by Weaver, Lisa
“How could I concentrate when I broke a nail?” Melanie whined.
Milton ignored her, swinging his racket in agitation. “There’s plenty of time for a rematch before dinner. Let’s switch partners and play another set.”
“Sorry,” Rafe declined. “Lauren and I have a different type of entertainment in mind for the remainder of the afternoon.”
Rafe’s response didn’t sit well with either Milton or Melanie. Lauren excused herself to change, but she regretted her decision to use the courtside locker room when she emerged from the changing area to find Melanie waiting for her.
A murderous expression marred the woman’s perfect countenance as she unleashed a vicious slew of insults. Her tirade culminated in a detailed list of reasons Lauren wasn’t good enough for Rafe. “I don’t understand what he sees in you,” she spat. “You’re not his type at all. I’m betting he’s only with you because he needs you to secure Fullerton’s magazine. He’ll be casting you aside once he gets what he wants, mark my words.”
“If that’s what you believe, then you really don’t know him very well at all.”
Fury blazed in Melanie’s eyes. “Rafe and I were engaged to be married. I’ve known him intimately. If I decide I want him back, I’d only have to crook my little finger in his direction and he’d come running.”
“Go ahead and waggle those fingers all you like, but he won’t run to you,” Lauren asserted confidently. “He’s happy with me.”
Her words were simply part of the act, meant to convince Melanie she was secure as Rafe’s wife. But as Lauren walked away, she found herself wondering why she wished her proclamation were true.
Chapter Eight
“Well that was fun,” Lauren sighed, sarcasm dripping from her words. She plopped onto the suite’s sofa with a groan. “Excuse me while my muscles have a meltdown.”
“You played impressively,” Rafe complimented her. “If that was your idea of rusty, I’d hate to see you in game-on mode.”
“Thanks. I haven’t wielded a racket in years. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to hold my own. I didn’t want to give Milton and Melanie the satisfaction of beating us, so I channeled my inner tennis pro.”
“You can be proud of that performance. For what it’s worth, I am. Sorry we were corralled into the match. Milton would have been relentless until we agreed.”
“I could tell he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
“After that defeat, I think he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the weekend.”
“Milton may cut a wide swathe around you, but don’t count on Melanie doing the same. Your ex is hell-bent on reeling you back. She was practically spewing venom at me when she told me as much in the locker room.”
Rafe cocked a dark eyebrow. “Really? Then she’s disillusioned.”
Lauren shrugged. “She seems quite confident she only needs to waggle her fingers in your direction and you’ll go running back to her. She detailed a mile-long list of reasons why I won’t be able to hold on to you.”
“What she believes has no bearing,” Rafe dismissed. “I made my feelings quite clear when we parted ways. She’d have to be insane to think I’d ever take her back.”
“I wouldn’t rule out insanity.” Lauren shuddered, recalling the coldness in the other woman’s eyes when she’d cornered her after the tennis match. Melanie’s ensuing rant had been vicious. “Let’s see . . . first,” she recounted, checking off the points on her fingers, “I’m not attractive enough to hold on to you. Second, you’ll quickly grow bored of me. Third, I only have you because she decided she didn’t want you. Oh, and I almost forgot point number four. She reserves the right to invite you back into her life at any time.”
“Clearly insanity is a factor,” Rafe drawled. “I’ll enjoy showing her how wrong she is. By the time I’m done, she’ll have no doubt I only have eyes for you. Think you can do your part and look suitably smitten?”
“I earned an A in high school drama. I can pull off a pretty convincing version of besotted,” she told him, batting her eyelashes.
“If you find yourself in need of a little inspiration for your role, we could try a repeat of that kiss.”
“That kiss was a mistake,” she insisted firmly.
“Not from my perspective.”
“Just because we’re going to be living under the same roof for the next year doesn’t mean I have any intention of picking up where we left off. If you think you’re going to lure me back into your bed, you’re mistaken. I don’t want you.”
