by Francis Ray
Pierce picked up his glass. “Let’s toast Faith. Brandon’s secret weapon.”
Glasses were raised. “To Faith, my secret weapon,” Brandon repeated. He couldn’t help but think about the other secret he and Faith shared.
Faith had a nonstop day. She preferred those to doing paperwork or other duties in her office. Her feet and body were tired, but she felt good as she slowly strolled the lighted paved path bordered by colorful flowers leading to her room.
She liked being in the thick of things, working alongside her staff to ensure their guests enjoyed their stay or seeing that the event planned went off without a hitch. Their guests probably never thought of all the manpower and hours of planning involved, and that was all right with Faith. Their satisfaction was what mattered.
Despite it being a little past nine at night and knowing the Red Cactus remained open until ten, she glanced at Brandon’s room. It was dark. She hadn’t expected him to be home, yet she was disappointed all the same. Time was running out on her. She had three days, and then he’d be gone forever.
With one last look, she opened the wooden gate to her place and came to a complete halt, her mouth open.
“Dinner is served, Ms. McBride, compliments of Brandon Grayson,” a waiter in a white dinner jacket said. He stood by a small table draped with a white tablecloth. Twin tapers flickered. A small bouquet of white gardenias lay by the plate.
Another waiter, similarly dressed, offered her his arm. “If you’ll have a seat, we’ll serve.”
Her legs shook as she walked to the table. There were two chairs. “Is Brandon coming?”
“Brandon is unsure of his schedule, but we have strict orders not to leave until you’ve eaten.” Releasing her arm, he pulled out a chair.
Faith sat. The waiter placed the napkin in her lap, then lifted the silver dome. Wisps of smoke rose from the grilled salmon served with raspberry vinaigrette, green beans amandine, and field greens. “How did you know when to expect me so the food would be hot?”
“You’ll have to ask Brandon.” The waiter lifted a bottle of vintage wine and a sixteen-ounce bottle of diet cola. “Which one would you prefer?”
“The wine.” She felt a little daring. If Brandon dropped by, and she hoped he would, she could always claim it was the wine that made her jump his bones.
She picked up her fork, then put it down as a horrible thought came to her. “Have you done this before? Met women with dinner, I mean?”
“My first.”
“Me, too.”
Warmth spread through her. Her fingers touched the creamy white blossoms. Had Brandon remembered he’d given her gardenia corsages when he took her to her dances in high school? “Brandon is really thoughtful. I skipped lunch today to help him.”
“He mentioned that,” the one who had seated her said. “Your salmon is getting cold.”
She picked up her fork again. “You really have orders for me to eat?”
Both men nodded.
“And if I don’t?”
“Let’s just say we’d rather not find out,” one said.
Faith easily recalled the last flash of anger she’d seen on Brandon’s face. Another thought hit her. “Has he eaten?”
To his credit, the waiter’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not sure, Ms. McBride.”
She could call and check or simply enjoy the wonderful surprise and plan a surprise of her own. She began to eat and heard twin sighs of relief from the waiters.
14
With his one hand in his pocket and two fingers of his other hand crooked around the clothes hanger holding jeans and a shirt under a plastic cleaner bag, Brandon waved the doorman away and opened the heavy glass door of Casa de Serenidad. Nodding to the desk clerks, he continued to his room.
The day had been one that, as a restaurateur, he loved. The restaurant had become increasingly busy as the afternoon progressed. The wait time had averaged thirty minutes by six and hit forty minutes by seven thirty. In his business waits were unavoidable.
You couldn’t rush a diner, but since Brandon himself hated waiting, he and his staff of chefs and cooks did their best to get orders out quickly and correctly without sacrificing quality. After all, it didn’t do any good to rush food that was sent back by the customer.
From all accounts from the part-time waiters he’d sent to serve Faith, she’d enjoyed her meal and the wine. The timing had been perfect, but he’d been prepared to send another freshly prepared dinner if the first one had grown cold. Going down the walk, he stared at the gate leading to her place.
Twin lights burned on posts on either side of the wooden door. It was well after eleven. She was probably asleep. He resisted the urge to go see for himself. Being alone with Faith at night was asking for trouble.
Unlocking his door, he went inside. He had just hung up his clothes when he heard a knock on the door. He didn’t need two guesses to know who it was. He hesitated, then went to answer the door. There wasn’t a woman born he couldn’t resist. He controlled his emotions.
He frowned on seeing an unfamiliar member of the hotel’s staff. “Yes?”
“Good evening, Mr. Grayson; this is for you. Good night.”
Brandon was so surprised by the letter that the man was several feet away before he remembered he hadn’t tipped him. “Wait.” Sliding his hand into his pocket, he handed the man a bill. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
Opening the letter, Brandon entered his room. It was an invitation to dinner from Faith. The menu caused his taste buds to do a happy dance and remind him that he hadn’t had time to eat since breakfast. He considered not going, then quickly dismissed the idea. After all she’d done to help him, it would be rude and ungrateful not to accept. Shoving his key back in his pocket, he headed for her place. He’d eat enough to be courteous, then leave.
