"Does he have other children?"
"No. Maybe that's good. He might be dying for a kid to love. This could be great for both him and Jess. He's married, too. Jessie will have a mother and a father."
She heard the bleak tone in his voice and wondered why Alex didn't sound excited, exuberant, on top of the world. This was exactly what he wanted. Now he could send Jessie off in good conscience and go back to his bachelor ways.
"So why haven't you called him?" she asked.
"I'm not sure what to say."
"How about -- you have a daughter who needs you?"
"That might give him a heart attack."
"Not all men are afraid to be fathers." Like you, she added silently.
"This is the best thing for Jess, to be with her real father."
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"
"You, of course."
"There's one thing I don't get, Alex. Why didn't Melanie just leave Jessie to this guy -- to the real father? Why pick you? Something doesn't add up. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you really were the one all those years ago?"
Alex didn't say anything for a long moment. She could only hear his breathing, his ragged, worried breathing. Maybe she shouldn't have voiced that question, but it had been nagging at her since she'd first heard the story of Melanie's betrayal.
"Why would Melanie have lied? I was willing to take care of her and Jessie."
"Maybe Eddie had something she wanted. Jessie said Melanie was always chasing after dreams. Maybe Eddie was a dream, for a while anyway."
"That doesn't make sense. He's the father. He's the one. I can't think about it being any other way."
"You mean you don't want to consider that it could be any other way."
"I'm going to call him, Faith. I'm going to tell him to come home and take care of Jessie."
"Then why are you calling me?"
"I don't know. I guess I wanted to talk to someone who understood the situation."
"Well, I don't understand. Jessie loves you."
He drew in his breath sharply. "I don't want her to love me. I don't want anyone to love me."
"Yeah, well, sometimes you don't get exactly what you want. Jessie was in here a few minutes ago telling me how much she was looking forward to spending the evening with you, to riding the cable cars and having dinner. If you're going to break her heart, can't you at least wait until tomorrow, or better yet, until after Easter?"
"I don't think waiting will make it any easier, but maybe you're right. Maybe I should just wait until Eddie comes back from Hawaii."
"When will that be?"
"A few days."
A little more time to convince Alex that he should fight for Jessie. "You should wait. It's only a few days."
"I guess I could do that." Alex sounded more relieved than annoyed. Maybe that was why he'd called her. He'd known she would try to talk him out of it.
The oven timer went off, reminding her of her other responsibilities. "I have to go, Alex."
"Sure. Thanks, Faith."
"For what?"
"For not calling me a son of a bitch even though you were thinking it."
Faith smiled. Alex had a way of cutting through all the bullshit that was rather endearing.
"I don't think you're as bad as you'd like to be. No matter how much you pretend you don't care, you do."
"It's a character flaw. I'm working on it."
"Good-bye, Alex." Faith gave a little laugh as she hung up the phone. It was impossible to dislike Alex. Every time she had him written off as a coldhearted bastard, he said something so honest she couldn't help but admire him.
Or maybe that was simply her character flaw, seeing good in people where none existed.
* * *
The rest of Friday and most of Saturday passed in a blur for Faith, with lots of customers, lots of pickups, and lots of baking. By ten o'clock Saturday night, Faith was ready for Easter to be over, but she had one last thing to do before she could call it a holiday. So she locked up the bakery and walked down the street to Alex's apartment. He buzzed her in and met her at the door with a curious but welcome smile.
"Are you all right, Faith? It's late."
"I know. I'm sorry. Were you in bed?" As soon as Faith said the words, she wished she could take them back, for they reminded her of the time they'd been in bed -- together.
He must have read her train of thought, for his blue eyes took on a familiar shine of desire. "No, I wasn't in bed, but I could be persuaded to go there, especially if someone was going with me." He made a face. "Bad line?"
"Bad line," she agreed, stepping into the apartment.
"You look tired. Jess said you've been baking like a maniac."
Faith tucked her hair behind her ear. "Business was good this year. A little too good."
Alex turned her around so he could massage her neck muscles. "You need to relax."
"Mm-mm, that feels nice." She leaned back against him. He felt so warm and solid and comfortable, she could almost fall asleep. Then his lips planted a wet kiss on the side of her neck and she shivered. She didn't think Alex was as interested in sleep as she was. "That's enough." She eased herself away from his soothing hands.
"Are you sure?"
"I didn't come here to neck."
"But you have such a lovely neck."
She rolled her eyes. "You're on a roll tonight, Alex. Where's Jess?"
"Asleep -- if you can believe it. I took her for a bike ride down by the Marina this afternoon. I don't think she's had much exercise in a while."
"That must have been fun."
"We had a good time." He shrugged off her silent question. "No, I didn't say anything."
"I'm glad."
"So what's up with you?"
Faith reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a brown paper bag. "Candy."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "For me?"
"No. For believers in the Easter Bunny."
"The Easter Bunny is coming to my apartment?"
Faith laughed. "He's already here. Start hiding the candy, Alex."
"Hide the candy where?" he asked in bewilderment.
"Everywhere, under the couch, behind the vase, all the little nooks and crannies."
