Page 1 of A Heart of Little Faith

Chapter 1

Gideon Stone entered his sister’s crowded SoHo gallery in Manhattan and glanced at his watch. If he was lucky, he could make a quick appearance and leave. Garish abstract paintings filled with colors and random lines, semi-nude sculptures of men and women, coupled with snooty patrons and pseudo-intellectual artists, bored him. He’d rather be playing basketball. A mélange of overpowering perfumes blasted his olfactory nerves and he grimaced as he breathed through his mouth. He’d only come to support Samantha, and hopefully she’d be too busy with potential buyers to do any more than register his presence, leaving him free to make a hasty exit, return to his quiet apartment, exercise and go to bed. In the meantime, he needed to find something to eat before his thirty-five-year-old-self starved to death.

Across the room he spied black-clad catering staff and made his way around half walls and columns to check out their offerings. At least he thought they were catering staff. With black continuing to be the customary dress code of New York art patrons, he could never be too sure. Still, silver platters would give them away.

Before he’d gotten halfway across the converted warehouse, a waitress materialized in front of him, offering scallops wrapped in bacon and champagne. Pendulum lights from above glinted on the crystal glasses, and the smoky scent of the meat made his mouth water. He snagged a glass of champagne and two scallops, and popped one of the appetizers into his mouth. The ice-cold glass chilled his fingers and provided a welcome relief from the heat of the overcrowded room. The scallop melted in his mouth, leaving the taste of crisp bacon for him to savor.A little bit of heaven. The waitress asked if he needed assistance. He clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to bark some retort—he always hated that question; instead, he contented himself with a glare and watched as she scurried away, red-faced.

He saw Samantha and went over, past old gentlemen sitting on oversized ottomans comparing notes, willow-thin women chatting about the Hamptons and a few art students staring at the scene with longing. He waited until she noticed him. They said their hellos quickly, and she apologized as another group of people swept her away. He nodded his understanding and, with his duty complete, returned how he’d come.

He’d gone about twenty-five feet when something caught his attention, and he put down his champagne glass. Surrounded by movement—the friction caused by the artist’s use of flashy colors on a contrasting stark white canvas, the undulating positions of the sculptures, the constant swaying of people—her stillness drew his eye. The chatter around him disappeared. His vision tunneled and all surrounding sights faded into a fog. His ears heard only the sound of her fingernails tapping the crystal goblet and magnified it until her tapping became the beat of a song for him alone. The jasmine scent of her perfume floated toward him and made him think of summer vacations in a tropical paradise. Distracted by her, he didn’t notice those around him trying to get out of his way.

She stood motionless in front of a painting. The spotlight above illuminated her brown hair, turning it a fiery red tinged with gold, her skin a luminous peach. Her blouse, made of some gauzy material he couldn’t name but longed to touch, draped gracefully over her shoulders and down her back. With the lights pouring from above, the outline of her body was clearly visible. The barely there whisper of her silhouette attracted him more than any wet T-shirt ever could. His heart rate increased. Her black flared pants hugged her hips how he once held a woman, gently but firmly.

He stared at her, bedazzled. He only intended to look for a moment, but she turned around and met his gaze. Caught red-handed he contemplated leaving, but it would be cowardly. He couldn’t continue to stare at her without appearing either moronic or rude, especially since he hated when people stared at him. He inhaled and mustered a smile, when another man approached her. Breaking their connection, she nodded at the interloper. Gideon inched closer. Her voice was smooth and clear, with a lilt that beckoned him. She engaged the other man in casual conversation before she gently excused herself. As the other man wandered off, disappointment etched on his face, she focused on Gideon. Her green cat eyes pierced his soul and made him believe she could see right through him. An invisible thread pulled him toward her, and he was helpless to resist.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you it’s impolite to stare?” Her voice was amused; her eyes sparkled.

The irony of her question struck him and he burst into laughter, rested an elbow on the back of his wheelchair and shook her outstretched hand. Hers was soft, cool, and fit completely within his hard, callused one. He felt the delicate veins beneath her skin, her pulse beating in her wrist, and wished to prolong the skin-on-skin contact for as long as possible. Reluctantly, he let it go.

“I’m Gideon.”

“Lily.”

Delicate, pure and beautiful, just like her. “Are you a fan?”

Lily stared at him blankly for a moment and blinked. “Oh, of the artist’s?” She leaned once more to look at the painting, tilting her head to the right. “Not exactly. He’s a little too…”

“Much? Bright? Vulgar?”

Lily laughed. “I see you’re a huge fan. No, maybe, I don’t know. The colors are cheery, if only maybe there weren’t so many. But it does brighten my mood.” Her expression was strained, as if she were forcing herself to be cheerful. He could relate.

“Bad day at work?”

“Terrible. But why are you here if you don’t like the artist?”

Unexpected sympathy welled at her misfortune and he had a sudden urge to fix whatever had gone wrong. Instead, Gideon pointed to Samantha on the other side of the room. “She’s my younger sister.”

Lily raised her eyebrows at the gallery owner. “Oh, Samantha’s my best friend. I didn’t realize you were her brother. I guess she roped you into this too?”

He gave her what he hoped was a relaxed grin, even though he was anything other than relaxed. Not with her this close. “Brotherly duty, or some such nonsense. Apparently I pulled one too many pigtails as a child and this is my penance.”

Lily snickered.She has a great laugh.It lit her whole face. “Samantha had pigtails?”

They looked at Samantha, currently sporting short and spiky jet-black hair, with small rhinestone barrettes scattered throughout. “You’ll have to fill me in more later,” Lily said, as she stifled a yawn.

“What, is it my stimulating conversation, or these garish paintings that bores you?” Gideon asked, one eyebrow raised. He wanted to keep her here talking to him, to learn everything about her.

“I had a long day at work and I’m exhausted,” Lily apologized. “I wasn’t even going to come, but Samantha begged.”

“She tends to do that. I’ve told her it isn’t a pleasing trait, but why should she listen to me? I’m only her big brother.”

Lily chuckled. It stopped abruptly and she reached behind him. He turned around and scowled as Lily reached out to prevent a man from moving backward. The man looked down, saw Gideon in his wheelchair, and apologized profusely as he moved out of the way. Gideon stiffened, hoping the man wouldn’t cause a scene and wishing Lily had minded her own business. He hated when people assumed he couldn’t take care of himself. Finally the man left, but with him, their easy camaraderie fled also.

Lily stopped talking. Her face fell.I’ve made her uncomfortable.He tried to wipe off his scowl. He wracked his brain for something funny to say. When that didn’t work, he searched for anything to say. She rubbed her finger along her champagne glass and Gideon tapped his fingers on the wheel rim of his chair. Another waitress approached them and they both rushed to accept her offerings. In his haste, he dropped his napkin.

“I’ll get it.” Lily bent to pick it up.

Gideon’s mood darkened. What had started as flirtation was dissolving into her treating him like a child. “You don’t have to do that for me. I can take care of myself, thank you.” Unfortunately, he spoke louder than he intended.