Faith blew out a breath, then sighed. "Ali, I don't know. I'm a computer consultant, not an actress." The thought of pretending to be his fiancée was more than a bit daunting. "I've never been a fiancée before."
He laughed, kissed her hand again. "You will do fine. I shall take care of everything."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," she admitted. "But okay."
"Thank you, Faith Martin. You are a wonderful woman and I am very, very grateful." He brushed his lips against hers, lightly, gently, in a teasing motion that had her eyes widening for a moment, then closing on a sigh as he deepened the kiss.
Her hands pressed to his chest, to push him away. Instead, she found her arms snaking around him, holding him close, as her lips drank deeply of his mouth.
Passion tugged, then drew them closer. Faith moaned softly as Ali slid his hand to her neck, cupping it, tilting her head to better taste her. The emotions, the feelings she had tried to deny, ignore, flared once again, reminding her how dangerous this man was to her, and her heart.
But she couldn't ignore the dangerous pull desire had on her, the feelings that erupted the moment Ali touched her, kissed her. It was a fast, heady ride that spun her around and left her dizzy.
"Here you are, children."
They jumped apart guiltily at the sound of Tibi's voice.
Still shaken, Ali looked at Faith, aroused by the earnest, innocent passion she always displayed when he touched her. One kiss, one passionate embrace, and her body was softly pliant against him, arching toward his warmth, wrapped around him in a cocoon of intimacy that made him ache for completion.
Her eyes were glazed with passion, her lips, those glorious, unpainted lips lightly swollen from his. A few strands of her hair had come loose from her ponytail, and framed her face, a face that looked as wary as a doe suddenly caught in the cross hairs.
The urge to protect, to possess came once again, as strong as the urge to mate, to make her his.
She was, he decided in that instant, a danger to him, a serious danger. He had allowed himself to let her get to him, to touch his heart, and all the places he'd vowed never to let another woman touch again.
He knew, without a doubt, he could not allow it to continue.
He wanted Faith, yes, but that was merely desire, attraction. She was a bright, intelligent woman who allowed herself to truly feel every one of life's emotions, which would make her an excellent and sensuous lover. His desire for her was perfectly natural and normal.
But there was more here, he realized, much more, and it was those other, deeper, darker emotions that frightened him.
He would have to tread carefully, to keep his own emotions under wraps.
"Mom." With a smile of welcome, Ali stood up to let his parents join them.
"Now," Tibi said with a big smile as she settled herself comfortably across from Ali and Faith. "Let's discuss the wedding."
* * *
"Would you care for another round, here?" The waitress asked, empty tray in hand as she cleared their table. The combo had quit almost an hour ago, and they were the last patrons of the evening. "It's last call," she admitted with a smile.
Ali spoke for everyone. "No, thank you. We are fine." With his arm around Faith, he felt totally comfortable and relaxed, and had to admit the evening had gone unbearably well, more so than he had ever anticipated.
He had carefully steered the conversation away from any talk of a wedding, enticing his mother instead to talk about his antics during childhood, something he knew she adored.
"It's hard to believe the evening has gone by so quickly," Tibi said, leaning her head against her husband's broad shoulder.
"Yes, I know," Faith admitted, surprised by how much she'd enjoyed herself in spite of the circumstances. "It's been wonderful." She laughed.
"You both have been wonderful to me. Thank you," she said a bit shyly, hopelessly in love with his parents already.
"Why wouldn't we be?" Omar asked, truly surprised. "Our son has presented us with a beautiful, intelligent young woman as his future bride. We are both thrilled and honored to welcome you into the family."
Faith lifted her glass to take a last sip of her cola, causing Tibi to frown.
"Faith? Where is your ring?"
Faith almost bobbled the glass. Carefully, she set it down on the table, then glanced at Ali. "My…ring?"
"Yes, your engagement ring." Tibi turned to Ali. "Son, please do not tell me that you have not yet presented Faith with a ring?" Her voice was so scandalized, Ali laughed.
