Faithless Angel by Kimberly Raye Read Free Book Online Page A

so sure I’ve ever liked anyone?”
    “A woman who invests her time and money in playing foster mother to a houseful of delinquent kids? I’d say somewhere along the line you cared about people. Otherwise you would never have taken up your present line of work.”
    “Correction—my former line of work. I’m through with Faith’s House. It’s Bradley’s burdennow.” She shoved the saucer beneath the hot water.
    “Why?”
    “Do you make it a habit of prying into other people’s business?” She shoved the saucer at him and gave him a freezing glare.
    “No. You’re the lucky one.” He smiled, lips curving to reveal a straight row of white teeth and a deep dimple that cut into his left cheek.
    A tingle of warmth spiraled through her and she attacked another dish. “I like my privacy, Mr. Savage, and you’re invading it.”
    “It’s Jesse, and I was only trying to find out where you went wrong so I can avoid that route.”
    “Meaning?”
    “I’m new at Faith’s House and I aim to stick around a while. I don’t want to burn out, so I thought you could give me a few pointers, maybe steer me away from the road you traveled.”
    She’d cared too much. Tried too hard. Thought too deeply. “You want some advice about your new job, Mr.—Jesse?”
    “Shoot.”
    “Remember it’s only a job.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means that in the end, it’s only a job. Those kids are your job, nothing else. Nothing personal. You keep that in mind and you won’t end up like me.”
    “An old hermit lady?”
    A grin tugged at her lips despite the ache in her chest. “Exactly.”
    She reached for a cup and the air lodged in her throat. With trembling fingers she traced the Houston Rockets logo emblazoned on the outside of the white mug, an authentic Hakeem “the Dream” Olajuwon autograph on the opposite side. Her eyesburned as she remembered the teenage girl who’d sat in her kitchen day after day, drinking cocoa or iced tea or something from the cherished cup an English teacher had given as first prize in a school poetry contest.
Jane
…
    “The pain,” she whispered, the words raw.
    “What did you say?”
    “The pain,” she repeated, forcing her fingers to let go of the cup. She sat it on the drainboard and gathered her control. “Getting involved isn’t worth the pain. Why try so hard when, in the end, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference how many times you held them while they cried, how many lunches you packed, how much homework you coached them through? Those things mean nothing in the face of death.”
    He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something. Then his jaw clamped shut and he raked a hand through his hair almost angrily. As if he felt the fury heating her blood, the pain gripping her heart. As if he
felt
as intensely as she did.
    The realization made her clutch the counter. Jane’s favorite cup filled her peripheral vision. It sat there in red and black and white glory, mocking her, reminding her, calling out to her….
    The numbness she’d fought so hard to hold on to was slipping away. Instead her throat burned, as fiercely as the tears that threatened to spill past her lashes.
Tears
…
    “I—I think you’d better go,” she managed to whisper.
    She expected him to shake his head, to argue with her. Instead he nodded, his eyes flashing a message she couldn’t comprehend. Instead of looking away, however, she caught his gaze. As she stared long andhard and deep, she wondered how he could make her feel anything again when she’d managed to cut herself off.
The hermit lady
.
    She saw the compassion flash in his eyes; then his expression closed.
    “Yeah, I think I’d better.” He turned and headed for the back door.
    She opened her mouth, the urge to beg him to stay nearly overwhelming. Stay? No, he had to leave, just as she had to forget the past.
    The door slammed and she flinched. A coldness swirled around her, and panic skittered across her nerve