Damn it. Just when he thought he had her nailed, understood her a measurable amount, he walked in to find this.

“Hi, Alec!” Ginny called.

Faith squealed, grabbing her chest and nearly falling. She went to the stereo and killed the power, blessedly silencing the noise. Sweat trickled down her temple and dampened her hair, curling the tendrils. Her chest heaved, drawing his gaze there.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No kidding.”

“We were just getting some energy out.”

He had some ideas on more pleasurable ways of doing that. “Did it work?”

Ginny giggled as if reading his mind.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you can unsee that?” Faith asked, a half smile curving her lips. No, her lips weren’t pouty. They were thin and naturally a dark pink, the bottom lip slightly more full than the top.

“Not a chance.” In fact, a sudden vision of her sweating with flushed cheeks for an entirely different reason came to mind.

“I figured.” She wiped her brow with her forearm. “Ginny, why don’t you go change into your bathing suit? We’ll go for a quick swim.”

“Yeah!” She bounded past Alec and up the stairs.

Alec kept his attention on Faith—as if there was any other choice.

She fidgeted. “Stuck with the book again? Do you need help to get going?”

“No.”

Surprise had her brows lifting and those honey eyes widening. “Oh. Why are you here?”

Christ. As if the only reason someone would pay her a visit was because they needed something. Just who in her life had given her that theory? “I don’t know. To see you.”

Great. Honesty. So much for keeping her at arm’s length.

“Oh.” Again with the oh.

“Go out with me tonight.”

The words were out of his mouth before his brain could warn him of the stupidity. Guess he had a lot of his dad in him after all. She was the type of woman a guy had to woo. Not the kind you met in a bar and had horizontal in under twenty minutes. He wondered if he even knew how to do this anymore. It had been a long, long time.

Her mouth opened and closed several times before he decided to clarify. Otherwise she’d think he meant anything but what he really intended. “I mean on a date, since I know you were wondering.”

“How do you know what I was thinking?”

“Call it a hunch,” he said dryly.

Her gaze darted to the window and back. “You said the kiss was a mistake.”

“Yes.”

“And that it made you feel like . . .” She waved her hand vaguely, as if not able to form the curse. He realized he hadn’t heard her swear before.

“Shit,” he finished on her behalf. “And I said I felt like shit for doing it, not that the kiss made me feel like shit. There’s a difference.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Forgive me, but I’m confused.”

“So am I.” He crossed his arms, wondering why in the hell he was pursuing this when she’d given him an out. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Like an irritating song. And so help him, if she said “oh,” he’d . . .

“I can’t leave Ginny alone.”

There. Another out. Perfect. They’d call it off and . . . why was his phone out of his pocket and why was he texting Jake?

Can u watch Ginny tonight? Taking Faith out.

Moments later the response came.

Jake: Lacey and I will be over by 6. Stay out all night.

He sighed in . . . relief? “Jake and Lacey will stay with Ginny. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

Ginny bounded down the stairs, a towel slung over her shoulder, as he made his way to the door.

“Wait. I didn’t say yes.”

God love her. He turned and grinned at her flustered face as she stood in the entryway. “You didn’t say no, either. Six-thirty, Faith.” He tapped the doorframe and left.

chapter

eleven

The seafood restaurant he’d found was nestled right on the tourist strip, close enough to the beach to smell the ocean. To avoid being crowded, he’d asked for a corner table out on the back deck. Faith hadn’t said much on the drive over or after they were seated. Oddly enough, the lack of conversation wasn’t tense. It was a comfortable silence he wasn’t used to. People tended to attempt to fill the quiet, as if something were wrong with just being.

He glanced at her over the menu, but her attention was on the people in the distance. Her plain white sundress hugged her chest and hips, flaring out in a skirt that stopped at her knees. She’d put her hair up in a loose knot and applied a minimal amount of makeup. Or Lacey had applied it for her, since his future sister-in-law had been at the guesthouse when he’d arrived to pick up Faith.

Whatever the subtle difference was, it made her eyes stand out. They took up most of her face as it was. The dusk was doing something to her skin, which appeared even softer than usual. Her freckles were barely noticeable. Around her long, elegant neck was a chain, the one she never took off. The low dip of her dress allowed him to see the charm. Little silver wings. Just wings. Interesting.

When she smiled at a family with a couple of toddlers, he wondered how he’d ever thought her plain.

The waiter came and asked for a drink order.

“I haven’t even looked at the menu,” she said. “I’m sorry. Just water for me, please.”

“Do you drink wine?” He felt blind not knowing anything about her past or if she had any limitations from her medical condition.

“I could. I don’t know anything about wine, though.”

Okay, this he could handle. He gave the request for a sauvignon blanc from a California vineyard he recognized and waited until the waiter left before addressing her. She hadn’t wanted to talk about her past before, but they knew each other a little better now. He had the suspicion he’d need to tread carefully with Faith. Whatever led her to Wilmington didn’t appear to be altogether pleasant.

He glanced at the pendant. “Why the wings?”

Her gaze dropped, and with a reflex he’d seen often, she clutched the pendant and slid it back and forth on the chain. “I saw it in a jewelry store and it reminded me of my sister.”

The sister he wasn’t supposed to know about because Faith never mentioned her. Yet he’d seen the photo Lacey took. Saying something might ruin Lacey’s surprise painting or break Faith’s trust. “I thought you were an only child.”

Her small hand released the necklace as she looked away, smoothing her napkin over her lap. “She died several years ago from cancer.”

Platitudes never made the grieving feel better, so he didn’t offer one. “What was her name?”

“Hope.”

“Faith and Hope. That’s cute.” Finally, her honey gaze returned to his, and the sorrow etched in her eyes was gutting. “Was she younger or older?”

“She was older by three and a half years.”

“Does this bother you? Talking about her?”

She appeared to mull that over for several moments, eventually shaking her head. The waiter arrived with their wine and they ordered their meal. Alec hoped the interruption wouldn’t break their conversation. Though hesitant, she was finally answering questions.

Alone once more, he asked, “What kind of cancer did she have?”

She cleared her throat. “A rare form of leukemia called myelogenous. It affects the white blood cells in bone marrow. Survival rates aren’t high with that kind of cancer. She was diagnosed at age two, but lived until she was twenty, and it was a blessing to have her that long, considering. There were periods where she didn’t require treatment, and we thought . . .” Her lids lowered in a slow blink.

His hand settled over hers on the table. “I’m sorry. We can talk about something else.”

“No, it’s fine.” Her gaze held his and she offered a weak smile. “Honestly, I don’t get to talk about Hope very often.”

“Why not?”