by Francis Ray
Ruth lifted a brow. “Do you have anything against marriage?”
Faith twisted uneasily in her seat. “No. I just thought . . .”
“Thought what?” Ruth asked.
That I had more time. “Nothing.” She took two slow, deep breaths. “Brandon and I are friends, but no one could ever persuade him to do something he didn’t want to do, especially in this case.”
Ruth sighed, her straight shoulders seeming to slump. “You’re right, of course. My children think for themselves.” She stood. “Sorry to waste your time and, more important, impose on your friendship with Brandon. I beg your forgiveness. He wouldn’t thank you for trying to steer him toward marriage.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Faith came to her feet. “You came here out of love. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“You were always so sweet and gracious,” Ruth said. “It’s nice knowing you haven’t changed.”
“Thank you.”
Ruth walked to the door. “You were gone by the time I arrived at the cookout at Morgan and Phoenix’s house, but I understand Phoenix might join you in a venture to display her work and that of other artists at the hotel.”
“Yes. I’m excited about it. Two other artists have also agreed, but I want to lead off with Phoenix’s work first,” Faith told her. “Her work moves me.”
Ruth nodded in understanding. “Her talent is great. So is Catherine’s. The Master of Breath and God have blessed and honored me with two wonderful daughters-in-law, as I prayed they would.”
Faith’s happiness faded a bit. She couldn’t write a book or sculpt and she certainly didn’t have any other discernible talent. “They’re both nationally acclaimed.”
“Talent lies in many areas.” Ruth stared at Faith intently. “Each one of us is given a gift. We just have to search within ourselves to find out what it is. You’ve already found yours.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “I have?”
“Like Brandon, you’re a nurturer. Your happiness comes from making others happy.” Ruth opened the door. “ I know it isn’t necessary, but thanks for being Brandon’s friend. Good day.”
“Good-bye, Mrs. Grayson.” Faith closed the door. Brandon’s mother might not have picked her for him, but his mother thought well of her. That meant a lot. But Mrs. Grayson’s visit also meant she was working to marry Brandon off to the designer. Faith had to move faster to—
The door in front of her opened abruptly. Brandon, his eyes wide, rushed in, closing the door behind him. “What did Mama want?”
He was so handsome he made Faith’s heart turn over. And if his mother had her way, he’d marry another woman.
“Faith, what did she want?”
“For me to help her with the plans for you to get married,” she answered, watching shocked horror spread across Brandon’s face, mirroring exactly what she felt inside.
13
Brandon plopped into the same chair his mother had sat in, dug his elbows into his thighs, and placed his face in his hands. “Why? Why?”
Faith knelt in front of him. “Because she loves you.”
“Maybe she could love me a little less,” he said from behind his hands.
“For some people love doesn’t work that way,” she said softly. “They only know one way to love, and that’s with all their heart.”
His hands moved. He stared down at Faith, who was too close and too tempting. For a crazy moment he considered putting his hand behind her head and bringing her closer, then fastening his mouth to hers to see how long they could kiss without coming up for air. Instead he sat back. “What else did she say?”
Faith came upright and moved behind her desk. It was safer. She might be tempted to reach out to him and comfort him with her mouth, her body. “I think you’re right about the Albuquerque designer. Your mother thinks your place—and you—need a woman’s touch.”
He scowled, then brightened. “I got you.” Was it his imagination or did she flinch? “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She moved the folders on her desk aside. “I thought you had gone.”
He frowned. “I was on my way when I saw Mama. I thought she was looking for me until she went in the opposite direction from the rooms,” he explained. “I saw her come in here and I waited. I might have known she wasn’t here to visit me. She had on her power clothes. On those rare occasions when she dresses up, she means business. She’s relentless.”
“She wants what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me is not a wife.” He rose to his feet and rounded the desk, placing the folder she had given him on top of her desk. “Can you take off anytime today or tomorrow to help me with this?”
“You’re going to show your mother you don’t need a wife.”
He shot her a look. “It’s scary how you know what I’m thinking sometimes.”
“That was easy,” she told him. “You don’t like being pushed into anything.”
“Who does?”
“No one, I guess.” She checked her appointment book. “I’ve got an opening at two this afternoon. I can meet you at the House of Décor.”
“I’ll pick you up. That way we’ll shave time and you can grab a bite to eat.”
“How do you know lunch wasn’t already on the schedule?”
“Because in the time I’ve been here it never is.” He picked up the folder and went to the door. “You’re not going to skip lunch just to help me. You aren’t the only one who can tell what a person is thinking.”
“Oh, really.”
The expression on her face made him frown. It was pure woman, pure challenge. Neither was what he was used to from Faith.
She opened the folder in front of her. “I’ll be at the front waiting for you.”
“See you then.” Brandon left the hotel beginning to think Faith might make him reevaluate what he thought he knew about women.
Faith walked out of the hotel just as Brandon pulled up at the curve. Both were five minutes early. Faith felt a little punch when Brandon hopped out of the fire engine red Porsche convertible without benefit of opening his door. She had seen him do that dozens of time when she assumed he was in too much of a hurry to open the door for his dates. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought she’d see him do it for her.
