by BETH KERY
“Yes,” she managed.
“But are you seeing?” He stepped closer. She felt his groin brush against the top of her backside. “Flawless, soft skin,” he murmured, stroking the inner part of her elbow. He palmed her hip. “Curves that fit my hand perfectly.” His fingers traveled up the center of her rib cage, and then detoured to the left, tracing the skin beneath the cloth of her white bra. She couldn’t take her gaze off the image of them in the mirror. Heat coursed through her. “Delicate and narrow in all the right places.” He stepped closer as he caressed the sensitive skin, pressing his front more fully to her bottom. He brought his other hand around her and palmed both of her breasts, lifting slightly as if to test their weight.
A shaky sigh escaped her throat.
“Curvy and full in all the other ones,” he added, his voice now low and husky. His fingertips flickered over her nipples, making them tighten against the clinging fabric of her bra. He made a low, rough sound of male appreciation. Much to her disappointment, however, he released her breasts. His hands gathered her hair and pulled it behind her shoulders.
“Hair a man wants to sink his fingers into,” he continued, sliding his hands along her shoulders and collarbone. He traced the line of her jaw, his stare on her intense. “And a face that haunts a man’s dreams.”
For a few seconds he remained still. They examined one another in the mirror while the air burned in Faith’s lungs.
“At least this man’s dreams,” he added with a small, sheepish smile. He moved against her ever so slightly, leaving her in little doubt of his desire.
“Faith?”
“Yes?” she managed to whisper, even though her body was buzzing with sexual awareness and she was utterly entranced by Ryan’s stare.
“Do you have a date to the ball on Wednesday?”
She started slightly. It hadn’t been what she expected him to say.
“No,” she blurted out before she had a chance to censor herself.
“I’d like to take you.”
“Okay.”
What else could she say, with such a gorgeous man pressed against her, hot and aroused? No sane woman could have resisted his smoky-eyed, wanting stare that seemed to promise untold sensual delights.
He leaned down and pressed his face to the side of her neck. A shudder of excitement went through her at the sensation of his warm lips moving against her skin.
Then he straightened and the hard pressure of his body was gone.
“Ryan?” she asked uncertainly when he stepped away.
“If I don’t leave now, I’m not going to, Faith,” he said, his voice sounding edgy. He glanced around, spearing her with his stare. His expression softened.
“I’ll call you on Tuesday and we can make plans,” he said. He briefly caressed her shoulder, turned and walked out of the room, leaving Faith standing there alone, a vibrating bundle of confusion and clamoring nerves.
* * *
On Wednesday at five-thirty Faith raced through her front door, laden down with dry cleaning, her briefcase and a large bag of dog chow. Topsy’s loud yipping added another layer of chaos to her already overwhelmed state.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered in a regretful tone, dumping all the items she carried on the breakfast nook. Both Cleo and Smokey circled around her feet, meowing loudly for their supper. “I’m sorry for being late. My hair appointment had to be rescheduled because I had a patient emergency—an Irish setter managed to consume a jumbo package of toilet paper, including the plastic. Don’t you ever think about pulling something like that, young lady,” she lectured a squirming Topsy as she liberated her from her crate. The puppy shot like a torpedo through the back door when she opened it. She gave the cats their dinner in record time.
She only had a half an hour to get ready before Ryan would be here. Luckily, she’d gone to the salon in town to get her hair done, so the only thing that was required was a quick shower and makeup application.
At six o’clock, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the final result. Her skin looked smooth and glowing next to the champagne fabric of the dress. Her hairdresser had straightened her hair, and then used a curling iron to create loose curls that spilled down her shoulders and caressed her bare upper arms. The dress gathered beneath her breasts and then flowed in graceful folds to below her knees. Nervousness trickled through her when she saw the amount of cleavage revealed in the V-shape of the neckline. Was it entirely appropriate? She’d tried the dress on for Jane last night, however, and her friend had insisted it fit her perfectly.
