by Unknown
Exchanging the small silver earrings for red crystal ones, she was almost ready. Luckily, she already wore black pants and had planned to take her black handbag.
Reaching up, she removed the pins from her hair, brushed it out, and applied red lipstick. She stared into the mirror at her flushed cheeks, the excitement in her eyes.
“I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”
Dropping the lipstick into her purse, she ran lightly down the stairs to the kitchen, grabbing the car keys from the hook as she passed. In less than a minute, she was driving through the estate gate and heading to meet Rafael.
Twenty-seven minutes after she hung up from talking with Rafael, Nathalyia parked her car near the coffee shop. Battling the wind that was blowing her hair in every direction, she hurried down the sidewalk. What had seemed like a good idea, leaving her hair down, was proving to be a problem. Perhaps she could slip into the ladies’ room and comb her hair while he was getting their food.
Opening the door, she stepped inside to see a long line of people in front of the curved thirty-foot glass case. She didn’t see Rafael or an available table. Uncertain of what to do next, she bit her lower lip.
“Over here.”
Rafael stood by a table in the back waving at her. Her heart thumped. The man was absolutely gorgeous. There was definitely something about a man in a uniform that got to her. A bit breathless, she made her way to him. “Good morning. Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re fine.” He held out a chair for her. “You look fantastic.”
Her hand fluttered to her hair. “Thank you, but the wind was blowing—”
One of his hands captured hers; his other hand brushed lightly over her hair. “There. You look perfect.”
There went her crazy heart again. She searched her mind for something to say and looked at the table. “You already ordered.”
He sat back in his seat. “I took a chance on orange and apple juice, an apple Danish, and a cinnamon roll. The line was starting to get long. I can get you something else if you’d like.”
“This is fine. Which would you like?”
“I’m easy,” he told her. “And today you’re eating.”
She usually didn’t eat breakfast because she wasn’t hungry. She reached for the apple Danish and orange juice. “Have you been here before?”
“First time.” He took a large bite of the cinnamon roll. “How about you?”
“The same.” She took a small bite of the Danish. “I don’t usually eat breakfast, but this is pretty good.”
“Stick with me,” he teased, finishing off his pastry and picking up his apple juice. “Is everything set for tomorrow night?”
“Yes.” She sat back in her seat. “I can’t wait to see the children’s faces.”
“How many are coming?” he asked.
“Seventy-nine at last count,” she told him.
“I haven’t been to a carnival in years,” he mused. “How about you?”
“This will be my first,” she confessed, trying to seem matter-of-fact instead of a bit embarrassed. There hadn’t been any time for fun things when she was growing up.
“But you’re going to ensure that the children in your program have a chance to go at least once,” he said. “You’re a special woman.”
Now fully embarrassed by his compliment and very much aware of him, she twisted in her chair. “I want them to have fun, to forget for a little while and be like every other child, to give the family an evening of fun.”
“How about you?” he asked, leaning across the table. “What do you do for fun?”
The simple question caught her off guard. She’d never been carefree as a child or as an adult. “Different things,” she finally answered, reaching for her juice to break his gaze. “How about you?”
“Sailing, bowling, clam digging, riding my bike, sitting here with you,” he told her.
Pleased, she lifted her head. “I’ll have to add this to my list.”
“Like I said, stick with me.” He grinned at her. “The best is yet to come.”
She wanted to believe him. It almost scared her how much.
Nathalyia really tried to concentrate on checking time cards for the payroll, but she kept thinking about Rafael. He was spontaneous, easygoing, and patient. He was fun.
She leaned back in the chair behind her desk. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t had some type of responsibility, a time when she could just forget about everything and just have fun.
Except now—with Rafael.
Because her late husband became tired easily and had frequent bouts of angina, they seldom did anything not connected with the restaurant before or after they were married. The restaurant took up most of their time and energy anyway. She hadn’t minded.
She’d grown to love and respect Martin. If they didn’t share a passionate love, it was honest and unshakable. His well-being was always first and foremost to her. He’d cared deeply for her and had been the first person she could always count on, no matter what.
He’d been persistent and very open in his pursuit of her. He wasn’t above joking with the regulars that he knew she was too young for him, but she had saved his life, so she was responsible for him.
One night after the restaurant was closed and they were sitting at a table looking out at the ocean, he had taken her hand. He’d told her she was his salvation and he was going to keep at her until she realized he just might be hers.
Nathalyia picked up their wedding photo on her desk. Six months later they were married. Afterward she did everything in her power to show him she cared and that she would see that Fontaine continued to prosper.
She’d done a lot of soul-searching before she’d agreed to the marriage. There had been no childhood dreams for her of finding the perfect man and getting married. All she’d ever wanted was what she’d never had—to be wanted and safe. Martin fulfilled those dreams. She hadn’t thought there might be more.
Until Rafael entered her life.
