her than he'd been of any woman in his life.
Faith unlocked her apartment door, excessively aware of the tightly wound tension of the man behind her. Adrian Raphael was anything but a relaxed companion. She had the unsettling feeling that he was always balanced on the edge and that in some way she was responsible.
He didn't take his leave as the door opened. If he thought she was inviting him in, he was highly mistaken. “Thank you for bringing me home,” she murmured with her best boarding school manners. The year her parents had gone to Ecuador and left her at the fancy school had been an enlightening experience.
“Check to make certain the room's safe,” he said gruffly, standing in the shadows of the hall where she couldn't read his eyes.
He must have grown up in a rough world. Opening the door wider and flipping on the overhead light, Faith searched the interior. She didn't have much, but she liked quality. She'd found a bargain in the wide designer-tapestried sleeper sofa some client of the interior decorator's had rejected. The jewel colors picked up the ruby red and cobalt blue of the antique glass she'd carefully shelved over the old bay window. A contemporary glass kitchen table accompanied by chrome and cobalt chairs she'd found on sale in a gallery completed the essentials. She had a small office and library in a back room, but she couldn't imagine any thief finding room to hide in there, or in the ancient bathroom with its huge claw-footed tub. She liked the old musty building with its high ceilingsand fading grandeur. She turned to see if her companion was satisfied that the room was safe.
He seemed transfixed by the everydayness of the interior, but he snapped back quickly. “The shelter closes at ten, I'd better be going.”
“It's almost ten now.” Alarm clattered briefly through her veins. Did that mean she should invite him in? He'd brought her home, probably given up a comfortable bed with his family in exchange for the noisy cot room at the shelter. She'd been selfish—
Faith stopped that guilt track instantly. Tony had manipulated her that way. She wouldn't feel guilty about anything any man chose to do ever again. Adrian had chosen to go with her today so he could harass her more. Where he would sleep was his problem.
He shrugged. “I can sleep in the truck if they won't let me in. One thing jail teaches you is to sleep wherever and whenever you can. Lock the door behind you.” He examined the dead bolt. “It's a good lock, but you shouldn't be living here.”
Faith stared after him in amazement. He hadn't argued, hadn't blamed her for his discomfort, had merely accepted his responsibility for his predicament, already formed a solution, and acted on it. Damn, where were all the rest of the men in the world like that?
Probably in jail, she snorted, shutting the door and carefully bolting it. Men like that tended to think they were the only human beings on the face of the earth. That led to sticky results when the rest of the world intervened.
She unwrapped her bowl and admired it beneath the glare of the overhead light. Adrian Raphael's cousin had talent. Perhaps she could help him focus it a little more?
Dropping her case with its signed legal documents and a bankbook considerably lightened by her purchase, she undressed and showered and wrapped herself in her velour bathrobe. She told herself she should go to bed early, but restlessness grated on her nerves, and she knew sleep wouldn't come easily.
Thinking a rehash of the day's events might straighten out her thought processes, Faith pulled out her journal. When her pen wouldn't settle on the paper, she realized Adrian Raphael had an unsettling effect she didn't wish to analyze for the sake of her journal.
She started to flip the pages to the day she'd actually walked out on Tony, but her gaze caught on a tear-blotted page toward the beginning, and her hand hovered there. The knowledge Adrian had given her of Tony's vasectomy
Faith unlocked her apartment door, excessively aware of the tightly wound tension of the man behind her. Adrian Raphael was anything but a relaxed companion. She had the unsettling feeling that he was always balanced on the edge and that in some way she was responsible.
He didn't take his leave as the door opened. If he thought she was inviting him in, he was highly mistaken. “Thank you for bringing me home,” she murmured with her best boarding school manners. The year her parents had gone to Ecuador and left her at the fancy school had been an enlightening experience.
“Check to make certain the room's safe,” he said gruffly, standing in the shadows of the hall where she couldn't read his eyes.
He must have grown up in a rough world. Opening the door wider and flipping on the overhead light, Faith searched the interior. She didn't have much, but she liked quality. She'd found a bargain in the wide designer-tapestried sleeper sofa some client of the interior decorator's had rejected. The jewel colors picked up the ruby red and cobalt blue of the antique glass she'd carefully shelved over the old bay window. A contemporary glass kitchen table accompanied by chrome and cobalt chairs she'd found on sale in a gallery completed the essentials. She had a small office and library in a back room, but she couldn't imagine any thief finding room to hide in there, or in the ancient bathroom with its huge claw-footed tub. She liked the old musty building with its high ceilingsand fading grandeur. She turned to see if her companion was satisfied that the room was safe.
He seemed transfixed by the everydayness of the interior, but he snapped back quickly. “The shelter closes at ten, I'd better be going.”
“It's almost ten now.” Alarm clattered briefly through her veins. Did that mean she should invite him in? He'd brought her home, probably given up a comfortable bed with his family in exchange for the noisy cot room at the shelter. She'd been selfish—
Faith stopped that guilt track instantly. Tony had manipulated her that way. She wouldn't feel guilty about anything any man chose to do ever again. Adrian had chosen to go with her today so he could harass her more. Where he would sleep was his problem.
He shrugged. “I can sleep in the truck if they won't let me in. One thing jail teaches you is to sleep wherever and whenever you can. Lock the door behind you.” He examined the dead bolt. “It's a good lock, but you shouldn't be living here.”
Faith stared after him in amazement. He hadn't argued, hadn't blamed her for his discomfort, had merely accepted his responsibility for his predicament, already formed a solution, and acted on it. Damn, where were all the rest of the men in the world like that?
Probably in jail, she snorted, shutting the door and carefully bolting it. Men like that tended to think they were the only human beings on the face of the earth. That led to sticky results when the rest of the world intervened.
She unwrapped her bowl and admired it beneath the glare of the overhead light. Adrian Raphael's cousin had talent. Perhaps she could help him focus it a little more?
Dropping her case with its signed legal documents and a bankbook considerably lightened by her purchase, she undressed and showered and wrapped herself in her velour bathrobe. She told herself she should go to bed early, but restlessness grated on her nerves, and she knew sleep wouldn't come easily.
Thinking a rehash of the day's events might straighten out her thought processes, Faith pulled out her journal. When her pen wouldn't settle on the paper, she realized Adrian Raphael had an unsettling effect she didn't wish to analyze for the sake of her journal.
She started to flip the pages to the day she'd actually walked out on Tony, but her gaze caught on a tear-blotted page toward the beginning, and her hand hovered there. The knowledge Adrian had given her of Tony's vasectomy
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