Faith’s head pounded and her throat was raw. With a groan, she rolled over, hand over her forehead, and gingerly sat back on the pillows. Good. The familiar pillows meant she was in her own bed like she thought. She forced her eyelids open and realized she was still dressed in the skirt and top she’d worn to Joe’s last night.
Last night.
The evening came back to her in spurts, but she definitely remembered the highlights. Deciding to go to Karaoke Night instead of staying home alone. Ordering beer instead of wine. Kate and her friends showing up, and Faith drinking another beer. Joe begging them to sing. She winced at that one, recalling how that had led to her drinking a shot of vodka, then another, and then a few more.
No wonder her head felt like a freight train was barreling through her temples. What happened after karaoke? She sank into her cushiony down pillows to think and the answer came to her in a distinct vision.
Ethan.
He’d been waiting for her in the hallway. Razor stubble darkened his cheeks, giving him an even more dangerous than normal aura, which was saying something. He’d worn a black shirt that emphasized his broad chest and impressive muscles. And when he’d spoken, that husky voice had washed over her like hot chocolate over vanilla ice cream. She hadn’t been nearly as smooth as she’d stumbled over herself, but he’d been there, wrapping his strong arm around her waist, supporting her.
And not only had she let him, she’d leaned against him, wanting to crawl inside his skin because he’d smelled so musky and male, so . . . You smell good.
Faith groaned aloud. “Please tell me I did not say that out loud.”
Obviously she had because he’d replied, You smell better.
“Oh God.” She was mortified enough, but it hadn’t ended there.
He’d taken her home, helped her up the stairs and into her apartment. She’d been drunk and out of control. She remembered that now. She also remembered a long, rambling conversation she’d had with him, but no real specifics came back to her except that it had led to a kiss.
And boy could he kiss. She was on fire now just thinking about his lips hard on hers. She grabbed an extra pillow and buried her face into the cool, soft cushion.
How would she ever face him again? Well, she wouldn’t have to unless she ran into him in town, which she doubted would happen all that often. At least she hoped not.
The doorbell rang and she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nine A.M. It was probably Kate, coming over to find out exactly what had happened between her and Ethan last night. Having just relived it in her head, Faith wasn’t ready for an instant replay with her best friend.
But the doorbell rang again.
Faith rose gently from the bed, taking care with her poor aching head. She could barely stand, but if she wanted the ringing to go away, she had no choice but to answer.
“I’m coming!” she called out irritably.
She opened the door, shocked to find Rosalita, her old housekeeper, on the other side.
Before Faith could greet her, the other woman stepped into the apartment, a brown bag in her hand. She brushed past Faith and headed for her small kitchen, placing the bag onto the counter.
Only when her hands were free did she turn around and hold out her arms. “Oh, Ms. Faith. It’s so good to see you! I miss you so much. Not your mama or your papa, I’m sorry to say, but you!”
Rosalita had worked for Faith’s parents since Faith was a little girl. She’d been the one to sit with Faith in the kitchen, give her milk and cookies after school, and meet whichever friends she brought home. She worked hard so her children could have the life and education she didn’t, something Faith as an adult now understood and respected.
The woman was a welcome sight and Faith stepped forward and into her warm embrace. “It’s good to see you too, Rosalita.” She was glad to note her old housekeeper still smelled the same, the thought giving Faith comfort. “How did you know where to find me?”
She stepped back and looked the other woman over. Rosalita hadn’t changed in all the years Faith had known her. Her dark hair was cropped short near her head and her stout, round body was just the same.
“Well, Mr. Ethan, he ask me do a special errand for him this morning. I tell him no, I work around the house and I’m not his errand boy. But then he explained it was for you and I say okay.” She cupped Faith’s face in her hands and kissed both cheeks. “You look good.”
Faith shook her head—a big mistake—and raised an eyebrow instead. “I doubt it. I’m sure I look like something the cat dragged in.”
