when he’d gone to talk to Mr. Kearns about Mrs. Farrell’s complaint.
“At least he wasn’t naked when he answered the door this time,” Faith pointed out.
“Still, I could’ve lived without seeing him in his leopard print thong.”
She laughed, and at the husky, uninhibited sound, his chest tightened. In a purely nonpersonal sort of way.
The hostess led them through the large, dark room to a corner table. Nick held out a chair for Faith before taking his seat across from her. A fat votive candle in a tall red holder shimmered with light in the center of the table. After a quick discussion on the merits of white sauce versus red, they ordered the pasta. A few minutes later their waitress, a chubby, bespectacled brunette with a bright smile, delivered their drinks.
He took a swallow of his beer. “So, what’s Austin up to tonight?”
“Britney took him out for ice cream and to rent a movie. It was nice of her to give up her Saturday night to watch him.”
“Brit loves kids,” he said. “I’m sure she’s happy to hang out with Austin.”
Faith sipped her red wine and, setting her glass aside, cleared her throat before laying both hands in her lap. “Not as happy as he is. I think he has a bit of a crush on her. But please,” she added hurriedly, “don’t let him know I said that. He’d be mortified.”
“He won’t hear it from me. And I’m not surprised he’s fallen for Brit. Males of all ages love her. By the time she was walking she already had me and my dad wrapped around her finger. Especially Dad.”
The waitress delivered their appetizer—smoked mozzarella fondue with garlic-rubbed toasted crostinis—and a basket of warm braided bread sticks. She set down two small white plates and left again.
Nick gestured for Faith to go ahead, and she spooned some of the gooey cheese mixture onto her plate. “Britney doesn’t talk very much about your dad.”
Nick chose a bread stick and took a bite. “I doubt she remembers him. She was only four when he died.”
Faith carefully spread some cheese onto a crostini before taking a nibble. “He had a heart attack?”
As it always did when he thought of that day, Nick’s stomach knotted. “Yeah.”
“He must’ve been awfully young.”
“Thirty-nine.” Nick stared at his glass, remembering how his father had loved nothing more than spending a rainy Sunday afternoon with a cold beer while watching his beloved Red Sox. “He used to brag about how he never got sick. It drove my mom nuts since she caught every cold or flu bug us kids brought into the house. He claimed he was so healthy he didn’t need to get regular physicals. If he had…” Nick sat back and wiped a hand over his mouth.
“Do you think something could’ve been done to prevent his heart attack?”
“I’ve asked myself that a thousand times and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to know.” He shrugged as if to rid himself of the remnants of grief that clung to his memory of his father. “We were suppose
d to go fishing that day. Just the two of us—no girls allowed, he’d said. He’d promised to wake me up early.” Nick slowly straightened his fisted hands. Forced himself to take another bite of bread, to chew and swallow. “Instead, we all woke up to my mom screaming.”
“That must have been awful for ya’ll,” Faith said softly.
He frowned. Ya’ll? Seemed that story Faith had spun for him about her past wasn’t entirely true. Unless people from mid-Pennsylvania spoke with Southern-tinged accents. Could be she’d picked up the dialect of one of the places she’d lived while traveling with her husband. But Nick doubted it.
“I can still hear Mom screaming. My sisters crying.” He wouldn’t press her about her slip. After all, any cop worth his salt gathered his evidence first before making his case. “I called emergency services even though I could tell by looking at him it was too late. The worst part was tearing my mother away from him so the EMTs could work on him.”
That’s when his mother had first turned to him, burying her head in his skinny shoulder, her body racked with sobs. When he’d realized he needed to step into his father’s shoes and take care of his family.
“I’m so sorry.” Faith squeezed his hand, the gesture somehow more honest than when she’d touched him in the car. “Your mom and sisters are lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky to have one another.” Now that he’d laid the groundwork by not only putting her at ease, but by opening up to her, he linked his fingers with hers. “What about you? Who do you go to when things get tough? When you need a shoulder to cry on?”
Sitting back, she freed her hand from his. She took a long drink of her wine and when she set the glass down again she laughed, but the sound was at odds with her shuttered expression. “I’m a single mother. I don’t have time to lean on anyone else.”
“Not even Austin?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said slowly, “but I don’t think relying on my nine-year old son is a wise, or healthy, decision. For either of us.”
Because he agreed with her, and because his own circumstances were different from hers, Nick let her criticism of his upbringing go. Besides, he admired what a great mother she was to the boy.
“Do you ever wish you had more support around you? Family members? Close friends?”
“I’m used to being on my own,” she said briskly, pushing her plate aside. She rested her forearms on the table, angling her body toward him—the better to showcase her breasts in that damned dress. “Besides, I have Austin and now Britney. And…well…a few weeks ago you said you wanted to be my friend….”
And he thought he could stay professional? Not likely. Not when she looked at him with such hope, as if she really did want his help. “I meant that.”
This time her grin was less forced. “See? I have plenty of support.”
He finished off his bread stick and helped himself to the cheese spread. If his hunch was right and she’d been a victim of abuse, she needed to learn to trust someone again. So he wouldn’t push her for more than she was ready to give.
As their waitress delivered their salads and cleared away their used plates, Nick studied Faith. The candlelight flickered over her face, picking up the golden strands in her hair. Now that he’d had time to get used to her new appearance, he had to admit the hair, the makeup, the outfit—it all suited her.
“I almost ran a background check on you,” he said when they were alone.
With a soft clang she dropped the fork she’d been using to nudge aside slices of black olive on her plate. “What?”
