Yet she was. Ever since Nathan had come rapping on her window—no ever since she’d looked into his eyes and seen his warmth and concern, ever since she’d laid her lips against his—her heart had been beating out of control. There was no way she could go back to sleep now. She’d already had a cup of warm milk and honey, watched a whole hour of guaranteed-to-make-anyone-snooze reruns on TV, and still her bed offered no relief. “Faith...what were you thinking?” she whispered, groaning. She’d kissed him, knowing that it was the last thing in the world she should be doing. Hadn’t she learned her lesson, watching her mother get her heart trampled? Hadn’t she herself married expecting what could never be? But at least she’d had an excuse then. Jim had claimed to love her; he’d vowed to stay with her. That wasn’t the case with Nathan. He made no secret of the scars on his soul, the ones that wouldn’t let him give too much of himself or let him take anything from others, either.