“Sí. But you still look good to me.”
Faith grinned, when suddenly Rosalita’s earlier words registered. “You work for Ethan Barron now?” she asked, surprised.
“I tol’ him I come with the house and keep my job, but he have to pay me double to work for a bad boy. Because I know the house so well, he say yes.”
Faith understood her broken English. Despite having been in this country for decades, Rosalita had always chosen to speak Spanish to her children at home, watch Spanish television channels, and stick to English only when at work.
What Faith took from the conversation was that Rosalita didn’t approve of her boss and Faith felt compelled to stick up for him. “Ethan’s not a bad boy anymore, Rosalita.”
She folded her plump arms over her ample chest and let out a harrumphing sound. “Bad man. Same difference.”
“He’s not that either.” Although exactly what Ethan was remained to be seen. Just thinking about him had her aching and wound up, curious, and a lot of other things all at the same time. “You should give him a chance,” Faith said to his new housekeeper.
Rosalita pursed her lips. “That’s what he say.”
“Then do it.” Faith narrowed her gaze. “Why would Ethan send you here?”
“He say you will need breakfast this morning. So here I am.” She smiled at Faith.
“Breakfast?”
“Sí. So let me get started.” The older woman headed back into the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients from the bag. “I make your favorite breakfast. But first, here. Coffee.” She handed Faith a large cup from the Cuppa Café, which Faith gratefully accepted.
She was completely overwhelmed by Ethan’s gracious gesture. “He sent you to make me breakfast? That’s so considerate of him.” And caring. She couldn’t believe he’d thought to take care of her, and a wave of warm appreciation washed over her.
Rosalita began her prepping in the small kitchen, making herself at home, rambling like she always used to. “Mr. Ethan also say you drink too much last night.” Rosalita paused to wave a wagging finger at her. “Not good for you, Ms. Faith. Alcohol make you do bad things. I ended up with child after too much alcohol.” She gestured to her belly. “You be careful. Especially if you’re hanging around with that bad boy.”
Faith bit down on the inside of her cheek. “I’m not hanging around with him. And he’s not a—”
“Bad boy. I know. So you say. But he knew you’d need coffee and breakfast this morning, so something happened between you two, no?”
Faith blew out a long breath of air, unable to deny the other woman’s words. “Yes.”
“Let me make your omelet.”
Unable to stand the thought of eggs just yet, Faith was about to argue, when Rosalita spoke again. “Go. Shower and get dressed. You’ll feel better and I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done. You need to get ready. Mr. Ethan say you two have a business meeting at ten o’clock this morning. So go get ready.”
“What?” Faith asked, Rosalita’s words coming as a surprise. “We don’t have any business together.”
“Mr. Ethan tell me you will say that too. So he said to remind you that you agree to . . . what’s the word? Des . . .”
“Design?”
“Design and decorate his new house. Which should be your house, if you ask me.” She let out a tsking sound followed by a shake of her head. “Your father, shame on him. I never thought he was a criminal, but he disappoint me!” she exclaimed.
“Me too, Rosalita. Me too.” As for Ethan, she was beginning to recall more of that monologue she’d had with him last night, and yes, she probably had agreed to take the job.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing she’d need not just this coffee and the shower, or even the breakfast he’d so generously sent over, but a good dose of courage before heading over to the house on the hill.
An hour later, Rosalita had left after making Faith the best omelet ever, a cold glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and another cup of hot coffee. Her head still hurt a little, but overall she felt like a new woman. New enough to call her mom.
Faith and her mother had had a strained relationship from the time Faith was a child. Faith had been her daddy’s little girl, while Lanie Harrington resented the attention Martin Harrington showered on his daughter, the same attention she so desperately craved. It didn’t matter how much Faith’s father loved his wife—she always wanted more and had often blamed Faith for dividing Martin’s time when he was home. Added to the fact that Lanie didn’t know how to be a mother, their relationship had never been good.