“With curves like that, you ought to be flaunting it a little. It’ll only help in getting a little extra cash from the male attendees during the silent auction you’re running,” Jane had said, her blue eyes twinkling. Faith had stood before a mirror at Jane’s house while they both inspected her appearance. “And I doubt you’ll hear that hunk of a man I met the other day in the office complaining.”
After that it’d taken Jane about three seconds flat to get her to admit that Ryan Itani was, indeed, the father of her baby. When Jane had seen Faith’s worried expression, she’d expressed confusion.
* * *
“Why are you upset that you’re about to have that man’s baby? He’s gorgeous, and I saw the way he looked at you—like he wanted to eat you up in one bite. What’s the problem?”
“Which one do you want me to start with?” Faith had asked drolly. She noticed Jane’s mock stern expression in the mirror. “He’s not in love with me or anything. That night—it was all a mistake...an impulse.”
“Seems to me that your impulses are pretty good,” Jane said dryly as she’d adjusted the bodice at Faith’s back.
“He’s not a one-woman man,” Faith said, scowling at her reflection in the mirror. “Look at his job. Pilots live out of their suitcases. There’s no...security in a man like that.”
“Who are you talking about?” Jane asked, her gaze sharp in the mirror. “Ryan? Or Jesse?”
Faith sighed. Jane knew all about the heartache her former husband had caused her. “It doesn’t matter. Ryan’s not interested in me that way.” Her cheeks grew pink when Jane gave her a give me a break glance. “I mean...he’s attracted to me. But he also told me he wants us to be friends.”
Jane had just shrugged in a matter-of-fact manner. “Lust and friendship aren’t a bad way to start, I’d say. Add a baby into the mix, and you’ve got the beginnings of a beautiful relationship.”
* * *
A loud knock sounded on her front door, causing Faith to jump and jerking her out of her thoughts. She spun toward the vanity, the decadently soft folds of the skirt of the dress whisking around her hips and thighs. She tossed some money, a credit card, a comb and lipstick into her evening bag and hurried down the hallway, her heart starting to hammer out an erratic tempo in her ears.
Ryan had called yesterday, and they’d chatted for a few minutes. Other than that brief interaction, however, she hadn’t had contact with him since last Sunday, when he’d touched her while they’d looked at one another in the mirror...when he’d praised her.
When he’d coaxed her into seeing herself in a whole new way.
“Hi,” she greeted between pants a few seconds later, opening the outer door. Ryan caught it with his hand. Her frazzled brain fully took in his appearance for the first time. She froze, her eyes going wide.
“Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed. “You look great.”
It was a bit of an understatement, she thought as her gaze ran over the considerable length of him.
It was a lot of an understatement.
He wore a classic black tux, white dress shirt with wing collar, points tucked behind a black bow tie. Faith always thought he looked completely natural wearing casual clothing and his leather flight jacket. She realized for the first time that he was so magnetically handsome, he could probably pull off wearing a paper bag.
Seeing him in an immaculate tuxedo was like a sock to the gut.
“You look amazing, yourself,” Ryan said, his gaze going over her warmly.
“Where did you get that tuxedo?” she wondered incredulously. The elegant garment fit his large, lean body too well to have been anything but tailor made for him.
“I flew over to Chicago and had a rush job done on it. I needed to buy one anyway,” Ryan said. “Since I’ve started working for Nick and Deidre, they’ve invited me to a few formal events. I needed a tux.”
Faith realized she was standing there gaping at him while he stood on her front steps, holding the door.
“I’m sorry. Please come in. I just have to get my wrap.” She flew to the kitchen, where she retrieved the pale, fluid evening wrap she’d had dry-cleaned. When she rejoined Ryan, her wrap draped over her arm, she saw that he carried a small plastic container.
“This is for you,” he said, handing it to her.
Her eyes sprang wide. “A corsage?”