“You can do this, Brandon.” Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
“Come in.”
Blowing out a breath, he opened the door and knew he was in trouble. Numerous candles illuminated the room, and in the center was Faith in something silky and black that flowed over her full figure and made his body hum.
“Thank you for dinner. Now it’s my turn.” She waved him to a seat at a table by the window. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
Her smile was radiant. “You will now. Please have a seat.”
Brandon thought that was a good idea, since there was no way to hide his response. Crossing the room, he pulled out a chair for her. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
She looked up at him over her shoulder. “Yes, I did.”
Her face was close to his, her scent of orange blossom curled around him like a silken rope. Breath shuddered over his lips. His hand clenched on the chair instead of reaching out and grabbing Faith.
“Please eat. I don’t cook often, but Henrí gave me some pointers.” She turned away to serve Brandon.
Saved in the nick of time. Brandon took his seat across from her.
“Since I know how much you like pastries, Henrí and I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist salmon wrapped in phyllo.”
What he might not be able to resist was Faith. After saying grace, he tried to keep his attention on the salmon wrapped in delicate paper-thin layers of golden-brown pastry. The taste was crunchy and delicious. He remembered Faith’s lips tasted sweet and even more delicious.
“There’s more, if you want it,” she said.
Brandon’s traitorous body stirred. He wanted more of her; he just couldn’t have it. “This is wonderful. I appreciate you going to all this trouble for me.” His voice sounded rough, strained.
“For dessert, there are cherry-apricot turnovers.” Propping her elbows on the table, she laced her fingers and placed her chin on top. “I must admit I might indulge with you.”
He’d like to indulge all right, but not with dessert. He cleared his throat. “This might be all I can handle. Thank you.”
“One littl
e bite, please.” She came to her feet. “I’ll go get it.”
Brandon practiced taking deep breaths, but when Faith returned to place the luscious dessert on the table he realized it wasn’t doing any good. “Please have a seat.”
“Not until you take a bite.”
Hoping she’d move away, Brandon did as requested. She didn’t.
“Few things taste as delicious, don’t you agree?”
He could think of one. He pushed the dessert across the table. “Please eat the rest.”
With an indulgent smile, she retook her seat and picked up her fork. With her first bite he realized his mistake. The tiny moan started deep in her throat and slowly worked its way over her lips. “Low in calories, irresistible, and addictive. What can beat it?”
Brandon didn’t want to think about the answer. He lurched to his feet. “Thanks for dinner. Good night.”
“We haven’t discussed when we’ll get together to finish your apartment,” she protested.
“We can do it at breakfast.”
Her expression downcast, she came to her feet. “I guess you didn’t enjoy my meal as much as I did yours. I’m sorry.”
“I did,” he quickly told her.
“Yes. Then why can’t you wait to leave?” She started past him.
“Faith,” he began, then stopped, not knowing how to explain what was happening.
“Yes, Brandon?” She stopped even with him and waited.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Is everything all right at the restaurant?” She placed her hand on his arm and stared up into his face. “I’m feeling sorry for myself when you’re having problems. Forgive me.”
He closed his eyes. She was too close. Smelled too tempting.
She moved in closer, lifting her face, letting her hands rest on his chest. “How can I help?”
His heart hammered beneath her hands as need built and resistance weakened. He reached out to push her away and somehow brought her closer. All he had to do was lower his mouth just a little. She met him halfway.
One touch, one taste, was all it took. Fire erupted. Need rushed through them, sweeping away resistance.
Brandon didn’t think; he just gathered Faith’s voluptuous body closer to him, relearning the heady taste of her mouth while his hand swept up and down her back, the satin material sensitizing his skin. Nothing had ever excited him as much, driven him to take more and more and given the same intense pleasure.
His mouth nibbled, bit, then kissed her mouth, enjoying her little moans, her slight trembling. His hand moved around to close over her breast; his thumb flicked across the hard nipple. Her arms tightened around his neck.
Her need was as great as his, and as desperate. His lower body felt heavy and ached for release. He buried his mouth in the curve of her neck, the sound of his breathing hoarse and ragged. He had to have her. His hand gathered the material and lifted.
“Brandon.”
The thready sound of his name rocked through him. It resonated with desire out of control and another emotion that had him drawing on all of his own control to pull back . . . complete trust. Releasing the caftan, he drew her flush against him, resisting the lure of her body, the desire he felt to lie down and explore every tempting inch with his hands, his mouth.
He groaned. Thoughts like that weren’t going to help.
“Brandon?” This time there was uncertainty in her voice.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“Oh?”
He lifted his head and stared down at the top of hers. Surely he hadn’t heard disappointment. “Faith?”
“Yes?”
Unsure of what to expect, he lifted her chin with his fingertips. In the flickering candlelight he couldn’t see her eyes clearly enough to read her thoughts. “You all right?”
Her fingertips tenderly grazed his lower lip. “Yes.”
He caught her hand in his, then stepped away. He released her hand as he turned and went to the door. “Good night.”
“Good night. I’m glad you came by.”
Brandon wasn’t so sure he was. In his room he sat on the edge of the bed. Faith was proving to be too much of a temptation. Knowing why he was attracted to her wasn’t helping him control the desire.
