by Francis Ray
She hugged the knowledge to her, then reached over to touch him as she had so many times last night, loving the feel of his muscled warmth beneath her fingertips, awed that she could.
Instead, she felt only the cool bedsheet.
Her eyelids flew upward. Sitting up, she glanced around the room, then strained to hear if he was in the connecting bath or possibly in the kitchen. Silence. He was gone.
Before she could succumb to the loneliness nipping at her, she looked at the clock on the nightstand. 7:15 A.M. Some of the uneasiness disappeared. Of course he’d left. She had a loyal staff, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to be privy to the knowledge that she and Brandon were lovers. He’d simply left to protect her reputation.
Perhaps there was a note. Not seeing one on the nightstand, she got out of bed ignoring her nakedness, to look on the floor in case it had somehow fallen. Lifting the bedcovers, she looked beneath the bed, shook the sheets. Nothing.
The wave of loneliness she had been struggling to keep at bay crept over her. She plopped on the side of the bed. In her erotic dreams they’d always made love, but on those occasions when she’d allowed herself to think of “afterward” she’d let herself imagine him holding her with love in his beautiful eyes or awakening her with a kiss or a breakfast tray with a rose.
Then another, more horrifying thought struck.
Perhaps she hadn’t pleased him. Faith closed her eyes in abject misery. What was beautiful for her could have been mediocre for him. She jumped as the phone rang, then picked it up.
“Bra-hello,” she quickly revised.
“Good morning, Ms. McBride. Are you all right?” asked Cynthia, a longtime operator for the hotel.
No. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
There was a slight hesitation before Cynthia said, “You had an appointment with Mr. Fountain thirty minutes ago. Since you’re always punctual or call if you’ll be late, we were concerned.”
Faith’s forehead momentarily dropped into the palm of her hand. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss the wine-tasting event menu with the executive chef. “Please tell Henrí I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Mr. Fountain said he could reschedule if there was a problem.”
Faith came to her feet. Henrí was as temperamental as they came. He didn’t like to be kept waiting. For him to even suggest rescheduling was paramount to a leopard changing its spots. It just didn’t happen. “Twenty minutes is fine.”
“I’ll tell him. Good-bye.”
Faith hung up the phone with a new worry. This one about her executive chef.
Brandon didn’t even attempt to go to bed. He showered, pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, then went to his office downstairs to work. His apartment was too much of a reminder of Faith. However, once behind his big mahogany desk, he soon discovered it wasn’t so much a place as it was him.
She was with him wherever he went. Her softness, her quick smile, the heady knowledge in her incredible chocolate eyes that she turned him on, the intense pleasure of her body accepting his, the wonder in her beautiful face, her scream at climax, the tight clamp of her body around him, the lingering earthquakes.
Brandon’s hand fisted on his desk. Images of Faith lingered, filling his mind and teasing his senses as no woman ever had.
And he’d left her to wake up alone.
That he’d done it to protect her reputation wouldn’t mean a thing to a sensitive woman like Faith, who gave everything to a man she trusted. Brandon looked at the phone as he had done since a little after six thirty that morning. It was seven.
She’d probably be waking up and reaching for him as she’d done so many times last night. This time he wouldn’t be there to hold her, comfort her.
Brandon muttered under his breath, then picked up the phone only to put it down again. What could he say? “Thank you”? “How are you?” He certainly couldn’t say he wished he was there with her, wished she wasn’t the baby sister of his best friend. Wished that at times he didn’t feel as if he’d been given a precious gift, then had it snatched away from him.
Brandon came to his feet and paced. If he was having this hard of a time dealing with him and Faith becoming lovers, how much worse was it for her?You couldn’t fix this with flowers or dinner. There was only one way. Even as his hands began buttoning his shirt, he just hoped when he did see Faith he’d know what to say.
Grabbing his keys, he was out the door. In less than four minutes, he stepped onto the bricked entrance of Casa de Serenidad.
