Jamie (19 page)

Shrugging, Jamie reached for the radio dial. “I have no idea.” He tuned in to a popular station, and then spent the rest of the ride back to Visitation tapping his fingers in time to the music—and wondering if, just maybe, Joe had a valid point.

Not that he'd put off sex with Faith. He couldn't do that. Anticipation already hummed inside him. He would be alert to any deceptions—even though he expected none. He would keep his head, no matter what.

And he'd be in control—of Faith and everything she did, everything he did to her. Afterward, he'd have an answer on whether or not getting close to someone impeded his ability.

It was well after six by the time Jamie made it up the mountain, his arms laden with bags, his body damp with sweat. Even before he reached the cabin, he knew Faith dozed on the couch. Still exhausted, and probably bored out of her mind, she'd given in to healing sleep. Seclusion suited Jamie; he'd learned to embrace it. But he doubted it would appeal to many other people, especially a chatterbox like Faith.

Leaving the bags on the porch and opening the door without a single squeak, Jamie crept into his cabin—and inhaled a fragrant steam. He hadn't expected that. A cold, empty, silent cabin—that's what he usually got.

He glanced at the stovetop and realized that the delicious scents permeating the air came from simmering soup. He stared at the big cast-iron pot, bemused.

Faith had made him soup.

It was such a dumb, simple thing. Just soup, and he'd provided all the ingredients. She'd only put them together. But no matter what argument Jamie gave himself, another piece of ice melted away from his heart.

He turned from the stove, and made note of the kitchen table, not with one chair, as usual, but now with two. Faith had apparently rummaged around outside, and she'd dragged in the chair from his porch. For as long as she visited, there'd be two at his table.

A lump formed in Jamie's throat, nearly strangling him. Instead of staring at the table, thinking on what the two chairs symbolized, he looked at Faith.

On her back with her face turned away from him, she lay on his small sofa. Her head rested on the padded arm and her legs bent slightly to the side. She now wore an old gray thermal shirt that he'd altered by shearing off the long sleeves, paired with baggy navy blue sweatpants. The pants hung low on her hips, and the shirt bunched around her ribs. He could see her belly button, the plump curves of her breasts, and her small bare feet. Her hair spread out around her, over her shoulder, off the end of the couch.

Jamie crept closer, taking in the sight of her and appreciating the way she made him feel. When he stood close enough that he could hear her breathing, he considered waking her, but changed his mind. She might yet suffer a fever, and after everything she'd been through, she needed the rest.

Forcing himself away from her, Jamie climbed the ladder to his loft and retrieved clean shorts and jeans, then went outside to the creek, where he washed. The cool water helped to calm his lust. But some other, harder-to-define emotion had taken root and dug in deep.

He concentrated on the lust because at least he understood it. It was a feeling he could embrace, one he could accept and act on. The other feelings ... Joe's warning came back to him, and as Jamie left the rushing creek to dry off, he planned what he'd do, all the ways that he'd touch and taste Faith, how he'd sate himself with her.

Let her sleep for now—with what he planned, she'd need all the rest she could get.

 

 

Faith stirred awake slowly, then groaned as she realized she'd done it again—fallen soundly asleep. Curse the lingering lethargy from exhaustion and stress and illness. She felt mostly fine now, except that she could fall asleep at almost any time. In the normal course of her life, she never napped and had boundless energy. Which worked out well since Cory wasn't a child who did well with idle time, either physical or mental.

At least this time she was on the couch, not tucked up in bed for the night. She opened her eyes and started to sit up.

Near her feet on the couch, a large, hot male body moved, almost stopping her heart.

Good God. There was a
man
in the cabin with her? She stared at an unfamiliar profile—and screamed.

Chapter Ten

“What?”
On his feet in an instant, his legs braced wide, his hands out at his sides in a combat stance, the man darted his gaze left, right, up, and down.

When no threat presented itself, he speared Faith with a querulous glare. “Damn woman.”

