Tempting Faith

by Susan Mallery

  “You’re welcome to sleep here, if you want.”

  “No, Faith.” He placed his hands on his hips and stared at her. “I take my responsibilities just as seriously as you do.”

  *

  Faith leaned back in the tub and sighed. Hot water lapped around her shoulders. The scented bubbles teased her nose. Soft music from her portable radio filled the bathroom. This was her idea of heaven. The tension in her back eased, and she closed her eyes. She had a thousand details to worry about with the upcoming fund-raiser. She should be planning the menu or worrying about decorations, but she didn’t care. Right now she didn’t want to think about anything.

  Her eyes drifted shut. The music swept over and through her, carrying her along on the sweet melody. She moved lower in the tub, until the water crept up the back of her neck. Warm, she thought. It reminded her of Cort’s hand on her shoulder, and the feel of his body so close to hers. The brief contact had shaken her to her toes. She’d tried not to let him know how he affected her.

  It was just because she lived out in the sticks and had limited her contact with men, she told herself. It wasn’t anything to do with that man specifically. He wasn’t interested in her, and she wasn’t interested in him.

  She hummed with the song on the radio and thought about how his bare chest had looked that morning when she’d dressed his cut. Broad and strong and tanned. She’d wanted to touch him, had thought about running her fingers along his ribs and—

  She sat up suddenly, ignoring the water sloshing over the side of the tub. Cold air stung her wet torso. She had it bad for Cort. Faith drew her knees up and hugged them. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, either, except pretend this— this attraction or whatever she wanted to call it—didn’t exist.

  She stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel. As she dried off, she forced herself to think about the upcoming party and the tiger cubs. She walked naked into the bedroom, ignoring her reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

  The entire room made her uncomfortable. From the pale cream carpeting to the lacy bedspread and frilly drapes, this was a feminine room. Edwina had decorated it for her when she’d first come to live with the older woman. It had been her welcoming present. Faith had never had the heart to tell her friend that ruffles and lace made her feel awkward and out of place.

  She picked up the clean undergarments she’d brought with her and slipped into the panties. Sensible cotton. She fingered the plain white bra. No silk for her. As she fastened the front closure, she sighed. What was the point? The cats hardly cared what she wore. It didn’t make sense to spend extra money on lingerie no one but her was going to see.

  She glanced at the fresh clothes she’d brought, then walked over to the closet and pulled open the door. A dozen outfits hung on the rack. There was room for four times that many. On the floor sat three shoe boxes. The top shelf contained a bag of stockings.

  These were her fancy clothes. The things she wore to the fund-raisers. They were part of a life that wasn’t real to her. She fingered the midnight-blue velvet of a long dress. She became someone else when she wore these clothes. Rich men spoke to her, but their eyes dipped to her breasts. Wealthy matrons assumed she was one of them and whispered confidentially about the best caterers and florists. Wives squealed at the beauty of the cats and conveniently forgot about the fur coats they had waiting in the cloakroom. Husbands cornered her to find out if she was adverse to having a brief but torrid affair.

  Faith shook her head and closed the door. They weren’t all like that, she reminded herself. Many of the people came because they genuinely cared about the cats. But the foundation required money to keep it going, and that meant she had to play her role.

  She picked up the clean jeans and knit top she’d brought with her. Sometimes she wanted to be more than she was. Not the woman in the velvet dress, not the competent genderless caretaker, but someone in between. A woman who wore pretty things from time to time. She slipped into her jeans. That wasn’t true, she admitted. It wasn’t about wearing pretty dresses and shoes; it was about fitting in. Just once, she wanted to be like other people who seemed so naturally to join up, two by two. She wasn’t like that. She could give her love away, but it was never returned. She’d never been enough. She’d learned it was safer to give it all to the cats. At least they needed her.

  She slipped the white knit top over her head, then pulled out a brush. After taking the pins out of her hair, she let it fall down her back and began brushing out the tangles. She’d just finished securing her French braid when the phone on the nightstand rang.

  She picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Tell me there’s no crisis,” Jeff said.

  She laughed. “Why do you always assume the worst?”

  “It’s my job, Faith. How are you?”

  He sounded weary, she thought, wishing he were here for her to talk to. Although what would she say? There were some things even Jeff wouldn’t understand. She had a feeling that her attraction to one of his operatives fell in that category.

  She quickly brought him up-to-date on the cubs and the security measures Cort had already installed.

  “He wants to talk to you,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “I’m not privy to that information,” she said, then chuckled. “But he did want me to mention that the foundation is having a fund-raiser at the end of the week. We’re expecting about a hundred and twenty guests. I think he wants some extra people for that.”

  She held the receiver away from her ear and listened to him squawk. At regular intervals she brought the mouthpiece closer and said his name. About the fourth time she did it, he got quiet.

  “I absolutely forbid it,” he growled.

  “I didn’t ask permission.”

  “Faith, those cubs are important. I don’t want anything happening to them.”

  “I understand that, but you dumped them on me with no warning. I’m happy to keep them for you. However, this party has been planned for months. Unless you’re prepared to offer me a half-million dollars, which is about what we’ll be raising, I can’t stop it now.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll go get Cort,” she said.