As an adult, Faith and her mother had drifted apart, which worked fine for Faith since she was able to distance herself from her mother’s constant negativity and demands. They’d rarely spoken when Faith had lived in New York, but after her father’s shocking revelations, Faith had held out hope she and her mother could begin to repair their fractured relationship.
Upon returning to Serendipity, Faith reached out, assuming Lanie would welcome someone who understood the pain and loneliness she must be experiencing. What Faith discovered was that her mother’s holier-than-thou attitude about the world hadn’t changed despite the fact that her husband was in jail and she was now living on a fixed income enforced by her settlement with the government. Everything else in their names had been sold off, the proceeds put into a fund to repay the victims of his crimes. She held on to the warped belief that her husband was misunderstood and had never meant to hurt people. Therefore, as usual, both Lanie’s and her husband’s circumstances were everyone else’s fault.
Lanie Harrington resided in a lovely house on the outskirts of town and, in Faith’s opinion, had made out fairly well, all things considered. In her mother’s opinion, she’d been robbed and life wasn’t fair. She’d been ostracized by the elite women of the community and shunned by the regular people Faith was trying so hard to live among and be a part of.
Still, Faith called and her mother didn’t answer, whether she was sleeping in or not taking calls, Faith had been spared until next time. She left a message and turned to getting ready to meet with Ethan, beginning with sorting through her closet for business-appropriate attire. She settled on a black tank top dress with a pair of low kitten-heeled shoes that posed no threat of repeating last night’s unsteady wobbling.
A few minutes later, she stepped outside of her apartment and realized she would have to call a taxi or walk to Ethan’s. She hadn’t owned a car in Manhattan and she hadn’t thought she’d need one here either, living smack in the heart of town. Besides, a car would be another luxury and she didn’t want to afford herself too many of those until she was bringing in a steady income.
She’d have no choice but to call a cab from the one-person cab company in town, which would take at least half an hour to show up, making her late. She reached into her bag to find her cell phone when the sound of a car horn drew her attention.
She turned and saw Ethan’s Jag in the parking lot, the man himself waving to her from the driver’s seat. She blinked in surprise and started down the stairs, careful to maintain a steady stride and not make an ass of herself—because he was definitely watching her.
She walked up to his open window, placing a hand on the car. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you have a car?” he asked.
If he was here, she had a feeling he already knew the answer. But she shook her head in reply anyway.
“Didn’t think so,” he said a bit too smugly for her liking. “But the truth is I just didn’t want you to find an excuse to miss our appointment.” His lips twisted in a wry grin.
So he thought he’d be one step ahead of her, did he? Okay, he was. And there was nothing she could do about it. Nor did she want to. The man had offered her a much-needed career opportunity and had turned out to be her savior last night and again this morning. If she wasn’t careful, he’d make himself indispensable. And that was power she could never allow any man to have over her.
“Get in the car, princess.” His eyes dared her to argue as she had in the past.
She merely stood taller and walked to the passenger’s side of the car, bracing herself for the impact of being alone with him. There was also the issue of walking into her old home for the first time since the world as she knew it had come crashing down around her.
“Feeling okay this beautiful morning?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
The sun shone down on the town, a bright early July morning in Serendipity. The sunlight made her wince, which was what he’d been referring to.
Her hangover. “Actually, I’m feeling good.” Thanks to him. “Sending over breakfast was thoughtful.” Sending over Rosalita had been an emotional boost she hadn’t realized she’d needed, but obviously he’d figured that out about her.
No one had ever cared enough about her deepest needs to do something that caring. Oh, her father had given her material things, and he’d given her his time, but she knew now he’d withheld important parts of himself, making their connection a superficial one at best. And forget Carter. But Ethan, who was practically a stranger to her, had sensed what she needed.
