by Francis Ray
“I don’t anticipate any problems, but I’ll call if I have any,” Mr. Montgomery said. “I want to finish the pipes, and while I’m doing that Mack can start on the closet with the built-ins you indicated.”
“I should get a good portion of it done today,” Mr. Radford said.
“Sierra will be impressed,” Brandon joked.
“That she will.” Faith picked up her purse. “See you tonight, Brandon. Good-bye, Mr. Montgomery. Mr. Radford.”
“Bye, Faith.”
“Good-bye, Ms. McBride.”
“Until tonight.”
Waving, she went to the door and opened it. Just as she was closing it she heard Mr. Montgomery say in a quiet voice, “Faith is going to make some man a fine wife.” She paused as long as she could without being obvious, but she was unable to hear Brandon’s reply.
12
It was after eleven that night when Brandon waved good-bye to Michelle and looked down the street for Faith. The desk clerk had called five minutes ago to say she was on her way.
Late that afternoon Faith had called to say she was putting out fires again and asked if the kitchen would still be open when she finished. He’d reminded her that one of the perks of being the owner was that for him the kitchen never closed. She’d laughed, a warm, infectious sound, and told him to keep the light burning in the window.
Even now, remembering her laugh made him smile. Then he saw her coming toward him on the almost deserted street and the expression on his face turned to disapproval. He quickly went to meet her. “You shouldn’t have walked. Why didn’t you drive or call me to pick you up?”
“Because I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Faith said, hooking her arm through his. “Now, stop being macho. I’m starved.”
He’d never understand why women disliked being told what to do even when it was in their best interest. He opened the door to the restaurant. “These streets can be dangerous at night. I’m just concerned.”
“Noted and I appreciate it. I’ll fake him out with a left. Now, where’s the food?”
Knowing he had hit a blank wall, Brandon seated her at the family table near the back of the restaurant and kitchen. “I’ll be back.”
She scooted out of the booth. “Can I help?”
“Yes, by sitting down and relaxing. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Continuing to the kitchen, he prepared their food, put everything on a large tray, and grabbed a tray deck on the way out.
Faith stood on seeing him. The moment he settled the tray on the deck, she began helping him put the food on the table. “This smells divine.”
“It will taste even better.”
“That’s what I like about you, Brandon. Your modesty.” She reclaimed her seat.
He grinned and slid into the booth across from her. Faith wasn’t afraid of putting him in his place. He liked that about her. Bowing his head, he blessed their food. “All the fires put out?”
“Thank goodness.” She bit into the steak, chewed, savored it with a small moan of delight. “You have a right to brag.”
Brandon didn’t expect his body to harden at the sound of Faith’s moan. Or to have the urge to draw the same sounds from her body again but for an entirely different reason.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, staring at him.
I keep wanting to make love to you. “Just thinking.”
She continued to stare at him a long time, as if she didn’t believe him. “How was your day?”
He slowly blew out a relieved breath, grateful that at least for the time being he wasn’t in danger of losing it . . . if she didn’t make any more moaning sounds. “Busy. Just the way I like it. There’s always a tourist who thinks the chile peppers here are the same as they’re used to at home when they’re ten times hotter,” he told her. “I felt sorry for one guy trying to impress his family. You could almost see steam coming out of his mouth. He downed the milk Marlive gave him to douse the fire in nothing flat.”
“When I went to visit Mother in New York, she took me to a Mexican restaurant. The food was so bland I couldn’t eat it.” She dunked her lobster in butter. “The seafood was infinitely better.” She threw him a look. “But not as good as this.”
“How is your mother?”
Sadness washed over her face. “I don’t know. She seemed happy when I was there. I mean, she laughed a lot, but I have this feeling lately when we talk on the phone that everything might not be going well in her marriage. Daddy certainly isn’t happy.”
“I’m sorry. It’s always sad when a marriage doesn’t work. It goes double when children are involved,” Brandon said. “Your parents always made me feel welcome.”
Faith placed her fork on her plate. “They are great parents. I always thought they would be together forever. What I wonder about is, would they have broken up if there hadn’t been a McBride curse?”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Did Mother use it as an excuse to leave us?” she said softly. “Did she give up because she thought there wasn’t any hope of things getting better?”
Brandon’s hand covered hers. “Whatever the reason, the results are the same. Your mother loves you and your brothers.”
Faith moved her hand from beneath his and picked up her fork. “I know. I just feel sorry for Daddy.”
“Love doesn’t always work.” Brandon turned contemplative. “Even when it does, there’s no guarantee that you’ll be together always. Losing my father was a blow to all of us.”
This time Faith was the one who reached out to take his hand. “He would be so proud of your mother and how his children turned out.”
“I’d certainly like to think so. Although I’m not so sure how he’d feel about her trying to marry us off.”
She withdrew her hand, hoping he hadn’t felt her sudden tension. “How is the remodeling?”
“It’s shaping up. Before we leave, you can take a look.” He cut into his rare steak. “Maybe you can take a peek at my bedroom and let me know if you can come up with any suggestions for it.” He smiled sheepishly. “I think the Conquistador Suite is spoiling me.”
