Faithless Angel (18 page)

Not her. Not himself. Not this thing between them.

With a curse of surrender, he tilted his head, touched his lips to hers, and kissed her deeply.

The moment he dipped his tongue past her parted lips, what had started out as a slow exploration, a tentative sip of her sweetness, turned into a starving man devouring his last piece of bread. He deepened the pressure on her mouth, stroking her lips, her tongue, learning every secret. And still he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more.

He wanted her to come apart in his arms, wanted her soft moans echoing in his ears. He wanted … her. Now.

He backed her against the side of the building, leaned into her, and lifted the edge of her dress. His hands slid up, caressing the silky smoothness of her thighs while she grasped at his shoulders, clutched the muscles of his back, wanting what he wanted. More, perhaps.

No!
a part of him raged. There couldn’t be more. No tomorrows. No future.
No!

But the command was drowned out by the fierce pounding of blood through his veins. Desire fired his senses, giving rise to a painful excitement that sent an echoing throb clear to his temples.

She moaned into his mouth as his fingers found the wispy lace of her panties. He slid his hands inside to grasp her bare bottom.

“Open for me, Faith. Open …”

Her legs came around him and he lifted her, pulling her silk-covered heat against the straining denim of his crotch. He rubbed her the way he had that day in the rain, only harder this time. Up and down, until a breathless moan tore from her throat.

“… are they? I know they came out here.” Bradley’s voice barely penetrated the pounding in Jesse’s ears.

“… take that side, and I’ll check back there. The motorcycle’s still here, so they’re around somewhere.”

He heard the footsteps though he knew they were a good distance away. His senses were magnified with Faith in his arms, her heat so close and sparsely covered he could lose himself with nothing more than the opening of his zipper….

Jesse eased her down onto wobbly legs and let her skirt fall back around her knees just as Bradley rounded the corner.

“There you two are.” He squinted into the darkness. “Is everything all right?”

“I …” Faith touched a hand to her swollen lips, surprised and dazed and oddly disappointed all at the same time.

Jesse felt her confusion, the way her blood was racing, and the double thud of her heartbeat, so fast and furious.

“Faith needed a little air,” Jesse told Bradley. “And
I didn’t want her wandering around out here by herself.”

“Yes.” She managed to find her voice. “It—it was so hot inside.” She wiped a hand across her sweaty brow. “It’s not much better out here.”

“Then come on back inside.”

She shook her head. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll call it a night.” She turned to Jesse. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head and she smiled—a soft, secretive smile reserved for lovers—and it was all he could do to keep from busting out of his jeans.

Damn, it was only a smile.

Then again, his response was fueled by her emotions. It wasn’t his own desire and lust that sparked his reaction; it was hers. He felt it as his own, more intensely, in fact, and he was a slave to it.

“Take care then,” Bradley said to Faith. “And I’m glad you showed up.”

“So am I.” The words rang with a truth that seemed to startle her. “Tell Emily I’m glad that Ricky finally came around. And”—she swallowed—“tell her I’m sorry I ran out on her. For a second there, she just reminded me so much of …” Her words fell away and she shook her head. “Just tell her I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Bradley stood, hands on hips, and shook his head. “She understands, Faith. We all do. You’re not the only one who lost Jane.” Then he turned and disappeared around the corner.

“Jane touched a lot of people,” Jesse said after a few silent moments. “She must have been pretty special.”

“Yes,” Faith murmured. “It’s getting late.” She smoothed her skirt. “I really am tired.”

“You can talk about her, Faith.”

“This really isn’t the place.”

“There’s never a right place. Just say her name. Tell me something about her.”

She shook her head and moved past him. Her footsteps, like the angry pounding of a fist, shattered the dark silence that separated them. She rounded the building and headed for the parking lot.

He caught up with her a few steps later and jerked her around to face him. “You think if you push her out of your mind, try to bury your hurt, it’ll just disappear?” His grip on her arm tightened as he glared down at her, suddenly angry with her for being so damned stubborn. And even angrier with himself for caring one way or another. “It won’t. It’ll eat you up inside until you let it out, just like the anger. Remember that night outside the hospital? You let the anger go then, and it helped. Now let the hurt have its turn. Let it go.”

