If I Need You (If You Come Back To Me #5) Page 7

  “I think Celia was more interested in the fact that I wanted to know exactly what you wanted,” Ryan said after he’d swallowed his first bite of his roast beef and Swiss.

  Faith gave him a surprised glance. She had to hand it to him. That was the perfect response to silence her vague uneasiness.

  As if she had a right to get miffed at the thought of him flirting with another woman, she thought, mentally rolling her eyes at herself. Jesse had really done a number on her, for her to get this paranoid.

  She forked her salad slowly, steeling herself for bringing up a potentially dicey topic when she and Ryan were getting along so well together.

  “Did you give any more thought about what you said last night...about moving to Michigan, I mean?”

  He nodded as he chewed, waiting until he swallowed. He took a swig of ice water. “Yeah, I did. I called my sister, Mari, late last night and had a conversation with her about it.”

  Faith set down her fork, shocked. This was not the response she’d expected. She’d thought maybe he’d had time to reconsider his impulsive decision to relocate his home and business—his entire life. “You had a conversation with her about moving to Michigan?”

  “Yes, and about the baby.” Her mouth fell open in amazement. “I hope that’s okay. Mari and I are really close. And like you said earlier, it’s really big news. Talking to her helped me get my bearings a little bit. Faith?” he asked, his dark eyebrows pinching together as he looked at her. “Is that okay?”

  She blinked. “Yes. Of course. Like I said, I’ll be telling my parents soon. And Jane knows already. Of course you wanted to tell your sister.” She picked up her fork again. “How did Mari take it?”

  “She was floored.”

  “Naturally,” Faith muttered, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason. Was she worried about what Mari would think of her? Would Ryan’s sister perhaps disapprove of the unusual circumstances?

  Ryan gave her a warm glance. “But then she really started to get excited.” He seemed to hesitate for a second, and then took a bite out of his sandwich.

  “Ryan, what is it?” Faith asked, sensing he was holding back. He took several seconds to respond.

  “It’s just...Mari wants to come to Michigan to visit tomorrow.” He gave her a fleeting glance, and Faith realized he seemed uncomfortable. “She...um...wants to meet you.”

  “Oh.”

  He set down his sandwich. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

  “I do want to,” Faith said breathlessly. “It’s just...”

  “What?”

  “It all seems so...serious.”

  They just looked at each other for a moment.

  “Having a baby is serious, though. Isn’t it?” Ryan finally said slowly.

  “Yeah,” Faith admitted. She gave Ryan a helpless sort of glance, and for some reason, the weightiness inherent to their conversation—their entire situation—temporarily lifted. Simultaneously Ryan grinned and Faith burst into hysterical laughter.

  “I’m sorry,” Faith said a moment later, wiping a few tears caused by her laughing jag off her cheek with a paper napkin. “This situation is so strange. I hope your sister doesn’t think I’m an...oddity.”

  “She’ll think you’re exactly what you are. She’ll think you’re wonderful,” Ryan said simply. Her laughter faded when he touched her hand where it sat on the table, ever so briefly. Nerves all along the skin of her hand and forearm flickered to life.

  After her heartbeat went back to normal following that caress, they managed to have a nice lunch together. Ryan’s easy conversation about practical matters settled her unrest about his sudden presence in her life, and her confusion about how she was supposed to feel about it. After they’d eaten and cleaned up, Ryan resumed his furniture-moving project, and Faith hauled sacks filled with garbage out of the room. It fascinated her to watch him work, to observe how methodical and efficient he was in breaking down the bed into easily movable pieces, strapping the bureau drawers closed with duct tape, then maneuvering the large pieces of furniture through the door while he held them vertical on the metal truck.

  In what seemed like no time, the furniture was neatly piled at the end of her driveway. Before she knew it, the Salvation Army truck had come to retrieve it, and a project she’d dreaded undertaking was done within a matter of hours.

  “You’re a miracle of efficiency,” she told him as they both watched through the window as the two workers from the Salvation Army got into the truck and drove away. She turned and gazed at the nursery-to-be. Now that the room was empty, the possibilities of transforming it into a wonderful place for the baby filled her with excitement. She clapped her hands together eagerly and gave Ryan an irrepressible grin.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his warm gaze running over her face.

  “Do you want to know how I plan to decorate?” she asked, suddenly feeling like a kid with a secret she longed to share.

  “Of course.”

  She swept across the room and gestured over the entire north wall. “I plan to paint a mural here—bright, eye-catching colors, and the cradle will go here, and a set of drawers here, and a baby changing table here,” she explained as she moved around the room. “I’d like to hire someone to come in and do some built-in shelves on this wall—something that’ll last, that can be used even when the baby is in high school. Now that you’ve cleaned out the room for me, I can order a new carpet. I haven’t decided what color to do the walls in. It’ll depend on whether or not I decide to know the sex during the next ultrasound.” She turned toward him and paused. “I mean, what we decide,” she added weakly.

