All of Me (9 page)

Christ, he’d kissed her. Pretty much had until he remembered who he was and reined it back.

What the fuck was up with this strange urge to protect her, too? He couldn’t even protect himself. Yet, like a puppet on a string, she pulled him into her orbit. Between her odd reactions to basic situations and her sweet temperament, he had this uncanny desire to know her. And not on the aloof level he kept most people. Okay, all people . . . except Jake.

Something was definitely off about Faith. At first, he had chalked it up to timidity or a discomfort with attention. But she didn’t just hate attention—she flat out didn’t know what to do with it. After tonight, he knew this went way beyond a simple explanation and straight into he-should-mind-his-own-business territory.

Everything about her warranted this barbaric need to defend. Or save. He didn’t do that, either. He wasn’t the hero in his books. He was the villain.

The chatter from the rest of the group came to a swift halt as they neared the parking lot. One look in the direction they were staring told him why.

At least twenty reporters hovered on the edge of the grounds.

Well, shit. So much for a little R & R.

“Are they here for you or me?” Cole asked him, sounding just about as elated as Alec felt. The media followed Cole, too—between his memoir hitting the bestseller list and growing up in a rich, political family, he had his share of notoriety.

Judging by the Goth clothing of a few of the people standing near the press and the fact that Alec recognized one of the reporters from New York, he guessed it was him they were after. “Me. Can you fit everyone in your car?”

Cole nodded. “Sure.”

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll circle around from the other direction and draw them away. You can get out without being noticed.”

“What do they want?” Faith asked, her gaze trained on the reporters.

“What don’t they want?” He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

“You don’t want someone to go with you?”

Rotating back to face her, he almost laughed. Right about now, any other female he’d associated himself with would be checking her hair or fixing her complexion in a compact before supergluing herself to his side for her five seconds of fame. Not Faith. She was ready to stand next to him in silent support of a man she’d known all of two weeks. Because that was the kind of person she was. A fixer. Nice.

The press would eat her alive. They’d be drawn to her quicker than the pop star he’d dated last year for all of three days. Not because she was glamorous or gorgeous. Because she was ordinary. They’d sense something different about her and sink their teeth in.

“I’m fine. Head back to the house with Cole.”

Wasting no time, he circled the dunes and made a show
of pulling out his keys when he emerged from the grass. The media honed in like a swarm, as expected. Alec made sure Cole’s car got out of the lot before he signed a couple T-shirts, and drove home.

He decided to have a talk with Faith tonight. Set things straight between them before anyone got involved or feelings got hurt. But the lights in the Covington guesthouse were off when he drove past, and damn if disappointment didn’t fill his chest at not getting a chance to see her again. He wondered who he was pacifying with this plan.

He checked his rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t followed before driving through the security gate and was satisfied no one was there. When he parked at Lacey’s guesthouse, Jake was sitting on the porch stairs waiting, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

A punch of worry hit Alec in the gut as he climbed out of the car. “What’s wrong?”

Jake shrugged, the hapless gesture belying his expression. “Nothing. Just wanted to talk.”

Alec walked up to the base of the steps and leaned a hip on the rail. “About what?”

“This thing with Faith. How serious is it?” Jake swiped the back of his neck.

Crickets and cicadas chirped in the distance as Alec studied his brother’s face, wondering where the interest came from. A hundred different women had been pictured with him in magazines and literary blogs. Jake had never asked about any of them. “I’ve known her a couple weeks. It’s not serious and nothing’s going on.”

“Lacey and I were behind you on that Ferris wheel. I saw you together. There was something. We’ve never lied to each other.”

Alec shoved his hands in his pockets. Guilt tore at his gut. “Fine. Something’s going on, but it’s all on my end. I don’t plan on acting on it. Again. Why, Jake? You trying to warn me off her?”

A rare flash of anger flared in his brother’s eyes before he dialed it back. “She’d be good for you. Maybe you should see where it leads.”

Alec snorted. “But?”

Jake took his time standing. “Does she know about Laura?”