"But why?"
"So Jessie can get up in the morning and find it." She returned to the front door, opened it, and brought in a larger paper bag. "I wanted to make sure she was asleep before I showed you this." She opened the bag and pulled out an Easter basket. "I want you to sneak in and put this at the foot of Jessie's bed."
"Oh, Faith." Alex shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't believe you."
"What's wrong?"
He looked deep into her eyes. "You are incredible. You did all this for Jess?"
"Not just for Jess. Sometimes we all need an Easter Bunny in our lives. You know?"
"I didn't know -- until now."
"Well, let's get busy."
"Faith? Would you like to spend Easter with us?"
She hesitated, wishing she could say yes. But she couldn't. "I'm sorry, but I already said I'd go to the Porters' for brunch."
"Right. Well, why not?" His eyes grew guarded once again. "I'm sure they really know how to celebrate Easter. You'll have more fun. I'm glad you're going there. It's the right place for you."
"When you're done convincing yourself, do you think you could convince me?" Faith asked. "Because the Porters' house, believe it or not, is the last place I want to be tomorrow."
"What about tonight? Where would you like to be tonight?"
"Right here. But we can't. Jessie and Julian -- it wouldn't be right."
Alex took her hand. "I don't want you to go yet, Faith. Stay for a while. Help me hide the candy."
"Well..." Faith wavered, but once she looked into his blue, blue eyes, she was sunk. "All right. I'll stay, but just for a few minutes."
Chapter Twenty-One
After they scattered candy and colored eggs around t
he living room and stashed the Easter basket at the foot of Jessie's bed, Alex made Faith some hot chocolate with marshmallows. It wasn't a drink she would have associated with this sophisticated man, but Alex seemed just as eager as she was to watch the marshmallows melt into the dark chocolate.
Faith told herself she would leave as soon as she finished her drink, but half an hour later she found herself cuddled up with Alex on a corner of his couch with music playing softly in the background.
She made a halfhearted attempted to sit up, but Alex pushed her back down. "Don't go."
"It's almost midnight."
He stroked her hair. "I'll follow you home when you leave. I don't want you to drive across town this late by yourself."
"I'm a big girl. I can handle it."
"I know you can. But I'd worry."
She sat up so she could look into his eyes. "You'd worry about me? Does that mean you're getting involved?"
The corners of his mouth curved into a small smile. "You know I'm involved," he said with a husky catch in his voice.
"Well, that's a step forward."
"Faith, I--"
"No, don't. Not tonight." She didn't want to argue, didn't want to consider all the reasons why they shouldn't be together. "Let's just talk about something else." Faith settled back down on his chest, reassured by the steady beat of his heart. If she couldn't have him forever, at least she could have him for a little while. And here in his arms, she felt protected, cherished -- even if it was only in her mind.
"I don't want to hurt you, Faith." His fingers ran gently through her hair. "You've been hurt too much already."
"So don't say anything else right now. Let's just sit here and be together. Tomorrow will take care of itself."
He propped his feet up on the coffee table and pulled her more firmly into his arms. "Sounds good to me."
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Faith spoke. "Tell me about the shoes, Alex."
"What do you mean?" Alex stiffened at her question, not sure he wanted to pursue this conversation either.
"How did you get into the athletic shoe business?"
When he didn't answer right away, she lifted her head, and in her eyes he found the trust, the security, he'd spent a lifetime seeking.
"It's a long story," he said.
"I'm still listening."
"You'll be sorry you asked."
"Tell me anyway."
She turned her body to face him, not even giving him a chance to tell the story to the top of her head where he would have felt more comfortable. No, she wanted to look right at him, to see into his mind -- into his soul.
"Come on, Alex. I didn't think it was that hard of a question."
"Well, the shoe business developed out of my childhood."
"You had a lust for athletic shoes as a child?"
"Yes. You see, I wasn't always this good-looking."
She smiled. "Really? I'm disappointed. I thought you were born with these biceps." She pressed her hand against his upper arm.
"No, I had to work for those. I was ugly as sin, especially my feet." Why had he told her that? Why hadn't he just made up some story about wanting to sell shoes because he thought he could make a lot of money? That was what he told most people. But Faith wasn't most people, and she wouldn't believe him anyway. For some reason, she seemed to see qualities in him that he didn't even know were there.
"Go on," she urged, her eyes a gentle, curious green.
"I was born with feet that turned inward. Pigeon toes, they used to call them." He deliberately kept any trace of emotion out of his voice, which wasn't hard to do, since he'd practiced that technique most of his life. "I had to wear heavy, orthopedic shoes until I was fourteen years old. Believe me, they were not the coolest shoes in town." He could still remember the kids calling him Big Foot, making him feel like the monster by the same name.
Faith put her hands on his shoulders, sending reassuring warmth through his body. "I'm sorry. That must have been difficult."
"I was the class klutz. I couldn't run in the shoes. I used to trip over everything. We had those desks where the seats would pull up. Once I was jumping over one of the desks and I got my foot stuck in the seat. It took the janitor an hour to free me." He could still remember the embarrassment, the shame. How he'd longed to be like everyone else, strong, agile, normal. He closed his eyes, struggling against the memories that threatened to swamp him with feelings he no longer wanted to feel.
