by Francis Ray
“It’s just as I imagined.” Faith ran her hand over the center island with multiple compartments in solid cherry.
“I won’t ever have to look for anything again.” Everything had a place in the new walk-in closet, with his shirts and coats on low racks and his pants on taller ones. “I owe you a lot.”
“It was my pleasure.”
They stared at each other. Brandon wasn’t aware of either of them moving, but suddenly she was directly in front of him.
“How did you like it, Faith?”
She jumped and stepped away. Brandon muttered under his breath.
“Better than my expectations, Mr. Montgomery,” she said softly, not looking at Brandon.
He nodded. “I took pictures. If this doesn’t get me and Mack more business, I don’t know what will.”
“In that case, you two should give me a cut or discount your bill,” Brandon said, trying to get the older man’s attention off Faith.
“Funny, Brandon. Very funny. I’d better get started on laying that tile.” The plumber left as quietly as he had come.
“You all right?”
She lifted her head. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
He stared at her. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“If it was, I wouldn’t ask.”
He frowned. “You usually know what I’m thinking before I do.”
“My crystal ball must be on the blink today.” She stopped at the door. “They’re delivering the rug and chairs tomorrow afternoon. They’ll call first and you can call me. Good-bye.”
It didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t want her to leave. She looked unbearably sad. He was the reason. “Faith. You know I only want what’s best for you, don’t you?”
“What you think is best for me may not be. If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow.” This time she didn’t stop.
Outside the restaurant, Faith tightly shut her eyes. Wanting her was making Brandon miserable. She hadn’t counted on that.
She could push the issue or let him figure out for himself that the change in their relationship shouldn’t cause him to worry about her. He wouldn’t hurt her any more than loving him all these years and knowing he’d never love her back the way she wanted him to had. But he wasn’t aware she loved him, and she wasn’t about to tell him. Deep in thought, she started back to the hotel.
15
Late Friday afternoon water gushed from the nickel-plated Roman faucet in the tub and the multiple showerheads in Brandon’s bathroom. Black ceramic tile gleamed on the walls and beneath his booted feet.
“Am I good or am I good?” Mr. Montgomery asked the rhetorical question.
“Faith did this,” Brandon said from beside the plumber.
“She had the idea.” Mr. Montgomery folded his arms. “Which I turned into reality. A feat in itself. I thought she would be here.”
“She’s busy.” Brandon shut off the water and left the bathroom. “I’ll get your check.”
“Wasn’t she supposed to come by yesterday to fix up the living area? It looks the same, and the things they delivered are in a corner,” Mr. Montgomery said, standing by Brandon’s elbow as he sat at the kitchen table writing the check.
Brandon didn’t bother answering. He and Faith had stayed out of each other’s way since Wednesday, and that was how Brandon planned to keep things. There was no sense asking for trouble. “I’ll get to it eventually. Good-bye, and thanks.”
The plumber shoved the folded check into the pocket of his overalls. “I bet you can’t wait to move back in here.”
He’d thought the same, but now he wasn’t so sure. “I’ll walk you down. I need to get back to work. The dinner crowd is just starting to come in.”
Mr. Montgomery looked around one last time. “This place doesn’t look the same with the new cabinet doors and the curved counter around the existing island to give you more space to entertain. The hidden open shelving on the other side for all those cookbooks of yours was a stroke of genius. Mack did a good job. Faith knows her stuff.”
“Yes, she does.” Brandon opened the door leading downstairs. “Thanks again.”
“I know when I’m being rushed.” Leaving the apartment, Mr. Montgomery went down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. “You two have a tiff or something?”
The blunt question might seem rude from anyone else, but Mr. Montgomery always spoke his mind and he’d known Brandon and Faith since they were in grade school. Brandon knew he could play dumb and lengthen the unwanted conversation or answer. “Like I said, she’s busy.”
“That never stopped her before from helping you out.” The older man pulled his cap down over his brushy brows. “If a woman went out of her way to help me, I think I’d find a way to thank her. Night, Brandon.”
“Night.”
Brandon toured the restaurant to check on the dinner guests, then went to the kitchen. Checking the monitor for the next order, he began preparing the fajita nachos. Staying away from Faith was best. He just wished he didn’t have trouble believing it.
Brandon tried his best to close promptly at eleven so he could check out of the hotel when the chance of him seeing Faith wasn’t as great, but it hadn’t worked that way. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he continued down the street to the hotel. In the past he hadn’t minded the short late-night walk. He’d even enjoyed the exercise, but tonight he was too tense.
He’d thought of checking out that morning, but yesterday afternoon Mr. Montgomery had encountered a problem with the water pressure. He’d given Brandon the dire news that most likely it wasn’t coming from his end, but the possibility remained that, if it was, the plumber would have to go back in the wall, tear out the tile, and the water would be off again. Luckily that hadn’t happened.
Brandon was ten feet inside the hotel when the one thing he dreaded became reality. Faith was standing with a group of people he didn’t recognize. There was a moment that seemed to freeze in time when their eyes met, his breath caught, and the need he’d tried to deny so long came hurtling back.