“No,” he said. “It’s just a single orchid. I thought it’d look great in your hair. If it doesn’t, though, you can just put it in a vase.”
“Oh, Ryan,” she said, staring at the single, gorgeous bloom resting in the container. For some odd reason, her eyes smarted with tears. He’d recalled the color of her gown from last weekend, when he’d walked in and she’d been holding it up in the mirror. That such a masculine man remembered such a small detail and translated that knowledge into such a perfect gift struck a deep emotional chord in her. She looked at him.
“Thank you. I will wear it in my hair. You got the color exactly. Give me just a second,” she said, beaming at him before she hurried to the bathroom to find a pin to affix the orchid.
He couldn’t have chosen better. The champagne-colored bloom looked lovely next to her dark hair. She removed the necklace she’d put on, allowing the flower to be her only accent besides a small pair of diamond studs in her ears.
His eyes seemed to glow when she joined him a second later.
“You’re right. It is perfect,” he said, smiling. He dipped his dark head and kissed her on the mouth, brief and electric.
Her breathing didn’t return to normal until they were seated in the car and halfway to the Lake View restaurant.
“I hope you won’t be too bored,” Faith said worriedly when he pulled into the packed parking lot. “As the Alliance president I’ll have to speak, and I’m responsible for the silent auction. The auction and cocktail party starts at six-thirty, and the dinner will follow. A couple of people from the board will be helping me do some last-minute things, so—”
“I’ll be fine. You just do whatever you have to do,” Ryan assured. She glanced over at his profile, sensing his calm confidence, and realized that of course he’d be fine. He was nothing if not self-sufficient.
She was aware of him all evening, despite the fact that she put considerable effort into socializing with all the guests during the combined cocktail hour and silent auction. He was at least a head taller than most of the attendees at the fundraiser, so it was easy to spot him above the crowd. He did, indeed, appear to be comfortable, meeting and chatting with strangers. Once she observed him talking to Sheila Maxwell, a local attorney. They made quite a striking pair standing next to each other, sipping their drinks, chatting and laughing. Jealousy made an unwanted appearance, swelling in her belly. It ducked its ugly head when she noticed that Ryan spoke just as long, and just as animatedly, to Mortimer Cohen, a wealthy octogenarian, as he had the statuesque Sheila.
She lost sight of him when the lights dimmed in the large dining room in order to show the brief film about the charitable work of the Animal Advocate Alliance.
“Those are your hands holding that dog. I’d recognize them anywhere,” a deep voice said quietly in her right ear.
Faith turned around and saw Ryan’s shadowed face just over her right shoulder. She smiled.
“You’re amazing. I hadn’t realized there was anything singular about my hands,” she said, referring to the video that detailed the experience of one homeless dog from when it’d been taken in by the Alliance to when it had eventually been adopted by a family. Faith was shown in the video giving the canine a medical exam and providing its shots, although her face didn’t appear on camera.
“I recognized your touch.”
She blinked at having those sweet, intimate words murmured in her ear. She struggled to recover.
“Are you having an okay time?” she whispered.
“Yes. And I happen to know from mingling with your guests that you’ve got a ton of donations coming your way. I’m hoping the night will be a big success,” he said quietly near her ear.
She craned her head around, trying to see him better in the shadowed room. “Thank you, Ryan.”
She just made out his small smile and the gleam in his eyes before the video presentation ended and the lights came back up. Reluctantly Faith excused herself to call everyone to dinner and give her speech.
Afterward she sat down next to Ryan at the head table and gave a sigh of relief.
“It’s finished. The hard part is over,” she whispered, since another committee member now spoke at the podium.
“Congratulations for a job well done,” he said quietly. She gratefully accepted the glass of ice water Ryan handed her. “I’d make it champagne, but under the circumstances...” He faded off, glancing down over her stomach.
“Water is just perfect,” she said, sharing a smile with him.