Oh, those eyes. Faith's mouth dropped open while she did a quick once-over from his head to his toes. It ... it couldn't be. But it was.
“Jamie?”

He cocked a brow and waited.

“Oh my God, what have you done?” The words were little more than an awestruck squeak. Jamie ... didn't look like Jamie anymore. Not the Jamie who'd left her that morning, not the ragtag hermit she'd uncovered in his mountain hideaway.

He looked ... oh, man, he looked
good.

“Thank you.”

Faith was too stunned to complain about his reading her mind, but she quickly barred her thoughts from him. The fact that he
could
read her mind left her floundering. What did it mean? Could Cory have been wrong after all? Maybe the depth of Jamie's relationships had nothing to do with his ability. Or maybe he just didn't care about her.

Then again, maybe he did.

Faith rubbed her eyes, trying to reason it all out. Cory claimed Jamie was confused, that he needed to know caring wouldn't distort his remote viewing. Faith had hoped that he was starting to care for her and that he'd then realize the truth for himself. But maybe an eight-year-old, even an eight-year-old of Cory's stunning ability, wasn't mature enough to interpret adult contradictions.

She'd also hoped that Jamie was starting to trust her, starting to care for her a little. But now she just didn't know. He'd made such a drastic change, and he knew her thoughts.

Did that mean Cory was right, and while Jamie cared, he could still get in her head?

Or could Jamie read her so easily because he didn't care at all?

“I'd love to know what you're reasoning out right now, Faith.”

Mouth clamped shut, Faith shook her head in emphatic denial. She'd die if he knew how badly she wanted him to care. That wouldn't help either of them.

His annoyance palpable, Jamie ran a hand over his shorter, neatly clipped hair, then eyed her body in the clothes she'd borrowed from him.

“Let's start over.” He lifted her legs and settled back onto the couch with her feet in his lap. Turning toward her, one hand curled around her ankle, he said, “Hi.”

Faith tried to say hi, she really did. But Jamie wore only jeans, no shirt, and beneath his fly, her feet rested on ... an erection. Faith jerked back so fast, her heel struck where it shouldn't, and Jamie groaned.

“I'm sorry!” Scrambling onto her knees, Faith knelt close to him and studied his new image. She could hardly take it in. Trying to figure him out would make her head explode. “How? Why? You . . .”

Jamie looked at her mouth and asked, “You're finally at a loss for words, huh?”

She nodded, but then said, “Your beard is gone.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed a hand over his cheek and chin. “It took the barber a good hour and a lot of grumbling to get me shaved and trimmed. I think he charged me double.”

Hands shaking, Faith reached out and touched his lean jaw, his firm chin. “I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you are.”

His eyes warmed, and one corner of his mouth kicked up.

Seeing that smile, Faith collapsed back on her heels, as limp as a rag doll. A smile. Not a barely there hint of a smile, but an honest-to-God full-blown sign of happiness. “You're ... you're smiling, Jamie.”

His amazing eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah.” He traced her cheekbone with one fingertip. “You infuriate me, Faith, but you also amuse me.”

So much emotion welled up at one time, a churning tidal wave of feeling, that Faith couldn't contain it. She hadn't expected this, hadn't thought he'd have such an impact on her so soon. For years, she'd thought of Jamie, prayed he was okay, that he was happy and well.

Then her daughter had come to her with the wrenching news that Jamie wasn't happy at all. Cory, so articulate and wise for such a young girl, had solemnly told her of problems that had to be fixed and of a future that required Jamie's participation. Cory knew where to find Jamie, and she promised that Faith could make things better for him—and for them.

But never had Faith thought that her heart would break all over again, as badly as it had when Jamie first left the institute. When he'd first left
her.
The pain had been almost unbearable.

Even though he'd never noticed her, she'd cared for him and she hadn't thought to ever see him again. Then God had gifted her with Cory, giving her plenty of reasons to smile. But Jamie had remained alone. Unsmiling.

