twelve

Faith rested her cheek against the cool glass of Alec’s passenger window. The wine from dinner had gotten to her. Having infrequently indulged in alcohol, she hadn’t really known what effect it would have. Her body was hot, her skin tingling. She wasn’t sure if she should attribute that to Alec or the wine. It had also loosened her tongue. She’d been more outgoing and outspoken than ever before.

A summer fling. Lord. As if she could handle Alec Winston, even for just one summer.

Yet she wanted a life, wanted more than to just exist. What better way to start than jumping in headfirst with him? He could teach her things. She wouldn’t have to worry about making her world fit with his or all the complications, because he’d be leaving. They were temporary.

It had also felt good to talk about Hope with someone. Though the loss of her sister still cut deep, she wanted others to know how wonderful and strong she was, how lucky Faith had been to have her. Not talking about Hope seemed like forgetting she was ever here. And that would be a shame.

Alec pulled the car through the front gate and veered to the left to park in front of her guesthouse. The lights in the main house were off, even though it was barely nine. Lacey and Jake said they’d crash with Ginny for the night so Faith could stay out late if she wanted.

The dome light filled the dark car when Alec opened the door. Oh boy. Would he kiss her on the doorstep? Did guys still do that? He strode around the hood and to her side before she had her seat belt off. Taking his offered hand, she got out and walked with him to the door.

Now what? She waited, her gaze glued to his chest.

“Invite me in.” His voice was a hoarse rumble that made her muscles clench. It wasn’t a demand, but a gentle request.

She nodded and opened the door.

He followed her inside, glancing around after she flipped on a lamp. His gaze traveled over the picture of her and Hope on the mantel before moving on to the bookshelves beside the fireplace. “I thought you said you never read my books.”

Shadows cut across his body and half his face, making him look dangerously handsome. His black hair seemed darker somehow, and she wanted to run her fingertips over the slight outgrowth on his jaw. He wore a white button-down dress shirt untucked from his jeans, which fit him well enough to tease at the glorious body that lay underneath. It had been a long time, if ever, that she felt this turned on or attracted to a man. Even the way he stood, hands in his back pockets and one foot off to the side in a careless whatever pose, was attractive.

His gray-blue eyes leveled on her when she didn’t answer.

She set her purse on the coffee table to give herself something to do. “No, I said I’ve never seen any of the movies based off your books.”

He glanced at the shelves again. “Pretty extensive variety of fiction here. Fantasy, romance, cozy mysteries . . .”

“Horror’s my favorite, or really dark suspense.”

A corner of his mouth quirked and she had to swallow a moan. “Why’s that?”

She shrugged. “Reading them makes the problems in the real world seem weak by comparison.”

He breathed out a laugh. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, as if straining. “And why haven’t you seen any of my movies?”

What was with all the questions? “They never get it right. Movies ruin books . . .”

She didn’t have time to finish her thought because he jerked his hands out of his back pockets, strode the few steps separating them, and crushed his mouth over hers.

His hands grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body as he angled his head and deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped past her lips and tasted, stroked until she had an idea of what he’d be like in bed. The rhythm and pace he’d set. The talent he’d bring. God, she so didn’t think she could handle him.

Regardless, he felt too good to let go. Her fingers drove into his thick, wavy hair like she’d been wanting to do since she’d first laid eyes on him. The move seemed to spark some kind of animal instinct in him because his fingers slid from her waist to her hips and dug into her flesh. He moaned, rocked against her so she could feel the long, hard strain of his erection against her belly.

Breaking the kiss, his lips traveled from her mouth to her ear. “We need to slow down.”

Lack of experience be darned, she was ready to strip off her dress. “I’m not a virgin,” she whispered, and immediately regretted the slip. Her face heated and embarrassment made her head heavy. She pinched her eyes closed.

Edging back, he looked down at her. “I didn’t ask.”

“I figured you might think . . . with the information I gave you . . .”

The pad of his thumb pressed over her lower lip and he smiled, his gaze focused there. Moving his thumb across her lip, his eyes darkened, his lids closing to half-mast. “We should still take this slow. I’m going home to cool off.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, gently this time. “I still owe you that knock-you-off-your-feet kiss.”

“That wasn’t it?”

He grinned, and she had to lock her knees to stay upright. “You’re still standing, so no, that wasn’t it.” He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, brushing his nose to hers. Groaning, he pulled away. “Next time, Faith.”

When the door closed behind him, she sank to the floor and patted her chest, not recognizing the crazy sensations whirling inside. She pressing a hand to her forehead and laughed like an idiot. It took her too long to realize the feeling was . . . happiness.

*   *   *

Faith was dusting lemon bars with powdered sugar and checking Ginny’s progress on adding sprinkles to the cupcakes when Lacey strolled in the kitchen door.

“Who’s ready for the best sleepover ever?”

“I am, I am,” Ginny chanted.

Faith laughed. “We definitely have enough sugar to keep us up all night.”

“My party, my menu,” Ginny said.

Lacey kissed her cheek. “You are so right, Ginny girl.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I brought margarita mix. Do they have a blender?”

“Above the fridge.” Faith moved to the sink to wash her hands. “I’m a lightweight with regards to alcohol, as it turns out.”

“Oh,” Lacey drawled. “Did we get a little tipsy on our date last night?” She set the blender on the island and plugged it in.

“You had a date?” Ginny was awed.

Lacey filled the blender with ice. “She sure did. With guess who? Alec.”

“You did?” Ginny said, clapping her hands. “Is he a good kisser?”

“Oh boy. Mia’s gonna kill me.”

Lacey waved her hand, dumping margarita mix into the blender with the other and switching it on. Noise clattered as the ice crushed. “Mia won’t care if we talk about boys,” she shouted. “That’s what sleepovers are for!”

Faith wouldn’t know. She’d never been to one.

Lacey poured a virgin margarita into a cup and handed it to Ginny. Then she poured a generous finger—or five—of tequila into the blender. “Think that’s enough?”

Faith laughed. “Uh, yes.”

Lacey added more mix and ice. She switched the blender on again and shouted over the noise. “So, is Alec a good kisser or not?”

Faith pressed her lips together, unable to hide the giddy smile. “Yes.”

Lacey’s brows rose, pretending not to have heard. “What?”

“Yes, he’s a good—”

The blender stopped.

“—kisser.” Faith rubbed her forehead. “You tricked me into screaming that. Is he right outside the door or something?”

Lacey poured two drinks. “Nope. Just us girls. And great kisses are worth shouting about.” She handed Faith a cup and clacked her own cup against it. “To the best sleepover ever!”

“Yeah!”

Faith smiled at Ginny and took a sip. The drink, despite being blended with ice, burned all the way down. “Wow, Lacey.”

“It is a little strong.” Her pretty mouth twisted. “I’ve never made margaritas before. Never been to a sleepover either.”