relationships. In fact, she’d kissed so many frogs trying to find her own prince that she was afraid she’d get warts.
Her dating woes ended the year before when she made a resolution not to date again until she found Mr. Right. She’d tired of the Mr. Right Now or Mr. for the Moment. And if she never found her prince, then she was content to live out her life as an independent single woman.
All thoughts of princes and marriage faded when she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 2
Faith walked out of her building and came to an abrupt stop when she recognized the man leaning against the bumper of a late-model Lincoln Town Car. Her eyes widened as he straightened and came over to meet her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Ethan.
He flashed his sensual, dimpled smile and reached out to take her arm. “I’ve come to drive you uptown.”
“Did WJ tell you to pick me up?”
Ethan steered her over to the car and opened the rear door. Waiting until Faith was seated comfortably on the leather seat, he closed the door and came around to sit behind the wheel. It wasn’t until he left the narrow street and pulled out into traffic that he spoke again.
“Yes, he did.”
She stared at the back of his head. “I could’ve just as easily taken a cab.” Faith wondered if Ethan had told WJ about his son’s attempt to kiss her.
“What happened to ‘thank you’?”
“Say what?”
“Isn’t door-to-door car service in Manhattan better than trying to hail a cab at night in the middle of winter?”
The heat from her blush intensified. Ethan McMillan had just verbally spanked her. “Thank you, Ethan.”
Ethan schooled his features to stop the grin parting his lips. “You’re welcome, Faith.” He glanced up at the rearview mirror. “Your face looks very nice.”
She couldn’t stop the blush heating her cheeks. “A little makeup can work miracles.”
He shook his head. “A miracle cannot improve perfection. I’m sure men have told you that you’re very beautiful.”
Faith stared out the side window. “Men have told me a lot of things.”
“Do you believe them?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you believe them?” Ethan asked, slowing down and stopping at a red light.
“Because it’s easier for them to lie than admit the truth.”
“So, you have trust issues with men?”
If she’d taken a taxi uptown she wouldn’t be having this conversation with her driver. She didn’t know Ethan McMillan, and she had no intention of spilling her guts to a complete stranger.
“I’d rather not answer that question.”
“You don’t have to, Faith. The fact that you don’t want to answer it tells me that you do.” He drove several blocks in silence then asked, “Why did you decide to become a pastry chef?”
Faith smiled. The conversation had segued to a topic less personal in nature. “After graduating culinary school I worked in a restaurant for two years.”
“Did you like it?”
She shook her head. “Even though I liked cooking what I hated was the frenetic pace of cooking for hundreds every night. There was always chaos when a dish didn’t turn out right or when the head chef got in our faces because we weren’t working fast enough. One night I decided I’d had enough. I handed in my resignation and went back to school to specialize in cake decorating. Now I work at my own pace and if I ruin something I can usually salvage it.”
“If the icing doesn’t come out right, don’t you throw the cake away?”
“No. I usually remove it and start over.”
“How long does it take to decorate a wedding cake?”
“It depends on the size of the cake, the decorations and accessories. However, making bows, flowers and ribbons are the most time-consuming.”
Ethan concentrated on driving as he detected a thawing in Faith’s tone. It was no longer guarded, but soft and seductive as she talked about cakes with specific themes. The ride ended much too soon as he maneuvered into the building’s underground garage.
Once inside the elevator, he inserted a key into the slot for the penthouse. Leaning against a wall, he stared openly at Faith’s enchanting profile, finding everything about her breathtakingly stunning. Her short curly black hair hugged her head like a soft cap, and the light dusting of makeup served to enhance the rich, dark hues of her satiny mahogany skin. Mascara, flatteringly applied eye shadow and a glossy wine-colored lipstick on her sexy, lush lips held him hypnotized.
She’d replaced her jeans, boots and wrap coat with a bottle-green, three-quarter shearling coat, a navy-blue pencil skirt, ending at her knees, matching sheer hose and suede pumps that added another three inches to her dramatic height.
The elevator stopped at the penthouse, and he moved forward as the door opened. Ethan looped an arm around her waist as if he’d performed the gesture countless times and led her past the small crowd waiting to get into the penthouse. The Raymonds had mailed out specialized invitations with bar codes that were scanned upon arrival.
“This is why WJ wanted me to pick you up,” he whispered close to Faith’s ear.
Smiling up at him over her shoulder, she mouthed a thank-you.
He escorted her past the kitchen to the hallway where she could hang up her coat. The distinctive, soulful voice of a new artist who’d signed with WJ’s record company floated from speakers concealed throughout the penthouse. The Raymonds had planned for a sit-down dinner, followed by Savanna opening her gifts, then dancing under the stars in the enclosed solarium.
“Will you save me a dance?”
With wide eyes, Faith halted unbuttoning her coat. “No!”
Ethan leaned closer, his warm breath sweeping over her ear. “Why not?”
She shrugged out of her coat. “Have you forgotten that I’m not a guest but hired help?”
“Then that makes two of us, Faith Whitfield. Hired help need fun, too.” He ignored her soft gasp. “All I want is one little itty-bitty dance.”
“No. Not here, Ethan.”
“Where, Faith?”
Why, she thought, was Ethan pressuring her to dance with him? “I’ll let you know.” She saw a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes at the same time a smile softened his generous masculine mouth.
He winked at her. “Okay.”
