No Less Than a Lifetime

by Christine Rimmer

  But to travel with Faith. Yes. She could hire someone dependable to keep an eye on things here, and he would show her Venice and London and Rome.

  He chuckled to himself. She’d be reluctant to go with him, at first. She was so damn proud and independent. And this place of hers was never going to bring in the kind of money that would allow her to get out and see what the rest of the world had to offer. But, given time, he was certain he could convince her to let him spoil her a little.

  She’d worked hard all her life. She should learn to enjoy herself before she even thought about settling down. As soon as she got things under control here in North Magdalene, she deserved a little time just for pleasure. Time to let down that silky hair and have some fun for a change. With him.

  Price fell asleep smiling, lulled by the pleasurable direction of his thoughts and the steady beating of the rain on the roof.

  Chapter Ten

  By late Friday afternoon, the third day of Price’s visit, Faith was beginning to wonder how she was going to go on.

  The Foothill Inn was a wreck.

  The big storm the night before had saturated the roof of the south building. All the ceilings on the upper floor there actually had a slightly bowed look to them now, as if they just might disintegrate and drop, in waterlogged chunks, to the floor. Feeling guilty about bothering her cousin again, Faith dialed Patrick’s number. He came right over and went up on the roof to do what he could, though the rain was still coming down. When he left, he said he hoped that would help, but added that Faith needed to get that new roof as soon as the weather gave her a chance.

  And the roof she would end up buying instead of new beds in all the units was far from her only concern. The heater in room 105 of the other building, always undependable, had stopped working altogether. Faith suspected the problem might have something to do with the burst pipe and the ensuing flood that had occurred in the room next door to it. But the man who’d stayed in 105 hadn’t cared why the heater didn’t work. He’d thought he was coming down with something from sleeping in the cold and damp. Faith had told him how sorry she was and refunded his money.

  Then there were the phones. The ones in the north building, where the flood had been, were acting more strangely than ever. Price told her on his way out to breakfast that he’d tried to call her the night before and gotten nothing but dead air after he dialed 0.

  Faith apologized to him for the inconvenience.

  “Don’t you want to know why I called?”

  “Not particularly.”

  He only grinned and said he’d bring her back a doughnut from Lily’s; maybe that would improve her mood.

  Shortly after that, Mr. Tottly, in 204, called.

  “This is the fourth time I dialed 0,” Mr. Tottly said. “The other three times I got no ring, no dial tone, no nothing.”

  Faith apologized to him and asked him what she could do for him.

  “I’m starving. Where’s the best place to eat breakfast around here?”

  She told him about Lily’s.

  When she hung up, she called the phone company. They said someone would be over by 11:00 a.m.

  The telephone repairman was there before ten. He left an hour and a half later, having handed her a hefty bill and told her there really wasn’t much he could do. The problem was inside the building. Full replacement of interior phone lines was required.

  Around two, Faith gave a Mrs. Miranda Banks the key to room 106. Mrs. Banks entered the room, flicked on the light switch—and heard a loud popping sound, followed by nothing. The light did not go on. She tried the other lights in the room; they didn’t work, either. Nor did the TV.

  Mrs. Banks returned to the office, where Faith was already receiving a call from Mr. Tottly in 204. No, Mr. Tottly told Faith, he’d had no problem with the phone this time. But his electricity had just gone out.

  After checking the circuit breakers and finding no problem there, Faith called an electrician, who arrived an hour later. Three hours after that, at 5:15, he came to talk to her in the office.

  “Sorry, lady,” he said. “But you got no lights in that building.”

  Faith asked him why.

  The electrician shook his head and told her that she needed new wiring in all six units; he handed her an estimate of how much that would cost. Faith saw that it was in the thousands and quickly set the thing aside.

  The electrician was already on his way out the door. “But what happened?” Faith called after him.

  He muttered something about water in the walls and a major overload on an already worn-out system. And then he was gone.

  Fifteen minutes later, Faith actually had to turn away a customer. Except for the three units on the bottom floor of the south building, all her rooms were now uninhabitable. And the three good rooms were already occupied, one by a couple who intended to stay the weekend, the other two by the relocated Mr. Tottly and Mrs. Banks.

  After she turned away the customer, Faith stood behind the desk, muttering to herself, staring blindly at the guest register. She was trying to avoid looking at the electrician’s estimate, which sat on the desk next to the bill from the phone repairman.

  Right then, Price came in the outside door. She heard the bell jingle. She looked up. And there he was. It came to her immediately that he must be here to complain about the lights—which were not going to be fixed anytime soon.

  He’d want another room. And she had no room to give him. One more unsolvable problem in a day of endless aggravation.

  And why did he have to look so excruciatingly handsome? Today, he wore black jeans and a soft black shirt. His denim jacket was beautifully faded, displaying a thousand subtle shadings of blue. But it was his alligator-skin belt that drew the eye. Sleek and chocolate brown, it boasted a silver buckle.