He thought about asking Catherine to help him, then dismissed the idea. He would take care of this on his own. He’d simply stay away from Faith.
The note from Brandon was waiting for Faith when she passed the front desk the next morning. Even before she opened it, she knew he was canceling. Last night obviously had confused him even more than the first time they’d kissed.
He probably thought it was a fluke and wouldn’t happen again. Being the decent, honest man he was, he might even be laboring under the misguided thought that he was taking advantage of their friendship. It would never enter his mind that she was in love with him.
Too logical.
Continuing to the patio, she ordered breakfast and considered her next move. She had to keep the heat on, and that meant they had to keep seeing each other or, at the very least, she had to keep thoughts of her on his mind.
Picking up her pen, she tapped it on her notebook. If Brandon wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him. Signaling the waiter, she put in a second order. If Brandon thought he could run from her, he was mistaken. She’d waited too long for him to realize she was a woman to let him dismiss what they were feeling.
She wasn’t going to fool herself into thinking it was anything permanent. She’d caught him at a susceptible time when he was steering clear of women . . . with the exception of Elizabeth. Faith didn’t mind being the stand-in because no matter how much Brandon tried to avoid the idea of them being more than friends, and she was sure he had, he couldn’t hold her, kiss her so sweetly, if he didn’t feel an emotion deeper than lust.
He was not getting away from her.
Brandon had never run from a problem and it bothered him that he had done so now, but he didn’t see any other way. Behind the desk in his office on the first floor, he worked on a list of supplies and tried not to think of Faith . . . an impossible task. He shoved his hand through his unbound hair. He’d rather wrestle a grizzly bear than hurt her, but he was afraid that was exactly what he’d done.
She trusted him to stop before things went too far; he wasn’t so sure he could. She didn’t seem bothered by the new direction their friendship had taken. In fact, she acted as if making steam come out of his ears was no big deal. He couldn’t decide how he felt about her being so nonchalant.
Then another thought came: maybe she was under the misguided impression that the kisses were part of her training to tempt a man. The more he thought of it, the more it sounded reasonable. And if that was the case, she’d expect them to continue.
He was a goner.
The phone on his desk rang. He pounced on it. Anything to take his mind off Faith. “The Red Cactus.”
“Morning, Brandon. Ready to start the day.”
“I’ll be right out, Mr. Montgomery.” Standing, Brandon went to the front door and unlocked it. The plumber wasn’t alone. “Faith,” Brandon said in shock.
“Hi, Brandon. I thought I’d drop by and see how things are going, since I didn’t have a chance to yesterday,” she said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course he don’t.” Mr. Montgomery entered the restaurant, bringing Faith with him and heading for the stairs. “You’re his decorator. Besides, you’re not leaving until I see what smells so good in that box you’ve got.”
Brandon followed. By the time he reached the apartment, Faith had disposable dessert plates, cups filled with Blue Mountain coffee, and orange juice waiting. “There’s scones, fresh-baked croissants, cranberry-walnut and raisin-pecan bread with honey-butter and cream cheese. What would you like first, Brandon?”
For you to leave. This morning she wore an apricot-colored suit with a waist-length jacket and short skirt. Her hair was pulled atop her head, tend
rils hanging on either side of her face, making a man think of pulling out the hairpins one by one, then burying his face in it.
“Make up your mind, son. I’ve got work to do,” Mr. Montgomery admonished him.
“Anything will do,” Brandon finally told her.
Faith put one of each on a plate and handed it to him. “You didn’t eat very much last night.”
His eyes narrowed, but she turned away. “Mr. Montgomery?”
“The nut bread.” He held out his plate. She put a slice of each on his plate, then closed the lid.
“You didn’t prepare anything for yourself?” Brandon said as Mr. Montgomery leaned against the counter to eat.
“I already had breakfast. Mind if I take a look at the bathroom?”
“Of course he don’t,” Mr. Montgomery said around a mouthful of bread. “If I do say so myself, I outdid myself.”
She didn’t move. “Brandon?”
He placed the plate on the counter. “I’ll show you.”
“You stay and eat. I know the way.”
“That’s a mighty sweet woman,” Mr. Montgomery said as Faith entered the bedroom. “Heard she was dating some rich man. He’s a lucky man if he marries Faith.”
“She’s not dating anyone,” Brandon said with more force than necessary.
Mr. Montgomery’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “How would you know?”
“I just know. Excuse me.” Brandon went to join Faith. He found her hunkered down in front of the shower stall that was now big enough for three people. He didn’t have to think too hard to imagine him stripping off her suit and them in the shower together. “What do you think?”
Slowly she turned. For a split second he thought he saw the same thought mirrored in her eyes. “He’s done a wonderful job. When did you decide on a tub?”
After you mentioned how much you liked to soak after a long day. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She nodded. “The cabinets around your bed turned out well. You’ll have room for your books. I didn’t see any clothes, so the closet must be finished.”
“Yesterday. I’ll show you.” He stepped away, then followed her as she left the bath and opened the folding closet doors.