She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
He slid a knowing glance her way, then refocused on the road. “You’re welcome. I figured you’d be hurting this morning, and again, I didn’t want to give you an excuse to miss our meeting.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I might not have remembered our meeting if you hadn’t sent Rosalita to remind me.”
He grinned, obviously amused by her hangover. “I figured.”
“Well, I’m perfectly fine now.”
“Glad to hear it. We have a lot of ground to cover. This place is massive and it’ll take tons of furniture to make it feel like home.”
She patted her tote. “That’s what I’m here for.” Her bag held a sketch pad, measuring tape, and a notebook for their meeting.
She just planned to take some basic notes, dig into his feelings about the house, his likes and dislikes in color and furniture type—modern, classic, traditional, et cetera. Then she’d call Joel Carstairs. She’d met Joel, a premier interior designer, through the wife of one of Carter’s partners.
Joel had helped her decorate her penthouse in Manhattan and in the process he’d become her close friend. She’d attended his designer showcases, and he’d taken her with him on buying trips and had introduced her to the best design houses to work with and order fabric and furniture from. Most important, he’d held her hand through her divorce, all the while reminding her of why he and Paul, his partner of fifteen years, didn’t need a piece of paper to define their relationship. He’d also promised to help her get started in interior design in Serendipity, even if visiting a small town killed his sense of flair. She grinned at the recollection.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asked.
She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her. “Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand unless he met Joel.
Ethan shrugged and turned the car into the long driveway, slowly taking the car up the hill and pulling the Jag into one of the four garages her father had added on after purchasing the house from the previous owner. She noted a motorcycle in one stall, an SUV in another.
The mansion on the hill was a landmark, the heart of the town. All the homes that had been built in the early 1900s by the rich and wealthy seeking to escape the hot summers in Manhattan had fallen into disrepair.
Not her house.
This house.
His house.
She hadn’t realized he’d shut off the engine and walked around, opening the car door and extending a hand. “Ready?”
She placed her palm against his. Electricity crackled between them as she stepped into the familiar garage.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I was just thinking about my dad’s cars. His Aston Martin would be parked there.” She pointed to one of the empty bays. “And his Mercedes convertible here.” She patted the door of his Jaguar. “Mom’s car was where your bike is now.”
“I’m sorry.” Ethan slipped a supportive hand against her back. “When I asked you to decorate, I didn’t think about the emotional impact.” He paused, giving the weight of his words more importance. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll take you home right now.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, okay?” Faith turned to face him. “You might have pushed me into this when I was drunk, but I wouldn’t be here now unless I wanted to be.”
A flash of admiration sparkled in his eyes. “Fair enough.”
“Good. So let’s go inside.”
No sooner had Ethan entered the house than he received an emergency business call. He didn’t want to leave Faith alone to walk through her old home, but he had no choice. He excused himself and uncomfortably told her to look around—as if she didn’t already know every nook and cranny in the place.
Heading into his office, he took the call only to discover that his main competitor had somehow gotten hold of the specs on his company’s government bid, which meant one thing. Not only did Ethan have to revamp his strategy, but he had to deal with a spy in his midst. And if that were the case, even his latest software in development was at risk.
He muttered a curse and called Franklin Investigations, the only firm he trusted to handle the job discreetly and find out who the hell was leaking proprietary business information to his biggest competitor. It could be anyone. A loner, Ethan rarely trusted people, so he knew better than to take anyone in his company into his confidence. He’d keep the investigation to himself until the mole was ferreted out and the person fired.
Knowing there was nothing more he could do until Franklin found answers, he went in search of Faith, expecting to find her somewhere on the first floor making notes or taking measurements. Instead, he wandered room to room and came up empty on the main floor. He could use the intercom system that had been installed, but he decided to keep looking instead. In the basement, he checked the media room, wondering if she’d decided to start there first. That was a room he already had a vision for and one he wanted her to implement quickly. No Faith. Wine cellar, pool table area, and bar also turned up empty.
