One Wish

by T. M. Cromer

  Faith sighed into her wine and drained the glass.

  “Are you okay?”

  Jacob Santorini, her best guy-friend since her sophomore year of high school, leaned close and placed a hand against her lower back.

  She smiled up into his concerned face. Had he been into women, Faith would have snatched him up long ago. Jacob had quiet good looks, a sunny smile to go with his kind heart, and a wicked sense of humor. In other words, he was her perfect match in almost every way.

  “I’m good. I think the weekend is catching up to me.”

  “Amy told us about Friday night. Have any charges been filed against Brandon and Joey?”

  With a disgusted sigh, she shook her head. “There was no hard evidence it was either of them.”

  “Bullshit.”

  His harsh exclamation startled Faith. Jacob didn’t lose his cool often, and he never accused without proof. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Only that those two have been pulling crap for a while. No one can ever prove anything.”

  The bitter edge to his words had a thoughtful frown tugging at her brow.

  “Jacob, what did they do to you?”

  Unconsciously, he rubbed his ribs. A tell if she’d ever seen one.

  “When did they attack you? Recently?”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “It might have been the other way around.”

  “No! You picked a fight with the two of them?”

  “I might have had help.”

  “Who?”

  “I refuse to incriminate your brother Rafe.”

  She lifted a brow and laughed. “I think you just did. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  “You’re awfully free with that word.”

  Faith hadn’t been aware of Rand leaving his table or coming to stand beside her. The underlying irritation in his voice had her heart rate picking up speed. What did he have to be ticked off about?

  “That’s because I have no problem opening my heart to people, Randall Crandall,” she countered coolly. “Why are you here?”

  His eyes chilled. “I reviewed the reports you sent me. We need to talk.”

  “Tomorrow isn’t soon enough?”

  “Be at my office by nine-thirty. I have twenty minutes tops to discuss the issue.”

  She nodded and watched as he strolled to where his date waited. He didn’t spare a backward glance, and Faith felt the pang down to her very soul.

  “What’s the deal with the asshat?” Jacob shot his thumb in the direction Rand had gone.

  She was quick to defend. “He’s not an asshat. He can be a very nice person when he wants to be.”

  Her gesture to their waiter had a full glass of wine in front of her in nothing flat.

  “You like him.”

  Faith refused to dignify Jacob’s declaration with a response. Instead, she chugged her wine. Why did everyone keep stating the obvious? Of course, she liked Rand. More than like if she were to be honest. But he was determined to be all business. If at any point her working relationship with him became too strained, she’d pass the job of dealing with Rand off to her mother or sister. She’d need to come up with a good enough reason to do so, but she could manage a white lie or two.

  RAND ESCORTED his date to her car and bade her a good night. After seeing Faith in Medallions, the idea of touching another woman was abhorrent to him. He toyed with the idea of deleting his Tinder account, but rejected the thought as soon as it popped into his head.

  He would not start a relationship with Faith. Early on, his parents had beaten it into him that he was unlovable. His disastrous two-year relationship with his ex, Angelina, had cemented the fact. He had nothing to offer other than a bank balance, or so he’d been told. The idea of another gold digger churned his gut. No. Alone was better. The occasional desire to scratch his itch could be taken care of with the online dating sites. There were enough women who only wanted a one-night stand.

  Why then did it upset him to think of never tasting Faith’s pouty cherry lips again? To never run his hands along that silky, light-olive skin and watch the flame of passion flare to life inside her dark, chocolaty eyes? One night with her wouldn’t be enough, and he wasn’t built for more.

  He hustled to his vehicle and folded himself into the bucket seat of his sports car. A moment longer and he’d be showing the world the pitched tent in his pants. Lovely. He couldn’t get a stirring of interest for his stunning date, but one remembered kiss with a smart-mouth, feisty Italian had him fighting a raging hard-on. His head fell back against the headrest and he expelled a breath. Shit. What was he going to do now?