He bit into a cherry tomato, the flavor of it exploding in his mouth. “It would be easy enough to do. I have the skills and the clearance to find out pretty much anything I wanted about you.”
She pushed her chair back as if ready to bolt, her face white, her eyes huge. “Did…did you?”
“No. And I won’t. For one thing, it’d be unethical to use my position that way to appease my curiosity.”
“You considered it,” she said, leaving no doubt that made him almost as guilty as if he’d committed the sin. But at least she relaxed her death grip on the tablecloth.
“I did. And the only reason I’m telling you any of this is because I…” He stabbed a piece of lettuce. “I’m interested in you. Interested in getting to know the real you and not some persona you’ve adopted.”
She blushed. “I don’t know what—”
“Or some story you’ve concocted. Like,” he continued casually, “the one where you grew up in Pennsylvania even though every once in a while I detect a trace of Southern in your voice.”
Her jaw dropped. “I…that’s… I don’t—”
“You have my word I won’t go behind your back. I won’t even ask you any questions about your past if you promise not to lie to me anymore.”
He didn’t think she’d agree. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she tossed her wine at him. Instead, she searched his face.
Finally, she nodded and scooted her chair closer to the table. “I promise.”
At least she didn’t try to claim she’d been telling him the truth all along. That had to be progress.
“It’s not as if I have anything to hide,” she assured him in a rush. “I just… I’ve made some mistakes and I…don’t like to dwell on the past.”
“No one’s perfect, Faith.” Nick reached across the table, palm up. After a brief hesitation, she placed her hand in his. And that one tiny gesture meant more to him than he could say. “I want to be a part of your life,” he told her, surprised by how right it felt to admit the pull she had over him. “So whenever you’re ready to stop running from your problems, you let me know. I’ll be here.”
CHAPTER TEN
FAITH GOT OUT OF HER CAR and stared through the dark lenses of her sunglasses up at Andrea Frey’s imposing colonial-style brick home. The midday sun beat down, and the air was heavy and humid. But that wasn’t why Faith’s lightweight top clung to her skin. It wasn’t what made sweat bead on the nape of her neck and roll down her back. She was nervous.
She snorted, then raised her eyebrows in an innocent expression when Austin shot her a quizzical glance from across the hood. But soon he went back to what he’d been doing all morning—sighing loudly, rolling his eyes and vibrating with impatience.“Come on, Mom,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” she muttered, and wondered when on earth the two of them had switched bodies. She usually had to prod him to hurry along. “Here, you carry this…” She handed him her large tote bag. “And I’ll get the cake.”
Picking up the plastic cake carrier from the backseat floor, she straightened, used her hip to shut the door, and looked up at the house again. There was a line of cars on the long driveway, so she’d chosen to park on the side of the quiet road. That much easier to leave if she needed to cut out early.
Her palms grew damp. Had she thought she was nervous? More like sick-to-her-stomach petrified. But she couldn’t back out, not when she’d promised Britney she and Austin would attend the Coletti family’s annual Fourth of July picnic. Not when Austin was so excited about spending the day with Trevor.
His new best friend, plus swimming in a private, in-ground pool, all the food he could eat and fireworks and a campfire after the sun set? Her boy was in heaven.
She, on the other hand, was heading straight to hell. Because as much as she wanted to make her son happy, he wasn’t the main reason she’d agreed to come here. It was a way to get closer to Nick. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to integrate herself into the town. Into people’s lives. Wasn’t that what people did when they started over?
Befriending the Colettis—one of the most well-liked and respected families in town—helped make it seem as if she belonged in Kingsville. A means to an end.
Guilt pricked her conscience but she shook it off as she followed Austin up the curving stone pathway to the house. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Not really. And she wasn’t out to hurt anyone—t
hat had to count for something.
Her pulse picked up speed when she noticed Nick’s car at the end of the driveway. Checking her reflection in its window, she shifted the cake so she could fix her bangs. Okay, so maybe there was some anticipation mixed in with her anxiety. Which was crazy. She had no business wanting Nick or, God forbid, enjoying his company. But she did.
Forcing herself away from the car, she followed Austin up the winding path that led to the front porch. After their dinner date, Nick had walked her to her door and brushed his lips against hers in a sweet good-night kiss. The next day, he’d sent flowers. Not a bouquet but a pot of bright red zinnias. She’d smiled the entire time she’d planted them in her little garden. And when she’d called to thank him, she’d spontaneously invited him over to join them for dinner, since she’d made her mama’s special fried chicken. Later in the week, he and Austin had spent an hour after baseball practice trying to teach her how to bat. Then they’d all gone out for ice cream.
Things were going well. And while letting Nick get close was a big mistake—it was somehow going to backfire on her—she couldn’t seem to stay away.
A loud shriek made her jump. Trevor, wearing only a pair of bright blue swim trunks and carrying a squirt gun the size of a small bazooka, ran barefoot through the thick grass of the front yard. He zipped between her and Austin, forcing Faith to skid to a halt.
“Hi,” Trevor said. He was amazingly dry for someone obviously in the midst of a squirt-gun battle. “Can I carry anything for you, Ms. Lewis?”
“No fair hiding behind neutral parties,” a deep voice said from her left.
A deep, familiar voice that made her shiver in awareness. She turned as Nick reached them, and that awareness blossomed into sharp, aching need. His mussed hair was damp, his cargo shorts and dark T-shirt wet with several water spots. He held a gun identical to Trevor’s on his broad shoulder, making him look boyish and sexy.
“When Aunt Marie yelled at you for squirting her you said everything was fair in war,” Trevor told him gleefully.