  Jeff sighed. “Fine.”

  She set the phone on the bed and crossed the hall to the guest room. After knocking on the door, she waited. He didn’t answer, so she knocked again.

  “Cort, Jeff is on the phone.”

  Could he have fallen asleep in the bath? She knocked a third time, then pushed the door open. As she entered the room, the bathroom door opened and Cort stepped into the bedroom.

  He stood before her, naked. More beautiful than any of the wild cats in the compound. The soft lamplight made his tanned skin glow. Long, lean muscles covered his strong frame. Despite the bandage on his calf, he was the perfect specimen of a man.

  He held a towel over one shoulder. A single drop of moisture dripped from his neck onto his chest and got lost in the matting of hair. Her fingers curled into her palms. She looked at his tapered waist and narrow hips, then at the wide thatch of blond hair surrounding the partially erect proof of his gender. Below that, long legs stretched down endlessly.

  She thought of how incredible he would look moving through sunlight, each muscle bunching and releasing with powerful male energy. She could see the coiled strength just below his skin. Her gaze trailed up his body. So stunning. He took her breath away.

  He pulled the towel down and let it hang from his hand. The movement startled her. She looked at his face. In a single heartbeat, everything changed. As she met his gaze, she knew he wasn’t like the wild cats she so loved. He was a man, and she wanted him.

  Sexual need snapped between them like the crack of a whip. She swallowed against the tightening of her throat. Her breasts swelled as her nipples poked against her bra. Between her legs, moisture dampened her sensible cotton panties. She watched an answering interest stir Cort’s body, lengthening his maleness. Sh
e took a single step toward him.

  He smiled. A very knowing, very satisfied male smile. Reality crashed in around her. She had been staring at him, practically begging him to touch and take her. Embarrassment flooded her, and with it horror that she had completely lost control.

  “Jeff is on the phone,” she blurted out, then turned and ran out of the room.

  Cort started after her. He’d seen the humiliation in her eyes. “Faith, wait.”

  But she was already halfway down the stairs. He paused, torn between duty and desire, then cursed and made his way across the hall to her room and the phone.

  “What?” he barked into the receiver.

  “Took you long enough,” Jeff drawled. “What the hell have you been doing?”

  Cort sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand through his damp hair. It was all bad timing. But the look on her face…how was he supposed to resist that? Had any woman ever looked at him with such appreciation and raw desire?

  “Cort, are you listening?”

  “No. What did you say?”

  “Tell me about this party.”

  Cort explained about the fund-raiser. He forced himself to ignore what had happened with Faith and concentrate on the business at hand. “I want you to send me a team. I’ve already faxed the guest list to your office. To date, everyone has been cleared.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Cort heard the scratching of Jeff’s pen, then his boss said, “How’s everything else going?”

  “I’ve got most of the security measures already installed. It’s been quiet. No one’s made any kind of move.”

  “They might use the party as a cover.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. I’m going to make sure the cubs are well guarded.” He ran through the list of other precautions he’d taken. “Could you rent me a tux? This affair of Faith’s is formal.”

  Jeff laughed. “Don’t want the hired help standing out. We’re about the same size. I’ll send up mine.”

  “You own a tux?”

  “Comes with the job, buddy.”

  Cort grimaced. “You should never have gone inside, Jeff. You gave up all the action.”

  His boss was silent for a minute. “I couldn’t do it anymore. Not after what happened to Jeanne and my son, J.J.”

  “I know.” Cort felt like a heel. He’d spoken without thinking.

  “You could do worse,” Jeff said. “The field gets old.”

  “Sit behind a desk?” Cort switched the receiver to his other hand. “I’d rather be shot at dawn. I want to be out there, face-to-face with the bad guys.”

  “Let me know when you change your mind. You’re up for a promotion.”

  It was a familiar argument. Jeff offered him a promotion and a raise. The only problem was, Cort had to come in from the field to get it. Not him. He wanted to be where he could see the action. Great battles were never fought behind desks.

  “Anything else?” Jeff asked.

  Cort drew in a deep breath. He had to know and Jeff was the only one he trusted to speak the truth. “Did Dan die in the explosion?”

  Silence.

  “I know about the warehouse going up in flames. I remember being there, but that’s all.” Cort waited, but Jeff didn’t answer. “Tell me, dammit. I know I went down there to be with Dan. He was my friend. I have the right to know what happened to him.” He realized he was squeezing the receiver tight enough to crack the plastic, and he forced himself to relax his grip. “Did I kill him?”

  “It really matters to you, doesn’t it?” Jeff asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t kill him.”

  Cort slumped forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Thanks.”

  Before he could ask anything else, he heard Jeff shuffling papers. “I’m glad you’re getting better,” he said. “How’s Faith?”

  Cort thought about the look on her face when she’d stared at his naked body. The desire there had him responding instantly. Then she’d become aware of herself, of the situation, and she’d run off.

  “She’s fine,” he said.

