The Sweetest Thing

by Barbara Freethy

  "Good morning to you, Miss Faith. You're looking lovely."

  "And you are quite the charmer. What can I get for you?"

  "I'd like one of those cinnamon rolls and a latte, please."

  "Coming right up."

  "I wanted to apologize -- for my grandson's boorish behavior yesterday. He doesn't do well in the wind."

  So they were back to the wind. Faith didn't want to pursue that line of conversation, not after a sleepless night listening to the windows rattle. She'd kept hearing Julian's deep voice telling her that evil came with the wind. She'd finally pulled the blanket over her head.

  "Alex had no right to speak to you the way he did," Julian continued. "I'm afraid I irritate him. He wasn't angry with you but with me."

  "Please don't give it another thought. I haven't."

  "You're very kind."

  She was also a liar. Even with the covers pulled up over her head, she'd thought about the Carrigan men, especially Alex. Every time she'd tried to concentrate on Ben's earnest face, Alex's rough features had filled her mind. She was apparently a sucker for a five-o'clock shadow, a great body, and blue, blue eyes.

  When Faith handed Julian his latte, his own blue eyes sparkled as if he knew a secret -- or he'd read her mind. Faith cleared her throat and smoothed her apron over her hips. "That will be three dollars and twenty-seven cents."

  "A bargain at any price." Julian handed her a five, and she made change for him while he found a seat at one of the small tables. Instead of making him come back for his change, she walked around the counter and over to his table. "Here you go."

  "Thank you. Do you have a moment, Miss Faith?" Julian looked at the two other people sitting in the bakery. One was reading the newspaper and the other was engaged in a book.

  "Sure. What's up?"

  Julian urged her to sit down. "I wanted to show you something." He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a photo. He stared at it with a yearning smile that filled his eyes with sadness. After a moment, he handed it to her as if he were turning over a cherished treasure.

  Faith took the photo with a sense of reluctance. She had the feeling that she was being sucked into quicksand, and no one would be able to pull her out.

  "Please look at it."

  Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

  Faith took a deep breath and looked at the picture. It was a black-and-white photo of a young girl with long hair that hung past her breasts. Her light-colored eyes were wide and filled with beautiful innocence. A small smile touched her lips, a hint of a dimple appeared at her chin, as if she wanted to really smile, but was holding back. She wore a simple light-colored clinging knit T-shirt with a V neck. Around her neck hung an old-fashioned cameo locket.

  "She's very beautiful," Faith said, turning her gaze to Julian. "One of your wives?"

  "No." He paused, his lips suddenly trembling. "The one I should have married. The only one." He put a shaky hand to his mouth and struggled for composure.

  Faith couldn't help reaching out to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and touched him with the reassurance of an old friend. "Are you all right?"

  After a moment, he nodded. "That picture was taken the day before Suzannah left. She told me she loved me."

  Julian took the photo from Faith's hand and stared at it. "This was the last time I saw her look so innocent, so untouched by sadness. I hurt her."

  "You were young, foolish."

  "Selfish," he corrected. "I took something that wasn't mine. What happened next was retribution."

  "We all make mistakes, Mr. Carrigan."

  "I must fix this mistake, Miss Faith." His eyes filled with determination. He threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin. "I must do this for my family."

  "I think it's admirable that you want to fix things for your family, but do you think you can?"

  "With your help."

  "Oh, no." She shook her head. "I couldn't. I wouldn't know how. You need a private investigator or someone like that."

  "I need a friend." He captured her gaze with his lonely blue eyes. "For a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature."

  His simple statement touched her heart. "That's lovely."

  "Ralph Waldo Emerson said the words, but the sentiment is mine."

  Faith knew that she could not resist his plea. The man was all alone, or at least alone with an unfeeling grandson. She knew what it felt like to be lost in a sea of people who really didn't give a damn. "I'll help you," she said.

  Julian smiled with relief. "You won't be sorry."