  Rand was still sitting in his car like a loser stalker when Faith exited the restaurant. He hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for her to leave, but apparently he had. She had a rare kind of beauty—like an exotic flower. She exuded darkness and light, humor and seriousness, sex and innocence. She was like no one he’d ever encountered. And he was tired of denying how much he wanted her. Tired of denying he wasn’t jealous of every ounce of attention she showered on everyone around her.

  In two days’ time, she’d royally screwed up his mind. How was that possible? He tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand in rhythm to “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He hadn’t realized he was swearing aloud until Faith leaned through the passenger window.

  “What’s going on, Randall Crandall? Did your date bail?”

  She looked delighted by the prospect, damn her.

  “No. I sent her home.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, she opened the door and climbed into his passenger seat. A slight shimmy of her dress and a shift of her legs then she was turned to face him. “Why?”

  His attention was caught by the long expanse of her smooth legs. His mouth watered. “Why what?”

  Her light laugh had him dragging his gaze from her legs up over her fitted black dress. It nearly took an act of God for him not to linger on her jutting breasts. Finally, after a century, he met her dancing eyes.

  “Fuck,” he muttered again.

  They reached for each other at the same time. Mouths fused and moans mingled. Rand hauled her across the gearshift to straddle his lap, not an easy feat in a Porche, but Faith helped by reaching down to recline his seat. They were back to making out in seconds.

  Rand was passing second base when a gaggle of old women made themselves known.

  “Faith Fiore? Is that you?”

  “Does your mama know you do the dirty with strange men in parking lots?”

  “Does he have a brother?”

  Her groan was one of frustration this time.

  “Go away! Can’t you see I’m getting busy here?” she snapped.

  Shocked silent, the three biddies stared, mouths agape. They recovered as one.

  “What do you expect? Her mother always let her run wild.”

  “That girl needs a spanking.”

  “I’m pretty sure he looks up to the task of giving her one.”

  In a fit of anger, Faith straightened the top of her dress to cover her glorious globes. Rand almost died of disappointment. She opened the driver’s door and crawled out to confront the three harridans. He’d heard rumor of these three women. They practically terrorized the town of St. Helena. He smiled as Faith faced off with the Foxy Ladies. She had the heart of a warrior.

  “Ms. ChiChi, my mother does not let me do anything. I’m a grown adult.” She was on a roll. “Ms. Pricilla, do I really need to remind you about how wild some of your family was in their time?”

  She turned to look at the last of the trio. “And Ms. Clovis, I thought you had a man? Keep your eyes off mine!”

  Faith stalked away in a fit of rage.

  “Where ya going, gel?” Clovis yelled after her. “You can’t leave a man in that kind of state. Some other woman will swoop in and take care of what you didn’t.”

  Rand decided, of the three Foxy Ladies, he liked Clovis the best. She had his best interests at heart. With a sigh, he
hit the start button and savored the moment when the car engine roared to life. He also enjoyed a bit of payback when the ladies jumped at the sound of his tires as he squealed out of the lot.

  CHAPTER 8

  N ine thirty came and went with no Faith. Rand buzzed Sascha and informed her to merge his clients with his senior manager’s schedule.

  “Make sure Dante takes special care of Justin Tidwell. I’m going to be out for the rest of the morning. Tell everyone…” He drew a blank. Rand had never blown off work a day in his life. There were no prepared excuses. “Well, think of something. That’s what I pay you for.”

  “Okay, sir. Be sure to tell Faith I said hi.”

  He ignored Sascha’s snark and left via the back door to avoid staff and clients alike. Within a half hour, he was pulling up to the Fiore compound. A helpful field worker directed him toward the main office.

  “Mr. Crandall! What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe the honor?”

  The enthusiasm with which Isabella greeted him had Rand suspicious although he was careful to keep his expression bland.

  “I’m here to see Faith. We had an appointment.”

  A frown flitted across her elegant features. “She didn’t mention an appointment and there is nothing on the calendar for today.”