His molars gnashed. “You know she doesn’t.” No one except the immediate family knew. They kept it that way for a reason. Jake understood the rationale behind the decision as well as he did. Nearly ten years and Jake had never brought up Laura’s name. Why the hell was he doing it now? “Is there a point to this, little brother? If not, I’m tired.”

“How long are you going to blame yourself? Don’t you think it’s time to move on? Faith isn’t like the others. She’s not a distraction.”

“Which is exactly why I won’t be getting involved.” Alec climbed the porch steps.

“Alec . . .”

“Good night, Jake.” He kicked the door shut behind him.

Alec sighed and stared down at his cell. He’d managed to avoid Faith for two days, but Cole’s text would make that difficult to keep up.

About to board the plane to Cozumel. Mia is a mess. Can you keep an eye on Ginny and Faith while Jake is working? Just pop in once in a while. Thanks, man.

Jake’s text followed two minutes later.

Mom asked about you again. Go visit.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and rested the back of his head on the chair. He’d written nothing new for his book, guilt clawed at his stomach for how he’d handled Jake the other night, and he wanted to see Faith more than he wanted his next cup of coffee. He’d rationalized this desire with her ability to get him to write, but yeah . . .

He wanted to finish that kiss. He wanted to follow Jake’s advice and see where things led. He wanted his head back in the book. But none of those things were happening, so he got dressed and headed to his parents’ cozy ranch house in a suburb near the county line.

His memories of the house weren’t unpleasant. Their yard was still the most beautiful, manicured one on the street. Even though Dad was retired, the landscaper in him still sought perfection. Holly berry bushes lined the front walk from the driveway to the front stoop. Lilies and dahlias mingled in a couple flower beds. Geraniums and marigolds in potted baskets hung from the fascia. There wasn’t a dandelion in sight. Even the white aluminum siding was pristine.

His mother never had that kind of precision, except in the kitchen. If it involved baked goodness, she was an expert. But she was too even-tempered to be anything but pleasant. When Dad harped on Alec for staring off into space, making up a poorly fabricated story to get out of trouble, or failing math, it had been Mom who came to his rescue.

He’d come back home at Christmas. Before that, it had been a little more than a year since he’d seen them. Plenty of time for his dad to come up with some new teasing quips about his chosen profession. Millions of fans worldwide, and he couldn’t get his own dad to read one of his books.

The screen door slammed shut with a clap, and he looked up to find his mom’s warm smile. Her blond hair was cut in a shorter bob since he’d seen her last and she’d rounded out some.

“You’re home.” She opened her arms, wiggling her fingers when he didn’t step forward right away.

He closed the distance and accepted her embrace, bending nearly in half to stoop to her height. She still smelled like flour. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Come inside. How long are you staying in Wilmington?”

“Until Jake ties the knot.”

Her grin was something special and drowning in delight. “Can you believe it? I’m so excited.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

He followed her through the foyer and toward the back of the house, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon dusting spray. He stopped short at the sight of Dad at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. It was rare growing up to find him anywhere but the yard when he was actually home. The wrinkles on his face had deepened, but his skin was the bronze Alec remembered. Reading glasses were perched at the end of his wide nose. A new addition.

“Well, hey, son.” He rose and clapped him on the back.

“Hi, Dad.” With that pleasantry out of the way, he turned back to his mother, who was busy pouring sun tea.

“You’re not at all concerned Jake’s marrying a Covington?” Alec asked. Sure, the Covington dynamic had changed a great deal over the past year, and Alec was pretty certain Lacey loved his brother to the moon and back, but she was still a Covington and the Winstons were just the help.

The newspaper hit the table with a crack, but there was no anger in the gesture. “Why? He’s not being forced into it. Not everyone weds because they’re stupid enough to knock a girl up. Right, son?” He barked out a laugh at his own joke.

Direct hit. Score one for Dad.

Alec waved his hand, even though the barb hurt. They all did, not that his dad noticed. He might stroke out if his father ever thought about what he said before it spewed from his mouth. No filter, his dad. He’d never had one. Alec didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of times his father had embarrassed him growing up.

Alec sat across from his father and studied the ancient yellow linoleum. The counters and cabinets dated back to the year the house was built. He was pretty sure the appliances did, too.

