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He eyed the door. He could use his shoulder to batter it open... Hell, he didn't have to. In his rage, he'd almost forgotten the brass key that had always been tucked under the doormat. Was it still ... ? Yes. It was. He dug it out, shoved it into the lock and the door swung open.
Nothing had changed. The foyer was still dark and gloomy, the furniture still overstuffed, oversized and overbearing.
Cole could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body. The metallic taste of his rage was in his mouth, the power of it in his muscles. He could almost smell it rising from his skin.
"Faith'
He moved through the rooms quickly, knowing as he did that he wouldn't find her down here, that she'd be upstairs ... that he could be walking into something he didn't want to see, but this was his house now, not hers, and he had every right to toss whoever was living with her out on his ass. She owed his brother's memory some respect. That was the only reason for his anger, for the way his blood was driving through his veins.
"Faith?" he'd shouted, and started up the stairs. That was when he'd heard the hiss of water. Someone was taking a shower.
He'd flung open the door to the master bedroom. Empty.
He'd marched down the hall to the room that had been Ted's. Empty.
"Faith, you..."
He'd spun in a tight circle, cocked his head.., and realized the sound was coming from the room that had once been his. Frowning, he'd walked slowly to the door, put his hand on the knob and turned it. To his surprise, the room was almost exactly as he'd left it. The same furniture, the same curtains and spread. The scent in the air was all that was different.
Faith's scent.
And, just then, the bathroom door had opened and she'd stepped into the bedroom, Faith, wearing a thin cotton robe that clearly outlined her breasts; Faith, her hair damp and wild and streaming down her back; Faith, her long legs bare and elegant as they'd been when they'd closed around his waist that long ago night.
The knot in Cole's belly had tightened until it threatened to rise into his throat.
"Faith," he said, and she turned, saw him and screamed.
The scream, the heart-stopping terror in her beautiful face, only fed his rage. "Where is he?" he said, and she went even whiter. She staggered back against the wall as he kicked the door shut.
"I asked you a question. Where is he?" "Who?"
"You know damned well, who." Cole pushed her aside, looked into the bathroom. Steam curled lazily from its empty depths. "Peter, that's who." He moved past her again, yanked open the closet door even though he couldn't imagine anybody was hiding inside. Faith hadn't heard him coming; neither would her lover, but he was operating on instinct now, the primitive part of his brain taking over despite the layers of civility and centuries of evolution that were supposed to have tamed it. Furious, his blood still drumming in his ears, he swung around and glared at her. "Tell me where he is."
He knew. Oh, he knew! Faith reached behind her, put her hand on the nightstand for support. It was inevitable that he'd learn about Peter's existence, but she hadn't expected such rage...
"Answer me, dammit. Where is he?"
"How did you...?" Her voice shook. "I don't know."
Cole's eyes swept over her. She flushed, fought against the almost overwhelming urge to grab the cover from the bed and wrap herself in it, but the last thing she wanted was to let him know how vulnerable she felt. Alice, she thought desperately, Alice, wherever you are, don't come home just yet.
"Come on, baby. You can do better than that. He's here, all right. What man in his right mind wouldn't be waiting to see you come out of that shower?"
"I'm telling you, I don't..." Faith caught her breath. Man?
"Don't tell me he's gone already." Cole's mouth twisted. "Did you tell him about the money? Does he know you won't be able to support yourself on what little is left, let alone support a lover?"
Cole didn't know she had a son, he thought she had a lover. A lover! The idea was preposterous and so far removed from what she'd thought he believed that she almost laughed. In fact-in fact...
The sound rose in her throat and burst from her mouth. Cole's face turned red and she clamped her lips together. Don't, she told herself, don't, but it was too late. She shook with hysterical laughter, with the relief of it, the pain of it...
Cole's hands bit into her shoulders. "Who are you laughing at, my brother or me?"
"I'm-not-laughing," she gasped, but she was, she was laughing and weeping and-
"Damn you," Cole growled, and hauled her into his arms and kissed her.
It all happened so fast that, later, he cursed himself for a fool. He hadn't been thinking, hadn't been functioning or he'd never have done it. Why would he kiss her? She was all the things he most despised in a woman, a scheming little liar with an uncanny talent for taking a perfectly normal male and making him do things he'd never have dreamed of doing.
