Faithless Angel (27 page)

She turned away from him, but it was useless. His reflection stared at her from the bathroom mirror, gazing into her, searching…. “Last night is over and done with. We both had our fun, and now we’ll go our separate ways.” She said the words he wanted to hear, hoping, praying, he would get out before she lost her last bit of control. She swallowed. “Simple.”

“Don’t I wish.” He came up behind her, slid his hands around her waist. He turned her to face him and pulled her tight against his chest. His lips claimed hers in a slow discovery that sucked the air from her body and left her wanting more of him. So much more.

She tore her mouth from his. “Stop it.” She gasped. “Just stop playing me.”

His arms dropped away from her, his gaze catching
and holding hers. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re either all over me or pulling away. Advance, retreat, like last night.” She leaned back, gaining a blessed few inches of distance between them. Swallowing, she rubbed the back of her hand across her passion-swollen lips. “It’s a game to you. You like the pursuit, but once you catch whoever you’re after, the fun is over. You lose interest.”

“That’s what you think happened last night? I lost interest?” He shook his head, an incredulous look on his face.

“I don’t think. I know. You reached the finish line, found winning wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, so you left.” She felt the tear slide down her cheek. He reached out, but she turned away from him. “Don’t mind me. I’m just under a lot of stress.”

“I hurt you last night.”

She tried to sound nonchalant as she dashed the tear away. “Don’t delude yourself. Last night didn’t mean any more to me than it did to you.” Another traitorous tear slid free.

He leaned into her then, closing the scant distance between them. The gold flecks in his eyes burned brighter. “I was afraid of that.”

His words caught her off guard even more than the sudden jolt of electricity when his chest brushed her nipples. “Go, Jesse. Just go. It’s over. No tomorrow, just like you said. No sense dwelling on one meaningless night.”

“Dammit.” He forced her gaze to meet his, his fingers biting into her chin when she tried to look away. “Last night
did
mean something to me. I didn’t want it to, but it did. Don’t you understand? That’s the problem.”

“The problem is I actually thought last night that you … that maybe we …” She shook her head. “I
guess I figured it would mean enough to keep you there a little longer than it did, instead of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of thing.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, as if the very notion left a bad taste in his mouth and he had to convince her otherwise. “It was more than sex, more than being inside you, more than sating the lust burning through me—”

“I can’t listen to this.” She pushed against him with her hands. “Don’t do this to me. Let’s just chalk last night up to mutual attraction and overactive hormones. The heat of the moment. You don’t want me, and I don’t want you. You don’t care for me and I don’t care for you—” His mouth silenced the rest of her words.

He kissed her, his tongue pushing inside to tangle with hers in a delicious dance that had her breathless by the time he pulled away.

His hands stole around her, slipped beneath her buttocks to cup them. He ground his hardness against the soft cradle of her and she gasped. He was hard and throbbing and she wanted to feel him inside her more than she wanted her next breath.

“It isn’t just overactive hormones between us. There’s more and you know it. I wish it weren’t so, but it is. Heaven help me,” he ground out, as if the admission were dredged from his very soul, “it is, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

He lifted her, sitting her on the marble vanity and parting her thighs. He slid her skirt up until his fingers stroked the silk-covered spot between her legs.

“I didn’t want to leave you.” His voice was ragged as he devoured her lips and pushed aside her panties. One finger touched her heated inner flesh and she gasped. “Dammit, Faith. I didn’t. You have to believe that.”

“But you did,” she said, more to remind herself than him. She had to remember this was just lust to him. Nothing more, no matter what he said. He wanted the papers. Wanted her weak and pliable, and this was his way to get to her.

She knew that, yet when he touched her, she arched against him anyway, a night of longing still raw and unfulfilled inside her.

He worked at his zipper; then his length sprang hot and heavy into her hands. She stroked him from tip to root and caught his moan in her mouth.

Then he moved her hands, positioned himself, gripped her buttocks, and pulled her tight against him. His entry was quick and deep and her insides exploded at the first moment of contact.