She’d had exactly two dates before meeting Martin. Both turned out disastrously. When the dates came to pick her up, her sisters had put her down in front of them and then left with them for a “real” date. She’d been in the twelfth grade. Her hope had been that she wouldn’t have to go to the senior prom alone. Dateless, she’d skipped the prom.
The humiliating experiences had made her even more determined to leave after graduation and get a degree at Coastal Carolina University. Unfortunately, the cost of living in Myrtle Beach was so high she couldn’t afford the tuition. She’d gotten a job at Fontaine and never looked back.
The knock on her door brought her out of her musing. She glanced at the clock on her desk. Five twenty. It was probably Clarice. Each time she saw Nathalyia today, she’d given her the thumbs-up sign.
“Come in, Clarice.”
The door opened and Rafael entered, sinfully sexy in a chambray shirt and jeans that molded to his muscular thighs and legs. He smiled. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
“Hi. Clarice was busy and waved me on back. I hope it’s all right.”
“Of course.” She stood on unsteady legs and went to the wooden coatrack for the lightweight navy jacket that matched her slacks.
“Let me help you.” He took the jacket from her and helped her slip it on.
“Thank you.” She didn’t know why she felt so nervous. “I’ll get my bag.”
His hand on her arm stopped her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
He tilted her chin upward. “You have a very easy-to-read face. Is it the restaurant or something else?”
Lying crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed the thought. “Something else.”
“Ah.” He pulled her into his arms and stared down at her. “Would it be this?” He tenderly brushed his lips across her forehead. “Or this?” His lips moved to the corner of her mouth to nibble and excite. “Am I getting warmer?”
Clasping her hands behi
nd his neck, she nodded, then moved her lips to his. With the first brush of warmth, her body relaxed, she sighed. Then as his tongue touched hers, her blood heated, and desire shot through her. Her arms tightened even as he pulled her closer, his mouth devouring hers.
Too soon, he lifted his head. “Feel better?”
She stared up at him. “How did you know?”
“Because kissing you again has occupied a great deal of my thoughts since I followed you home Tuesday morning.” He smiled. “Yesterday didn’t count.”
“Definitely. No comparison,” she said. Her mouth gaped at her gaffe.
Rafael laughed aloud, hugging her to him. “Nathalyia, you’ll keep me on my toes.”
“I didn’t mean—Oh, my. I just—” She burrowed into him, too embarrassed to face him. How could she explain it was the brevity of the kiss when he had walked her to her car after they left the coffee shop, not the technique? Words failed her.
His hand swept up and down her back. “I know what you meant. I shouldn’t tease you.” His face grew serious. “I think this is new to you.”
She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. She’d seen the openly lustful way women looked at him at the coffee shop. There was probably a long list of women before her.
The thought angered her—which was odd. She promised herself that she’d never be jealous of others the way her mother and sisters were. It had only made them miserable.
“You don’t know how rare a woman you are,” he said. “You’re stunning, elegant, wealthy, honest. You could be just about yourself, but you’re not. You care about others and prove it in so many ways. I’m glad we met.”
Slowly her head came up. He seemed to understand her so well, and she hadn’t a clue about him.
“What?”
“My copy of the dating manual must have been misdelivered,” she said, finally looking at him and trying to be casual. “I’m an open book to you.”
“I’m not playing games. I’m not trying to use you. I like being with you.”
“Just being with me?” she asked. She wasn’t that naïve. “You do ask the tough questions.” The backs of his fingers gently brushed against her cheek. “I want to take you to bed, but I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
There it was. He was too experienced not to be aware of how her body reacted to his, hot and hungry. Yet he hadn’t pushed, hadn’t let his hands roam enough to make her nervous. He was patient with her. He wasn’t pushing her. He was willing to wait. That was as good as she was going to get.
“We’d better get going or we’ll be late.” Pushing out of his arms, she started for the door.
Somehow he reached the door ahead of her and opened it. “I’m right behind you.”
Rafael helped Nathalyia and the other volunteers as they checked the families in and clipped the laminated badges on the children in her Helping Hands program. Some of the children were obviously ill, while others appeared as healthy as their siblings or any other child.
What was so amazing to Rafael was that Nathalyia knew the name of each of the seventy-nine Helping Hands children. Clearly, they were more than just statistics to her. Many of them wanted hugs. Nathalyia gladly obliged. By the time the last family had checked in, it was a quarter to seven and Nathalyia kept brushing away tears.
His heart clenched. He handed her his handkerchief. “I’ll say it again. You’re amazing.”
She shook her head, brushing moisture from her eyes. “Not me. The children. The youngest, Ty, is four. He was diagnosed with leukemia when he was two. He’s a walking miracle. He’s been through so much in his short life. But so have his parents.”
Rafael hugged her closer. “Is he the one who wanted to hug Aunt Nathalyia and wanted to ride the Ferris wheel first?”
“Yes,” she answered. “He’s been in remission for six months and is an adorable handful.”