“That’s interesting. It seemed to me you were as into that kiss as I was.”
“You asked me to play a part. I was complying. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower and change for dinner. Act Two is coming up.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I’m going to see if I can catch Chuck for a quick chat before the others converge on him. I’ll be back shortly.”
Left alone to regroup, Lauren exhaled a relieved breath. She decided to take advantage of the unexpected moment of privacy to call Stephanie for a quick check-in.
“Hey. How are things going?” her friend inquired.
“Fine. Everything is quiet here. The security Fullerton has in place would rival Fort Knox’s. His butler also does double-duty as his bodyguard, although he’s very discreet about it. That, coupled with the fact that Sentinels is on watch duty, means Rafe is as secure as he possibly can be given the situation. Any concerns on your end?”
“There’s not a hint of anything brewing. And since things are secure up tight, there’s no reason you can’t relax a bit and enjoy yourself with that hunk you’re assigned to. Tonight, you should break out the sexy teddy Megan gave you.”
“I hope that’s your feeble attempt at a joke.”
“You know it’s not. Come on. Tell me you aren’t a teensy bit tempted to revisit what you and Rafe had.”
“I’m not interested in going back there. He already broke my heart once. I’d be a fool to offer him a second shot.”
“Don’t you think you’re being just a bit unreasonable? Look, I’m your best friend, and you know I’m always going to be on your side. But I really think you should step back and try to see the situation from Rafe’s point of view. A woman he’s just met and whom he knows next to nothing about burns up the sheets with him. Two days later he opens the paper to find a picture of his father sharing lunch with a man who’s been tied to the Greek Mafia, and his new lover is credited with the little piece of speculative photojournalism. You have to admit you’d be upset, too, if you were in his shoes.”
“Of course I would be. The difference is, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions until I heard the other side of the story.”
“Maybe Rafe’s refusal to hear you out isn’t all that hard to understand when you factor in how he’s been hurt in the past. He has a history of being wounded by people he cares about. His former business partner for one. Milton Payne dipped into the corporate cookie jar and nearly ruined the American annex of Dimitriou Enterprises. Rafe ousted him and rescued the company, saving hundreds of jobs in the process.”
“Rafe told me they were rivals, but he wasn’t forthcoming with that little tidbit of information. I wish he would have shared that with me.” She’d surmised Luke hadn’t told her the entire story surrounding Milton’s betrayal of him, but she hadn’t anticipated there were so many layers.
“He’ll open up,” Stephanie assured her. “You just need to give him some time. And you could try building some bridges tonight.”
Lauren sighed. “I’m not going there, Steph. He’s my assignment.”
“Citing cardinal rule number three, ‘thou shalt not get involved with thy client’, isn’t going to fly. We both know that particular clause has been broken by plenty of operatives, and without disaster I might add.”
“That may be so, but what happens when Rafe finds out I’ve lied to him?”
“That part’s trickier,” Stephanie acknowledged. “When this is over, you
can explain things. You have a valid reason for not being up-front with him. He’ll understand.”
“I’m not so sure. It doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things, anyhow. The only reason I’m here with him is because I have a job to do.”
“If you really believe that, you’re not being honest with yourself. I saw the fireworks between the two of you when Rafe made his surprise reappearance at the hospital benefit. Sparks like that are only generated when there’s still fuel to feed the fire.”
“I don’t care about him anymore,” Lauren insisted.
“Right. And pigs fly. I’m the one who helped pick up the pieces when you returned from Greece, remember? I know he was more than just a casual fling. You loved him. It was obvious then and it’s obvious now. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“No. I’m simply being realistic. I’ve been there, done that with him already. Look how well that worked out.”
“The way I see it, you’ve been handed a second chance. Second chances aren’t all that common. If you still care about him—even the tiniest bit—then you owe it to yourself to give reconciliation a shot. Think about it at least.”
“Okay, oh Wise One. I’ll take your advice under consideration. I’d better get ready for dinner now. I’ll check back in when I can.”
