Seduced by the Baron (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 4) (16 page)

A couple of
hours later a menu was thrust into Raf’s hands as he sat down in the members’ dining room opposite Faith. His head was swimming with facts and he was more than a little bit smitten. There was something about Faith Sullivan that just kept creeping up on him.

He’d dated his fair share of women and he’d enjoyed every one of them but he’d always felt a little like he was giving a performance – the perfect date, the perfect escort, the perfect lover – because women deserved that level of respect and consideration and he enjoyed being with them. He liked the way they were put together and how good they smelled and how fun it was to get to the end game. Whether it was for a night or a few nights or a couple of weeks.

But that all suddenly seemed a little superficial.

Faith was different. He kept forgetting he was on a date. With Faith he forgot about trying hard and being charming. She wasn’t out to ensnare or impress him and that made it so much easier to just be himself around her, be the real person.

With no agendas or expectations.

It was easy.

Many would have said that attracting women came too damn easy to him anyway and that was true. But he’d never felt this level of ease around any of them.

“I didn’t think we’d get a table here given how busy the other cafes are.”

Raf looked up from his menu. They’d tried a couple of the public eating places with no luck and then Faith suggested the members’ dining room given she’d been a fully paid-up member since the age of twelve. He’d watched the delight spread across her face when the maître d’ had ushered them straight to a table near the windows.

“I’m pleased we did.” He looked out the magnificent bank of sloped glass to the frozen stillness of Central Park. “You can’t beat this view.”

She smiled at him and shook her head. “It’s pretty good,” she murmured. But she wasn’t looking out the window and he smiled back at her because that felt easy too.

They ate fish then ordered key lime pie while they talked about what they’d seen and he listened to her talk some more about this place she obviously loved so much. Her eyes shone with it and a smile constantly hovered on her mouth.

It was most distracting.

“Mercy told me you’re a painter?”

It was the second time today her smile slipped. The first time had been when she’d talked about Paris. “I
was
.”

“Did you study it?”

She shook her head, her curls bouncing. She wore a purple top today which gave an amethyst hue to her indigo eyes.

“I was going to. Fine art. At Columbia.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged like it wasn’t important. “Pop had his first heart attack a month before I was due to start.”

Ah. Raf nodded, filling in all the gaps. Faith had put it on hold to take care of her father. “You didn’t decide to start again when things settled down?”

She shook her head, avoiding him as she looked out the window. “Pop was more important.” Her gaze tracked something and he turned to look. A woman and a child in a bright red coat trudged down an icy path.

“Yes but…why was the onus on you? Because you were the girl?”

“
No.
” her response was emphatic. And irritable. “Because I was the freest agent, so it was easier. And I
wanted
to. I know people don’t understand that but it’s the truth. I.
Wanted
. To. He’s my
father
. The man who supported five kids by working long days and nights to put a roof over our heads and food in our bellies and send us to good schools with nothing but a day trip to Coney Island once a year as a break. If Mom had still been alive she’d have done it but she wasn’t and I was.”

Raf nodded. She made a good reasoned argument citing all the practicalities and it was obvious she didn’t want to be given a medal for doing something she’d quite happily volunteered to do. But she
had
sacrificed a lot.

The pie arrived then and Faith’s defensiveness fell away in a blink as her eyes lit up. “Ooh. Key lime is my favorite.”

“Enjoy,” the waiter said with a smile, putting their plates in front of them.

She was savoring her first mouthful before Raf had even picked up his spoon. “Mmm,” she sighed, her eyelids fluttering in much the same way they’d done the other night in the throes of her orgasm. “So good.”

He chuckled. Watching her eat was a real turn on.

“What?” she asked around a mouthful of pie.

“Nothing. I just like watching you do things with your mouth.”

Her next spoonful faltered halfway to its destination. She looked around to see if anyone had overheard and he chuckled again. She rolled her eyes but if he wasn’t very much mistaken she made a real show of sucking every morsel of pie off her spoon this time.

He waited until she had one small piece left before broaching the subject of painting again. “So what area of painting is your specialty? Are you oil or a watercolor artist?”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before she answered. “Oils mostly when I paint. I sketch in charcoal.”

“You sketch?”

Her gaze slid away from his and she brushed at imaginary crumbs on the table as if she was nervous. “Sometimes.”

“Done anything lately?”

Brush, brush. “Not really…But, actually,” she said, looking up at him, the nervousness suddenly gone, “Mercy asked me if I would do a small job for her.”

“Like what?”

“The family are launching a rosé and they haven’t had any luck with designing a unique image for the label so she asked me if I’d like to have a go.”

Raf could tell from the sparkle in her eyes that Faith was excited. He sat forward. “That’s great,” he enthused. “Are you going to have a go?”

She nodded and smiled a secret kind of smile like she’d only just decided for sure right now. “Yeh, I think I am. She emailed me a bunch of stuff a couple of days ago. I’m just trying to wrap my head around.”

“Any ideas or inspirations so far?”

“A couple. Maybe…” She shook her head. “To be honest I feel out of my depth. It’s been such a long time since I did anything seriously. I’m thinking I might maybe enrol in a community college art class. Brush up on my skills”

“I think that’s a great idea,” he enthused. Faith needed a life outside the pub. “Tell me more about Mercy’s thing. What’s the name of the wine?”

“It’s called Rosa which is Spanish for rose so I guess I’ve been kind of thinking along those lines.”

“A rose?”

She nodded. “Of some description. But you know, she wants something beautiful and feminie and tactile and unique. She wants something
priceless
. I don’t know if I’m up to that.”

