Rochelle Alers - The Sweetest Temptation

His feet were silent on the floor as he neared her. A book lay open in her lap. It was apparent she’d fallen asleep while reading. Guilt assailed him when he realized he’d put her out of her bed. Checking his watch, he realized it was almost eight o’clock. When he’d asked Faith if he could lie down to wait for coffee, he hadn’t thought he would end up sleeping for hours.

Ethan stood over Faith, staring openly at her and seeing up close what he hadn’t noticed the day before. Her hands were delicately formed, the fingers long with tapered nails. There was a tiny beauty mark on her temple near her left eye. The yellow glow from the lamp highlighted the gold undertones in her flawless dark skin, which reminded him of minute particles of gold dust mixed with smooth dark milk chocolate.

His gaze moved lower to the rise and fall of her breasts under the T-shirt, and within seconds he felt like a pervert spying on an unsuspecting woman. The sound of the coffee brewing was unusually loud in the quietness of the apartment. A gurgling noise indicated the brewing cycle had ended. Turning away from Faith, Ethan made his way to the kitchen to fortify himself with a cup of the brew that was certain to keep him alert long enough to make it home.

He found a large mug in an overhead cabinet, filling it to the brim. Resting a hip against the countertop, he sipped the steaming-hot coffee, the heat burning his throat and settling in his chest and belly like a soothing blanket.

Ethan hadn’t lied to Faith when he’d told her that he liked her apartment. The pale colors and her choice of furnishings gave the space a lived-in look, unlike his that had been decorated by an interior-design firm. Once he’d closed on the luxury two-bedroom condominium, he hadn’t had the time nor the patience to visit stores or shops looking for tables, lamps, beds or the other accessories that determined a room’s personality. He told the decorator what he didn’t like, and she took it from there. There were times when he felt as if he were walking into a furniture showroom, but for all of the time he spent there it was more than adequate.

He felt rather than saw Faith move, and he straightened from his lounging position. Smiling, he watched her come awake with the grace of a cat. He knew he’d frightened her when a small cry escaped her parted lips.

Blinking, Faith stared at the man standing in the shadows. “You woke up.”

“So did you.” Ethan gestured to the coffee in the carafe. “Would you like a cup?”

Faith couldn’t believe his audacity. He was offering her her coffee in her own home! “You’re really ballsy, aren’t you?” When Ethan glanced down at the front of his jeans she wanted to disappear on the spot. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Ethan didn’t move. “How do you want me to interpret ballsy?”

“What I meant is cheeky, audacious and—”

“I get your meaning, Faith,” he said, putting up a hand and cutting her off. “Now what have I done for you to get your back up?”

Swinging her legs off the window seat, Faith walked over and stood less than a foot from Ethan. His warmth and the lingering scent of his cologne had become an aphrodisiac, pulling her to him when the opposite was what she wanted. She wanted Ethan McMillan out of her home because everything about him was a sensual assault.

“I do the serving in my home.”

“Now, that’s a very selfish approach, Faith,” he chastised in a soft tone. “If you were in my home I’d permit you to do whatever you wanted.”

“That’s where we’re different, Ethan.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Wrong, Faith. We’re more alike than dissimilar.”

“Why would you say that? You don’t know anything about me, or vice versa.”

“What I do know and what I see I like.”

This time Faith had no comeback. Clamping her jaw tightly, she refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting the same. Despite all of her protests, she also liked what she saw and what he’d shown her—arrogance notwithstanding.

“WJ said he gave you something to give me,” she said instead, deftly changing the topic of conversation.

Ethan set his mug on the counter and went over to get the envelope from his jacket hanging on the coat tree. Retrieving it, he handed it to Faith. “Thank you for the use of your bed and the coffee.” He winked at her as he walked over to the bed to get his shoes. “I believe I can make it home okay now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he stared at her. “Are you inviting me to spend the night?”

“No. It’s just that it’s snowing and…”

His eyebrows lifted when she didn’t finish her statement. “I’m touched that you’re concerned about my well-being, but I can assure you that I’m able to maneuver in snow.”

Faith gave him a facetious grin. “Of course. After all, you are a chauffeur.”

“Right,” he said after a lengthy pause. Driving wasn’t his livelihood or career, but that wasn’t something he would disclose to her. Bending over, he tied his shoes. Rising from the bed, he closed the distance between them. “You still owe me a dance,” he whispered close to her ear.

Faith’s eyes narrowed. He was like a dog with a bone. “What if I put on some music and we dance here?”

“No, Faith. You should’ve danced with me last night, but you cut and run like a candy-ass.”

Her delicate jaw dropped before she recovered. “Now, that sounds like military jargon. Were you in the military?”

“I’ll tell you, but under one condition.”

Faith registered the teasing quality in his voice. “What’s that?”

“Because you forfeited the chance to dance with me last night, now it will have to be someplace else.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Ethan?”

“Let me know when you’re available to go out.”

She stared wordlessly as a shock flew through her. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“No, Faith. It’s not going to be a date.”

“If my going out with you is not a date, then pray tell what is it?”

“You making good on your promise for one little itty-bitty dance, and in turn I’ll tell you about my military experience.”

Faith saw the beginnings of a smile crease the skin around his eyes. She didn’t know whether he was teasing or serious about taking her out. Now she had another adjective to add to his personality—persistent.

“What are you trying to do? Wear me down?”

“Nope,” Ethan countered. “All you have to do is say yes.”

“But what if I say no.”

“Then I’ll be forced to wear you down.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t. Not only am I worn down but also worn-out.”

“What say you, Faith Whitfield?”

She couldn’t stop the smile softening her mouth. “I say yes, Ethan McMillan.”

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call you.”

“But you don’t have my number,” she said to his back when he walked over to get his jacket.

Slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, Ethan turned and looked at Faith. “I’ll get it from WJ.” He gave her a snappy salute, turned and opened the door. It closed and locked automatically behind him.

Faith stared at the door, unable to believe what she’d just committed to. Ethan wanted to take her out for “one little itty-bitty dance,” and to her that translated into a date. Glancing at the envelope in her hand, she returned to the window seat, sat down and opened it. WJ had enclosed a business card. She flipped it over, smiling. He’d scrawled the word thanks, his signature and drawn a smiley face. Her smile faded when she peered into the envelope to find a stack of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. She removed them from the envelope and began counting. She stopped at eight hundred. William Raymond’s little something added up to more than a thousand dollars.