“Hello, Mr. Grayson. Welcome back.” The greeting had barely left the valet’s mouth before it was echoed by the doorman.
Brandon returned their cheerful greeting, trying to decide if they were any more effusive than before.
He was still deep in thought when he entered the lobby.
“Good morning, Mr. Grayson.”
Brandon frowned as an attractive Hispanic woman in a little black suit stopped in front of him. He usually didn’t forget women, but this time he drew a blank. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
Laughing, she extended her slim manicured hand. “Esmeralda De la Vega, assistant manager. Faith is in a meeting with Henrí on the patio of the Mesa. She should be finished shortly.”
Brandon politely shook her hand, trying to recall if he’d seen her at his party. He didn’t remember seeing her during his stay at the hotel. The odds that she knew all the hotel’s past guests weren’t likely. Perhaps she had seen him and Faith having breakfast and surmised they were friends. He hoped that was all she knew.
“Thank you, but I don’t want to disturb her,” he said.
A slow smile spread across the woman’s olive-skinned face. “I’m sure she won’t mind. I’m going that way.”
Brandon fell into step beside the slender dark-eyed woman, trying to decipher the little smile on her lips and hoping the answer he was coming up with wasn’t the right one. The instant he stepped into the open patio, his gaze went to the table he and Faith always shared. She was there.
His body gladdened and yearned.
Completely forgetting the woman beside him, his attention centered on Faith. Her head was tilted to one side as she listened to Henrí. The little man was making gestures with his hands as he spoke. Brandon would have sworn that the executive chef commanded Faith’s full attention. Seconds later he was proven wrong.
Abruptly her head lifted. Their gazes locked. Lips that had driven him crazy with desire parted slightly; eyes that he’d go to his grave remembering widened. The impact of her stare stunned him with its intensity.
He wanted her again. Now. He could feel the rush of blood through his veins, his breath quickening.
Faith’s gaze went hot, her cheeks flushed, her body soft.
Henrí’s gaze snapped in the direction Faith was staring. His eyes narrowed as he slowly looked from Brandon to Faith, his brow puckered, then cleared. There was no way any adult could miss the sensual heat and pull between them.
Brandon bit back a curse, then took Esmeralda’s arm and propelled her across the patio. Faith was not going to be fodder for gossip in the employees’ lounge. “Good morning, Faith, Henrí. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“I told him he wouldn’t be,” Esmeralda said when neither Faith nor Henrí spoke.
“So,” Henrí drew out the word. “You have perhaps found something else at Casa de Serenidad of interest?”
The color in Faith’s cheeks deepened. “Good morning, Brandon.”
Brandon’s eyes hardened when he turned them on the other man. “I see you like living dangerously.”
The chef ’s bushy eyebrow lifted. “Occasionally.” He turned to Faith. “I’ll finish this up and serve you the menu at dinner to sample.” Gathering the papers, he stood and tucked them under his arm and stared at Brandon. “You’re invited. Seven sharp. Good-bye.”
“I need to be going as well. Bye.” Esmeralda quickly took herself off.
Faith’s hand fluttered
to her hair, then back to her lap as if she didn’t know what to do with herself. She had never been the nervous type. “I know you’ll be busy this evening, Brandon.”
Brandon resisted the urge to take her hand in his, to sit down. If he tried, his increasingly tight jeans would cut off the circulation to a vital part of his body. “Do you want me here tonight?”
“Yes.”
The breathless word filled with desire went straight through him. Saturday nights were the busiest of the week, but he never thought of refusing. “See you then.” Brandon turned to leave.
“You aren’t staying for breakfast?”
Brandon glanced at her, then down meaningfully. A mixture of laughter and pleasure lit her eyes as she followed his gaze. Despite his discomfort, he found himself smiling. “Glad you find this funny, since it’s your fault.”
“I’d fix it if I could,” she said in a voice that had dropped to a seductive purr.
