The Sweetest Temptation

He headed for the large bed in the alcove covered with a white comforter, shams, throw pillows and dust ruffle trimmed in lace. If he hadn’t been so tired he would’ve turned his nose up at the frilly bed linens, but now it was like an oasis to a thirsty traveler.

He sat on the side of the bed, removed his shoes, then lay on the unabashedly feminine bed and exhaled a sigh of relief. Englewood Cliffs was right across the river from New York but as he lay staring up at an eave above the bed he doubted whether he would’ve been able to make the drive without being a danger to himself or other motorists.

Ethan closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm. “Would your boyfriend mind if I took you dancing?”

Faith was barely able to control her gasp of shock. She stopped pouring coffee beans into the grinder. Within seconds she recovered enough to say, “No.”

“No, what? You don’t have a boyfriend, or you don’t want to go out with me?” His voice seemed to come from a long way off.

Her cheeks warmed with heat. “No to both.”

Her answer pleased Ethan. He was more interested in knowing if Faith Whitfield had a boyfriend than taking her out, because if she was involved with someone, then that meant he’d have to retreat honorably.

“Thank you.” The two words came out slurred.

Shifting, Faith stared at the tall man reclining on her bed. To say he was an enigma was putting it mildly. He’d asked her to go dancing with him, then acted as if she’d given him a reprieve when she turned him down.

“Thank you for what?”

“For your honesty and…”

“And what, Ethan?” There was no answer. “Ethan?” She called his name again and was greeted by soft snores.

Resting her hands on her hips, she glared at the figure lying sprawled across her bed, unable to believe he’d come to her apartment to sleep. If he was that tired, then she would’ve given him the address to several hotels in the area. He could’ve checked into the Washington Square Hotel for about one-fifty a night, or if he wanted luxury then there was the Marriott Financial Center at three to four hundred a night.

Faith smothered a curse under her breath as she pressed a button on the grinder. The tantalizing smell of fresh coffee filled the air. She’d come home to relax, but that was thwarted because Ethan McMillan had commandeered her bed. She programmed the coffeemaker to begin brewing in three hours. That was all the time she was going to give the man sleeping in her bed before she’d wake him to send him on his way.

Chapter 4

Faith opened the window shutters, sat down on the window seat and stretched her legs along its length. The width of the seat was one of many reasons why she’d decided to rent the apartment. It provided additional seating, and the windows overlooked an alley wide enough to park at least half a dozen cars. During the warmer weather she opened them and sat out on the fire escape. It wasn’t a traditional balcony or terrace, but served the same function.

Resting her back against an overstuffed pillow, she closed her eyes. What was it with the men who came to the homes of Whitfield women for the first time and ended up sharing their bed? She opened her eyes, staring at the falling snow piling up on the fire escape. Ethan was in her bed, even if she wasn’t sharing it with him.

Tessa admitted that she’d shared her bed with Micah Sanborn the night he’d come to her home because of a blackout, and within a week knew that the Brooklyn A.D.A. was her prince.

Reaching for a book, Faith opened it to the last page she’d read. She chanced a quick glance at Ethan McMillan and shook her head. He wasn’t a prince, but then he wasn’t exactly a frog, either. He was more like a bad penny that kept turning up when she least expected. Focusing on the book, she forgot about the man in her bed and lost herself in the lives of the novel’s characters.

The smell of brewing coffee wafted in Ethan’s nostrils as he opened his eyes to semidarkness. The only light in the room came from a floor lamp near the windows. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his gaze widening when he saw Faith on the window seat with her head at an odd angle.

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.