A cry broke past her lips. Then she melted against him, shudders racking through her, the blood humming in her ears, drowning out the voice of her conscience telling her what a fool she’d been. Not once, but twice now.

It was a long moment before a pounding on the door penetrated the hazy bliss that wrapped around her as tightly, as protectively as his arms. Someone was outside.

“Is anyone in there?”

“Go down the hall,” Jesse called out, and Faith realized he stood stock-still, not moving, just breathing. Surrounding her. Filling her. Buried so deep she could feel the slight pulse of his arousal—still hot and unspent.

Footsteps sounded and embarrassment flooded Faith as she realized what they’d just done a few feet away from a complete stranger. In a public restroom.

What they were
still
doing.

“I—we can’t do this.” She summoned her control
and tried to push him away, ashamed of herself and angry that she’d let him put her in such a compromising situation, that she’d practically jumped up on the counter and welcomed him.

“It seems like we can, and you already have.” His deep voice sent a wave of heat to her cheeks.

“Please, Jesse.” She struggled against his chest. “We have to stop. Someone else might come.”

“Admit it first. There’s more than just overactive hormones between us. You want me and I want you. You care about me and I care about—”

“And this was supposed to show me that you care, right? Seducing me in a public restroom?”

“No,” he said, withdrawing from her. She had a momentary glimpse of his flesh, still swollen and wet from her climax, before it disappeared into his jeans. “This was supposed to show how much I want you.” He fastened the zipper, wincing as the teeth closed over his very prominent arousal. “The caring part,” he said, leaning forward to touch a tender kiss to her forehead, “you’ll have to take my word on.”

She was so close to believing him, so very close. Then he turned, grabbed the papers from her purse, and ripped them clear in two, and she knew that had been his objective all along. They hit the trash can with a soft
thunk
that echoed through her head like the flat-line
beeping
of a heart monitor.

Then he was gone, and Faith was left alone.

Faith walked into her kitchen later that afternoon with a major headache to rival the ache in her chest.

She came to a dead stop in the doorway, her gaze riveted on the girl sitting at the table. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see Trudy. She’d left her sound asleep that morning. Still, she’d been so worried over Jesse and last night, Daniel and Faith’s
House and the shredded papers, that she’d completely forgotten about the girl. Otherwise she could have prepared herself for the strange sense of melancholy that now gripped her.

How many times had she stood in the kitchen at Faith’s House and watched the kids fight and eat and laugh and argue?

How many times had she stood in this very spot, watching Jane or Emily make chaos out of her kitchen with their enthusiasm for baking?

Never again, she told herself, but the vow didn’t ring with half as much determination as she would have liked.

Trudy still wore the giant T-shirt Faith had given her last night, but she’d slipped on her baggy jeans, and her pale hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. If not for the bruises mottling her young face, she would have looked like anyone’s daughter or sister or niece just hanging out on a Saturday morning.

She
was
someone’s daughter or sister or niece, Faith realized, no matter that she came from the streets. She deserved an adolescence filled with football games and slumber parties and prom nights, rather than an existence centered solely on survival. She was just a kid. Just a young, innocent kid who’d had a little hard luck and a great big dose of reality much too soon.

“Hey.” Trudy glanced up from her task of pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. She stopped, carton paused in midair. “What happened to your face?”

Faith ignored the question and studied the girl. “Your eyes are better. Still swollen, but not so badly.”

Trudy smiled. “Nearly as good as before. I guess no doctors, huh?”

“As long as no infection sets in.”

Trudy’s smile disappeared. “What about your face?”

“An accident. I walked into a door.”

Trudy gave her a skeptical glance. “Did the door happen to be shaped like a fist?”

“As a matter of fact,” Faith said, tossing her purse onto the counter and slipping out of her shoes, “it did.”

“Figures.” Trudy finished pouring the milk, then cast a wary glance at Faith, who stood flexing her toes near the sink. “I woke up and I was starving. I sort of helped myself. I hope you don’t mind.” She put her spoon down. “I could leave if you want—”

“No, I didn’t mean to stare at you. It’s just … I guess this is going to sound crazy, but you remind me of someone. A lot of someones.” Faith touched the half-circle medallion hanging around her neck and a warmth spread through her.