  Faith wondered, as she had more than once since he’d invaded her home and her life, what he could possibly see in her. He looked as if he came from another world altogether than the one she inhabited, a world where the lights didn’t dare go out and all the phones were cellular, where roofs never leaked and pipes never burst.

  He strolled up to the desk and rested an elbow on it. “Hate to tell you, Faith, but my lights are out.”

  Faith closed her eyes and sucked in one long, deep breath. Then she opened them and met his gaze.

  His brow furrowed; real concern moved in his eyes. “Hey. What is it?”

  Faith couldn’t take it. She just could not deal with it.

  Without uttering a word, she turned on her heel and made for the door to her apartment.

  Price slipped around the side of the desk and caught her arm.

  Faith froze. It was the first time he’d put a hand on her since their one beautiful night.

  “Come on, Faith. Tell me. What is it?” His voice was tender, his grip warm and firm through the sweater she wore.

  She loved him.

  And she was just so tired…

  He gave a little tug, and she landed against his hard, strong chest. She breathed in the expensive scent of him.

  Muscular arms curled around her. It felt so good. To lean on him.

  His lips brushed her hair, at the temple, where the little wild curls were always escaping. “Tell me.”

  “Oh, Price…”

  “On second thought, don’t talk.”

  “But I—”

  “Shh…” He held her even closer.

  And she let him. Because it just plain felt good. It felt absolutely terrific, as a matter of fact. She burrowed her head against his shoulder and wished she could just stand there forever, cradled in his arms.

  And then she reminded herself that she was headed for big trouble if she didn’t get a grip here. She stiffened her spine, put her hands on his chest and lifted her head.

  But that was a mistake, because it put her mouth in exactly the right position for kissing.

  Price was not a man to waste a perfect opportunity. His mouth came down and met hers.

  “Oh�
�” Faith said with a sigh.

  He kissed the word right off her lips.

  And she didn’t even try to turn away. On the contrary, she lifted her mouth eagerly and let him go on kissing her.

  Now this, she thought greedily, was living. Her endless, insurmountable problems seemed to melt away, like winter snow off the roof on a sunny day. They might have been back in that beautiful suite at Tower on the Bay, instead of standing behind the counter of Faith’s wreck of a motel.

  Price lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

  She saw how he wanted her. And, oh, how she wanted him. Looking in his eyes, it was so easy to forget all the reasons she shouldn’t get near him. Looking in his eyes, all that mattered was how much she’d missed him, how she longed for his touch.

  “Remember, Faith? Remember how it was?” He pressed himself closer. She felt the evidence of his desire.

  All she could do was nod.

  He made a low noise in his throat and lowered his mouth to hers once more. Faith realized dimly that she probably should be protesting. But somehow, in the space of mere minutes, he had managed to lay claim to all her senses. Reality had retreated; it was far, far away.

  Price’s hands roamed her back, and his tongue claimed her mouth. He pressed her so close…

  It was heaven. And what fool would want to leave heaven? Especially when reality was such a grim place. Faith hoped she never had to go back there.

  With a little moan that sounded like surrender, Faith gave herself up to Price’s embrace. She clutched his strong shoulders and pressed herself tightly against him and ignored all the warning bells going off in her mind.

  Price cupped her face. He shoved his fingers in her hair, which was pulled back, as usual, and anchored in a knot at her nape. He moaned against her lips, an impatient sound. And then he went to work pulling out hairpins. She felt the loosening as the pins gave way. She even heard a tiny pinging sound as one of them hit the floor.

  Then Price was smiling against her mouth. “There. Better.” He combed the long waves with his fingers, stroking them lovingly, so that the strands fell smoothly over her shoulders.

  He kissed his way over her cheek to her ear. “Call your cousin, Patrick,” he whispered huskily.

  Faith really wasn’t thinking too clearly right then. “Call Patrick?” she murmured, wondering what Patrick had to do with anything.

  “It’s his oldest girl, Teresa, who watches the desk for you when you have to go out, right?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I know everything I need to know when it comes to you. Call Teresa. She can watch the desk tonight. We’re going out.”

  “Going out?”

  “Yes.”

  But Faith couldn’t possibly do that. She tried to tell him. “I don’t—”

  He bit her earlobe, very lightly. “You need a break.”

  She shivered in delight, then tried to get control of herself. “No, I—”

  “Yes.” He found her mouth again and kissed her some more—to silence her, she knew. And it worked. She stopped protesting and went boneless all over again. When her mind was total mush, he broke the kiss, barely, and said against her softly parted lips, “You deserve a night off, Faith. Come on.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can.”

  “But I—”

  He muttered a low curse and took her mouth again. For a long time.

  And then they started moving. Faith realized, vaguely, that he was walking her backward as he kissed her.

  She didn’t put up much resistance. Well, none at all, actually. She even stepped up when her foot hit the riser that led into her apartment. He urged her inside, kissing her the whole way, and pulled the door shut behind them. Once they had both crossed the threshold, he turned the lock.

  Faith heard the lock engage—and she didn’t make a murmur of protest. It just felt too wonderful, to have his mouth on hers, working the magic he worked so well. She twined her arms around his neck and returned the glorious kiss with all of her heart.