Air hissed over his teeth. His unruly mind easily pictured all the ways Faith could remedy his problem—with her hands, her mouth, her body. “Faith,” he groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go.” Picking up her folder, she rose to her feet. Her gaze went from his head to the part of him that throbbed for her before she lifted her eyes. “See you tonight, Brandon.”
His eyes glued to the saucy sway of her rounded hips, he vividly recalled caressing and stroking only hours earlier, he watched her walk away. There had been a promise, a brazen invitation, in her final words that he had every intention of resisting.
He’d come to assure himself that she was all right. He’d done that. He wasn’t so sure the staff didn’t suspect something was going on between him and Faith already. This was for her benefit. There would be no more hot, sweaty, incredible sex.
Slowly Brandon made his way back to the Red Cactus, hoping his body was up to the challenge.
16
Faith wanted to dance in the hallway, pump her fist, throw her arms wide, and spin in circles. With guests and hotel staff nearby, she could do none of those things. Yet.
The moment she closed her office door, she indulged in all four. He’d come. Brandon had come. He’d looked as unsure as she’d felt. Then Henrí had baited him and learned Brandon wasn’t a man to push.
Sighing, she sat behind her desk. Brandon, of course, would want her reputation to remain unblemished. He’d blame himself if rumors of their affair leaked. He needn’t have worried.
Henrí, who had been with her for five years, was like a second father and extremely loyal. Esmeralda, who had risen in the ranks after starting as a night clerk, was just as loyal. They wouldn’t gossip, but Faith had to admit that she felt a certain thrill in others knowing Brandon found her sexy and wanted her despite her having some flesh on her bones.
She came from around her desk and headed for her room. She wanted to wear something spectacular that night that would keep Brandon’s eyes on her. Stifling laughter, she continued to her room.
Thanks to Sierra again, Faith found the perfect outfit in less than fifteen minutes, and then she returned to work. She was crossing the lobby when a floral delivery came through the glass front door. She and every other woman there stared at the spectacular arrangement of birds of paradise mixed with roses, amaryllis, and hydrangeas to rise majestically before falling gracefully over the edge of an immense crystal vase.
“Delivery for Faith McBride.”
Faith gasped.
Esmeralda, who was behind the desk, asked, “Do you want to sign?”
Faith rushed over to sign her name with fingers that refused to be steady. The flowers could be from Brandon or a grateful guest. “Thank you,” she said, and handed the deliverywoman the tip Esmeralda gave her.
“Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever had a personal delivery this large.” The robust woman touched the stem of the birds of paradise, then looked at Faith and hooked her thumb. “One for us.”
Since the deliverywoman was a size larger than Faith, “us” probably meant “women of size.” They usually weren’t the ones men went after or sent immense floral bouquets to. Faith understood the expectant look on the deliverywoman’s face. The flowers meant there was still hope for women who weren’t the size of toothpicks. Faith’s hands were shaking even more by the time she removed the card from the white envelope.
If you change your mind, call.
Blade
Faith couldn’t hide the disappointment that knotted her stomach. “It’s from an old friend,” she told the waiting deliverywoman.
The robust woman looked at Faith with suspicion growing in her narrowed gaze. “Must be some friend.”
Aware that the flowers had drawn guests and a few staff members, Faith slipped the card in the pocket of her light pink cardigan. “He is.”
A slow smile started at the corner of the other woman’s face. She nudged Faith with her shoulder. “Keeping it close to your chest, huh? If you ever get tired of your ‘friend,’ toss him my way.”
Faith looked around the lobby as people began to move away. She received a wink from a couple of return guests, a nod of approval from another, a thumbs-up from a fourth. They all thought she was being coy. Far from it.
She’d desperately wanted the flowers to be from Brandon. Blade had made it ostentatious enough to get people’s attention and make Brandon jealous. She’d call him later and say he’d have to settle for one out of two.