She clasped her hands together. “That’s exactly the kind of accolades we like to hear. Putting the artwork of nationally known artists in the lobby, then later in guests’ rooms, will only make their stay more enjoyable and memorable.”
“When do you plan on starting?”
“I’m shooting for a month from now.” She cut into her steak. “It’s going to be so exciting. I’m lining up media and people in the art community to attend the unveiling. Phoenix hasn’t told me definitely if she plans to exhibit, but I think she will. Hopefully, she’ll let me know by the end of the week.”
“When she does, you’ll want my cousin Daniel and aunt Felicia to attend. They have one of the finest collections of African-American and Native American artwork in the country. Many of the pieces are of museum quality,” Brandon said. “Then there is all the money they donate to art each year. They’re highly respected.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. They’re on my must-invite list, but it remains to be seen if they’ll show,” Faith said, disappointment in her voice.
He twisted his head to one side. “You didn’t even think of asking me to put in a word for you, did you? Just like you didn’t ask me to talk to Phoenix for you.”
She frowned at him as if he’d stated the obvious. “I wouldn’t impose on our friendship that way.”
“You’re not. If I can help you in any way, I’d like to. You certainly send me business.”
She waved his words aside. “You deserve the referrals.” She savored the last bite of steak. “With superb food like this, the Red Cactus deserves to be patronized.”
“So does Casa de Serenidad,” Brandon said. “When you have the date firmed, let me know and I’ll call Daniel and Aunt Felicia. If possible, one or both will be here.”
“Thank you, Brandon.”
“You c
ertainly came through for me when I was in need.” He tried not to think of the other need she could help with and hoped he succeeded.
An hour and a half later, Brandon locked the restaurant’s double red doors. It seemed natural for him to link his fingers with hers. “Do you want to get the car or walk?”
“Walk,” she said; not for anything would she give up the chance to hold hands with Brandon. She embraced the tingles that raced up her arm.
They continued in companionable silence to the hotel. Brandon’s hand moved to her waist as they entered the lobby. The night clerks waved, then went about their business. Arriving at her door, she unlocked it and turned. “I had a wonderful time.”
“So did I.” He stared down at her; then his finger brushed down her cheek. Her skin was velvet soft. It seemed the most natural thing to lower his head and kiss her.
The first touch of her warm mouth against his jolted his senses. He gathered her closer, his arms tightening as he deepened the kiss, learning the sweet essence of her mouth. Fire licked along his bloodstream. The desire he had tried to suppress flared. His hand cupped her breast; his thumb grazed her taut nipple. She moaned, thrusting her breast against his hand.
The needy sound snapped him out of the sensual haze. Shocked, he lifted his head and stared down at Faith, watching her eyelashes flutter open.
He opened his mouth to apologize, to say he didn’t know what had come over him, but gazing at her moist lips, parted and waiting for his mouth, he couldn’t utter the lie. He wanted nothing more than to keep on kissing her. And, from the ache in his lower body, he wouldn’t stop at kissing. He lowered his forehead to hers so he couldn’t see the open desire in her eyes, eyes that made his body tighten even more.
“Brandon.”
There was such total wonder in that one word. No woman had ever said his name with such tenderness before, such honest need. No woman had ever tested his control as much as Faith. She felt wonderful in his arms. Her breasts pressed invitingly against his chest. He’d like nothing better than to run his hand under her blouse and press his hand to her naked flesh. His hands flexed. He drew in one shuddering breath, then another.
Finally, he lifted his head. “I’m not sure what is happening here.”
She smiled at him as if she knew all the secrets of the universe. The back of her hand brushed tenderly across his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Good night, Brandon.”
Brandon stared at the closed door. Women. Why didn’t they ever act the way they were supposed to?
Faith closed the door, then twirled in circles until she was dizzy and plopped down on the sofa. Brandon wants me. There was no mistaking the kiss that was tender and hot, or the hard bulge poking her. She laughed, too excited to be embarrassed. She’d dreamed of this moment for too long.
“Brandon,” she whispered his name, then closed her eyes and laid her head back on the blue chenille upholstered sofa, only to bound up and do a good imitation of Tina Turner performing “Proud Mary” on the way to her bedroom.
After a few more Tina moves, Faith went to the tall French-inspired secretary and opened her bound wish book. A pink ribbon marked the spot where she’d written: Operation Get Brandon. She wasn’t foolish enough to think a kiss was a slam dunk. Especially since he was obviously having a difficult time seeing them as anything other than friends. She’d just have to show him differently.
Brandon thought of skipping breakfast and going directly to the restaurant, but that would have been the coward’s way. If he took a little longer to shower and get dressed, flipped through the newspaper that was delivered daily, which he almost never got around to reading, then took a leisurely stroll to the restaurant, it would just be coincidental. Then he stepped onto the patio and saw Faith.
She wore a loose-fitting pale blue striped cotton jacket and pants. The wind played with the hair he’d dreamed had grazed his chest as she dropped sweet kisses on his chest. His heartbeat quickened, desire unfurled like a flower kissed by the gentle rays of the sun.