Rafael heard the happy laughter coming from the midway, saw many children tugging their parents toward rides, while others were already lined up for cotton candy or corn dogs or waiting for their chance to play a game of skill. Tickets weren’t needed. Everything was free. “I want to help.”
Nathalyia slid his handkerchief into the pocket of her navy slacks. “You are helping.”
“I meant financially. You made a lot of people happy tonight.” He looked around again at the children. “Patrick and Brianna are expecting their first child. I pray he or she is healthy, but some parents’ prayers won’t be answered.”
Her fingertips brushed across his cheek. It was the second time she had voluntarily touched him. “You’re the one who’s amazing. I knew you’d understand.”
Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. “Let’s go watch your kids have fun.”
Rafael was awed by the stamina of many of the children in the program. Like Nathalyia, he fully intended for them to have fun. When she held Ty up so he could have a better chance of putting a wooden ring around the neck of a bottle and he missed, Rafael reached for the young boy.
Rafael patiently showed Ty how to hold the ring over the target, and then held him over the rows of glass soft-drink bottles. The usual rules were suspended for the children in the program.
“You can do it, Ty,” Nathalyia encouraged.
His parents, a couple in their late twenties, yelled encouragement as well. The little boy looked over his shoulder at Rafael, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and said, “I might miss.”
“Then we’ll try again,” Rafael told him. “You can do it.”
The little boy looked back at him, then twisted his head. Sensing he was trying to see his parents, Rafael turned him back around. They each gave Ty two thumbs-up, along with Nathalyia.
“I’m ready.”
Rafael held Ty over the bottles. The little boy reached his hand out, moving it first one way, then the other, before he stopped and dropped the wooden ring. The ring hit the top of the bottle and bounced off.
“Here’s another one, Ty,” Nathalyia said, coming to stand by them.
Ty took the ring, his face scrunched in determination. “I can do it this time.”
“I never doubted it,” Nathalyia said. “Your parents and I know you can.”
“You ready, Ty?” Rafael asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Rafael held Ty over the bottles. Almost immediately the little boy released the wooden ring. With a clink it dropped down over the top of a bottle.
“I did it! I did it!,” he yelled.
“Yes, you did,” Nathalyia said, applauding and cheering.
Chuckling, Rafael set Ty on his feet. Ty’s parents were there to hug and congratulate him as he pointed to the stuffed elephant he wanted.
Nathalyia caught Rafael’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”
He nodded toward Ty, now clutching the stuffed animal. “That’s thanks enough.”
“Nathalyia,” called a small, timid voice.
Rafael looked around to see a little girl with a special badge in a wheelchair. She was a beautiful child with large brown eyes and looked to be around six years old. She was ten. Rafael remembered checking Carmen in, the joy on her face. She’d made it to the carnival just as she’d wanted. She hadn’t let sickle cell rule her life. Her older sister had brought her since both parents were at work.
Nathalyia knelt, placing her hand on the little girl’s small one. “Hi, Carmen. What’s up?”
Carmen looked up at Rafael, then leaned over to whisper something in Nathalyia’s ear.
Nathalyia glanced up at Rafael. “I’d say your chance is excellent. Why don’t you ask him?”
Rafael hunkered down on the other side of the wheelchair. “Hi, Carmen. I’m a pretty easy guy. Ask away.”
“I’m next. Selma says she can’t hold me over far enough.” She glanced over her head at her older sister. “When it’s my turn, can you help me?”
“Say please,” Selma said.
“Please,” Carmen added.
“Start picking out your prize,” Ra
fael said with a wink.
SIX
Rafael was a hit with the children. If Nathalyia had any lingering doubt that he had volunteered just to score points with her, she had quickly dismissed it.
The moment they arrived, he wanted to know how to help. It was he who had gotten the registration tables set up and then affixed the banner. Although he had to be tired after working all day, he hadn’t complained when a line formed for him to help out at the ring toss.
His laughing comment had been, “I hope they have enough prizes.”
Nathalyia had planned that each child could go home with at least one prize. With Rafael’s help, many would go home with two or three.
The last happy and tired family left the carnival at nine thirty. Nathalyia waved the last volunteer off a short while later, then turned to Rafael, who had been beside her almost all evening. The only time he wasn’t was when he was helping a child or taking one through the scary house or on a ride they weren’t sure about.
“I know I keep saying it, but thank you.”
“None needed.” He caught her hand. “But I do have a couple of requests before I take you home.”
She was intrigued and hoped one of those requests involved long, deep kisses. “I’m listening, but I’m going back to the restaurant.”
He frowned. “It’s close to ten. You’ve been on your feet for four hours straight.”
“I used to be a waitress, remember,” she told him. “What are the requests?”
He wasn’t willing to let it go. “That was a long time ago. I’m sure you have people who can take care of things.”
“I do, but it’s my restaurant, my responsibility,” she told him patiently. “I like being there at close. Now, stop stalling.”
“You can be stubborn when it comes to Fontaine.”
“Very.”
His arms slipped around her waist. “Guess it’s a good thing I understand responsibility and independence.”