"No, mother, I shall not tell you such a thing." He lifted Faith's hand, kissed it, making her squirm. He had been totally solicitous toward her tonight, totally warm, charming, and utterly devoted, as if they really were engaged.
It made her realize that Ali was a great deal more than the stubborn, arrogant man she'd come to know. He could also be warm, charming and sweet, which only added to her distress.
She knew that if he was not as she believed him to be, she would have a very difficult time controlling her feelings toward him and she could not afford to have any feelings for him.
Too late, she thought, glancing at his handsome profile.
"Faith's ring is at the jeweler being sized, is that not correct, Faith?"
She swallowed. "Yes, that's correct." One little lie had seemed to escalate into three, four, ten, until now she couldn't seem to keep track of them. It was a good thing they only had to do this for one night.
"So tell me, Faith, what does it look like?" Tibi asked.
Faith opened her mouth, but no words came out. Helplessly, she looked at Ali.
"I tried to choose something I thought would fit Faith," he said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he came to the rescue. "It is a simple ring. A single diamond solitaire set in platinum. Simple, yet elegant. Like Faith." He brushed his lips across hers, making her pulse jump.
If she had been embarrassed by his kisses, his caresses in front of his parents, she had gotten over it hours ago.
She had found Ali to be naturally and openly affectionate toward her all evening, much the way she imagined a real fiancé would be.
He'd just about sent her poor system into over-drive. For the last few hours she'd begun wondering what it would be like to really be engaged to Ali, to know that he would be her husband, that she would belong to him and he to her. Forever.
The thought had sent a warm, thrilling glow through her, one she tried to contain. This was only pretend, she kept reminding herself. And just for the evening. But it was hard to remember when Ali had been so absolutely charming and attentive, making her feel wanted, appreciated, valued, loved. Something she never thought she'd feel with a man, for a man.
"And what about the wedding band?" his mother persisted, interested in every little detail. "What does it look like?" Her question was clearly directed at Faith.
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I haven't seen it."
"I thought it best to save something for the wedding." Ali glanced at Faith, his gaze full of warmth and affection that made her heart turn over. "I wanted something special for that day." He kissed her hand. "Something as special as the day itself."
"You've done well, my son," Omar said, stifling a yawn. "And we are proud, but I'm afraid I am tired. I think we shall have to say good-night."
"Yes, it's late," Tibi agreed. She took Faith's hands again. "I am sorry we won't have much of a chance to get to know you better, but I have so enjoyed our time together."
"Thank you," Faith said in return. "I feel the same way about you."
Tibi smiled. "We will have plenty of time when you come home for the wedding. I shall start making plans immediately."
Faith's heart began to pound in alarm, and she glanced at Ali, who seemed totally unperturbed by his mother's comment.
"I promise to bring Faith home in plenty of time for you to plan the wedding together."
"Good." Tibi gently touched Faith's hair in a maternal fashion.
"I cannot wait for some red-haired grandbabies!"
They all stood up as the lights dimmed in the lounge.
Ali gave each of his parents a hug, then draped his arm around Faith's waist, pulling her close. Unconsciously, she snuggled against him, slipping her arm around his waist, realizing how perfectly they fit together, how natural it felt to be close to him, to hold him. "I will call you in the morning."
"Yes, please do, son," Omar said, taking his wife's hand. "I have a few business matters I need to discuss with you before I depart for home."
"Until morning then," Ali said, hanging back, his arm around Faith as he watched his parents walk away.
"It went very well, don't you think?" Ali reached in his pockets for some bills, then dropped them to the table before taking Faith's arm and leading her out of the lounge.
"Well?" Faith shook her head as he guided her through the now near-empty hotel lobby toward the door that would lead them to the parking lot. She glanced at him. "I hardly consider lying and deceiving your parents as 'going well.' Your mother's already planning the wedding, and our children!" She shook her head, trying not to get swept up in all of this. "Ali, don't let this pretense linger too long."
