All of Me (17 page)

Jerking her arm out of his hand, she marched down the hall. “This is humiliating enough, Alec.”

Humiliating? “Swear to God, Faith, one of these days you need to stop walking away from me or you’re going to find yourself handcuffed to me.” He stopped. Huh. Nice thought.

He strode after her. She’d laid down on the couch and was pulling a throw blanket over her head. He yanked it off, leaned down, and picked her up. God, she weighed nothing.

She squeaked in protest.

Depositing her on one of the bar stools by the island, he pointed a finger at her. “Stay.” He rounded the corner into the kitchen and leaned his forearms on the counter across from her. “I notice you just fine. Explain.”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. In Wilmington.”

“I told you I was taking things slow . . .”

“There’s slow and then there’s stagnant.”

He forced his open jaw shut. Faith thought he didn’t want her. He almost laughed. “I’m very attracted to you, and rest assured, it was damn difficult keeping my hands to myself.”

The long column of her throat worked a swallow as she stared at her hands. “I was unsatisfactory, wasn’t I?”

He needed to start carrying a sign around that said,
Bang head here
. “You were so unsatisfactory that I left a bite mark on your neck trying to restrain myself and I’m still trembling from coming so hard.”

Her gaze jerked to his. Held.

Christ. She was really something. When they’d first met, he’d thought her ordinary. How stupid of him. Her amber eyes could ensnare him for a decade. The scattering of light
freckles on her nose added a girlish charm. That thin, pouty mouth said the damnedest things. And her voice . . . God, that voice.

“I don’t know what this previous experience is that you speak of, Faith, but you rocked my world.” In bed and out of it. Maybe this sudden change of mood wasn’t such a bad thing. He wasn’t so brainless as to assume she’d be out of his system once he’d had her—because she wasn’t—but this was leading nowhere fast. He sighed and tried to steer the conversation off course. “How about an omelet? You barely ate at the party.”

Still looking a bit shell-shocked, she nodded slowly.

Alec got ingredients out of the fridge that he had asked his housekeeper to stock and a skillet out of the cabinet. He chopped green pepper, tomato, mushrooms, and onions while trying to figure out what the hell to do in this situation. For the first time in years, if not ever, he wanted more. But he couldn’t have that “more,” so why wish it? Faith deserved better than this, so he needed to figure out a way to back out without hurting her feelings. She was not a temporary kind of woman, and the fact that he’d tried to use her as his most recent plaything tore at his gut.

“You have the what-did-I-just-do look again,” Faith said, interrupting his thoughts.

Taking more care than necessary, he flipped the omelet and tried to formulate words that would make sense to her. “I don’t regret the sex, Faith. I don’t. I just . . .”

“Don’t want to do it again.”

Oh, how very, very wrong she was. “The problem is, I
do
want to do it again.” Until they died from starvation from not leaving the bedroom. “So I think the best thing to do is just end it.”

When she grew quiet for too long, he glanced at her. She pressed her lips together—chewing over her own thoughts, he figured. He cut the omelet in half and plated one for her
and himself. He garnished the plates with a few raspberries and set them in front of her. Striding around the island, he pulled up a stool next to her and took a bite.

“Eat, Faith.”

Picking up her fork, she stared at her plate. “You know how to cook.”

“Enough basics to get by. Eggs aren’t rocket science.”

Satisfied that she’d eaten a few bites, he dug into his own omelet with vigor. Damn, but he was hungry. He’d eaten all of it before she’d even made a dent in hers.

“Take my bed tonight. I’ll crash on the couch.” There. He could do the right thing, after all. Except why did he feel like shit?

She didn’t argue.

“Spill it,” Lacey demanded, while checking the hem of the wedding gown. “You’ve been mute for two days. We want to know what happened in New York.”

Faith swallowed a sigh and sat in one of the chairs in the little boutique. Lacey had fallen in love with the second dress she saw, a little, satin, ivory slip style with a scoop neck and a lace back. It was sleeveless with no train, which was a good thing, considering Lacey and Jake were getting married on the beach.