  "I also may not be much help." Faith stood up and walked over to the counter. She pulled a piece of paper off her notepad and grabbed a pencil. "Why don't we start with Suzannah's full name and what you know about her?"

  "Good idea."

  Faith set the paper and pencil down on the table, then looked up as the door blew open and another windblown Carrigan walked into the bakery.

  "You should have brought me with you," Jessie declared, tucking her wild hair behind her ear. "Alex wanted me to eat oatmeal and a grapefruit."

  "That sounds like a healthy breakfast," Faith offered.

  Jessie made a face. "It's disgusting. Can I have a chocolate éclair?"

  "Do you think your -- your father would mind?" Faith still wasn't quite sure of their relationship.

  "No." Jessie tipped her head toward Julian. "You can put it on his tab."

  Julian laughed. "I'm not running a tab."

  "Well, you'll pay, won't you?"

  "Why should I?"

  "You're my great-grandpa." Jessie suddenly smiled, and the movement transformed her defiant face into a much prettier picture. "And you know how much better this food is than what Alex has at home. Besides, since my mom died, I haven't had anyone to really cook for me, and, well, this place kind of smells like home, you know." Jessie turned to Faith. "You even remind me of my mom. She had red hair just like you do, and the softest eyes and--"

  Julian's big booming laugh startled not only Faith and Jessie, but also the other customers, who quickly gathered up their things and left.

  "After that speech, you must be my great-grandchild," Julian declared.

  Faith looked from Jessie to Julian, slowly catching on that she was being conned. "I don't look like her mother, do I?"

  "I have no idea, but I find it doubtful. And I happen to know she's been living on the streets off and on for the past six months, so I doubt this bakery smells much like home."

  "Thanks for blowing my cover." Jessie dropped into the chair next to Julian and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I thought you were cool."

  "You overplayed the scene, my dear. The smells of home, yes, but the reference to your mother, too much."

  Faith didn't follow much of their conversation, but one part lingered in her head. Jessie had been living on the streets. Why? Where was her mother?

  "Jessie? That's your name, right?" Faith asked.

  Jessie nodded.

  "I'll give you an apple-cinnamon pastry for some straight answers."

  "Like what?"

  "Where is your mother?''

  Jessie licked her lips, her face once again taking on a haunted, waifish look. "She died two weeks ago."

  Faith stared at her in dismay. Was she being conned yet again? Or was that real pain in the child's eyes? Of course, it would explain why she'd suddenly come to live with Alex. "I'm sorry."

  "Can I have my pastry now?"

  "Sure. How about some milk to go with it?"

  "Okay."

  Before Faith could get the pastry, the door opened once again. She hadn't had this much traffic on a Saturday morning in weeks. Of course, it was yet another Carrigan. She was beginning to wonder how many of them there were. Alex didn't look any happier this morning than he had the night before, although he was dressed more casually in a pair of beige slacks and a rugby shirt that made those damn butterflies flutter in her stomach.

  She hastily turned
away and busied herself behind the counter.

  "So here you both are," Alex said with annoyance. "I made breakfast at home, you know."

  "You call that breakfast?" Jessie asked.

  "Yes, I do. I made you a very nutritious meal."

  "Boring," Jessie proclaimed. "This is much better," she added as Faith set the promised pastry down in front of her.

  "I hope this is all right," Faith said.

  "I appear to be outvoted."

  Faith walked past him to clear some empty dishes from a nearby table, and he caught a whiff of her perfume, which smelled exactly like sugar and spice and everything nice, he thought whimsically. The sleeves of her knit dress were pushed up over her forearms and the dress clung to her breasts beneath the white apron. There was a smudge of flour on her face, but the rest of her skin was pure peaches and cream. He'd never met a woman who reminded him so much of food. But not just any food, comfort foods, warm, lush, spicy, sweet, heavenly... Damn, she was attractive, soft and womanly and curved in all the right places.