“Hi,” he said. “I thought I’d have to wait.”
“Hi, yourself. I try to be punctual.”
Nodding to the valet, he took her arm and steered her to his car. “You should tell that to Sierra. She keeps everyone except her clients waiting.”
“I don’t think anyone would get very far trying to tell Sierra anything.” Faith got into the low-slung car when Brandon opened the door, forever thankful that Cameron loved sports cars as well and she was used to getting in and out of them gracefully.
Brandon closed the door and rounded the car to get in the driver’s seat. “I’ll put the top up.”
“If you’re doing it on my account, don’t bother.” She pulled a light blue loose-weave linen scarf over her head. She’d heard her brothers complain countless times about the women they’d dated who worried about their hair. “What is the sense of a convertible if you have to drive with the top up?”
He grinned. “I don’t know why I expect the usual from you.”
“Beats me.”
Chuckling, he pulled into traffic, then sobered. “I don’t like shopping.”
She settled back in the car, enjoying being with Brandon and feeling the wind in her face. “That’s not exactly true.”
“I have no reason to lie,” he said, darting in front of a slow-moving SUV with an out-of-state plate.
“If we were going to Williams-Sonoma, Chef’s, or a similar store you would have been there fifteen minutes early,” she said.
Shaking his head, he parked in front of the store. “Remind me never to play cards with you.”
“So noted.” Opening her door, she met him halfway. He was frowning. “You can be gallant another ti
me. We’re on a tight schedule, remember?” Ignoring the frown on his face, she hooked her arm with his and entered the store.
The sleek two-story store carried everything the home needed, from doormats, to linen, to furniture. There were plates, glasses, and flatware but not a piece of cookware in sight on the many shelves. The colors ranged from soothing earth tones to bold reds and purples.
“Why don’t I let you pick out what you like and just pay the bill?” he said, resisting her tug on his arm to pull him farther into the brightly lit store.
“Because you’ll be the one living there.” She tugged harder. “I want you to be happy.”
He moved up a couple of steps. “I like my room at the hotel.”
She released his arm and stepped in front of him. Time to play dirty. “It’s me or Albuquerque Slim.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why did you call her Albuquerque Slim?”
Because his mother had chosen women with shapes as beautiful and as alluring as their faces. “Just a matter of speech. What’s it to be?”
He stared at her a long time, then took her arm and walked farther into the store. “I’m going to call Cameron and ask if he knows he has a sadistic sister.”
“It got you moving, didn’t it?” she said. “Janet, the manager, is coming this way. I worked with her to do my place. Try not to be grumpy.”
“Faith, it’s good seeing you again,” the manager said, her gaze going to Brandon and staying. “How do you do?”
“Fine, thank you,” Brandon mumbled.
Faith considered elbowing him in the side but let it go, since Janet was a pretty divorcée and he hadn’t gone all stupid and tried to flirt like her day manager had when he’d met Janet. “Janet Hill, please meet Brandon Grayson. Brandon is redoing his place.”
Janet’s light brown eyes lit up. “Brandon Grayson, owner of the Red Cactus? The food there is divine.”
Brandon finally smiled. “Yes. We try.”
Faith rolled her eyes. A modest Brandon? Who would have thought it?
Janet moved to his side, taking his arm. “We’ll endeavor to show you the same great service and hospitality I’ve always been shown at your restaurant. Do you have any idea of what you want, or would you just like for me to show you around?”
Brandon looked at Faith. “I’m in Faith’s hands.”
And in Janet’s clutches. “We’ll start with slipcovers in oyster for the sofa and chair, then an area rug, perhaps throw pillows,” Faith said.
“I don’t like throw pillows,” Brandon said, shaking his head vehemently.
“A lot of men don’t,” Janet said in a sweet voice, smiling up at Brandon as if she was trying to figure out how to work the conversation around to a personal level.
“The sofa in your hotel suite has pillows,” Faith reminded him. “You like that room.”
“You’re at Casa de Serenidad?” Janet inquired.
Brandon explained and ended by saying, “I should be moving back to my place by the end of the week.”
“Then you’ll want everything by then.” She smiled invitingly up at him. “I’ll personally guarantee to see that any purchases are delivered by Friday afternoon.”
“That’s great.” Brandon turned to Faith. “Isn’t that great?”
“Fabulous.” If Janet thought she was going to roll over Faith, she was mistaken. “Brandon, why don’t we get started? We’re on a tight schedule.” Looping her arm through his, Faith put on her most charming smile. “I know where everything is, Janet. We’ll call if we need help, but the store is so well laid out, with so much to choose from, the difficult part will be deciding.”
Janet slowly withdrew her arm and stared at Faith, trying, Faith knew, to determine if she had been warned off or Faith was simply telling the truth. The door behind them opened and another couple came in. “I’ll let you browse. Excuse me.”
“You’re sure we won’t need her to help find things?” Brandon asked.
“Positive,” Faith said. “Now, let’s do some shopping.” Ignoring Brandon’s groan, she headed toward the linen department.
“To Mission Impossible completion.” Brandon reached across the booth at the Red Cactus and touched his glass of cola to Faith’s glass of diet cola.