Momentarily both hands palmed his face. Mercy. Now he was getting poetic. In high school, he’d discounted the tale that doing without sex could drive you crazy. Now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps there was some truth to it after all. He was certainly having problems.
Across the courtyard Faith looked up, waved, then went back to the papers laid out on the table in front of her. Brandon stared. That was it! A wave! Images of them naked and driving each other to the edge of sanity had kept him awake half the night, and she acted as if nothing had happened. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or affronted.
One thing for certain: he couldn’t stand there like a dummy all day. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried for cool. “Morning, Faith.”
“Hi, Brandon.” She shoved a manila folder under his nose while the waiter placed orange juice and water on the table.
“Good morning, Mr. Grayson. Monsieur Fountain said he has crepes that will make your taste buds weep with pleasure.”
“I can attest to that,” Faith said.
He’d like to do the same to her. Brandon cleared his throat. “That will be fine.”
“Right away.” The waiter withdrew.
“I thought for your place we’d keep it simple and use the brownish color of the cabinets as the third color.” She pointed to the schematic drawing. “You’ll see the seating area of the living room is pulled together and defined by grouping the furniture that is now scattered around the room. You’ll be able to use the sofa and chairs you have by covering them with slipcovers in oyster cotton duck. If you’re not partial to the old headboard, you could build around it to give you space for all the books and other articles you have in your place. What do you think?”
That you smell like my fantasy, taste like a forbidden dream, and you’re driving me crazy.
“Here you are,” the waiter said.
Faith and Brandon reached for the folder at the same time. Electricity arched between them. His gaze cut to hers, but she was already looking through another folder. “Thanks,” he managed, his voice rough.
“Look those over at your leisure.” She stuffed the papers into a zipped case. “If you’ll excuse me, I have meetings.” She stood. “Enjoy your breakfast. Bye.”
“Faith?”
She turned back to him, her expression one of infinite patience. She wasn’t fighting the need to reach out and draw him into her arms, press her lips to his, the way he was fighting her. Brandon’s spine stiffened. No woman had ever gotten the best of him. He could be as nonchalant as she was.
“Where do you think I could buy the slipcovers?”
“The addresses and phone numbers of all the stores are listed in the folder. That particular store is located around the corner from the Red Cactus,” she told him. “Anything else?”
Nothing that he’d admit to. “Not that I can think of.”
“If you do, you know where to find me.” She continued inside the hotel.
Brandon’s brow arched. Had he heard a hint of sexual challenge in her voice or was it wishful thinking?
Faith didn’t walk; she floated to her office. In the bright light of day Brandon still wanted her. Oh, he’d tried to be cool, but she could tell. An imp of a smile touched her lips as she entered her office and took a seat behind her desk. It was a good thing she had more practice hiding her feelings, or she might have succumbed to the heat simmering in his dark eyes and invited him back to her room.
“You naughty woman,” she said aloud, then laughed.
The knock on her door caused her to clamp her hand over her mouth. She didn’t have any appointments until ten. Maybe it’s Brandon. She moistened her lips, straightened her jacket, patted her hair. “Come in.”
The door opened and the last person in the world she expected entered. “Good morning, Faith; do you have a moment?”
Faith shot up from her seat and rounded her desk. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Grayson. Good morning.”
A pleasant expr
ession on her face, Brandon’s mother entered the office. She wore a white organza blouse and a black and white woven full skirt. She looked elegant and a bit intimidating. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but this is important.”
Faith’s heart clenched. His mother wanted Faith to help some other woman entrap Brandon. “Please have a seat. Would you like coffee? Tea?”
Ruth settled gracefully in the chair in front of the desk. Despite being in her sixties, she remained a beautiful woman, with midnight black hair, high cheekbones, and ramrod posture. “No, thank you. Please sit down.”
Her hands moist, Faith retook her seat and waited for her dreams to come to a crashing end.
“As you might have guessed, this is about Brandon.”
Faith flinched in spite of herself. Inside she screamed that she could love Brandon better than any woman Ruth might have picked out. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is rather awkward,” she began, folding her hands in her lap. “Brandon would be upset with me if he knew I was here.”
Faith said the only truth she could. “Brandon knows you love him.”
“But that doesn’t mean he always agrees with what I have to say.” Ruth leaned back in her chair and glanced around the room. “This is a lovely room. Your art collection is impressive.”
“Thank you. What about Brandon?” Faith asked, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious or pushy. She genuinely admired and respected Mrs. Grayson. “This couldn’t be about another birthday party,” she joked.
“No, this is about his living quarters. They need a woman’s touch, just as his life does.”
No! No! No! Faith thought. The award-winning designer from Albuquerque wasn’t going to get her hands on Brandon’s body or his apartment. “I’m not sure what I have to do with this.”
“You have such style and class, and you and Brandon have always been such close friends for so many years, I thought he might listen to you.”
“That he should get married?” Faith cried in disbelief.