  He cleared his throat and looked over at the display of pastries. Maybe he was just hungry. That had to explain the yawning ache in his gut. He'd gotten up early and run two miles before showering. He just needed something more substantial than a grapefruit to take his mind off -- off of Faith.

  "Do you want something, Mr. Carrigan?" Faith asked as she returned to her post behind the counter.

  Did he want something? He had a feeling her beautiful green eyes would glaze over with shock if he told her exactly what he wanted. He returned his gaze to the pastry trays. "Let's see. I'll have one of those," he said, pointing to pastry filled with cinnamon-covered apples. "And a cup of coffee, black, no cream."

  "Are you sure you wouldn't like a little sugar?" she asked with a glint in her eye.

  "Why? Do you think I need to sweeten up?"

  "Just asking."

  "Black is fine."

  "I imagine it is."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "You just seem like a man for which everything is black or white, no messy shades of gray, not even in your coffee."

  "Now, why do I get the feeling I'm being insulted?"

  Faith shrugged, her smile a mix of innocence and mischief, but then everything about her seemed to be a contradiction, from her sharp words to her soft body. She had a wickedly sexy body and an angel face. Alex had a feeling he was in big trouble.

  "It was just an observation," Faith said.

  "Do you usually analyze people who buy pastry from you?"

  "Only the interesting ones."

  "So I'm interesting now?"

  "In a traffic-accident sort of way."

  Alex couldn't help a small grin at that reply. She was certainly direct. "Thanks, I think."

  Faith set his order on a tray, and he handed her a twenty-dollar bill.

  "Are you paying for your daughter as well?" Faith asked.

  Alex sighed. "Are you going to believe me if I tell you she's not my daughter?"

  Faith sent him a steady look. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Because I'm sure you've heard a different story from them." He tipped his head toward Julian and Jessie, who were suddenly concentrating on their food.

  "I've heard a lot of different stories from the three of you. I have to admit, you're certainly a colorful family."

  "That's one word for it. I suppose you come from your basic middle-class, white bread, two parents, two kids, and a white picket fence family. No liars, no theater players, no long-lost children appearing on the doorstep--" Alex stopped abruptly as her face paled and her eyes lost their shine. "What did I say?"

  "Nothing." Faith squared her shoulders. "You're absolutely right about me. In fact, you're a very astute man, perceptive beyond belief. If you'll excuse me, I have to take something out of the oven."

  As Faith hurried into the back room, Alex turned to his grandfather. "What did I say?"

  Julian shrugged. "You're always so smug."

  Alex set his food down on the table and sat in the chair across from his grandfather. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, wishing Faith would come back. He no longer felt hungry but guilty, as if he'd kicked a small kitten. Damn. What the hell was the matter with him these days? He usually got along great with people.

  Alex stood up. "I'll be right back," he said decisively. He ignored the Employees Only sign and walked around the counter and into the kitchen.

  Faith wasn't taking anything out of the oven. She was leaning against a large marble table in the middle of the room, her arms hugging her waist, her head bowed. He wished he could see her face, but her hair hid her expression from his eyes.

  He hesitated, wondering if it wouldn't be better just to leave her alone. But he couldn't seem to turn around, to walk away, to forget the haunted expression in her eyes. "Faith?"

  Her head jerked up. Streaks of tears ran down her cheeks, which she rushed to wipe away.

  "What? Do you need something? I'll get it right away. I just burned myself on the stove, and I needed a minute to pull myself together."

  Faith moved to get past him, but Alex grabbed her by the hand. The touch of her fingers sent an electrical shock through him. If they'd been standing on carpet instead of a cement floor, he would have discounted the sudden connection as nothing more than a carpet spark. But this was different. This was -- too much. He dropped her hand, but the energy still crackled and sizzled in the empty space between them.

  "I--"

  "I--"

  They both started and stopped at the same time. "I'm sorry," Alex said. "I know I said something to upset you, although I'm not sure what."