  Somehow, they kissed their way through her living room, into the kitchen, on through the bathroom and into her bedroom.

  He was undressing her by then. And she wasn’t fighting it. Not one bit. He took her tunic-length sweater by the hem and guided it over her hips, her waist, her rib cage—then right over her head. Then he threw it somewhere beyond her left shoulder. She heard it land with a soft plop on a chair. His hands cupped her breasts, over her bra. He moaned into her mouth. And then he reached around her, found the clasp and unhooked it.

  The bra went the way of the sweater. He sighed, and so did she, as her breasts filled his hands. He caressed the twin mounds, teasing the nipples to hard little peaks by rubbing them between his thumbs and forefingers.

  And then he broke the kiss they’d shared all the way through her apartment. He nibbled down her neck and over her collarbone. And then his mouth found her breast.

  Faith was far gone by then. She held his head and offered herself up to him, all thought of protesting now utterly flown away. His mouth closed over her nipple. He sucked hard and long. In her belly, heat coiled and yearning bloomed.

  She heard little mewling noises of hunger and delight and knew they were her own. And she didn’t care. Not in the least. Something had broken in her. Her will to resist was destroyed. She was all sensation. And grateful to be so.

  She wanted to touch him, to feel his naked body against hers. The mewling sounds more urgent, she pulled at his lovely, soft denim jacket, pushing it from his shoulders, tossing it away. She unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers nimble, deft with desire. Within seconds, the shirt, too, was gone.

  At last, sighing, she touched his chest, stroked the silken trail of hair that curled out around his little nipples and down his solar plexus to his alligator belt. It was so good to touch him, to feel once more the beautiful, lean, sculpted musculature of him.

  Price grabbed her close again, nuzzling for her breast, finding it, latching on. Faith cried aloud as his hand slid down, unsnapping her jeans, seeking the heart of her.

  He groaned in triumph when he touched her. She was so wet, and her readiness seemed to drive him on. She pushed herself against his hand, lifted her breasts to his hungry mouth.

  And then he raised his head. He looked in her eyes as he went on working that magic down below.

  She felt herself cresting.

  “Yes, Faith. Yes…”

  And she hit the peak right then, standing there, riding his hand. She shuddered and cried out. He held her steady with one hand while he went on driving her crazy with the other. And through all of it, through that entire, never-ending, intimate explosion, he watched her face.

  Faith had barely stopped quivering when he began tugging at her jeans, shoving them down. When they caught on her tennis shoes, he pushed her back to the bed, knelt before her, and pulled off her shoes and socks, then finished dragging down her jeans and her panties, tossing them out of the way.

  Naked, she reached for him. He backed away, smiling, and slowly stood. Watching her, he got out of his own boots and socks and then unbuckled the beautiful belt and slithered it off and away. He stripped down the black jeans along with his briefs. She gasped at the sight of him, standing before her, so exactly as she remembered. All that was male.

  She reached up. “Please, Price. Come to me.”

  He smiled then, his gaze all over her, knowing, possessive. Outside, it was growing dark. He reached over, holding her gaze, and turned on the.small lamp beside the bed. “There,” he said. “I can see you now. I want to see you, Faith. Always.”

  Perhaps she should have been shy. Or embarrassed. But she wasn’t. What was there to be shy about? Her flesh was his flesh. There had never been any other man for her. And the first time, that time at the Tower, she had taken him inside her and felt as if she had been born to have him there.

  It was no different now. They were here. Naked, together. All her protests were as nothin
g. She would spare them both the exercise of them.

  He glanced toward the chair by the bed.

  “What?” she asked.

  “My jacket.”

  “Over there.” She pointed at the foot of the bed, where the jacket had fallen when she pushed it from his shoulders. He went to it and scooped it up. She watched, wondering what he was after, enjoying the sight of his body in motion.

  He felt in the breast pocket and came out with three foil packets. Then he dropped the jacket where he’d found it and returned to her side.

  He was still holding the packets—and still watching her. “Are you angry?”

  “No.”

  She moved aside just a little. The bed gave as he sat down beside her and set the packets on the table, close by.

  She took his hand and gave a tug. They both moved up and scooted around, so that they were side by side, sitting up against the headboard, surrounded by the throw pillows Faith had made herself.

  Once they were settled, he searched her face. “I bought those today.” He gestured with his head toward the table where he’d set the contraceptives. “There’s a machine, in the men’s room at the Hole in the Wall. Evidently, even in North Magdalene, someone’s got sense enough to think safe sex is advisable. I bought those—and several more—from that machine.”

  “When?”

  “This morning, as soon as the place opened. Last night I admitted to myself that I wasn’t only here to help out with your finances. I decided I’d carry some with me at all times, not miss my chance for this, if it came along.”

  She couldn’t quite look at him. “Well, your chance came along pretty quickly, didn’t it?”

  He whispered, “You are angry.”

  “No.” She met his eyes again, brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “I’m not. I always try not to be a hypocrite. We’re here. This is happening. We’re both better off being honest about it. And responsible.”