“That doesn’t sound so crazy. You remind me of someone, too.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Trudy opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Faith’s curiosity inched higher. “Come on. Who?”

The girl looked undecided for a full minute. “Don’t get mad.”

“Maybe I don’t want to hear this.” Faith took a deep breath and braced herself. “Okay, shoot.”

“Swear first that you won’t get mad.”

“Now I know I don’t want to hear this.” At Trudy’s expectant look, she crossed her heart. “I swear.”

“Mother Goose.”

Faith smiled. “Mother Goose? Here I was hoping for Cindy Crawford, or Elizabeth Hurley, and all the while I was several levels off on the food chain.”

Trudy studied her through smiling eyes. “You do
look a little like that Hurley chick. Same eyes.” Her expression grew serious. “I was talking about the way you act. All that fussing over me last night. No one’s done that in a long time. Hell, no one’s ever done it.”

Faith sank down into the chair across from Trudy. “Everyone should be fussed over once in a while.”

“Not me,” Trudy said, but the words were half-hearted.

“Do you like Mother Goose?”

“Sure. She’s cool.”

Faith wasn’t sure why the answer pleased her so much, especially since she shouldn’t care one way or another. She
didn’t
care.

She smiled anyway. “How about some orange juice to go with those Cheerios?”

At Trudy’s nod, Faith retrieved two glasses, poured some juice, and sat across from the girl, who busied herself gulping down spoonfuls of cereal.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” the girl said, wiping at a dribble of milk that ran down her chin. “I’m sort of used to eating by myself.”

Faith rested her chin on her hand. “So, tell Mother Goose where your folks are.”

She shrugged and stared at the near-empty cereal bowl. “I never knew my dad. Last time I saw my ma, she was hanging out at some crackhouse off of Montrose.”

“Where does she live?”

Trudy plunked her spoon down and pushed her chair back. “This has been nice and all, but I really got a lot of stuff to do.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. In fact, I’d rather not know.” At Trudy’s questioning look, Faith added, “I have this bad habit of getting involved in other people’s lives. You said yourself I
reminded you of Mother Goose.” She took a sip of her juice. “But no more. That’s why it’s better if I don’t know. The less we relate, the better.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You can stay here a few days, and in the meantime I’ll contact somebody who can help you.”

“I don’t need any help.” At Faith’s pointed stare, Trudy added, “Okay, so maybe I do need some help. I can see better, but my eyes hurt like hell—heck, I mean. But once I’m better, I’m out of here.”

Faith opened her mouth to argue, to give Trudy the dozens of reasons why a life on the street was a life thrown away. She knew the words by heart, she’d said them so many times.

I’m nobody’s savior
.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, her throat tight.

“Of course it’s what I want. I ain’t no welfare case. I can take care of myself just fine.” The last words were loud and Faith knew Trudy was trying desperately to convince herself.

That was the trouble. Faith knew way too much. She could see inside Trudy, see the small girl begging for help, for guidance.

“So you’re not a welfare case, but you still need a place to rest up, and I don’t mind if you do it here. You stay a few days, then if you want to leave and go back to the streets, fine.”

“Really?”

Faith nodded. “But if you decide you want something more for yourself, I know a really great lady; her name’s Estelle. She could help you out.”

Trudy looked ready to refuse, but then her gaze dropped and she stared at the near-empty cereal bowl. “I’ll think about it,” she finally said, and Faith barely resisted the urge to lean forward just a few
inches and stroke Trudy’s soft blond hair.

She stiffened, her fingers tightening around her orange juice glass. “Well, while you’re thinking, you can help out around here.” She glanced down at the puppy sniffing her ankles. “Grubby eats around four to five times a day. And he goes out at least once an hour, or whenever you see him sniffing. His leash is hanging by the door.”

“You want me to feed and walk your dog?”