The arrangement was too big to fit on her desk without getting in the way of her computer screen. Nor would it fit on the small table in her office. She didn’t have time to take it to her room. “I’ll take care of the flowers later,” she told Esmeralda, not noticing the white card at her feet as she moved away.
Saturday evening, the Red Cactus was as crowded as Brandon had ever seen it. In the past he never would have thought of leaving for five minutes, let alone the hour it would probably take for him and Faith to finish whatever dinner Henrí planned. There was no help for it.
Brandon glanced around the restaurant. Every table was occupied; the line to be seated was out the door and had been running close to fifty minutes up until an hour ago. The extra help he’d called in had cut the wait down to thirty minutes.
Satisfied that things were going well on the floor, he went to the kitchen. Three chefs worked over the stainless-steel stoves. Plates placed on the pass-through were quickly picked up. His staff moved with practiced ease around one another as they came and went.
“We got it, boss.” Michelle passed him on the way to the freezer. “We won’t know you’re gone.”
“Yes, we will.” Luis grinned as he slid three platters of appetizers to a tray. “I say we take advantage of this and party hearty.”
“I’m for that.” Michelle passed him with two slices of chocolate cake covered with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup.
“You can all be replaced.” Brandon moved aside for them to go through the swinging doors.
“But not tonight.” Michelle was out the door with Luis behind her.
Brandon glanced at the clock and swiped his sweaty palm on his slacks. 6:43. He’d never been this nervous about a date. Technically, this wasn’t a date, which somehow made him all the more nervous.
Michelle came back through the door, her naturally curly red hair in tight ringlets. “You’d better scoot. Sierra just popped in and asked you to stop by the table. Seems she has something hot to tell you.”
“She probably sold another overpriced piece of real estate,” he said, moving toward the door.
“If I had the money, I’d sure let her try. She is beautiful,” called Antonio, who made the best tamales this side of heaven. He was happily married, with fifteen grandchildren.
“I’ll tell Sophia you said as much,” Brandon said, referring to the man’s devoted wife, as he left the kitchen, earning an exaggerated groan from Antonio and laughter from the rest of the staff.
Brandon glanced at his watch and wondered if
he would have time to get the box of chocolates he’d ordered by phone that afternoon without anyone seeing. His employees hadn’t asked where he was going, and he hadn’t volunteered the information.
They’d assumed it had to be important if he was taking off on a Saturday night. He could count on one hand the number of times that he’d done so.
Sierra was dunking a chip with one hand and making notes on her day planner with the other when he reached the booth. “What’s the hot news?”
She glanced up, mischief dancing in her eyes. “You’re never going to believe this, and I hate to tell you I told you so.”
One side of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah, I can tell.”
She laughed and closed the planner. “I confess. It’s always a pleasure when men are proven wrong, and this time, in spades.”
Brandon didn’t even bother trying to think of what she was talking about. He glanced at his watch. “I hate to rush you, but I have an appointment in ten minutes.”
His announcement whipped the humor from her face. “You’re leaving? I thought you said you weren’t dat—”
“I’m just going to help Faith with a menu selection,” he said, cutting his sister off.
Sierra sat back in the booth and shook her dark head in amazement. “Talk about late bloomers.”
He fought to keep from ducking his head and squirming. “We’re just friends. I told you that.”
“Seems she has a lot of them.” Sierra picked up a nacho chip and dunked it in salsa.
Brandon went on full alert. His body tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll only tell you if you promise not to go over there acting all macho, as if she doesn’t have a brain cell.” Sierra narrowed her gaze. “I hate it when you and the others do that to me.”
“Tell me,” he said, his voice too soft.
She eyed him a few seconds longer. “Remember this is third-or maybe fourth-hand. I heard it from a client who is staying at Faith’s hotel, who heard it from another guest, who heard it from who knows who else. I don’t gossip, but I’ll make an exception this time since you were so sure she was settled.”