Faith would plan her wedding the same way, if she ever got married, the chances of which were looking pretty slim. A simple dress, a few people, dancing by moonlight on the beach with the waves caressing her toes. Small. Simple. Perfection. Even the cake would be an uncomplicated yellow with buttercream frosting. Maybe a few pearl beads for decoration, to match the ones in her dress.

Disturbed by her thoughts, Faith rubbed her forehead. She’d never been a frivolous dreamer like other girls. She
didn’t spend her nights imagining the perfect wedding, right down to what color rose petals the flower girl would toss. So why did the images pop up now? Granted, Lacey and Jake’s wedding was drawing closer, and they were making a lot of plans, but that didn’t excuse the wayward notions in her head.

She’d spent the majority of her life unnoticed, unwanted. Hollow and secretly aching for someone to acknowledge her existence, yet too scared to prove to anyone that she was there. It was a position she’d grown used to, just a way of life. Business as usual. But then Alec came along, and for a moment, she was a somebody. Not invisible. Not a donor for parts or a nuisance to tolerate. Suddenly there was a man interested in her day and what she was thinking. The way he touched her and spoke to her made her feel alive. Free. The happiness he evoked was almost exhausting.

But a week had gone by, and besides popping over once to watch her and Ginny bake peanut butter cookies, Alec hadn’t visited. For a person who’d been discarded her whole life, that hurt a lot. The pain of rejection stole her will to eat, to smile. A week ago, her heart had been soaring. Now, since he’d put a stop to their summer romance, she couldn’t function past a wallow.

She kept replaying his admission over and over in her head. What happened to Laura wasn’t his fault, but she understood irrational guilt better than anyone. After all, she had been conceived to save Hope and she’d failed. Deep down, Faith knew that wasn’t on her shoulders, but the burden was there just the same. So yes, she understood.

Their lovemaking had been the stuff of fantasies. Specifically, hers. It was as if he knew her every desire, every need. The tender way he caressed her, tasted, and the moment his need erupted and his touch became insistent stole her breath. It was a night she’d wanted all her life. She’d come out of herself for a little while and become a woman. Not a shadow or a wallflower. A woman.

It had never been like that before, not for her. For a fleeting instant, she’d thought it had been that way for him, too.

Dang it. She was falling for him. No, she
had
fallen for him, and like everyone else, he’d walked away as if she’d never been there in the first place. Forgettable.

“Is everything okay?” Mia asked.

Faith looked up and was surprised by the haze of tears blurring her vision. She wished Hope was here. Had her sister lived, Faith would have probably been in a little boutique with her, picking out dresses and discussing flowers.

Quickly, she cleared her throat. “Sure. I’m fine. You look very beautiful in that dress,” she told Lacey over Mia’s shoulder. “I’m getting misty.” Hopefully that explained her sudden emotion.

“Oh, sweetie.” Lacey stepped down from the pedestal and patted her hand. “What happened? Didn’t the lingerie work?”

At least she’d gotten two great friends out of the move to the coast. There was that. “It worked. We . . . um, you know. But it was just a onetime thing.”

“Why? You guys seemed to be hitting it off.” Mia sat in a chair beside Faith’s and crossed her legs.

She shrugged. There was no way to explain the real reason to them without betraying Alec’s trust. “Like I told Lacey, we were short term. He’s got reasons why he can’t commit, and I understand.”

“Can’t or won’t commit?” Mia huffed.

“Can’t,” Lacey answered and pinned Faith with an understanding look. Of course, Jake would’ve told Lacey the story, or parts of it. “Things can always change, though.”

Faith shook her head. Drawing in a deep breath, she glanced around. “Is that the magical dress? I think it’s perfect.”

“Me, too.” Lacey beamed. “I think Jake will love it.”

Mia smiled. “Jake loves the woman in it. The dress is just wrapping.”

Lacey glowed. “I should hang it back up, but I don’t want to. I want to wear it everywhere. It just needs an inch or two brought up from the hem, but otherwise it fits perfectly.”

Lacey followed the attendant to the changing rooms, leaving Mia and Faith to browse the racks. Lacey had decided to let them pick out their own dresses, her only requirements being that they were calf-length and pastel in color.