Eyes like hard chips of jade stared up at him. “Why don’t you stick to home repair and babysitting? You’re not much good as a shrink.” She yanked her arm from his grasp and whirled to keep walking.

“Dammit, Faith, I’m serious. You can’t keep your feelings bottled up inside. Let them out. Let Jane out. Stop trying to pretend she never existed.”

She came to a dead stop and jerked around and he knew he’d hit upon the truth. He saw it in her fighting stance, felt it in the fast, furious beat of her heart.

“She did,” he said, his voice tempered by the trembling of her bottom lip, such a slight motion—yet he saw it, felt it, responded to it. “She lived and breathed, and you loved her. You can’t forget that.”

Pain wracked her features, twisting her brow, tightening her mouth until she looked ready to
scream. Her eyes filled with tears and Jesse knew she was near the breaking point.

“Let it out, Faith. Say her name. Tell me about her.”

“I …” She shook her head, her expression hardened, and she blinked. “Take me home.” She turned and rushed through the parking lot. Gathering her skirt around her legs, she climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, a stony look on her face.

The urge to reach out, grab her shoulders, and shake some sense into her nearly overwhelmed him. He balled his fingers and straddled the bike, acutely aware of the rigid statue of a woman sitting behind him.

The ride home was short and silent. Jesse could feel the turmoil raging inside her, and he wanted with everything he had to help her, to reach out. The irony of it brought a bitter smile to his lips. He was a man who’d spent a lifetime bottling his own feelings, masking his emotions, so damned afraid that someone might see that he actually felt something, and use it against him, to enslave him the way his mother had before she’d died. Yet here he was, trying to help a woman overcome the very same problem—she was afraid to feel. To care. To love. To admit any of the above.

The entire situation was crazy. And doomed.

He pulled into her driveway, killed the engine, and sat there while she walked to the door, a few feet that might well have been a thousand miles.

Faith was too far gone, and no matter how he tried to bridge the gap between them, she simply moved farther away, erecting more obstacles until he didn’t stand a chance in hell of saving her. She was so distant, so emotionally guarded. And so damned stubborn.

Jesse admitted to himself for the first time that he might not be able to fulfill his mission. How could he deliver a hope-renewing miracle in a little less than a week when he couldn’t get close enough to her, emotionally close enough, to find out what she cherished the most?

He watched as she unlocked the door and disappeared into the shadows inside. He was about to start the engine when he heard her soft voice and realized she hadn’t closed the door.

“She liked teddy bears.”

His gaze pierced the darkness and met hers for a long second; then she was gone, disappearing inside.

She liked teddy bears

The phrase lulled him to sleep that night. And for the first time, there were no nightmares about death and past regrets, no urgent dreams of Faith and an uncertain future.

When Jesse Savage closed his eyes, he knew only peace.

“Get dressed,” Jesse told her the next afternoon when Faith opened the front door wearing sweats and a faded pink T-shirt. “We’re going out.”

She shook her head, walked back into the house, and settled Indian-style on the couch. “Not on your life. There’s a Mel Gibson marathon on cable tonight and I’m baking lasagna.” Jesse made a face and Faith smiled. “Megan still hasn’t made it back from the honeymoon, huh?”

He nodded. “How did you know?”

“Because the only thing that Bradley can cook is lasagna. Are the kids as sick of it as you are?”

“They’ve been pooling their allowances and smuggling
in hamburgers, and the neighbor’s dog is this close to bleeding tomato sauce.”

She laughed. “Then I won’t offer you any dinner.”

“Actually, I was going to offer you dinner. I know this place that has really great Tex-Mex.”

“What about my lasagna?”

“It’ll keep in the fridge.”

“And Mel?”

“He’ll keep on video.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “This Tex-Mex doesn’t happen to be served in the dining room at Faith’s House?”

He touched his hand to his heart in a dramatic gesture and widened his eyes innocently. “Would I resort to such a low trick?”

