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Authors: Candace Schuler
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one was looking at her crosswise. No one seemed to think it was strange or shameful. No one even noticed. And, most unbelievably of all, when the day was over and she went back to Sammie-Jo's apartment, no one would be waiting to chastise her for behaving like a wanton Jezebel.
Faith vowed she would try, very hard, not to chastise herself.
Chapter 4
Once they were seated in the restaurant, Jack meant to have a serious discussion with her about the total impossibility of there ever being any kind of relationship between them, however fleeting or tentative. He meant to tell her, as gently as possible, that he really thought it would be best if she didn't even come over to finish cleaning his apartment. He meant to warn her about looking at him the way she did. And smiling at him the way she did. He meant to point out the disparity in age and experience between them. And he meant to suggest—as subtly and tactfully as he could—that if Freddie Bowen's lukewarm advances had upset her, then being on the receiving end of his vastly more heated overtures would probably send her into catatonic shock. He meant to pat her figuratively on the head, tell her she was a lovely girl, and send her on her way before anyone could get hurt.
He really meant to.
But she looked at him over a tableful of Chinese delicacies, her soft lips curved up in a delighted smile, her gold-flecked eyes alight with anticipation, and he forgot.
"Here, try some of these steamed pearl balls," he said instead, tipping a few of the tiny rice-coated meatballs onto her plate from the serving dish. "They're great with a little of the hoi sin sauce. And try using the fork while you're at it," he added, shaking his head over her attempts to operate the chopsticks. "You aren't going to get very much to eat that way."
"I've almost got the hang of it," Faith insisted, doggedly chasing a pea pod around her plate with the chopsticks. "There, see?" she said triumphantly, as the tip of one chopstick accidentally speared a meatball. She held it aloof for a moment, as if exhibiting a hard won trophy, then popped it into her mouth, obviously delighted with her success.
Jack felt a surge of protectiveness well up inside him. She was so open. So fresh. There was no artifice to her at all. No barriers. None of the emotional defenses that most people developed to protect themselves. "Where does someone like you come from?" he asked, awed.
Faith took his question literally. "Pine Hollow, Georgia."
"No, I mean—how can someone get to be twenty-four years old in this day and age and still be such a wide-eyed innocent?"
"Innocent?" She wasn't innocent. Far from it. But she thought she knew what he was saying. She lifted her chin, giving him the narrow-eyed glare she'd had a chance to perfect since Friday night. "You're calling me a hick, aren't you?"
"No, not at all."
"That's okay," she assured him, her expression melting into a sweet smile. "I am a hick. You can't hardly be from a place like Pine Hollow and not be a hick." The look in her eyes turned to one of steely determination. "But I don't intend to be one forever."
"No?" he murmured encouragingly, fascinated by the emotions that passed over her face. She didn't hide a thing.
"No." The word was emphatically stated. "As soon as I have a job I can count on, and enough money saved up—" she already had almost five thousand dollars safely socked away in a Los Angeles bank "—I'm going back to school. Actually, I'm already signed up. I'll be starting at UCLA when the fall semester begins. The woman in admissions said I can probably qualify for a student loan. Maybe even a grant of some kind. I've already sent off all the applications."
"For acting classes?" he asked, although he couldn't imagine it. She didn't strike him as being even remotely the dramatic type.
Faith laughed at that, flattered by the assumption. "Good heavens, no. I'm not nearly pretty enough to be an actress. I'm not the least bit
Faith vowed she would try, very hard, not to chastise herself.
Chapter 4
Once they were seated in the restaurant, Jack meant to have a serious discussion with her about the total impossibility of there ever being any kind of relationship between them, however fleeting or tentative. He meant to tell her, as gently as possible, that he really thought it would be best if she didn't even come over to finish cleaning his apartment. He meant to warn her about looking at him the way she did. And smiling at him the way she did. He meant to point out the disparity in age and experience between them. And he meant to suggest—as subtly and tactfully as he could—that if Freddie Bowen's lukewarm advances had upset her, then being on the receiving end of his vastly more heated overtures would probably send her into catatonic shock. He meant to pat her figuratively on the head, tell her she was a lovely girl, and send her on her way before anyone could get hurt.
He really meant to.
But she looked at him over a tableful of Chinese delicacies, her soft lips curved up in a delighted smile, her gold-flecked eyes alight with anticipation, and he forgot.
"Here, try some of these steamed pearl balls," he said instead, tipping a few of the tiny rice-coated meatballs onto her plate from the serving dish. "They're great with a little of the hoi sin sauce. And try using the fork while you're at it," he added, shaking his head over her attempts to operate the chopsticks. "You aren't going to get very much to eat that way."
"I've almost got the hang of it," Faith insisted, doggedly chasing a pea pod around her plate with the chopsticks. "There, see?" she said triumphantly, as the tip of one chopstick accidentally speared a meatball. She held it aloof for a moment, as if exhibiting a hard won trophy, then popped it into her mouth, obviously delighted with her success.
Jack felt a surge of protectiveness well up inside him. She was so open. So fresh. There was no artifice to her at all. No barriers. None of the emotional defenses that most people developed to protect themselves. "Where does someone like you come from?" he asked, awed.
Faith took his question literally. "Pine Hollow, Georgia."
"No, I mean—how can someone get to be twenty-four years old in this day and age and still be such a wide-eyed innocent?"
"Innocent?" She wasn't innocent. Far from it. But she thought she knew what he was saying. She lifted her chin, giving him the narrow-eyed glare she'd had a chance to perfect since Friday night. "You're calling me a hick, aren't you?"
"No, not at all."
"That's okay," she assured him, her expression melting into a sweet smile. "I am a hick. You can't hardly be from a place like Pine Hollow and not be a hick." The look in her eyes turned to one of steely determination. "But I don't intend to be one forever."
"No?" he murmured encouragingly, fascinated by the emotions that passed over her face. She didn't hide a thing.
"No." The word was emphatically stated. "As soon as I have a job I can count on, and enough money saved up—" she already had almost five thousand dollars safely socked away in a Los Angeles bank "—I'm going back to school. Actually, I'm already signed up. I'll be starting at UCLA when the fall semester begins. The woman in admissions said I can probably qualify for a student loan. Maybe even a grant of some kind. I've already sent off all the applications."
"For acting classes?" he asked, although he couldn't imagine it. She didn't strike him as being even remotely the dramatic type.
Faith laughed at that, flattered by the assumption. "Good heavens, no. I'm not nearly pretty enough to be an actress. I'm not the least bit
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