  "It was nothing."

  "It must have been something."

  Faith's eyes glittered with unshed tears that once again contradicted the smile on her lips. "Just me being overly sensitive. Please forget it. I should get back to work."

  "Not before you tell me you accept my apology."

  "You don't owe me one, Mr. Carrigan."

  "I said something about your family--"

  "I don't have a family."

  Her words were stark and filled with an emptiness that went beyond anything he'd ever felt.

  "I'm sorry again." The words sounded inadequate in the face of such bleakness.

  Faith threw her head back and he could see the fight return to her eyes. "Why are you sorry? You didn't leave me."

  "But someone did."

  "Everyone did."

  He didn't know what to say. He barely knew her, yet they'd suddenly become intimate. She'd shared something personal, and he'd never encouraged that type of sharing with a woman, especially one he'd never had in bed.

  "Please, don't say you're sorry again. I don't even know why I told you that." Faith shook her head, as if she also felt bewildered by the sudden confidence.

  He felt better, safer now, sure she wouldn't reveal anything else that would make him want to hold her, comfort her, do something to take the sadness out of her eyes. He suddenly realized his fingers were clenched into fists. He'd been wanting to touch her since he'd walked into the room. Thank God he'd resisted.

  Faith tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think we better check on your grandfather."

  Alex hesitated. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I'm not usually so..." He tried to think of the right words to describe his behavior.

  "Obnoxious, arrogant, judgmental," Faith offered helpfully.

  "We did get off on the wrong foot." He offered her an apologetic smile. "I'm really not that bad. It's just that my grandfather came out of nowhere along with Jessie, and, well, my life is a little stressed right now. I don't usually yell at strangers."

  "Just at your family."

  "They tend to bring out that side of me."

  "Look, Mr. Carrigan, you don't owe me any explanations, and I should really get back to work. Excuse me."

  * * *

  Alex stared after her, noting the proud posture. One moment she'd seemed vulnerable, t
he next invincible. He wondered which was her usual attitude, not that it mattered. The last thing he needed was another complication in his already complicated life. And a woman, especially this woman, would be a definite complication.

  Julian sent Alex a quizzical look when he returned to the front of the bakery.

  "Everything all right?" he asked.

  "Fine," Alex replied, noting that Faith was already busy with a customer. He finished his pastry in a couple of quick bites and wiped the back of his mouth with a napkin. "I have to go to the office."

  Julian raised an eyebrow. "On Saturday?"

  "That's right, Grandfather. Most athletes work Saturdays and Sundays."

  "But you're not an athlete, you're a shoe salesman," Julian pointed out, somehow making it sound as if Alex worked at the local mall for eight dollars an hour.

  "Elijah James has promised me fifteen minutes before practice today at the Coliseum. With any luck, this will be my chance to sign him to a long-term contract. With his endorsement, Top Flight will be on its way."

  "Can I come?" Jessie asked.

  "No, I'll be working."

  "But Elijah James is cool. Please let me come."

  "Sorry, Jessie, but I don't have time for distractions today."

  Jessie sat back in her chair, her shoulders slumping with rejection. "You can't leave me alone on our first day together. You're supposed to be taking care of me."

  Alex frowned at the wistful note in her voice. "You can stay with Grandfather. I'll only be gone an hour or two."

  Julian immediately shook his head. "She can't stay with me. Miss Faith and I are--" He stopped, glancing at Faith, who was handing a bag to a customer.

  "Are what?" Alex demanded, looking from Julian's guilty face to Faith's guilty face.

  "Nothing," Julian said. "Nothing at all."

  "You don't really believe in curses and black magic, do you?" he asked Faith.

  "I don't think I said I did." She walked around the counter to collect their dishes from the table.

  Alex put a hand on her arm. "Then why are you encouraging him?"

  "Is that what I'm doing?" She pulled her arm free.

  "Yes, that's what you're doing. He's a sick man. He doesn't need the stress."