“Maybe.”

“Actually,” he said with a grin, “that’s not a bad idea. But tonight’s strictly on the up-and-up. Just you and me, some great food, and a little conversation.”

“About Jane?” she asked, surprised that the name didn’t stick in her throat as it had so many times in the past.

“If you want.” He stared deep into her eyes, the gold flecks in his gaze sparkling with compassion and something else.

The slow-burning hunger she’d glimpsed the night before when he’d kissed her and …

She didn’t want to think about the
and
. The kiss was enough food for thought. Enough to consume her thoughts.

“And if I don’t want to talk about her?”

“Then don’t. It doesn’t matter. I just thought it would do us both good to get away from everything for a while.”

More than his words, his gaze—that unspoken reminder
of last night, of things to come—drew her off the sofa.

She changed into a blouse and a gauzy skirt she’d bought last summer but hadn’t had the opportunity to wear. It was the sort of outfit that begged to be taken home, only to sit in the closet awaiting the perfect time and place that never presented itself. Too casual for a summer evening at the opera. Too dressy for a softball game.

It was perfect for eating Tex-Mex with a sinfully handsome man.

The material, a shimmering jade, caressed her skin with every movement as she moved about the bedroom brushing her hair and spritzing perfume. Back and forth, side to side in a sensual glide of fabric that coaxed her nerves to life and made her acutely aware of her femininity. Sexy.

Yes, perfect for an evening with Jesse.

He was waiting for her when she walked out of the bedroom a good twenty minutes later. He raked her with an approving gaze and she smiled. Then she hurried to check on Grubby before accompanying Jesse out to his motorcycle.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she gathered her skirt and climbed behind him.

“Flaco’s. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall place a good half-hour outside the city limits. Not much to look at, but they serve the best mesquite-grilled fajitas in Texas.” He gunned the engine and the roar ended any further talk.

Seconds later they were speeding north on Highway 59. They left the city, the Houston skyline quickly fading behind them. The traffic thinned, dusk fell, and the occasional fast-food joint and gas station soon gave way to farmhouses and green stretches of pasture. They drove on until a blanket
of velvet darkness spread above them, and it seemed the endless highway stretched clear to heaven.

“This place is way out of the way,” she shouted against the streaming wind.

“What?”

“I said, this place is pretty far out. How much farther?” As she said the words, the bike started to slow. Faith saw a narrow dirt road a second before Jesse turned. Gravel spewed as they headed down the narrow stretch, to what looked like an old farmhouse. But it was more than a farmhouse, Faith quickly discovered as they drew closer. Multicolored Christmas lights draped the outside, illuminating a parking lot full of cars.

Jesse swerved into an available parking spot and killed the engine. Lively mariachi music carried through the open windows, along with laughter and a steady stream of voices.

“Welcome.” A Hispanic woman beamed at them when they walked through the doorway. At Jesse’s request, she led them through a crowded dining room, out onto a secluded patio that housed a table for two. A fat red candle occupied the center of the fuchsia-draped table, the flame flickering with each whisper of wind.

“So tell me about yourself,” Faith said once the waitress had disappeared with their orders. She stared across the table at Jesse, into his dark eyes. “You wanted to talk tonight, so talk.”

“I wasn’t thinking about myself.”

“You’ve picked my brain enough. Now it’s my turn.” She glanced around, her gaze touching on the garish papier-mâché parrots hanging from the wooden beams that crisscrossed overhead. Plants sat atop the frame. Vines draped down, forming a green umbrella above them. Baskets of fuchsia flowers
and empty tequila bottles sat here and there atop the waist-high ivy-covered wall that bordered the patio. “How did you find this place?”

“When my brother and sister and I were on our way from Restoration, we stopped here.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A little over a year.”

“Have you eaten here since?”

He shook his head. “I never really had the time.”

“Busy working?”

He nodded and sipped at the bottle of Corona the waitress had placed in front of him. “I told myself I would get back out here soon, but you know how that goes. Always a day late and a dollar short.”