Big tears filled Faith's eyes and spilled over, and she gulped once, twice. Shaking her head, she rasped, “I'm sorry.” She rubbed away the tears, but more fell, accompanied by a broken sob. “I'm not usually a crybaby, I swear.”

Jamie sighed as he gently tugged her against his chest. “Always apologizing,” he teased in a rough whisper. “You need to quit that.” And his big, strong arms willingly went around her.

Afraid she'd wake up, that Jamie's acceptance of her might disappear at any moment, Faith clutched at him. Beneath her cheek, his chest was so strong and solid. And hot. Luxuriating in the wonderful scent of him, the sense of security, she locked her hands around his neck so he couldn't escape. And she sobbed.

She felt like a complete idiot, but she couldn't seem to stem the tears or stop the awful, snuffling noises. It was humiliating.

Jamie rubbed her back, kissed her ear, and made soft, shushing sounds that sank into her bones and melted her heart. “How do you feel, Faith?” He pressed the backs of his fingers to her cheek. “I don't think you're feverish anymore.”

“No.” She shook her head against his shoulder and squeezed in closer. “No fever.”

“And your leg?” His hand slid along her thigh. “It's not bothering you too much right now?”

Again she shook her head, amazed at how his touch electrified her, even through the thick jogging pants. She had some nasty bruising, but the discomfort could be ignored.

“You made soup,” he said. “It's smells delicious. I hope you didn't tire yourself out.”

By making soup? How wimpy did Jamie think she was? Faith winced at her own question. Given her sleeping jags and current crying fit, he probably considered her as frail as a fading flower.

“Making soup is no trouble, Jamie. I just hope you like it. Are you hungry now?”

Tightening his arms around her, he rasped huskily, “Yeah, real hungry.”

Faith's stomach took a free fall. She'd known all along that a look from Jamie could be lethal. Now she knew his gruff whispers were just as intoxicating.

She didn't want to let him go, but she couldn't keep hanging on him like a needy child, so she suggested, “We can eat now if you want.”

His lips brushed her temple. “The soup will wait. I added more water to it, and it's barely simmering.”

Faith bit her bottom lip.

“The cold spell has passed through.” His hand moved up her naked arm until he reached the short sleeve of the shirt she'd borrowed from him. “You're comfortable? Warm enough?”

With Jamie touching her, she started to burn. After mopping her eyes on the sleeve, Faith leaned back enough to reassure him. “I'm ... I'm good.”

“Yeah.” He cuddled her cheek in his palm, using the edge of his thumb to lift away a lingering tear. His eyes warmed and his voice dropped. “Good enough to eat.”

Oh. If he expected her to remain coherent, he really shouldn't say things like that to her.

Minus the beard and ponytail, the intensity of Jamie's gaze became more noticeable than ever. So dark they almost appeared black, shadowed by thick lashes and keen with intelligence, his eyes possessed an awareness that most people would never know.

And with that persuasive look fully trained on Faith, she felt shaken, hopeful, and frantic with erotic sensation. It was almost as if he'd already touched her in preparation for lovemaking.

After exhaling a shuddering breath, she curved her palm to his hard shoulder, taut with strength, his skin hot and sleek. She wanted to touch him all over. She wanted to give him incredible pleasure. But she felt so confused by such a complete turnaround. “What's happened, Jamie? Why are you doing this?”

He caught her hand and lowered it to his naked chest, holding it flat right over his heart. Faith knew that Jamie used the gesture to connect solidly with another person. It was something her daughter had learned to do, and the similarity between the two of them sent more tears to her eyes.

But with Jamie, the touch was so very different. Sparse hair tickled her palm, and Faith experienced the warm slide of desire pooling in her belly. Her breathing deepened, came faster.

“Open your mind to me, Faith.” He stared at her, already invading, crowding her soul, compelling her to remove the barriers no matter how important she knew them to be. “Let me in,” he commanded, sensing his triumph. “Let me have all of you. ”

Faith caught her breath, a little afraid of his new intensity.