Lauren disconnected the call and drew a steamy bath. Sinking into total bliss, she let the scented bubbles sooth away the stress of the day. When she eventually stepped out of the tub, she was boneless and relaxed.
She toweled off and styled her hair, opting to let the blonde waves tumble unrestricted down to her shoulder blades.
Rafe had said this weekend was about making a statement, so with that in mind she donned a dress he’d selected expressly for its impact. The deep purple sheath trailed to the floor in the back and was cut to mid-thigh in the front. She slipped her feet into matching stilettos and added a gold chain as her only accent to the outfit. Dabbing her favorite fragrance on her pulse points, she stood back to critique the overall effect. She decided she’d pass inspection. Hopefully Rafe would think so, too.
His smile of approval and the smoldering look in his eyes when he came to collect her told her she’d made the right choice. “Gorgeous,” he affirmed, offering her his arm. “Shall we go?”
Dinner was a lavish affair. The Fullertons had gone all-out to spoil their guests. The dining room was accented by cheery floral arrangements that added splashes of color and filled the room with fragrance. More flowers spilled out onto the patio, and candles added to the ambiance in both areas. The atrium doors were open to the warm night air, allowing the festive music of the Mexican mariachi band playing on the patio to filter into the room.
The Mexican theme carried over to the meal. The fare included spicy pulled pork, pambazo bread dipped in red pepper sauce, fajitas, and burritos.
“Yummy,” Lauren sighed in pleasure, forking another bite of tongue-flaming chicken empanada.
“Not too hot for you?” Rafe queried. There was a teasing glint in his midnight blue eyes as he refilled her water glass from the pitcher of ice water on the table.
“I like it hot,” she shot back, thrilling when the spark in his eyes deepened to desire.
Enjoying this provocative side of Lauren, Rafe was about to respond to her teasing retort when Milton and Melanie joined them at the table, claiming seats across from them.
Melanie did her best to commandeer his attention while Milton immediately sought to engage Lauren in conversation. Rafe didn’t doubt for a second the pair had planned their divide-and-conquer tactics in advance. When Melanie realized her shameless attempt to flirt with him was proving fruitless, she diverted to attack mode.
“Your marriage was rather sudden,” she commented snidely. “When I saw you in Paris a couple of months ago, you were looking quite cozy with that model you were dating. Serena Mitchell, wasn’t it?”
“I wasn’t dating Serena. I was simply accompanying her to the unveiling of her latest ad campaign. I’d think twice before insinuating it was anything more than that, if I were you. You were attending the event with your personal trainer rather than with Milton, as I recall.”
Melanie’s draw dropped in indignation. Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, one of their tablemates spoke up. “We haven’t met yet,” the effervescent young woman interjected with a beaming grin. “I’m Stacey Briar and this is my husband, John. John heads up the art department at Gracious Living.”
“I’m Rafe Dimitriou,” he responded with a smile. “And this is my wife, Lauren,” he added, effectively blocking Milton’s attempt to monopolize Lauren’s attention by drawing her into the conversation.
“Word is, you two are newlyweds,” John said with a grin. “Congratulations.”
“Yes, congratulations,” Stacey echoed. She reached out to touch Lauren’s hand. “I absolutely adore your ring. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. Rafe picked it out. He has excellent taste.”
“Most of the time,” Melanie qualified, apparently having recovered her tongue. The barb was accompanied by the bump of her shoeless foot against Lauren’s shin and a pointed stare in her direction as she slid her foot over to Rafe’s side of the table.
The nerve of the woman, Lauren fumed, realizing Melanie was no longer content containing her cattiness to rude remarks. Now she was attempting to engage Rafe in a game of footsie, and she wanted to be certain Lauren knew it.
Making a scene was not an option. She had a part to play, and she would do so with dignity. There was no way she would give Melanie the satisfaction of knowing she’d struck a nerve.