“Lacey’s a sweetheart,” Mom chirped. “We’re so happy for them. Aren’t we, Gregory?”

Dad nodded. “Jake could do worse for himself.”

Alec tried for neutral ground so he wouldn’t set his dad off on any new tangents. “The yard looks nice.”

Pride filled his father’s smile. “Hard work pays off—not that you’d know about that, with your apartment penthouse in the city. Probably hire maids to clean for you, too.”

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. “I
do
work, you know. Books don’t write themselves.”

“True, true.”

Mom cleared her throat. “Are you hungry, honey?”

“No,” they both answered in unison.

She sliced some banana bread anyway.

Dad went back to his newspaper as if Alec wasn’t there, sipping the tea Mom had set out for him. Even as a child, his father had never seemed to know what to say to him, so this was nothing new.

Home sweet home.

His mom finished slicing the bread and reached into a drawer. She set the entire loaf in foil and handed it to Alec. “To eat while you’re writing. I’m so proud of you.”

That made one of them.

She went on and on for the next twenty minutes about how the local libraries had his books in stock, the weather, the neighbors, and by the time he tuned her out, she was on a kick about knitting.

When she paused to come up for air, he cut in. “I have to go soon. I’m on a deadline.”

The disappointment in her eyes cut. “I wish we could see you more often. It was good you stopped by.”

“I’ll be around this summer. I’ll visit.”

Alec wrapped her in a hug, squeezing until she squeaked. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Make him take you out to dinner tonight.” He jerked his chin toward his dad.

Confusion sparked in her blue eyes. “For what occasion?”

Alec shrugged. “Who says you need one? Do it just because.”

The newspaper came down again. “Waste of money when we have food right here. Unless you’re buying, Mr. Fancy Writer.”

“Take your wife out on a date,” Alec ground through clenched teeth. Try as he may to remember his father meant well and was harmless, his patience was wearing thin.

Dad wasn’t done, though. “Good one, son. What would you know about taking care of a wife?” He snorted out a full belly laugh before he finally realized no one else was laughing.

Except his dad was so fucking right. Even though they’d never actually gotten to tie the knot, Alec hadn’t taken care of Laura, and look how she’d wound up. A vegetable, being fed through a tube, with machines doing her breathing for her.

Nausea rolled in his gut. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. Shook his head.

When he finally could speak his voice sounded like sandpaper. “I gotta go. Love you guys.”

His father stood and wrapped his arms around Alec, the scent of cut grass surrounding him as he squeezed the air from his lungs. “Love you, too, son.”

*   *   *

The blunt knock on the kitchen door caused Faith to jump. She’d been staring off into space again, thinking about Alec and why he’d kissed her, instead of listening to Ginny read like she was supposed to be doing. Thinking how darn good it felt when he’d cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers. Going so long without another’s touch had obviously muddled her brain.

And Alec hadn’t come by since.

Wow. She’d never been one for daydreaming before. This place was either growing on her or changing her. Maybe both. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Daydreaming led to false hope and unrealistic versions of the truth. She’d set goals in her life, sure, but they were attainable ones.

Alec wasn’t attainable.

When she opened the door, he stood on the other side, looking like a gentle breeze could knock him over. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and his hair stood at odd angles. Yet he still looked so good. Too handsome and rough around the edges for her to ignore the punch.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t look right. She resisted the urge to smooth her hands over his thick black hair and across his shadowed jaw.

“No.” If his face was any indication, he was just as surprised by the admission. “Am I interrupting?”

She looked over her shoulder at the table. “Ginny was just reading to me. Come in.”

Ginny bounced in her seat. “Hi, Alec!”

He stepped inside and surveyed the room, not seeming to take anything in. “Hey, Ginny. Whatcha reading?”

Faith waited for Ginny to finish answering, the worry eating at her stomach lining. “Ginny, why don’t you head into the living room for a break? You can have an hour of TV, okay?”

“Yeah!”

The second Ginny was out of earshot, Faith turned to Alec. “Is it Lacey or Jake? Did something happen?”