He jogged up the stairs and then headed to the second floor where the master and other bedrooms were located. Suddenly he had a hunch and stepped quietly on the carpeted runner that led to the one bedroom that had to be hers. Pink and green striped wallpaper on walls and a floral mix border running across the top near the ceiling had screamed girl to him. He hadn’t paid much attention when he’d walked through with the realtor and he’d had no reason to go in there since he’d moved in.
From the doorway, Ethan silently glanced inside. Faith stood by the closets in the empty room. Without furniture, the space looked as sad and lonely as she did at this moment. Sunlight streamed through the two windows on opposite walls, highlighting the soft beige carpet and putting a spotlight on the areas that were indented from the years of heavy furniture and the occasional discoloration from use and wear.
Oblivious to his presence, Faith ran her hands up and down the wall inside a small walk-in closet. She was obviously lost in old memories. Good or bad? He had no idea, but he felt like an intruder on her private time and space, and guilt rose up inside him. He considered walking away and leaving her alone with her thoughts, but if the memories weren’t all good ones, maybe she’d appreciate the interruption. Besides, he reminded himself, this was his house and she’d come here to do a job.
He cleared his throat. “Hey. I looked all over the house for you.”
She turned, not startled or surprised to see him. He wondered if she’d sensed his presence all along. “Hi. I was just visiting. This used to be my room, but I’m sure you figured that out already.”
He nodded. “I sure did. Pink room fit for a princess.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “Yeah.”
“What are you looking at in there?” He pointed to where she’d been rubbing the inner closet wall.
“You’ll think it’s silly.” She ducked her head, obviously embarrassed, and started for the door. “Why don’t we get started downstairs first?”
His curiosity piqued, he refused to accept the avoidance technique. “Not until you tell me what you were looking at.” He wanted to know her secrets. Was curious what made her tick. Maybe then he’d understand why he was so drawn to her. Why he loved her laugh and hated when she was sad. Like now. “And I won’t think it’s silly.”
She let out a forced sigh. “Okay, you asked for it. My mother loved wallpaper.” She gestured around the room, then swung back to the open closet door.
“I noticed,” he said wryly.
“I’m sure you did.” She treated him to her soft, appealing laughter. “Anyway, my mother had even papered the inside of my closet with her choice of color and style. But I always wanted to be able to design my room and mark it as my own.”
“So the urge to decorate has always been there?”
She nodded.
He envied her knowing what she wanted at a young age. He’d never known. Never thought beyond the next round of fun and trouble he could stir up. Until joining the army, he hadn’t been thinking at all.
“So one day, out of spite, I peeled back the paper in the closet,” she said, oblivious to his thoughts. “Of course being the real rebel that I am, I chose a place my mother wouldn’t notice.” She met his gaze and grinned.
Not just their gazes connected and he laughed, feeling as if they’d just shared a private joke.
“She never found out I’d peeled off one entire wall in here because only Rosalita would go inside to put away my clothes and she’d never tell. Anyway, with the wallpaper gone, I found markings.” She ran her fingertips over the wall once more.
Soft and delicate, she stroked the wall. Watching her made him long for her hands to work their way over his skin, inch by tantalizing inch.
He cleared his throat. “What kind of markings?” he asked, trying to distract himself before his body reacted even more.
“Look.”
He stepped closer and her sweet scent surrounded him, taking him back to last night, the kiss, and her hands looped around his neck while her lips devoured his. This wasn’t good at all, he thought. He had to focus on their conversation, not on sex or how much he desired her.
He squinted for a better look at the small pencil and pen markings that ran up and down the wall in a straight line. “What are they?” He stepped out of her personal space, giving himself some of his own.
“Height measurements!” she said, sounding as excited over the discovery as she must have been the first time. “Didn’t your mom ever stand you against the wall and mark how tall you’d gotten?” she asked.