"I know." He pushed open the door, tightening his arm around Faith as a rush of chilly night air greeted them. "But for now, they are happy." Ali paused as she pointed toward her car. "And it will stop their infernal matchmaking at least for a while."
They crossed the parking lot toward her car, his hand still on her arm.
"Faith, thank you very much for what you have done, for me, for my parents." He looked at her in the darkness, her face silhouetted by the moon, and by the smoky vapor night-lights overhead. Desire clawed at him, and he wanted to take her in his arms again.
"You're welcome." She turned to face him fully, feeling surprisingly comfortable with him. Tonight she saw none of the arrogance that so put her off. Tonight, she saw only a warm, charming man, the kind of man she'd always hoped one day to find. Quickly, she pushed the thought away.
"I know this was uncomfortable for you, but you were wonderful." Slowly, he drew her closer, holding her gaze, mesmerizing her. "You actually made them believe that we were in love," he said with a nervous laugh, making her eyes narrow.
"Something funny about that?" Faith asked with a lift of her brow, wishing she hadn't felt such a flash of hurt at his words, as if being in love with her was preposterous.
Ali lifted a hand to push a strand of windblown hair off her cheek. "Not funny, no, but ludicrous perhaps."
"Ludicrous," she repeated slowly. "And exactly what's ludicrous about it?" It hurt, she realized, deeply, and on a level she didn't think she could be hurt anymore. "Oh, I know I'm not your usual type." She said the last word with disdain.
"Type?" he repeated with a frown, realizing she was clearly upset about something. Again. "What is this type? What are you talking about? Women are women."
Her fists balled at her sides. "Typical arrogant male response. We're all the same, right?"
"No," he said carefully, realizing he was only making it worse. "You are certainly not like any other woman I know."
"And don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know I'm not someone you would generally look twice at? Let alone be someone you could fall in love with."
His gaze sharpened. "No, Faith, once again you are jumping to conclusions. It is not how I think."
"No? Then are you saying I am the kind of woman you could fall in love with?" Her words hung heavy in the quiet night air, reverberating softly around them. "Is that what you're saying, Ali?" She held her breath, her heart hammering, not wanting to hope, but hoping all the same.
Emotions warred within him as he looked at her, the seconds quietly ticking by as he realized he'd stepped on ground that was no more stable than shifting sand.
Loving and suffering a loss terrified him. Not even he, with all his inner strength and composure, could withstand such devastation again.
He knew it and accepted it.
Thus he knew he could never love again.
"No, Faith," he said softly, a strange ache in his heart. "You are right. I could not fall in love with you."
Nine
Wyoming
"Emily?" Charley Roberts gently touched her shoulder. "Emily, it's time to wake up."
She stirred, rubbed her eyes with her fists, then sat up, glancing around.
"W-where are we?" She straightened her sweater, stifled a yawn, then rubbed her cramped neck.
"Just inside the Wyoming state line. Truck stop," he said, nodding toward the low-slung one-story building with the flashing neon sign up ahead. "This is as far as I go. My delivery is just a few miles from here."
"Wyoming." Emily blinked, glancing out the window at the sky-blue horizon that seemed to go on forever.
It was all coming back now and Emily shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from sleep. For a moment, she thought she'd been dreaming, that the whole thing was a nightmare. But now, looking up into the Wyoming sky, and then, into Charley's kindly, homely face, she realized it wasn't a nightmare. This was reality.
Someone had tried to kill her.
And she'd run.
A shiver raced over her as she glanced out the windshield toward the diner and the parking lot filled with trucks.
At least now she was safe. No one had any idea where she was.
"Listen, it's been a long night, and I'm a mite hungry, so why don't you join me for breakfast and keep me company?" Charley frowned. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, and if he had to guess, he'd bet she didn't have but a buck or two on her.
