She squeaked in protest.

Depositing her on one of the bar stools by the island, he pointed a finger at her. “Stay.” He rounded the corner into the kitchen and leaned his forearms on the counter across from her. “I notice you just fine. Explain.”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. In Wilmington.”

“I told you I was taking things slow . . .”

“There’s slow and then there’s stagnant.”

He forced his open jaw shut. Faith thought he didn’t want her. He almost laughed. “I’m very attracted to you, and rest assured, it was damn difficult keeping my hands to myself.”

The long column of her throat worked a swallow as she stared at her hands. “I was unsatisfactory, wasn’t I?”

He needed to start carrying a sign around that said, Bang head here. “You were so unsatisfactory that I left a bite mark on your neck trying to restrain myself and I’m still trembling from coming so hard.”

Her gaze jerked to his. Held.

Christ. She was really something. When they’d first met, he’d thought her ordinary. How stupid of him. Her amber eyes could ensnare him for a decade. The scattering of light freckles on her nose added a girlish charm. That thin, pouty mouth said the damnedest things. And her voice . . . God, that voice.

“I don’t know what this previous experience is that you speak of, Faith, but you rocked my world.” In bed and out of it. Maybe this sudden change of mood wasn’t such a bad thing. He wasn’t so brainless as to assume she’d be out of his system once he’d had her—because she wasn’t—but this was leading nowhere fast. He sighed and tried to steer the conversation off course. “How about an omelet? You barely ate at the party.”

Still looking a bit shell-shocked, she nodded slowly.

Alec got ingredients out of the fridge that he had asked his housekeeper to stock and a skillet out of the cabinet. He chopped green pepper, tomato, mushrooms, and onions while trying to figure out what the hell to do in this situation. For the first time in years, if not ever, he wanted more. But he couldn’t have that “more,” so why wish it? Faith deserved better than this, so he needed to figure out a way to back out without hurting her feelings. She was not a temporary kind of woman, and the fact that he’d tried to use her as his most recent plaything tore at his gut.

“You have the what-did-I-just-do look again,” Faith said, interrupting his thoughts.

Taking more care than necessary, he flipped the omelet and tried to formulate words that would make sense to her. “I don’t regret the sex, Faith. I don’t. I just . . .”

“Don’t want to do it again.”

Oh, how very, very wrong she was. “The problem is, I do want to do it again.” Until they died from starvation from not leaving the bedroom. “So I think the best thing to do is just end it.”

When she grew quiet for too long, he glanced at her. She pressed her lips together—chewing over her own thoughts, he figured. He cut the omelet in half and plated one for her and himself. He garnished the plates with a few raspberries and set them in front of her. Striding around the island, he pulled up a stool next to her and took a bite.

“Eat, Faith.”

Picking up her fork, she stared at her plate. “You know how to cook.”

“Enough basics to get by. Eggs aren’t rocket science.”

Satisfied that she’d eaten a few bites, he dug into his own omelet with vigor. Damn, but he was hungry. He’d eaten all of it before she’d even made a dent in hers.

“Take my bed tonight. I’ll crash on the couch.” There. He could do the right thing, after all. Except why did he feel like shit?

She didn’t argue.

chapter

nineteen

“Spill it,” Lacey demanded, while checking the hem of the wedding gown. “You’ve been mute for two days. We want to know what happened in New York.”

Faith swallowed a sigh and sat in one of the chairs in the little boutique. Lacey had fallen in love with the second dress she saw, a little, satin, ivory slip style with a scoop neck and a lace back. It was sleeveless with no train, which was a good thing, considering Lacey and Jake were getting married on the beach.

Faith would plan her wedding the same way, if she ever got married, the chances of which were looking pretty slim. A simple dress, a few people, dancing by moonlight on the beach with the waves caressing her toes. Small. Simple. Perfection. Even the cake would be an uncomplicated yellow with buttercream frosting. Maybe a few pearl beads for decoration, to match the ones in her dress.

Disturbed by her thoughts, Faith rubbed her forehead. She’d never been a frivolous dreamer like other girls. She didn’t spend her nights imagining the perfect wedding, right down to what color rose petals the flower girl would toss. So why did the images pop up now? Granted, Lacey and Jake’s wedding was drawing closer, and they were making a lot of plans, but that didn’t excuse the wayward notions in her head.

She’d spent the majority of her life unnoticed, unwanted. Hollow and secretly aching for someone to acknowledge her existence, yet too scared to prove to anyone that she was there. It was a position she’d grown used to, just a way of life. Business as usual. But then Alec came along, and for a moment, she was a somebody. Not invisible. Not a donor for parts or a nuisance to tolerate. Suddenly there was a man interested in her day and what she was thinking. The way he touched her and spoke to her made her feel alive. Free. The happiness he evoked was almost exhausting.

But a week had gone by, and besides popping over once to watch her and Ginny bake peanut butter cookies, Alec hadn’t visited. For a person who’d been discarded her whole life, that hurt a lot. The pain of rejection stole her will to eat, to smile. A week ago, her heart had been soaring. Now, since he’d put a stop to their summer romance, she couldn’t function past a wallow.

She kept replaying his admission over and over in her head. What happened to Laura wasn’t his fault, but she understood irrational guilt better than anyone. After all, she had been conceived to save Hope and she’d failed. Deep down, Faith knew that wasn’t on her shoulders, but the burden was there just the same. So yes, she understood.

Their lovemaking had been the stuff of fantasies. Specifically, hers. It was as if he knew her every desire, every need. The tender way he caressed her, tasted, and the moment his need erupted and his touch became insistent stole her breath. It was a night she’d wanted all her life. She’d come out of herself for a little while and become a woman. Not a shadow or a wallflower. A woman.

It had never been like that before, not for her. For a fleeting instant, she’d thought it had been that way for him, too.

Dang it. She was falling for him. No, she had fallen for him, and like everyone else, he’d walked away as if she’d never been there in the first place. Forgettable.

“Is everything okay?” Mia asked.

Faith looked up and was surprised by the haze of tears blurring her vision. She wished Hope was here. Had her sister lived, Faith would have probably been in a little boutique with her, picking out dresses and discussing flowers.

Quickly, she cleared her throat. “Sure. I’m fine. You look very beautiful in that dress,” she told Lacey over Mia’s shoulder. “I’m getting misty.” Hopefully that explained her sudden emotion.

“Oh, sweetie.” Lacey stepped down from the pedestal and patted her hand. “What happened? Didn’t the lingerie work?”

At least she’d gotten two great friends out of the move to the coast. There was that. “It worked. We . . . um, you know. But it was just a onetime thing.”

“Why? You guys seemed to be hitting it off.” Mia sat in a chair beside Faith’s and crossed her legs.