He shook his head and shoved his hands into the back pocket of his jeans. “I never stuck around the house long enough for her to get the chance. I always had somewhere to go, friends to see . . . trouble to cause.” His voice dropped at the memory of his behavior.
How many times had he wished for a do-over? The chance to fix things so his memories would be more than a guilty blur? Too bad life didn’t offer many of those.
She met his gaze, seemed to read his expression, and her eyes filled with understanding. Not pity.
“My mother just wasn’t interested in old discoveries or how tall her only daughter was.” Faith jumped back into the conversation without missing a beat, letting him off the hook without pushing for further conversation.
Score another point for her.
“But after I found these I showed them to my father. He hadn’t cared that I pulled down Mom’s wallpaper. Instead, he just picked up a pen and added my height line to the rest of them.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “We used to check for growth spurts every six months or so. He never forgot.”
“Sounds like you love him a lot.”
She stepped back and leaned against the wall, her disappointment clear. “I do. Did. I mean I do. I love him.” She nodded definitively. “I just don’t understand what he did or why.”
“Maybe he got caught up in something beyond his control,” Ethan suggested, because she seemed to need answers.
“Nothing excuses what he did.”
Before he could chime in, she continued. “Anyway, most of these lines are from kids who lived in this room long before me.”
“Which ones are yours?” he felt compelled to ask.
“The ones in pen. The penciled ones came before me.”
He liked thinking of her in this pink, princesslike room. It was just like he’d imagined for her. Funny that it had been her mother’s taste and not hers.
“The cool thing is, my markings and the older ones are all part of the rich history of this place.”
“Which is?” he asked, curious.
“Don’t you know the history of the house?” she asked.
He shook his head. He didn’t know anything except only someone wealthy could afford a place like this. As a kid, he’d been awed by its imposing presence. As an adult, the big house represented permanency and the only second chance he’d get in Serendipity.
The people who lived on Ethan’s side of town had always seemed to be in awe of Faith’s father. In buying this house, Ethan had sought that kind of acknowledgment for himself. His brothers had made it clear he’d never get it. A heavy weight settled in his chest. Even his housekeeper couldn’t contain her dislike. Yet he was still determined to win them all over.
“Tell me about the house,” he said, wanting his thoughts off of himself.
She smiled. “Well, according to my mother, decades ago, the wealthy in Manhattan wanted to escape the oppressive heat during the summer so they sought out summer cottages where they could take their families. Some cottage, huh?” she asked wryly.
“Small and quaint,” he agreed with a grin.
She laughed.
And everything inside his chest eased.
“Serendipity must have seemed like the perfect getaway on a beautiful lake.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality.
Ethan knew the lake on the outskirts of town, a place where kids hung out and families picnicked. Just not his family. His father, a traveling salesman, had rarely been home. And when he was, there was always bickering he’d try hard not to hear.
“One family moved out here, bought land, and built a large estate, then others in their social circle followed, each trying to outdo the other.”
Faith’s story brought him back to the present.
“This house was just the pièce de résistance.” She gestured with her hands as she explained, her expression animated as she related the story, her fondness for this place obvious.
Pleasure unfolded inside him from watching her.
“Over the years, the inhabitants changed, of course. And over time Serendipity became more of a permanent place to live rather than just a summer retreat. But with changing times and owners came responsibilities. Not all owners kept up their homes and many fell into disrepair. A lot of them were knocked down to build the main part of town. Subdivision of land and things resulted in the smaller parcels and homes in the downtown area. And yet this house was always maintained, always well kept. My parents did their job for the last twenty years. Until . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was obviously unwilling to go on.
But Ethan knew exactly what she’d been about to say. Her father’s fall from grace had reared its ugly head. Apparently it wasn’t something she liked to discuss. Just as apparently, maybe talking would make her feel better.
“Until?” he prodded.
She shook her head. “Let’s not get into that story.”
Ethan studied her through narrowed eyes, making a decision in an instant. “Yes, let’s.”
