Free Lovers and Strangers by Candace Schuler Page B

didn't. "I shouldn't have asked."
    "No, it's all right. It wasn't unexpected. Or even unwelcome on her part, I think. Mama'd been sick for an awfully long time." Sick of living, mainly. "She'd always been kind of delicate and poorly. Her death was very peaceful. Very—" she groped for a word "—serene. But when she was gone, well, I was finally free to go, too," she said musingly, speaking more to herself than to him. "There was nothing to keep me there any longer."
    Jack was beginning to form a very unflattering picture of Faith's father. "Did he beat you?" he asked savagely, feeling his gut twist at the thought of anyone hurting her.
    "No. Oh, no, of course not," she said quickly. Vehemently. "My father is a stern God-fearing man, and he disciplined all of us when he thought it was necessary, but he never beat us. Not the way you mean."
    Jack wondered if she realized that she hadn't had to ask who he meant before she answered the question. "But he hit you, didn't he? Spare the rod, spoil the child?"
    "Well , yes, but—" she paused, pressing a hand to her chest. Her father was three thousand miles away and he could still cause her chest to tighten with anxiety. "My goodness, how did we get on this subject?" she said, distressed by the ugly look in Jack's eyes. She could see pity there. And disgust. It made her feel small and insignificant. "It's really not very interesting."
    "Everything about you is interesting," Jack said, surprised to realize he meant it sincerely. For some inexplicable reason, he found the subject of Faith McCray fascinating in the extreme. And it scared the hell out of him.
    "No." She shook her head. "No, trust me. It isn't. I really don't want to talk about it anymore." She curled her hands into fists on her lap. "Please."
    "All right," Jack agreed instantly, willing to do anything to erase that pinched, unhappy look from her face. Wanting, too, to back away from the intense attraction he felt for her—and from the anger that welled up at the thought of anyone laying a hand on his angel. "We'll talk about something else. How 'bout those Dodgers?"
    Faith blinked. "Dodgers?"
    "They keep playing the way they're doing, they're bound to make the play-offs this year."
    "Play-offs?"
    "If the injuries don't knock them out of the running, that is. Lasorda's pitching staff isn't as deep as it should be." He pointed at her plate with his chopsticks. "Are you going to eat that pork dumpling?"
    "Ah... no," she said, taken aback by his abrupt change of subject. "No, I'm not going to eat it." She pushed the plate toward him. "It's all yours," she said, watching as he reached across the table and deftly pinched it between the ends of his chopsticks.
    Her expression softened as she watched him carry the tasty little tidbit to his lips. Her own lips turned up in a small, secret, very female smile.
    "What?" he said, looking up to catch her staring at him as if he were Prince Charming and her very own brilliant baby boy all rolled into one.
    "You're an awfully nice man, Jack Shannon." She smiled at him with her whole heart in her eyes. "I don't think you want anybody to know it, but you are."
    Jack felt the dumpling lodge itself in his throat. He had to swallow again—hard—before he could answer her. "No, I'm not," he said, holding her gaze with his. "I'm not a nice man at all. If I were a nice man I wouldn't be here with you now."
    Her gaze wavered a bit, but she didn't look away. "Why?" she murmured, steeling herself to hear him tell her she wasn't a nice woman. She'd heard it before.
    "Because you're as innocent as a baby and I'm old enough to be your father, that's why."
    "Oh, no, I-"
    "I turned forty-three last month, Faith," he said, cutting off whatever argument she was about to make. "And you're only twenty-four. I know that for a fact because Tim told me it was on your job application. That's nearly twenty years difference in our ages."
    "Nineteen," Faith said, shaving off the year he'd added. "And I'll be