Lacey snorted. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” She looked at Mia for guidance.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Faith said. “Alec Winston doesn’t do slow. He doesn’t do commitment. Which is the problem. If he really wanted me, he would’ve had me by now.” He sure acted like he wanted her.

Mia sat on the coffee table in front of Faith and leaned forward. “Alec also doesn’t spend this much time with one person. He’s been over here every night. I’ve seen him walking over.”

“I know just what you need,” Lacey said. “Come on. We’re going shopping.”

“Now?” Faith looked between the two of them. “It’s almost eight.”

“The mall closes in an hour. We need to hurry.”

The next thing Faith knew, she was standing in a lingerie store having an uncomfortable stare down with a mannequin wearing a blue thong. “This is a bad idea.”

“No, it’s not,” Lacey assured. “You’re going to be spending the night in Alec’s apartment in New York. Let’s give him a little incentive to speed things along. Something in this store will surely make him want to jump your bones.”

“It’ll make you feel good, too,” Mia added. “Trust me. Cole goes gaga over this one set of red satin—”

“Eww! Hello? That’s my brother.”

Faith sighed. It wasn’t like she wore granny panties, not that Alec had even seen if she had, but lace and silk were a little out of her comfort zone. Boy shorts, thongs, bikini trim, hip-huggers . . . it was all so silly. If Alec wanted to be with her, she shouldn’t need this stuff.

But as she followed Lacey and Mia through the store, a yellow bra-and-panty set caught her eye. It was completely lace and cut in an old forties style, the material soft with rounded trim for comfort. She tried to picture herself wearing it and the look on Alec’s face. Wondered how the lace would feel against the sensitive areas of her skin. Her cheeks heated.

“Oh! I like that.” Lacey shoulder-bumped her. “Mia, this one?”

Mia made her way over. “Yes. Elegant and hot.”

“What are you going to sleep in?” Lacey asked.

“Uh . . . my pajamas?”

Mia grinned. “If the lingerie does the trick, she won’t be sleeping in anything.”

“You’d be able to wear this under that dress I gave you.” Lacey fished through the hangers. “What size are you?”

Faith fisted the pendant around her neck and slid it back and forth on the chain. She gave Lacey her size and prayed they didn’t laugh. Mia and Lacey had slender, but curvy frames, whereas Faith was lean. Her chest size was especially pathetic. Hope had gotten all the good genes in the family. Faith had gotten the leftovers.

What would Alec do if he had the chance to strip off her dress after the party? She felt shockingly inadequate already—she didn’t think she could handle disapproval in his eyes. She had so little experience when it came to men. Alec had experience in spades. Could she even satisfy him? Would she even know what to do?

“You know what?” Faith croaked. “It’s okay. We don’t need to go to all this trouble.”

But her new best friends didn’t listen. Faith walked out of the store with not only the yellow lace bra-and-panty set, but a pale blue and a black one, too.

*   *   *

Between the flight and the taxi ride to his apartment, Alec had asked Faith a dozen times what was wrong. She didn’t know how to answer. What had been a comfortable mix of conversation and silence this past week had morphed into just silence. She felt the shift in him, too. She’d caught him darting quick glances at her during the flight, only to hastily look away when she noticed. The casual way he’d touched her arm or hand while they were alone back in Wilmington hadn’t followed them to New York.

Deciding to make the most of her trip despite the unsettling shift between them, she looked out the window as their taxi wove its way through traffic. New York was loud and busy, completely unlike the quiet beauty of Wilmington. Everywhere she looked there was asphalt and rushing pedestrians and flashing lights. Sirens and shouting. She wondered how Alec got any writing done here, even in his apartment. How did people breathe here?

The taxi pulled to the curb of a massive structure where doormen were waiting to be needed and concrete lion statues perched at the entrance. The building looked old and pristine among the chaos of the city.

“This is it,” Alec said, as if asking approval.

Unsure of what to say, because this apartment didn’t seem to suit him any more than the city, she forced a smile and made to exit the car. Alec grabbed their bags and nodded to the doormen, who addressed him by name.

Inside the lobby, which was full of white marble and brass, she followed Alec to a bank of chrome and glass elevators and waited. He had yet to make eye contact. The ride upstairs was just as tense as in the cab, and by the time they stepped off the elevator to the door of his penthouse, Faith was ready to catch a flight home.

Though she didn’t know him all that well, and though they had just arrived, Alec seemed like a different person here. Tense and abrasive. Not at all like the laid-back, gentle man she knew in Wilmington. She wondered if this was how he wrote about such darkness, by living in this place and feeding off its energy. He’d written countless bestsellers, after all. Something besides his gift had to fuel the stories.

He set their bags down and unlocked the door. “Listen, I have to warn you. I made a terrible choice in interior decorators a while back.”

She stepped into the foyer. “I’m sure it’s not that . . . bad.”

It was that bad. No, it was worse.

The walls were dark gray. The leather furniture red. And was that a . . . yes. A life-sized sculpture of a claw. Glass-top tables and horror movie posters.

“Wow,” she whispered.

Alec dropped their bags by an entry table and groaned. “I warned you.” He glanced around, as if trying to see it through her eyes. “It’s nightmarish all right. I keep intending to have it fixed.”

“Can it be fixed?”

He laughed. “I’ll call someone after Jake’s wedding.”

After the wedding. When he’d be moving back.

She shook her head and forced the unpleasant thoughts away.

To her left was the kitchen. Pretty spacious, considering. Black appliances, granite counters. To the right was a short hallway with three doors.

“Come on,” Alec said. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

The office was clean and sensibly organized. Surprising, because she figured most authors had Post-it Notes and clutter. A plush corduroy sofa lined one wall. Several bookshelves stood against the other. Under the window and facing the door was a large L-shaped desk made out of what looked like mahogany. She didn’t get a good look at any of his pictures because Alec was already moving on to the next room.

“Bathroom,” he pointed out, striding past. “And this is the bedroom.”

At his insistence, she stepped inside. Hardwood floors. Four-poster bed. Private bathroom. The walls were a smoky blue, darn near close to his eye color. The curtains and bedspread were a navy striped pattern. This room suited him. Masculine and easygoing.

She walked to the bay window and looked out at the view. Thirty floors below them, the city bustled and jived, but this high up they were above the noise. Part of her unease settled and released from her shoulders.

Alec came up behind her and set his hands on her hips, pulling her back flush with his chest. His lips settled over her ear, causing her to shiver.

Inhaling, he moaned. “I couldn’t wait to get you alone. It’s been hard keeping my hands to myself.”

She curled into him like a cat. It felt like forever since he’d touched her. The heat from his body and the scent of him caused her heart to flutter. Her breathing uneven, she made herself ask, “Why did you keep your hands to yourself?”