“No, don't be afraid. ” Jamie spoke in a coercing whisper, his gaze trained on hers, unrelenting, refusing any avoidance. And then, taking her by surprise, he explained, “I'm going to make love to you, Faith.”

Oh God.
Everything inside her twisted with excitement. From the moment he'd left her that morning, Faith hadn't been able to think of much else. No matter how she tried to put things in perspective, how she tried to prioritize, she'd caught herself repeatedly imagining what it'd be like to love Jamie.

Satisfaction blazed from his eyes and relaxed his frown. His cheekbones darkened with desire. “I've been thinking about it, too.” He put his hand to the side of her throat, slipped it under the neckline of the loose shirt, down to her shoulder. “I've seen you naked, Faith. I've touched you and had my fingers inside you.”

Hearing the words sent a flood of sensation into the most sensitive areas of her body; her breasts tingled, her belly pulled tight.

Jamie watched the progress of his hand, flattening over her collarbone, then dipping to cup her breast. “But that was different.”

Faith's eyes drifted shut. Against the heat of his fingers, her nipple drew tight and aching. “You didn't know me.”

“I didn't trust you.”

Optimism erupted, and she opened her eyes to see him. “But now you do?”

For a single heartbeat, he looked hunted. Then the emotion faded away and his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “Enough to want to fuck you.”

That should have hurt, but with his face flushed and his breathing deep, the crude words only turned her on more.

“I'm glad.” Rubbing his thumb back and forth over her jutting nipple, Jamie said, “I want you as turned on as I am.”

Faith licked her lips, more than anxious. “I think I'm there.”

“No.” Jamie gently pressed her nipple between finger and thumb, tugged, rolled. “Not even close, Faith. Not yet.”

Desperate on so many levels, she said, “Kiss me, Jamie. Please.”

Going slow, so slow that Faith had a hard time waiting, Jamie released her breast and moved both hands to her shoulders. He drew her closer. His mouth brushed hers, and Faith's eyes closed. She parted her lips on a sigh.

Jamie whispered, “You want me to rush, but it's been a hell of a long time for me, Faith. I want to touch you everywhere. And taste you everywhere. I need to savor every second.”

Her heart beat so hard, it rocked her whole body. She said, “Okay,” then leaned forward and took his mouth, seducing with her tongue, edging closer—

Jamie held her away, his arms unyielding. “Stand up.”

Trembling, uncertain, Faith nodded and rose to her feet. Jamie looked her over, leaned forward to kiss her belly above the drooping waistline of the jogging pants, and when he leaned back, Faith realized he'd untied the drawstring.

With a simple tug, the pants fell to her ankles. Jamie held her hips between his hands and leaned forward again, this time nuzzling against her, breathing in her scent.

Faith locked her knees and tangled her fingers in his hair. Her head fell back, and when he gently bit her, she let out a vibrating moan.

“I want you to come up to my bed.”

Up. To his bed? Faith mentally shook herself, looked longingly at the couch, which was right
there,
but forced herself to compliance. “Okay.”

Whatever he wanted, she wanted to give to him.

“That sounds promising.”

Oh, she just knew her thoughts were going to be embarrassing.

That unfamiliar half grin appeared again. His hands contracted on her hips, his thumbs teasing her hipbones. “I like it that you're impatient.”

Impatience hardly covered it. More like desperate. Faith wasn't altogether sure her legs were steady enough to make it up the ladder to the loft.

“Let's find out.”

Jamie stood, crowding close to her, looking down at her, so male and so sexy. She swayed, then grabbed his shoulders when her feet got caught in the pants around her ankles.

“Easy,” Jamie said, once again amused. He held her hand while she struggled free of the material. And since Faith had his hand, she immediately turned and tugged him toward the ladder.

He held back, forcing her to an unhurried walk. “Calm down, Faith. It's not a race.”