After they’d finished their meal, a four-man band began to play music and couples moved onto the dance floor.
“What do you think? Are you too wiped out to dance?” Ryan asked, nodding toward the dance floor, which was situated directly in front of floor-to-ceiling windows and an outdoor terrace that overlooked the lake and the setting sun.
“I’d love to,” Faith said.
She took his hand and they joined several other couples on the floor. He took her into his arms and they might have been the only people alive on the planet.
“Another gorgeous sunset,” he murmured, even though his stare was on her face, not on the brilliant palette of streaking color in the western sky.
“Yes. It’s nice. For the fundraiser, I mean,” Faith breathed. “You’re pretty light on your feet for a flyboy.”
“You’re not a bad dancer yourself, for a C-minus gym student,” he replied, his mouth twitching in a grin. She laughed. He pulled her closer, sealing their fronts together, her breasts pressing against his ribs. His nostrils flared slightly as he looked down at her. She couldn’t pull her gaze off him.
“Remember the other day, when you said that an adrenaline rush wasn’t your main reason for becoming a pilot?” she asked. He nodded. “What was the primary reason, then?”
He studied her face silently for a moment before he responded.
“It’s kind of hard to put into words,” he said eventually.
“Try me.”
“Okay. The first time I ever flew in a plane, it was on a commercial airliner to Hawaii with my family. I was seven. I’ll never forget it—the brute force of the plane lifting me, looking out the window and seeing an entire new world. It didn’t hit me immediately that my mom and dad and sister weren’t as blown away by the whole thing as I was. For me it was like a religious experience or something. I just knew I was meant to be up there.”
Faith stared at him for a moment, touched by the force of his conviction.
“Do you miss it a lot? When you’re...you know. On the ground?”
“Since I entered the academy, I was usually never on the ground long enough to go through withdrawal.”
“I’d like to see you fly,” she said. “I’d like to see you in your element.”
“Name the day,” he said quietly. She felt him studying her as she looked out at the radiant sunset as they slowly spun on the dance floor.
“Does it bother you?” he asked.
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“That I love flying so much.”
/> “Of course not. It’s wonderful that you’re so passionate about your job.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “You’re not being entirely honest. You associate a love of flying with an impermanent character.”
She dropped her chin, looking sightlessly at his immaculate white shirt.
“Faith?”
“Yes?” she asked with false cheerfulness.
“Look at me,” he said.
She slowly lifted her head and met his stare. It annoyed her that she found the topic so charged. What did it matter to her that Ryan had a passion for the freedom of the open skies?
“Maybe the reason I always got so homesick when I wasn’t flying was that I never really had a permanent home after my parents died. I lived all over the globe in my years in the military. A plane became my refuge. That doesn’t mean I can’t eventually find a refuge somewhere else someday.”
“On the ground?” She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows again, not wanting him to see the doubt in her yes.
“Yeah. On the ground. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving to fly, but it’s possible to feel at home in more than one place, isn’t it?”
She put on a brave face and nodded. “Of course it is.”
She was glad when the music came to an end. She had a feeling from Ryan’s narrowed gaze that he didn’t really believe her convicted tone. He tugged on her hand when she started to return to their seats at the table.
“Let’s get your wrap and step onto the terrace for a moment,” he said.
“Okay,” Faith replied. Her heart started to do a drumroll on her breastbone as he led her out onto the empty terrace. The sun had sunk completely into Lake Michigan at this point, leaving a lingering residue of pink, purple and gold streaks in the western sky.
“What is it, Ryan?” Faith asked when they faced one another next to the rail of the terrace and she saw how somber his expression was. A chilly lake breeze swept past them. Faith shivered and pulled her wrap closer around her. Before she suspected what he planned, Ryan took her into his arms. She stiffened at first, but then found herself melting against him. She sighed, pressing her cheek to his lapel. The fortress of his embrace felt wonderful—solid, warm and secure.