Mia held up a pink dress with capped sleeves. “Think it’s too pale for me?”

“No.” Mia’s tanned skin and midnight hair would look lovely in the shade. “It’s pretty. I like the cut.” Faith turned back to the rack. “I don’t even have an idea what to look for.”

“Something yellow, or maybe mint green. You’d look great in a strapless with your shoulders.” Mia fished around and pulled out a strapless satin dress with a tulle overlay in a pale sunflower color. A thin, corded ribbon that ran under the breasts tied off in the back.

“I like it.” She imagined herself wearing it on the beach, walking down the makeshift isle with Alec, as he was the one paired with her for the ceremony. Would Alec like it? She shook her head—she needed to stop thinking as if they were a couple. They weren’t and never would be. “Shouldn’t Ginny be here if we’re picking out dresses?”

Mia hummed. “Cole took her out to a movie. I wanted to get an idea for our dresses before bringing her along anyway.”

Cole embraced Ginny as if she was his own sister, his blood. He never grew annoyed by her inability to do things, nor did he seem irritated by having a third wheel. It made Faith’s heart happy. He was a good guy, and Mia would have a great life with him. Lacey and Jake would have a great life, too. They fit well together, genuinely cared about Ginny, and were already making her part of the family.

And then there was Faith. The special needs teacher on payroll who stayed in the guesthouse. When she had taught
at St. Ambrose, no one, including the staff, had paid much attention to her presence. There, Faith had known her place, her duties. Here, everything was askew and disorienting.

“What’s really going on, Faith? You’re upset. I can tell. I wish you’d talk to me.”

Talk, like friends do. Maybe they just felt sorry for her. Perhaps that’s what all this was about, them including her out of pity. How would she even go about asking?

This thing with Alec was making her question everyone and their motives. Since landing on this strip of beach, nothing in her life had fallen into its normal pattern.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry to ruin the mood. I guess I’m just having a melancholy day.”

Mia opened her mouth, but Lacey was back from the dressing room. “They’ll have the dress finished by next week. Did you guys find anything?”

Mia held up both dresses.

“I love them. The yellow for Faith?”

Faith nodded. “Except yellow is Ginny’s favorite color. We should let her have that one, or at least first color choice.” She was family, Faith wasn’t. “I’ll find something else.”

Lacey fingered the material. “But this cut is perfect for your frame.”

Faith smiled as if her chest wasn’t hurting and perused the racks. She found a mint-green dress, as Mia had suggested, and held it up for inspection. A swath of satin crisscrossed over the bodice and flowed to a whisper below the knees. It reminded her of those old movies from the forties Hope liked to watch. Dreamy and timeless.

“Would you look at that? I love it. Is it your size?” Lacey leaned over and checked the tag.

“It’s a size too big, but maybe it can be altered.”

Faith glanced around for the attendant and asked, pleased when they said they could take in the dress so it would fit.

As they were checking out, Mia turned to them. “With
regards to tomorrow, I’ve got the wine and beer, Lacey’s doing sandwiches and salad. Faith, would you mind bringing fruit and your amazing brownies?”

Faith had forgotten all about the Fourth of July bonfire. The Covingtons had invited a few people for a small get-together to watch the fireworks. “Sure. I can get Ginny to help me bake. She’d like that.”

“I’m nervous,” Lacey said. “Jake’s parents are coming.”

Mia frowned. “They love you. Why are you nervous?”

Lacey lifted her hand and dropped it. “I don’t know. I guess it’s the first time they’ll meet Dad. I’m hoping they’ll behave.”

Faith followed them out of the store and into the scorching heat, her own nerves going into overdrive. If the Winstons were coming, that meant she’d meet Alec’s parents. Faith didn’t know where she and Alec stood, though it seemed to her their summer romance was prematurely over. What would she say to them? Would they like her?

Sighing, she trailed Mia and Lacey to the car while they chattered about wedding cake. It didn’t matter what Alec’s parents thought. Alec didn’t want more between them, so she’d just fade into the background where she belonged.