  “Sounds like you have big plans,” he said, inspecting the blank wall as if he saw something there she didn’t. “I’ll pay for half of the redecoration.”

  “Oh...I didn’t mean...well, I suppose that’d be okay,” she fumbled. He’d said it so unexpectedly, she hadn’t had time to prepare. He was the baby’s father. It was a perfectly reasonable offer.

  “Can I build the shelves?”

  “Can you do something like that?” Faith asked, eyes wide.

  Ryan’s nod was entirely confident. “My father taught me carpentry. We used to take on projects together as a hobby when I was a kid. I did the built-in bookshelves in my condominium in San Francisco. Here,” he paused, digging in his jean pocket and extracting his cell phone. He tapped a few buttons and handed the device to her. “It doesn’t have to look exactly like that. I can design it for whatever you want and need for the baby.”

  “Oh, it’s amazing,” Faith exclaimed, staring at a photo of beautifully crafted floor to ceiling maple shelves and cabinets. She glanced at Ryan with amazement. “I can’t believe you built that. Jesse used to say you were the best pilot he’d ever met,” she said quietly. “He said your reaction times were off the charts. And here you could have had a career as a carpenter, as well.”

  “Not likely,” Ryan said, grinning and putting away his phone.

  “Yeah, I guess you don’t get the adrenaline rush with carpentry that you do with flying.” For some reason a jolt of disappointment and irritation had gone through her when she saw his appealing, but undoubtedly cocky, smile. She was all too familiar with the rootless flyboy type. A man like Ryan would never be satisfied with a career like carpentry, or anything that kept him so grounded.

  “My love of flying was never about the adrenaline rush. Or at least not primarily about that.”

  “Really?” Faith asked, her eyebrows quirked upward and a small, slightly incredulous smile on her face. She started to walk away, but blinked in surprise when Ryan caught her hand and pulled slightly until she swung to face him.

  “Really,” he said emphatically, an odd expression shadowing his visage. His gaze narrowed on her. “Why are yo
u so convinced that I’m an adrenaline junkie, hell-raising pilot?”

  “Come on, Ryan,” she said with soft remonstrance. “I was a military wife. Do you think I don’t know the personalities of the majority of Air Force pilots? I know it’s a stereotype, but a pretty well-earned one, at least in my opinion...”

  She trailed off, knowing she’d made a mistake when she saw the fire flash in his eyes. “So that’s what I’m up against?” he asked, his voice quiet, but commanding. “Not just Jesse’s bad behaviors, but your stereotype about all pilots being jacked-up jerks always looking for the next high over the horizon, be it with a hot, fast jet or a hot, fast woman. Is that it, Faith?”

  She blushed at his graphic description, but bristled at it, as well. “I’m not going to apologize for my experience.”

  “Fine,” he replied quickly, pulling her a little closer until the lapels of their shirts brushed together. This close, she could see the inky black color of his lashes and the gleam of the lamplight in his ebony eyes. “Just do me the favor of not judging me by it until you’ve had a chance to broaden your horizons.”

  “I suppose you think I need more of the experience that I had with you on Christmas Eve?” she said sarcastically, and immediately regretted it. His nostrils flared at her challenge. His head lowered until their mouths were only inches apart. Against her will, Faith felt herself close the distance between them infinitesimally.

  “That wasn’t what I was talking about,” he said quietly, his gaze roaming over her face and landing on her lips. “But honestly? Yeah, I think that’s precisely the kind of experience you need. With me,” he added succinctly, causing the burn in her cheeks to transfer to other parts of her body.

  “I’m not about to make that kind of mistake anytime soon,” she whispered shakily. She went still when he suddenly palmed her jaw and spoke so close to her mouth that she felt his warm breath fanning her lips.

  “I’ll be ready for you whenever you change your mind.”

  Faith blinked, disoriented, when he dropped his hand and walked away.

  * * *

  Ryan stalked to the kitchen, anger and arousal surging in equal measure through his veins. By the time he’d gathered all his tools, closed his toolbox and retrieved the rented metal truck, regret had joined the potent brew.

  He should feel more compassionate toward Faith, given everything she’d been through with Jesse’s faithless ways. He’d never been more infuriated at Jesse for what his friend had done, wounding such a lovely, generous woman.

  What if Faith could never trust a man again? The possibility was too terrible to consider for long. Somehow he had to convince her that this strong, powerful attraction they shared for one another wasn’t the sign of a lustful fling, but the stable basis for something real...something lasting.

  He paused in the hallway next to the living room when he saw her approaching. His heart sank when he saw her expression.

  “Ryan, I’m sorry—”

  “No,” he cut her off more abruptly than he’d intended and took a deep breath, briefly shutting his eyes. He opened them again, pinning her with his stare. “I’m sorry.”

  She gave him a shaky smile. He hated seeing the uncertainty in her green eyes. She waved at the metal truck. “Thank you again. I can’t believe all you accomplished today.”

  “All we accomplished.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning and let you know about getting together with Mari? If you still want to, that is.”