But then most runaways never did. He couldn't very well just leave her here, at least not without filling her belly. It was the least he could do.
"Breakfast?" The thought of food made Emily's empty stomach rumble, but she thought of the piddly amount of money in her shorts pocket. Hungry or not, she wasn't certain she could afford anything, let alone to spend the last dollar she had.
"I—I don't know. I think I'd better just get going." She glanced around. There were plenty of trucks here. Surely she could hitch another ride that might get her closer to Nettle Creek.
That, she'd decided, would be her destination. Somehow it seemed a safe place to go, the place where her adopted father, Joe, had grown up. He'd loved it there, she remembered, if the stories he'd told were any indication. And it seemed a perfect place to hide out—just in case.
"Now come on, Em, you've got to eat." Charley grinned as she tied her tennis shoes. "My treat for keeping me company all night."
She laughed. "Charley, I wasn't much company. I slept most of the night."
"Maybe so, but it was company to me just the same." He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes concerned. "Come on now, Em, I know you're running from something. I been driving this truck for too many years, seen too many runaways in my day not to recognize one. I know whatever it is you're running from, you probably think it's the end of the world, but it's not. Kids and their parents fight all the time. Heck, me and my oldest boy, Charley Jr., why we used to go at it tooth and nail all the time, but as mad as I got at that boy, I tell you, if he'd ever run off, I'd have been sick with worry." He paused, wondering how far to push. "Does anyone know where you're at?"
She shook her head. "No," she said softly.
"Well, being a father and a grandfather I can guarantee you that someone somewhere is worried senseless about you right about now." The thought had him lovingly glancing at the pictorial array on his dash, grateful his brood was home, grown and safe. "Now, no matter what your problems with your folks or your family, you should give 'em a call, just to let them know you're safe." He pulled down his visor to gather his wallet and his cigarettes, then shoved them in his shirt pocket. "Will you at least think about it?"
She nodded. But she wasn't about to call home; she didn't have a home anymore.
"Now come on, Em, I'm buying breakfast, no arguments." He grinned.
"Okay?"
Emily smiled. "Okay."
"Good. Diner doesn't look like much, but they've got the best food in the state." And while they were eating, he was going to try to convince her to either go back home, or at the least, call someone to let her know where she was.
Charley threw open his door and hopped down to the pavement. "Now wait there, Emily, and I'll come down and help you."
* * *
With a quick glance around, Emily stepped into the phone booth tucked in the corner of the truck stop parking lot. Charley was right, she realized. She had to let someone know what had happened last night, where she was, and there was only one person she trusted enough to tell.
Saying a quick, silent prayer that her cousin was home, and alone, Emily dropped coins into the phone, then punched in the number by heart.
Her eyes closed and she leaned tiredly against the closed door, listening to the phone ring.
"Hello."
Emily jerked upright, unexpected tears filling her eyes at the familiar voice. "Liza, it's me, Em."
"Oh, God, Emily." Weak-kneed, Liza Colton sank down on the couch in her living room. "Where are you? Are you all right?" She pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead. "I've been worried sick about you." She had to choke back a sob.
"Liza, I'm fine, really. At least I am now." Emily's hand started to tremble, and she sank wearily against the closed door again. "Last night, Liza…Oh God, it was a nightmare, Liza. I—I'm terrified."
"Em, what the hell happened? The entire family is in an uproar. They think you've been kidnapped." Liza cleared her throat; it had grown increasingly hoarse over the past few hours.
"Kidnapped?" Shocked, Emily jerked upright. "Why on earth would they think I've been kidnapped?" She shook her head. None of this made sense.
Liza gripped the receiver tighter, tucking her long legs under her. "Your father called to say a ransom note was delivered to him this morning. Everyone in the family is just beside themselves."
"What? My God, I don't believe it." She shook her head. "Why would anyone deliver a ransom note to my dad when I haven't been kidnapped?"
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