“The completion of Mission Impossible,” she said, sipping her drink.
Brandon took a sip, then set his glass aside. “I can’t believe we’re finished.”
“Shopping is simple if you’re able to focus on what you need and the colors involved.” She set her glass aside and glanced at her watch. “I have to run.”
“You haven’t eaten,” he protested.
“I’ll grab a bite later.” She slid out of the booth, dragging her purse with her.
He slid out of the booth and scowled down at her. “I thought you had time to eat.”
“I don’t remember saying that. Good-bye, Brandon,” Faith said, turning to leave.
Brandon stepped in front of her. “Helping me could have waited,” he said.
“We both know it couldn’t.” She glanced at her watch. “Now, please step aside or I’ll have to practice my sneaky left hook on you.”
Slowly he moved aside. “This isn’t funny. You need to be a little selfish sometimes.”
“Don’t pout. It causes wrinkles. Bye, Brandon.”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Faith leave. At least it started out that way. He wasn’t sure how his gaze dropped to her hips, then lower, wishing she didn’t have on pants, so he could see her legs.
Seconds later it hit him what he was doing and he looked around to see if anyone had caught him scoping out Faith. He didn’t know if he was relieved or not to see Pierce and Sierra heading in his direction. The food Brandon had ordered for him and Faith arrived the same time as his sister and brother.
“Hi, Brandon.” Sierra slid into the booth and pulled the flour tortillas and meat for fajitas in front of her. “This is what I call service. But what is Pierce going to eat?”
“Why, his portion of course.” Pierce slid in beside her and pulled the sampler plate of chicken quesadillas, steak nachos, and chicken flautas to him. “Hurry and say the blessings. I’m hungry.”
Sierra did as requested. “Since there’s lipstick on this glass, either your dishwasher is malfunctioning or you weren’t expecting us.”
“How astute.” Brandon slid into the other side of the booth.
Pierce swallowed, then cocked a brow. “Astute. My, my. Who have you been hanging around late—” He lowered the quesadilla. “You’re dating?”
Sierra stopped piling sour cream, pico de gallo, and guacamole on top of her strips of beef. “Who is she?”
Brandon propped both arms on the table. “I’m not dating.”
“Whose lipstick is that?” Sierra demanded.
“Faith’s,” Brandon answered, waiting for the questions and accusations.
“What a relief.” As Luis passed, Sierra ordered a diet cola for her and regular for Pierce, then took a sizable bite out of her fajita.
“I knew you were made of sterner stuff.” Pierce finished the quesadilla and reached for the nachos. “This is good. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and have appointments lined up until late this afternoon.”
“Same here. I won’t make it home until late. I might drop back by for a to-go box tonight,” Sierra said.
Brandon stared from one to the other. “You aren’t worried about Faith?”
Both waved his words aside. “You and Faith have known each other forever. If the spark was there, it would have ignited by now,” Pierce said, stealing a bite of Sierra’s Mexican rice while she wasn’t looking.
Brandon twisted in his seat. It wasn’t a spark. More like spontaneous combustion.
“Faith is obviously after another man.” Sierra slapped Pierce’s hand when he tried to get another spoonful of rice.
“Faith has given up on that idea,” Brandon said
, wondering why the idea pleased him so much.
“Says who?” Sierra dipped her nacho chip into spicy hot red and green salsa.
“She told me. We’re friends.” Kissing friends, and I’m going to do my best to see that it doesn’t happen again.
“Here you are.” Luis placed the drinks on the table. His mouth twitched on seeing Pierce and Sierra eating the food prepared for Brandon and Faith. “You want anything, boss?”
“Maybe later. You might bring another bowl of rice and salsa before the children start to fight over it, too,” Brandon said, his thoughts straying to Faith. He was unable to get over the worry that she might be hungry.
“Sierra always did have a difficult time sharing.” Pierce swooped in for another bite. “How is the bathroom going?”
For the first time Brandon didn’t feel like butting his head against the wall. He realized in large part that was due to Faith’s help. “Should be finished by the weekend. I decided to spruce up the whole apartment a bit.”
Sierra put down the glass she had just picked up. “You let Mother call the decorator in Albuquerque?”
“You think I’m suicidal?” Brandon retorted. “But she’d like nothing better. I thwarted her plans. Faith is helping me.”
“What colors?” Pierce and Sierra asked almost simultaneously.
“Black and nickel in the bath with shades of brown to blend with the glazed cherry cabinets in the kitchen and bath. The area rug in the living room is ecru, a shade darker than the oyster slipcovers, the scooped chairs a soft patina, and the throw pillows a bold stripe of all the colors to tie everything in.”
Pierce and Sierra looked at each other, then banged on their ears with the palms of their hands as if they were hard of hearing.
“Glad I could be your after-dinner entertainment,” Brandon said with a wry twist of his mouth.
“Brandon, you know if it doesn’t involve cooking, you could care less about colors.” Sierra pushed her empty plate away. “Your apartment is a mishmash of styles and colors. I don’t want to be a traitor, but Mama had a point. You do need a decorator.”
“Did.” He folded his arms and sat back. “I have Faith.”