He felt Faith touch his face, and he opened his eyes to see her concern, her understanding.
"It's tough being an outsider," she said. "But as one of my foster moms used to say, 'That which does not kill us makes us stronger.' I used to think I had to be the strongest person on the planet."
"Maybe you are."
"Maybe you are."
Alex shook his head. "I didn't get through my childhood all that gracefully. I complained, argued, whined about being picked last for every team. I used to beg my dad to let me wear tennis shoes to school, but he always said no. He never understood how hard it was to be different. Did I mention I was pretty good at self-pity?"
She simply smiled at him.
"Well, it's true. Anyway, I began to covet shoes. I'd cut out pictures in magazines and put them up on my walls. I told myself that as soon as I could stop wearing the orthopedic shoes, I would get the best pair of athletic shoes known to man, and they would change my life. I'd be able to run fast or at least outrun the bullies. I'd be able to play baseball. I'd be able to shoot baskets, and not just free throws, but layups and jump shots. I would be the most popular kid in school. I had big dreams."
He glanced over at her with a rueful smile. "Too big. I did finally get into a pair of tennis shoes, but the other kids were so much further along than me. They could already do all the things I'd dreamed about. I was still the worst athlete in my class. It took forever for me to catch up. I used to practice free throws in my driveway every night until the moon came up. I figured if I could do that one thing -- just that one thing -- it would help. Eventually I made the basketball team, and dreamed of hitting the free throw at the buzzer to win the game."
"Did it happen?"
"No. I never even got up to the line. The coach didn't have confidence in me."
"Stupid man."
"Thanks." He put his hand on her leg and squeezed it. "When I got out of school, I went to work for Nike. I figured at least I could get a discount on the shoes. Eventually I wanted more. I wanted to be in control, to call the shots, to design the shoes. So after several years of learning everything I could about the business, I took a risk and opened Top Flight. The rest is history." He didn't feel like mentioning the early years of poverty and bad business decisions. She didn't have to know he wasn't the overnight success he appeared to be.
"You should be proud of yourself. You had a dream and you accomplished it. I'm impressed."
"Why doesn't it feel like enough?" he murmured, wondering why he'd said the words aloud when he saw the answer in her face.
"You know why."
"Family."
"Family," she confirmed. "Sometimes I have a really great day at the bakery, and I want to run home and share my success with someone, only there's no one there. I'm sure you must feel the same way at times."
"Yeah, but I get over it."
Faith smiled at him and leaned forward, nestling her face in the crook of his neck. He rested his head on top of hers, content to hold her. Or at least he told himself he should be content, especially with his grandfather and Jessie sleeping just down the hall.
They sat quietly for so long Alex thought Faith might have fallen asleep, until she suddenly lifted her head and said, "You wore socks the other night."
"Did I?" he asked warily. "I wear socks just about every night."
"When we made love, you didn't take your socks off."
Her green eyes had gone from gentle to determined, and he had a feeling he was in big trouble. "As I recall, we were in
a hurry."
"You have a thing about your feet, don't you?"
"No. Don't be silly." He tried to laugh off her comment, but she didn't buy it.
"You do."
Faith slid off the couch and onto the floor before he could stop her. She knelt in front of him and slowly began to untie the laces on his tennis shoes.
"Don't," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "This is ridiculous."
"You have to trust me, Alex."
"I do trust you."
"Enough to show me your feet?"
"I'm not a monster. I don't have six toes."
"Then what are you afraid of?''
"I just don't think my feet are that attractive. Don't tell me you have a foot fetish?" He tried to make a joke of it. "Because there are other parts of my body that would certainly appreciate your attention."
"Let's start with your feet." She slipped one shoe off and went to work on the other one.
Alex stiffened. It was true, he didn't make a habit of showing off his feet, not that he really made a point of hiding them. Most women didn't care about his feet. Most women didn't want to know that much about him, he realized suddenly. Just as he picked women he could keep at a distance, those women usually kept him at a distance. But not Faith, no, she wanted to own him heart, body, and soul.
"Faith, stop. It's late and you should go home."
"You saw all of me, Alex. I think it's only fair I see all of you." She paused. "If you'll let me. If you'll trust me.
"Oh, hell, go ahead, take off my sock." He stuck out one foot and wished she'd hurry up so he could get this over with. But Faith pulled off the sock with excruciating slowness as if she were performing a strip tease, and when the sock disappeared onto the floor and she pulled his foot into her lap, he felt a rush of desire that had no place in a moment such as this. She was trying to prove a point, not turn him on; unfortunately her fingers playing with his toes reminded him of her fingers on another part of his body, which immediately hardened into a painful knot of desire.
He wanted to tell her to stop. He wanted to tell her to keep touching him. In the end he didn't say anything, he just watched in fascination as she bent her head and touched the tip of his big toe with her mouth. Her pink tongue came out and trailed a circle of erotic wetness around his toe that almost sent him off the couch.
The Sweetest Thing Page 24