  “I do want to,” she said.

  He gave her a small smile, appreciating her attempt to make things right between them again. All in all, he thought it was best that he get out of there before he said another stupid thing...or worse, touched her again. It was becoming increasingly hard to walk away after he felt her warm, soft skin beneath his fingertips, saw the way her lips parted as if in anticipation of his kiss—

  He realized he was staring at her mouth again and charged toward the front door.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.”

  “Okay,” he heard her say in a small voice from behind him.

  Fifteen minutes later he dropped the key to his hotel room on the night table and stalked toward the bathroom, where he turned on the shower.

  A good dousing in cold water helped, but it couldn’t extinguish the sound of Faith’s voice ringing in his head like a sexy taunt.

  He toweled off and shrugged on a pair of briefs and jeans, not bothering to button them all the way. He sat on the bed and grabbed the remote control. The baseball game on TV didn’t distract him from hearing Faith’s voice much better than the cold shower had.

  I suppose you think I need more of the experience that I had with you on Christmas Eve?

  Hell, yes that’s what he thought. What sane male in existence wouldn’t think about repeating such a phenomenal experience, almost to the exclusion of everything else?

  Even though he’d ritualistically forced himself not to dwell on what had happened between them on Christmas Eve, his powers were running thin now that he’d seen Faith again. Now that he’d touched her.

  Now that he’d witnessed firsthand the miraculous result of making love to her that night.

  * * *

  Christmas Eve.

  He remembered Faith’s radiant smile as they’d sat there together in the breakfast nook, sipping their Christmas punch. How could a woman possibly be so sweet and sexy as hell all at once?

  * * *

  “You’re not a stranger,” Faith said, beaming at him. “I feel like I know you as well as some people that I see every day of my life.”

  She faltered, as if suddenly second-guessing what she’d just said. Did she realize how uninhibited, how generous...how appealing she’d sounded? She glanced away, her expression frozen. He saw her pulse thrumming delicately at her throat above the modest nightgown she wore with a white robe tied securely over it. As he watched, her heartbeat leaped.

  She peeked over at him cautiously through a fall of dark, glorious waves and curls. Her cheeks and lips were flushed a becoming pink. He wondered if it was wishful thinking on his part, but her green eyes looked glazed with desire.

  She spilled punch on her robe when she stood too abruptly. Ryan sprang up almost as rapidly. She laughed awkwardly as she wiped her hand over the upper swell of a soft-looking, firm breast, trying to dry the red fluid.

  “Clumsy. Uh, excuse me...I just need to...”

  He followed her, drawn to her like a bee to honey. “Faith?” he called when she rushed over to the kitchen sink and turned on the water.

  “Yes?” she asked, glancing around, her eyes huge in her face.

  “You don’t feel like a stranger to me, either.”

  The words had just popped out of his mouth. This entire interaction with Faith had taken on a charged tone. Something about it felt alarmingly imperative, as if he’d been planning it in some part of his brain he kept secret even from himself for a long time now...waiting for it for most of his life.

  When he realized the bizarre direction of his thoughts, he blinked and stepped back. He was not typically a whimsical man.

  He was never a whimsical man.

  “I should go. It’s late.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, don’t rush off,” she said regretfully as she wiped off her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually so jumpy—”

  He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and gave a polite nod, looking away willfully when he noticed how pretty she was in her discomposure. “I’ll just go get my coat.”

  Something had caught his eye as he’d tried to make a hasty exit. He paused, despite his better judgment, and then slowly walked to a bookcase in Faith’s living room. He picked up one of the photos on her bookshelves.

 
“That was taken at Bagram Airfield, I think,” Faith said from behind him, referring to the picture Ryan held.

  He set down the photograph of Jesse and him wearing flight suits and standing in front of the brand-new Raptor they’d just test piloted. As usual, Jesse looked unabashedly, boyishly happy, as if he couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be in the world than in a blistering desert seven thousand miles from his wife.

  “Yeah,” Ryan said, turning to face her. The air seemed to hum with an electrical charge. Thus far on his unexpected visit, they hadn’t broached the topic of Jesse or his death. Jesse and four other airmen had been on a search and rescue mission for a fellow pilot who had been forced to eject from his plane. Four of the search team had been killed in an accidental helicopter crash in the Kunar province in Afghanistan, including Jesse. Only the helicopter pilot had survived. Ryan’s wing had been hit hard by the loss of five of their own.

  The pilot that had survived had, ironically, been Jesse’s girlfriend, Melanie Shane.

  Faith’s smile looked a little sad. “Jesse always spoke very fondly of you. It was obvious how much he respected you.”

  “He was a good friend,” he said, searching her face for some sign of what she thought of her dead husband.

  “He’ll have been gone for a year in January,” she said suddenly, studying the carpet.

  An awkward silence ensued.

  “I’m so sorry you lost such a—”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your—”

  Both of them stopped midsentence when they realized the other spoke a similar sentiment. Ryan winced slightly.