  “We only discussed it last night. Perhaps she forgot. Is she here?”

  “No. She took the day off. Can I offer you a cup of coffee and a cannoli?”

  Because he wanted to bask in her motherly warmth and was a contrary sonofabitch, he declined. What was it about this family? He wanted to dive in and beg to be adopted. Only he didn’t want Faith for a sister. The thoughts that danced around in his brain would be considered incestuous. “Ms. Fiore—”

  “Isabella, please. We don’t need to stand on formality. You saved my daughter from…” She cleared her throat and patted his arm. “You saved my daughter.”

  She didn’t need to say more. They both knew what might have happened had he not been there.

  “Isabella, there are things I need to discuss with Faith.”

  She handed him a black cup of coffee and a plate with the pastry anyway. To be polite, he took a sip of the hot, dark liquid. He sighed when the heavenly taste hit his tongue. He went in for a second sip.

  “Would this be about what happened in the parking lot last night?”

  The coffee scorched the roof of his mouth due to his sharp inhale. “She told you?” Did his voice come out three octaves higher than normal? He cleared his throat and yanked at his tie.

  Isabella’s wicked laughter reminded him she’d been young and maybe a little impetuous once upon a time herself. “No. That’s what the Foxy Ladies are for. Those three busybodies have their pulse on everything that happens in this town.”

  “I should go.”

  She held up a finger to stop him. “One moment. I’ll be right back.”

  He waited. What real choice did he have? As he surveyed the office, he noticed Hope on the other side of the glass wall, her lip quirked up on one side as she bit the other. Laughter danced in her eyes, and he narrowed his in turn. At his reaction, she lost any sense of politeness and outright grinned.

  Rand presented his back and was positive he heard the sound of her merriment. He wandered over to a wall of pictures. The images spanned the decades and boasted Fiores of all ages. One in particular caught his attention and he leaned in to examine it.

  “That’s Faith.”

  Because he’d heard her approach, Hope’s voice didn’t surprised him. “I wasn’t sure. You resemble each other.”

  “We do, and we especially did at that age.” She tapped the glass. “But this is Rafe. He’s just a year older than her.”

  “I would have eventually guessed.”

  “How so?”

  He pointed. “Her outfit. The mismatched colors are a clear indication she dances to her own tune.”

  Hope laughed. “How long have you known my sister? I can’t believe you already have her pegged.”

  A change of subject was safer. “Any idea what’s keeping your mother?”

  As if his question conjured her, Isabella drifted back into the reception area. “Here you are, dear.” She presented him a small baking dish of food along with a slip of paper. “Faith’s address. I take it you intend to stop by to see Faith?”

  Well, he certainly intended to now. The sneaking sensation of being set up was upon him. “The food is for her?”

  “For you both. You look a bit peckish. Don’t let anyone tell you a mid-morning snack isn’t a good thing.”

  Because he was unable to help himself, he bent and kissed her soft cheek. “Thank you, Isabella. I’ll see she gets it.”

  Her smug smile was mirrored by Hope. He shook his head. Their matchmaking was blatantly obvious.

  “Oh, and Randall. Do come around for dinner this Sunday. Six o’clock sharp.”

  “I’ll be sure to check my schedule.”

  “You do that, dear. We’ll see you then.”

  He’d been steamrolled. There was no doubt about it. He had less than a week to figure out how to send his regrets and avoid the dinner.

  THE DOORBELL PEALED and Faith inched a lacy curtain to the side to peer out the window. Rand. Couldn’t he leave her alone to wallow in her embarrassment? Last night, she’d practically thrown herself at the man only to be discovered by the St. Helena Gossip Posse.

  She hadn’t been home five minutes before her phone rang. Her mother read her the riot act. Then she’d suggested if Faith was going to seduce Rand, to do it in the privacy of her own bedroom, not where half the town could witness. Faith was left to wonder if her mother was for or against said seduction.