Faith nodded her head slightly, then continued talking with the people she was with, turning her back slightly as she did. The gesture made his gut clench, but he realized it was no more than he deserved. She’d put his welfare above her own, and he’d repaid her by taking advantage of her, then turning his back on her.
His jaw clenched, he went to his room, pulled his duffel back from the top of the closet, and began shoving his things inside, berating himself as he did so. He should have never touched her. Now, he’d lost a friend. Worse, he’d hurt a good woman.
Dragging the bag from the bed, he went to the front desk and checked out, very much aware that Faith still stood nearby. The bill in his hand, he turned and looked straight at her. Lips that he’d dreamed about trembled, then firmed. Her chin lifted.
With a curt nod, he left, but each step away from her was more difficult than the one before, his mood more foul. He hadn’t wanted it to end this way.
In his room over the restaurant, he tossed the bag on the bed. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of Faith. She’d put her stamp on his place just like she’d put her stamp on him.
To repay her, he’d left without the simple courtesy of thanking her. He knew the reason he had to steer clear of her. She didn’t and, to a softhearted, generous woman like Faith, that had been like a slap in the face.
“Hell.” He was out the door again.
Brandon was gone. He hadn’t even said good-bye.
As soon as he’d left she’d excused herself from the group celebrating the retirement of a teacher and escaped to her room. On automatic, she’d prepared for bed, but she was too keyed up to sleep. She’d ended up outside looking at a full moon that appeared close enough to touch. It was a night for lovers. She would never have that pleasure. Misery swamped her.
She’d gambled and lost. At least in the past she’d had his friendship. Now she only had memories of his evocative kisses that made her body yearn for som
ething deeper and wish for what might have been.
She’d said there’d be no regrets. At least she had gone after the man she loved. Perhaps the McBrides were truly cursed never to find happiness in a relationship.
Her head lowered. How had her brothers and father stood this pain that went soul deep, knowing that there was no ending in this lifetime?
She heard the creak of the gate and glanced up just as Brandon entered the courtyard. His face looked as tortured as she felt inside.
She wanted to tell him to leave, beg him to stay. The knot in her throat wouldn’t let her do either.
“Faith.” He rushed to her and knelt. “I’m a bastard for hurting you. I told myself I’d cut off my arm before I did that, but when it came down to it, I ran because if I didn’t, I’d make love to you and hurt you even more.”
Her heart pounded; her breath snagged. “What—what did you say?”
“I tried to fight it, but . . .” His head lowered then lifted. “I dream about you. I think about how sweet your mouth tastes, your soft skin, your scent that makes me want to kiss every inch of you. Call me a bastard. Slap my face, and tell me to never come near you again.”
She launched herself into his arms. Brandon caught her, thinking she was attacking him, rightly so, until he felt her lips kissing his cheeks, his eyes, anyplace she could reach.
“You aren’t mad?” he asked.
Sweet laughter was the answer. Then her mouth settled on his, her tongue darting inside his mouth to mate and tease with his. Brandon forgot about asking questions and pulled her to him, imitating and matching her ardor.
Then his hand discovered something else he’d known when he saw her, but he had been too concerned about her well-being for it to register. There was nothing but fragrant skin beneath the silky blue robe and gown. He tried to pull back. Faith nipped his ear and he shuddered.
Perhaps he could stop before it was too late. Picking her up, he almost ran inside. She was blowing in his ear, curling her tongue around his lobe. “Faith, wait a minute.”
She bit him on the neck. He stumbled and set her on her feet in the living room. She jerked his shirt out of his pants. The air gushed through his lungs as if he’d run for miles. Warm, insistent hands roamed his chest, plucked at his nipples.
How had he ever thought he could stop? “Please help me.”
She jerked his shirt open. Buttons popped. Her hot mouth replaced her hands. She took the hard point of his nipple between her teeth and flicked her tongue across it.
“You’re killing me,” he moaned.
Her head popped up; wonder and satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. “I am?”
He could only nod. The look in her eyes stole his voice and hardened his body.
“Oh, Brandon.” She dipped her head again and went back to slowly driving him crazy.
He had two choices: be a bystander or be a participant. In the next instant she was back in his arms and he was heading for the bedroom. The covers turned back, the light of the full moon illuminated the pale sheets.
“I want to see you,” he breathed.
“I want to see you, too.” A dim light filled the room.
He gently kissed her on the lips, then slipped the robe off her shoulders. His unsteady fingers slipped beneath the spaghetti straps of her gown and ever so slowly eased them over her shoulders. The silk slithered to the floor. His breath stumbled as he looked his fill.
“Brandon?”
The uncertainty in her voice lifted his head. His hands cupped her face as he stared deep into her eyes. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”
“You must not look at yourself in the mirror,” she said, then reached for his belt buckle.
He could have done it faster, but the sight of Faith unbuckling and unzipping heightened his arousal. Then her hand, by design or intention, grazed across his groin as she pushed his pants down. He groaned, his hands fisting as intense pleasure swept through him.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be.” He plopped on the bed to take off his shirt and reach for his boots.