The waitstaff cleared the tables and took dessert and beverage orders while a dance troupe assembled. The male dancers were attired in authentic Mexican charro vests, jackets, and flowing pants while the women sported white blouses paired with brightly patterned silk skirts.
The troupe launched into an energetic rendition of the Mexican Hat Dance. At the end of the performance the dancers gave an overview of the steps, and invited the onlookers to join in.
Lured by the infectious rhythm, dozens of guests took them up on the offer.
Lauren tapped a foot to the upbeat rhythm. “It looks like fun.”
“Shall we give it a try?” Taking her hand, Rafe drew her to her feet before waiting for her response.
They joined the group out on the dance floor, and it wasn’t long before they were caught up in the intricate footwork. The tempo steadily increased, leaving them breathless and laughing by the time the band segued to a romantic ballad.
Already racing, her heart revved into overdrive when Rafe pulled her into his arms. “Did you know the Mexican Hat Dance wasbanned in the nineteenth century?” he asked as they swayed to the music.
“I had no idea. Why was it banned?”
“The dance represents courtship, with the woman first rejecting the man’s advances, and the man eventually convincing her to accept them. It was thought to be too overtly sexual.”
“The dance seems like harmless fun to me.” Unlike the man who now held her tightly in his arms. There was nothing innocuous about him. It was like tangoing with a two-legged tiger. She could feel the subtle shift of powerful muscles under the luxurious fabric of his suit jacket as he skillfully led her around the floor. The silk barrier did nothing to mask the toughness that lay beneath the formal clothing.
Rafe drew her closer. “Thanks for trying out the dance,” he murmured.
“I enjoyed it. Besides, Melanie made sure I knew her foot was wandering under the table. I figured I should rescue you before she inflicted any damage.”
“You were a little late. I think I’m bruised,” he winked.
Rafe Dimitriou in full charm mode was a force to be reckoned with. “Poor baby. You can ice it later.”
“Or we could go back to our suite. You could kiss it and make it better.”
“But then we’d miss the piñata.”
“Why don’t we sit that out? I don’t thi
nk it’s a good idea for you to be in Melanie’s vicinity while there are big sticks around.”
“I’m pretty sure I can hold my own.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he drawled.
Lauren bit back a groan as Melanie approached with Milton in tow. Speak of the devil.
“May I cut in?” Payne requested smoothly.
Rafe’s hard glare told the man what he thought of the request, but good breeding won out and he nodded, reluctantly switching partners with his nemesis.
Lauren suppressed a shudder of revulsion as she attempted to put a respectable distance between her and her slimy dance partner.
“It seems to me your marriage was rather sudden. You’ve hardly had time to get acquainted with Rafe,” Milton speculated, a taunting gleam in his eyes. “I’m willing to bet there’s a lot you don’t know about him. Has he told you he and I were partners once upon a time?”
“As a matter of fact he has. He didn’t mention what you did to lose his trust, though. Care to enlighten me?”
Milton leered at her breasts before placing his hands too close to them for her comfort. “How badly do you want to know?”
The innuendo and his wandering digits sparked Lauren’s temper. “Not that badly,” she refuted firmly, placing his roving hands back in the socially polite zone.
“There’s no need to get testy. I’m going to give you some friendly advice. There will come a day when your new husband’s limited fortune will fall short of your expectations. When that day comes, just remember I’m only a phone call away.”
Ice frosted Lauren’s emerald gaze. “Since you don’t seem to get it, let me spell it out for you,” she fumed. “I’m with Rafe because I love him. I admire him as a man, not as a bank balance. If he were destitute on a street corner, I’d still choose to be with him. I won’t tire of him, and on the zillion-to-one chance I ever do, I certainly wouldn’t settle for a man like you.”
Milton appeared unaffected by her rant. She wished she could say the same. Her retort had been intended to reinforce the role she was playing of Rafe’s wife, but the vehemence with which she’d delivered the diatribe had surprised her.