  The fact that Rand had shown up on her doorstep, with one of her mother’s favorite dishes in hand, indicated her mother might have come down on the side of for the seduction.

  “I know you’re home, trouble. Open the door,” he called.

  She whipped back the heavy wooden door to glare at him. “How? How did you know I was home?”

  A smile played about his lips, and he held up the baking dish. “Three guesses.”

  She snatched it from his grasp and stalked toward her kitchen. He followed at a more leisurely pace.

  “I like your house.”

  “Thanks. I only closed on it a few months ago.” How the hell could she maintain a surly attitude when he was being charming?

  “I noticed the foyer has a new coat of paint. The dark wood steps accent it beautifully.”

  Pleased he noticed her hard work, she leaned her elbows back against the counter. “Why, Randall Crandall, are you a frustrated interior designer?”

  He edged closer, and she straightened to her full height. The man could be intimidating when he chose. His eyes fell to her mouth, and of its own volition, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. He stared for a full ten seconds—Faith knew because she counted as she held her breath—then reached beyond her to lift the lid of her mother’s baking dish.

  His deep inhale brought his chest in contact with hers. Ohdeargod! She might very well pass out from lack of oxygen.

  “Mmm, the smell is delicious.”

  “So do you.”

  His lip twitched. “So do I, what?”

  “Smell delicious.”

  One thumb came up to caress her jaw, and his pale eyes trailed the line he traced.

  “You ran away last night.” He lifted heavy lids to lock onto her. “Why?”

  She nipped the pad of his thumb as he traced her full lower lip. “I’m pretty sure that was obvious.”

  His breath teased the fine hair against her neck as he nuzzled close to her ear. “You left me at the mercy of those three. Not a nice thing to do, trouble. I mean, what if I were to get you all hot and bothered then leave you to suffer?”

  Her hand came up to push him away. “Is that what you intend, Randall Crandall? To make me suffer?”

  “Hell, no!” He latched onto her wrist and dragged her hand the len
gth of his torso. With a press of her palm to his erection, he growled, “I couldn’t cause your suffering without bringing on my own.”

  Her fingers curled around the rigid outline. “What happened to your policy of not mixing business with pleasure?”

  “I’m pretty sure you destroyed any good intentions I had the moment you set foot in my office.”

  Need, hot and heavy, unfurled in her abdomen. “Good.” She stroked him. “But there is one thing I’m curious about?”

  “What’s that?”

  “During sex, when you’re working it and start yelling ‘Say my name!’ what am I supposed to call you?”

  He barked out a laugh and hauled her close. “I’m becoming partial to Randall Crandall,” he confessed.

  CHAPTER 9

  T hey collapsed in a laughing heap on the bed. Each tugged at the clothing of the other while their mouths connected again and again in long, drugging kisses. Faith made such a mess of his clothing, Rand was forced to drag her hands over her head and pin her wrists together with his large hand.

  “Don’t move.”

  “Oh, Randall Crandall, you do have a way with words,” she teased with a wicked grin and a wiggle of her hips.

  The friction against his throbbing dick had him groaning and pressing into her. Faith’s sharp inhale and follow-up gasp made him feel marginally better. He wasn’t alone in his desire.

  “God, you’re driving me crazy, Faith Fiore,” he ground out, dipping one hand beneath the lip of her jeans and underwear. He played with her for a full minute before he said, “Ever since I saw you that day in my office, your tight, little pencil skirt hugging your body like a second skin…” He heaved a ragged sigh. “Perfection.”

  She whimpered and tugged against his hold. “Please.”

  “Not unless you want this to last all of thirty seconds.”

  “Hurry, Rand. I want to feel you inside me.”

  Her words spurred him into standing and stripping. He was careful to drape his slacks and shirt on the chair back in order to prevent wrinkling, but he was at her side the instant he was naked. He sent a grateful glance skyward that she’d taken the time to unbutton her shirt and toss it.