“Let me help.” Faith straddled his legs, her beautiful backside to him, and grabbed his boot, pulled. He concentrated on breathing and maintaining control as one boot, then the other, slipped free.
“There.” She faced him. “Where were we?”
He pulled her to him, his mouth fastening to the tempting sight of her full breast. His mouth laved the turgid point as his hands roamed her lush body. They swept up her back and down again to cup her hips. One hand continued downward until he discovered the very essence of her . . . and found her hot, damp, tight.
She gave a long, low moan of pleasure as her hands dived into his hair, pulling him closer. “Brandon.”
His name on her lips heightened his need. He had to have her soon. Wrapping both hands around her, he scooted up in bed, then twisted so she was on the bottom. He needed to feel her full length against him, her body pressed against his, accepting his. The fit was as perfect as he’d known it would be.
He went back to what he found he couldn’t get enough of: loving Faith. Each kiss was sweeter, each touch more arousing, than the last until he knew he had reached the breaking point.
“Faith, I have to know if you’ve made love before.”
She squirmed against him, the hot junction against his throbbing manhood almost sending him over the edge. “Faith.” Her name was a hoarse, desperate groan.
Heavy-lidded eyes opened. She stared at him a long time; then she twisted her head back and forth on the pillow. Brandon felt awe and pleasure with a good dose of fear. He didn’t want to mess this up for her.
As if she read his thoughts, she reached out and cupped his cheek with her palm. “I trust you, Brandon.”
He kissed her palm, then her mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply, drawing her once again into the sensual haze. Gathering her to him, he thrust, making them one. She stiffened beneath him. His hand reached between them to flick her sensitive nub. He stroked, once, twice, until she began to move, her hips lifting to meet his.
Removing his hand, he measured the length of her velvet sheath, again and again. Each time he brought them together the pleasure and passion built. Small moans grew in intensity.
Her legs locked around his waist; his hands cupped her hips. Each deep thrust brought them closer and closer to final completion until they both exploded in primal pleasure.
Still he couldn’t let her go. He tightened his hold, burying his face on the side of her neck. Her body trembled as shock wave after shock wave swept over her.
When he was able to move, he rolled on his side, bringing her with him. Nothing had ever been as beautiful. “Are you all right?”
He felt her smile. “ ‘All right’ couldn’t begin to describe how wonderful I feel.” She nuzzled his chest. “I’m glad I waited.”
The pleasure Brandon felt turned to guilt. Women didn’t wait this long for nothing. They expected the man they gave their virginity to to marry them.
“Faith.”
“Mmm.”
She was falling asleep. He had to tell her now, when there could be no mistakes. It would be cruel to wait. “I intended to stop before we went this far. I should have stopped when I learned you were a virgin. ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, I know.”
Brandon’s words doused the sensual haze Faith was feeling. He was apologizing for the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to her. No jury would convict her if she did him in.
“We shouldn’t have become lovers,” he said.
Lovers. The word resonated in her brain; the warm feeling returned; she snuggled closer. Perhaps she wouldn’t do him in just yet. She definitely had uses for him. She reached over and stroked him. He hardened instantly. The velvet texture amazed her. How could it be so soft, then so hard, and give so much pleasure?
“Faith, what are you doing?”
She laughed in spite of herself and moved on top of him. She had a lot of time
to make up for. “Guess.”
If you did something once and regretted it, that was understandable. Brandon wasn’t sure what a second or third time meant . . . except he couldn’t keep his hands off Faith if she was within reaching distance.
He stared down at her in sleep. She was on her stomach, a smile on her lips. She twisted his insides and made him happy to be a man, but it wouldn’t last. And when it was over the one thing he dreaded would happen: he’d leave her with tears on her cheeks.
Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her.
“Brandon,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her hand, even in sleep, reaching for him.
“Shh. I’m here.” He caught her hand, sat on the side of the bed until her even breathing signaled she was asleep again. Slowly releasing her hand, he stood, dressed, and quickly left the room. This time he knew better than to linger.
In the courtyard, he looked at his watch and cursed softly under his breath. 3:15 A.M. He should have left hours ago. Heck. He shouldn’t even be there. Now how was he going to leave without the desk clerk knowing what had happened? Brandon didn’t want Faith to be gossiped about.
It wasn’t likely he could scale the ten-foot wall surrounding the grounds, and although the Pueblo and the Mesa had outside doors, the main doors were most likely locked. There was no help for it. He’d have to sneak out . . . something he’d never done. But, then, he’d never been the first, either. Luke had made sure his brothers didn’t take what couldn’t be replaced. Brandon had always listened until now.
At the entrance to the lobby, Brandon breathed a sigh of relief on seeing there wasn’t anyone behind the counter. He quickly passed through, his luck holding out on seeing the night doorman at the opposite end taking a smoke break. Brandon didn’t breathe easy until he was a block away. Another reason that it had to end: Faith’s reputation was at stake. He’d done enough to hurt her.
Faith woke up by degrees. Contentment and happiness followed her into wakefulness. She smiled on feeling the slight soreness of her body, the protest of muscles as she remembered the cause: she and Brandon were lovers.