*   *   *

“Why are you pouting?”

Alec looked away from the Fourth of July beach party to glare at Jake. “Men don’t pout.”

“Fine.” His brother took a long pull from his beer bottle. “Brood, then. Why are you brooding?”

“I’m not brooding.”

“You are.”

“Am not.” Alec grinned, partly because he couldn’t help it with the childish banter and partly because it would get Jake off his back.

Their family and friends were gathered around the bonfire, which was set past the dunes but clear of the water. To
the left and halfway up the beach, Faith was standing with Ginny, rearranging the table of food for the fifth time.

Maybe he
was
brooding.

“You keep staring at her and people will notice.”

Alec rolled his head to stretch his neck. It did nothing for his tension. “Ask me if I care.”

“Don’t need to. I know you care.” When Alec said nothing, his brother plowed on. “You care about her, too. Why aren’t you over there with Faith instead of brooding?”

Alec had spent a week holed up in the guesthouse, doing zilch on the writing front, going crazy with thinking about nothing but Faith Armstrong. What would it hurt to talk to Jake? Besides pride. “We broke it off.”

Jake remained silent. A first.

“No witty comeback? I’m disappointed.”

“So am I.” Gone was the laid-back pose and affable grin. “I thought . . .” He shook his head. “I thought you were finally coming around. Letting go. What happened in New York?”

Alec was tempted to avoid the question, but hell. He was miserable and Jake was his lifeline most days. “I told her everything.”

Jake’s glance landed on Faith before returning to him. “And she freaked out? Left you?”

“Quite the opposite.” Alec rubbed his hand down his face, remembering the petallike softness of her skin, the humming in her throat when she came. “We made love, then I called it off.”

Sort of. That part wasn’t exactly clear. Faith had gone into his bedroom and slept for the remainder of the night, while he laid on the couch in his creepy living room, desperate to touch her again. And again. Neither had actually said the phrase
It’s over
.

“‘Made love,’” Jake repeated dully. “Interesting phrase from you.”

“What are you? Freud?”

“Doesn’t take a shrink to point out you said
made love
instead of
had sex
. Because something tells me it wasn’t just sex. You’ve had sex with any and every female who caught your eye since you were sixteen.”

“Jake,” he growled a warning. He did have standards, for fuck’s sake.

“No, listen to me.” His brother turned and faced him head-on, an unusual fire lighting his eyes. “In nine years, not one woman has gotten close enough to breach your wall. You told her, man. You told Faith about Laura. That right there should tell you something.”

Yeah. It told him he’d let his guard down and left his heart open for slaughter. Alec was amazed there was anything left of the organ to kill. And Jake wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Point was, he didn’t know what to do about it. He wanted Faith so bad that there wasn’t a stray thought that didn’t lead back to her. Staying away seemed to be the best thing for both of them.

Jake sighed. “Mom and Dad are here. Lacey’s nervous about them meeting her father. I’m going to go find her.” He glanced across the dunes, already searching for her. “Go find Faith. Kiss and make up.”

As Jake wandered off to seek out Lacey, Alec’s gaze drifted over the twenty or so guests milling about the beach. Some were clients of Jake’s, others were old high school friends, and there were a few of their cousins in the mix. He’d also been introduced to a handful of Mia’s coworkers from the VA hospital. Their faces were illuminated by an orange glow from the bonfire as they laughed and swapped stories. None of it interested him as it used to. People-watching had once been his favorite pastime.

What in the hell had Faith done to him? Staring out at the ocean, he wondered if she was a mermaid after all. From the moment he’d first heard her speak, that was the image that stuck. Her soothing voice, the lulling hum of calm surrounding her, plus some kind of mystical magic.

She had complete and utter power over him.

He finished his beer and tossed the bottle in the recycling, noting Ginny had wandered away from Faith and was now chatting it up with a couple of girls who were summering down the beach. Faith crossed her arms and looked around, staring at the others. Her white top and blue pants clung to her in the breeze as her hair caught and danced. He’d bet her freckles would be more pronounced against the firelight.