“It’s your place. I’m fine on a couch.”
“With six bedrooms, I don’t think that would make much sense. Take the
one at the end of the hall upstairs. It opens out onto the back porch.
The Jacuzzi’s out there. Feel free. Even without trunks. Don’t
worry, I won’t peek.”
They went inside. Lee grabbed his bag and followed her upstairs. He
showered and put on a clean pair of khakis, a sweatshirt and sneakers
without socks, since he had forgotten to bring the latter. He didn’t
bother to dry his new buzz cut. He caught himself looking in the
mirror. The haircut didn’t look so bad on him. In fact, it had taken
a few years off. He slapped his hard gut, even did an exaggerated flex
in the mirror.
“Yeah, right,” he said to his reflection. “Even if she were your type,
which she sure as hell ain’t.” He left his room and was about to head
downstairs when he stopped in the hallway.
Faith’s bedroom was at the other end of the corridor. He could still
hear her shower running. She was probably taking her time under the
hot water after the long ride. She had held up well, he had to admit,
hadn’t complained too much. He was edging down the hallway the whole
time he was thinking this, because it had just occurred to him that
Faith might at this very minute be escaping out the back door while
using the running shower as a ruse. For all he knew, she had arranged
for a rental car that was parked down the street, and she was about to
drive off, leaving him with not much of a life. Was she just like her
old man? Running away into the night when things got tough?
He knocked on her door. “Faith?” There was no answer, so he knocked
louder. “Faith? Faith!” The water was still running. “Faith!” he
yelled. He tried the door. It was locked. He pounded on the door
again and yelled her name.
Lee was about to hustle down the stairs when he heard footsteps and the
door was flung open. Faith stood there, her hair soaked and hanging in
her face, water dripping down her legs, a towel covering, barely, the
front of her.
“What?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”
Lee found himself staring at the elegant bone development of her
shoulders, the now fully revealed Audrey Hepburn neck, the tightness of
her arms. Then his gaze slid down to her upper thighs and he quickly
concluded that her arms had nothing on her legs.
“What the hell is it, Lee?” she said loudly.
He snapped back. “Oh. I was just wondering, um, how about I make
dinner?” He smiled weakly.
She stared incredulously at him as a puddle of water collected on the
carpet at her feet. As she wrapped the mostly wet towel around her,
Faith’s small, firm breasts were now fully outlined against the thin
wet fabric. That’s when Lee began thinking seriously about taking
another shower, only this time with water cold enough to turn certain
parts of his anatomy the same color as his eyes.
“Fine.” She slammed the door in his face.
“Very fine,” Lee said quietly to the door.
He went downstairs and examined the contents of the refrigerator. He
decided on a menu and started pulling food and pans. He had been
living alone for so long that he had finally decided, after years of
Golden Arches food, that he had better learn how to cook properly. He
actually found it therapeutic, and he fully expected to live an extra
twenty years now that he had cleaned his arteries of all the grease. At
least until he met Faith Lockhart. Now all bets on a long life were
off.
Lee laid out talapia on a baking sheet, brushed the fish with butter he
had melted in a pan and let it soak in. Then he added garlic, lemon
juice and some other secret spices handed down to him through
generations of Adamses and put the fish in the wall oven to broil. He
sliced up tomatoes and a slab of mozzarella, arranged them nicely on a