“No, no.” He waved his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s me. I . . .”

Drawing in a calming breath, she sat at the table and waited him out. He leaned against the island and crossed his ankles, his palms clutching the counter behind him. The position made the blue tee he wore stretch over the taut muscles of his chest and arms. He was a magnificently built man. Part of his charisma was his confidence, which he seemed to be lacking at the moment. The urge to ask him what the problem was grew fierce, but he’d come here for a reason, so she let him work it out on his own.

He sighed and swiped a hand down his face. Rubbed his jaw. “I feel like shit for what happened the other night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

This, exactly this, was why she didn’t daydream. Because envisioning someone like him wanting her was dangerous to her heart. She knew better. Her family and previous encounters had taught her well.

She forced her tone to be even, not wanting him to feel guilty, while lead sat heavy in her stomach. “It was spur of the moment. Nothing to beat yourself up over.”

Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. Held. “It wasn’t spur of the moment. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you on the beach.” He straightened suddenly, those black eyebrows drawing together. Anger flared in his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Like the floor had just dropped out from under her? Like the room was spinning? Like every molecule in her body was exploding? Because it was. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“You look like no one’s ever said they wanted to kiss you before. The simplest things put this . . . this light in your eyes. I’m not capable of keeping that light there. I’m not in a position where I can offer more.”

He got all this from one kiss? He was more a dreamer than she was, then. She’d never been in a long-term relationship. This was uncharted territory for her. Not that anything resembling a relationship
was
happening between them. Even if it were, he’d just slammed on the brakes.

“It was just a kiss.” She didn’t know if she said that for him or herself.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

Suddenly, it hit her. This seemed like classic projection. He was deflecting. She wasn’t the type of woman who got men sexually frustrated, so something else was triggering this argument and making him feel guilty. “Did something else happen today?”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about!” He paced the length of the kitchen and back, finally settling on the other side of the island as if needing a barrier. “You and your clever
little mind and pretty eyes that see everything. You know things without me having to say a word.” He blew out a gust of air and slapped his hands on the counter, leaning into them.

Dang it. He said the nicest things sometimes, contradicting them with a voice that was wholly pissed off.
He
didn’t know what to make of
her
?

“You think my eyes are pretty?” She hadn’t really meant to say that aloud, but that’s what her mind chose to fixate on—the compliment. Her face heated to blazing.

He pinned her with a
duh
look. His shoulder muscles bunched with tension and the little tick in his jaw was back. He needed a stiff drink. So did she.

She had to redirect this conversation.

“Well, that settles it. You like my eyes, you don’t understand me, and you kiss me with deep regret. We must get married at once.” Lord, what had gotten into her?

He stilled a split second before he laughed. Long and deep and jagged.

Wow. She could listen to that all day. He obviously didn’t do it nearly enough because the sound was rusty in the quiet kitchen.

She waited a few beats for her pulse to level out. “Now that you’re feeling better, what really had you knocking on the door?” She rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.

It was as slow as the sunrise, but it eventually came: heat replaced the humor previously in his eyes. “You make me want to kiss you again. Really kiss you, not like the half-assed one the other night. A knock-you-off-your-feet kind of kiss.”

Only a writer . . .

God, fire roared through her veins just thinking about it, though. No one had ever spoken to her like that before.

“Since you didn’t enjoy it the first time—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.” He ran a hand through his hair. Shook his head. “I went to see my folks today. My dad
has a special talent for making me feel like shit, even though he doesn’t mean to. That’s what’s bothering me.”

Parental issues. To this she could relate. “That’s too bad. It’s probably his own insecurity showing.”

“If it’s one thing my dad isn’t, it’s insecure. He just doesn’t think before he speaks. He lacks the tact gene.”

Faith decided to change the subject. “Are you still doing well on the book? You had gotten pretty far—”

“No. I stalled.”

And there it was. The real reason he was here. It had nothing to do with kissing her or the visit with his parents. Those things were temporary, irritating distractions to someone like him. Alec saw her as some kind of fix for his writer’s block. It was the only thing of real interest he saw in her. She should’ve known better.