  “The way your memory is returning, you should be ready to come back to work as soon as the problem with the tiger cubs is taken care of.”

  “Looks that way,” Cort answered, hoping he was right.

  “Think about the promotion,” Jeff said. “You would be surprised what a difference you can make from the inside.”

  “It’s not for me.”

  “The offer stands. Take care of yourself and Faith, buddy. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up the phone.

  Cort replaced the receiver. Relief overwhelmed him. He hadn’t killed Dan. Thank God. He leaned back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. How would he have handled that? He’d killed before. In his line of work, that couldn’t be helped. But it had always been a simple decision. The bad guys had been the ones shooting at him. But Dan? Cort sat up and rubbed his jaw. This is why he didn’t like relationships. Entanglements complicated everything.

  Would he have done it? If Jeff had told him to kill Dan because he’d gone over to the other side, could Cort have iced his friend? He thought for a moment, then nodded. He was a damn good operative. He followed orders. So what the hell kind of human being did that make him?

  He didn’t like the question, so he rose to his feet and walked back to the guest room. No answers awaited him there. He wanted— He paced restlessly. He wanted to talk about it.

  The need startled him. He’d never been the kind to share his troubles. But everything blurred together. Dan. The parts of the mission he could remember. What he couldn’t remember. What the death of his friend meant. Why, given the order, he would have been able to pull the trigger.

  He suddenly remembered Jeff hadn’t answered the question about whether or not Dan died in the explosion.

  “Tricky devil,” Cort muttered. And wondered what Faith would make of the whole thing. She—

  He cursed. He’d completely forgotten how she’d run out on him. He started out of the room. Realizing he was still wrapped in a towel, he pulled the ends tight around his waist and hurried down the stairs.

  He found her in the pantry off the kitchen, surrounded by the caterer’s menu and cupboards full of dishes and glassware. She sat on a high stool, a clipboard rested on her knees. The setting sun shone through a window, backlighting her delicate profile.

  She didn’t notice him. He leaned against the doorframe and studied the way her nose tilted up slightly at the end, how she moved her lips when she counted. A pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. She wore a clinging white top, tucked into the waistband of stone-washed jeans. With her hair pulled back in one of her fancy braids, there was nothing to obstruct his view of her torso. As she raised her arm to push some wineglasses aside, he saw the curve of her breast. The size and shape looked to be a perfect fit for his palm.

  “Faith.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and spun on the stool to face him. Color flooded her face. She raised the clipboard in front of her chest, like a barrier. Her gaze avoided his.

  “Dinner will be another hour,” she said softly. “I just put the potatoes in to bake. I have to count the dishes, but you’re welcome to use the TV in the study, or whatever you want.”

  “Faith,” he said again.

  She still didn’t look at him. He walked forward and placed one finger beneath her chin. Slowly, he pressed until she was looking up. Embarrassment clouded her blue eyes.

  He hated seeing her like this. It was fine to make her squirm when he teased her. He liked the flush of color that stained her cheeks when he winked, or she accidentally said something suggestive like her invitation to join him in her bath. But not this bone-numbing humiliation. Not for her. She was strong and capable. That’s how he wanted—no, needed—her to be.

  “I would have looked,” he said.

  Instead of smiling, she jerked her chin free and turned her head away.

  “You’re an attractive woman. W
hy wouldn’t I have looked?”

  “Just leave me alone. I’m fine.”

  He didn’t believe her. She would retreat inside herself, and he would miss the—he tightened his jaw, but dammit, he couldn’t hide from the truth—the friend she’d become. He didn’t have many friends. Only Dan and Jeff. Dan was dead and Cort didn’t know why or how. He grabbed her shoulders. The clipboard clattered to the floor. She stared up at him.

  “You are a stubborn woman,” he said.

  Her lips quivered slightly. It was almost a smile. “I know.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I liked you looking at me.”

  Fresh color crept into her cheeks. She tried to twist away, but he held her shoulders tightly and she couldn’t slip off the stool.

  “Don’t,” he said, and bent down to kiss her.

  He’d only meant to reassure her. But at the contact of her mouth against his, he realized he’d made a tactical error. She was soft, too soft, and the feel of it made him hard.

  Hunger swept through him. He wanted to tell himself it was all about the amount of time that had passed since he’d last made love to a woman. Any woman would scratch the itch. But he wasn’t thinking about any woman. He was thinking about Faith. He squeezed her shoulders and she sighed.

  He brushed her lips once, then twice, and raised his head. Wide blue eyes stared into his. She looked as shocked and stunned as he felt. If he had a lick of sense he would back off now and make a strategic retreat. A cold shower would go a long way to stopping this before it started.

  “Cort?” she whispered, and he was lost.

  He moved close to her, pushing her legs apart so that he could step between them. He brought his arms around her and hauled her against his bare chest. Her breasts flattened against him. Her hands touched his back. Her tentative stroking on his skin contrasted with her normal competence at everything else, and he groaned.

  Before she could withdraw or protest or change her mind, he bent down and claimed her mouth again. He told himself to go slow, to move casually and not frighten her away. But when he touched her lips, rational thought fled.