Raf smiled at her encouragingly because whether she felt up to it or not he could tell she
needed
it. After years of being behind a bar she’d clearly lost her artistic drive. And after listening to her here today, aglow with the wonder of the paintings all around her, he thought it was probably high time she found it again.

“Sounds like the waterlilies,” he teased.

She frowned. “What does?”

“Unique. Feminine. Tactile. You don’t get much more priceless than Monet, right?”

She stared at him blankly for a long time like he hadn’t made any sense, then her expression morphed and it was like watching a lightbulb come on over a head. “No,” she said eventually. “No. You don’t…”

She smiled at him then, a grin that lifted every feature in her face and glittered in her eyes. Raf was pleased he was sitting down. “What?”

“The rose. The label. I could do an impressionist take on a rose, maybe by itself, or…a bunch of them climbing over a trellis under the Argentinian sun. And to make it tactile the label could be embossed.” She ran her finger tips over the table cloth as if she was already fingering the finished product. “Some of the petals could be done in gilt as if they’re being struck by rays of sunshine.”

There was silence for a moment or two and her eyes took on a dreamy faraway look as if she was picturing the label in her mind’s eye. Raf decided he liked watching her very much.

“What do you think?” she asked, her voice a little husky, a little uncertain.

Raf smiled. “I think it sounds
amazing
.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see it.”

She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Neither can I.”

“Could be the start of a whole new career for you,” Raf said. “Vintners from around the world will be clamoring for your impressionist labels.”

She laughed, clearly thinking the idea was fanciful. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

“Why not, Faith?” he murmured. “You gotta dream big, right? Like Paris. Tell me what you wanna do when you get there.”

“To Paris?”

“Yes. You must have thought about it?”

She looked like she was going to resist his line of questioning for a moment, like she was so used to keeping a lid on such thoughts that voicing them was a completely foreign concept. But then she relaxed and that dreamy faraway look returned. She leaned in a little closer to him on her forearms.

“I’d hire a little place in Montmartre and paint from sunup to sundown. And when I wasn’t painting I’d haunt
all
the galleries. And maybe I’d travel to the south of France, to Arles and visit the area Van Gogh loved so much.”

“Sounds perfect,” Raf said grinning.

“Yes.” She sighed and it was so full of longing Raf wanted to whisk her away to Paris on the next available flight.

A waiter came and picked up their dishes. “So, what’s next?” Raf asked after their plates were gone.

She glanced out the window then back at him and smiled. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Raf looked out over the frigid stillness of Central Park so different to the pictures he’d seen of it in full summer glory. Bare branches stuck out like bleached coral under their covering of snow and ice, the barren brown earth looked frozen solid.

“It’s a little on the cold side, don’t you think?”

“It is cold,” she agreed. “But there’s something magical about the park in winter.”

He looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. “Magical huh?”

“Absolutely. But…” She looked at him with breathtaking directness. “I hear there’s something magical about the Marriott this time of year too.”

Raf’s mouth curved up. “I heard the same thing.”

“Maybe we should check it out?”

Raf grinned. “Maybe we should.”

He liked the way she thought. He liked it at lot.

*

They arrived back
at Sully’s just before six-thirty. Faith slipped in behind the bar, giving Finn, who seemed to be coping very well with the building Saturday night crowd, a kiss on the cheek and introducing him to Raf wondering how much Dawn had told her brother. Did he know that she was
seeing
Raf?

She still felt closest to Finn out of all her brothers and it mattered to her what Finn thought of Raf. It shouldn’t. It wasn’t like it was a permanent thing. But it mattered anyway.

“Where’s Dawn?”

“She’s up with Pop.”

“Thanks for doing this,” she said. “You can head home. I can take it from here.”

Finn grinned. “Nah. I’m having fun,” he said. “Getting back to my roots.”

“Okay then,” she said, laughing. “Don’t let me stop you.”

And it was fun slinging beers with Finn and Raf. Finn had been so happy since Dawn had come back into his life. It was like he was whole after being a little bit empty for a long time and Faith was grateful every day for Dawn.

She shut the doors at midnight on the last reluctant customers trying to convince her she should serve them one more for the road.

“That was great,” Finn announced from behind the bar, his smile infectious. He’d stayed until the end no matter how many times Faith had tried to get him to go home.

Finn started to pile up the few remaining empties but Faith waved him away. “Enough. Go home now,” she insisted. “I know how much you want to get Dawn back to your little Soho love nest.”

He looked at her sheepishly. “Am I that transparent?”

“Like a sheet of glass,” she said with a nod. “Plus I remember how you used to try anything to get out of doing the dishes at the end of the night. So you’re in luck. Besides, I owe you for covering for me.”

“No you don’t, Faith,” he said, gathering her up for a hug and a kiss on the head. “We owe you.”

Faith’s heart squeezed tight. “I’ll be up soon,” she said.

Finn held out his hand to Raf who was standing behind Faith. “Nice meeting you.”

Raf smiled. “Likewise.”

“You’ve made a great beer. You may even convert me to lager.”

Faith faked a horrified look. “
Finn Sullivan!
Don’t let Pop hear you saying that.”

He laughed and kissed her on the head again. “See you soon.”

Faith was smiling as she took the last of the glasses into the kitchen and shoved them in the industrial dishwasher and pushed the start button. The lights blinked on the stainless monstrosity as it started its cycle and Faith’s thoughts drifted to today. About how excited she’d been to show Raf her happy place and how nice it had been to confide in him about Mercy’s job and how unbelievably thrilling it was to have come up with an idea for it as she was talking to him.