by Crowe, Liz
“Look, I’m not here to bust you over this, but understand that I will not put up with her getting hurt, by you or anyone else.”
Rafe’s scalp prickled in a familiar, verge-of-temper way. But, he tamped it down. Last thing he needed was to piss off the brother of the woman he wanted. “I have nothing but the best intentions, I assure you,” he said, knowing how stilted it sounded.
Jack shot him an odd, sideways look. “Rafe, seriously, Mo is a grown woman and can do whatever she wants with whomever. You don’t need my approval.”
“I wasn’t asking for it.” They looked at each other for about a half-minute too long for it to be a casual conversation. Jack smiled and slapped Rafe’s shoulder.
“I like you.” He said.
Rafe turned away. His feelings about his new boss—because that was what Jack Gordon was to him now—were mixed. He respected the hell out of him, but found him a little grating at times, with his constant take-charge thing. He motioned for the bartender, circling his finger for another round.
After another hour of working through the details of his responsibilities as manager and recruiter, the deal seemed struck. Rafe reflected on how odd it was, that he would come full circle here, in Midwestern America, finally getting the job he’d always wanted. Working for the guy whose sister he wanted so badly he could barely stand himself most days.
Jack stood, shrugged back into his dark suit coat. “Make my sister happy Rafe and we have no problem.” Rafe stared at the guy’s retreating suit, absorbing his words and trying not to let his Latino fury at being told what to do get the best of him.
He stood and bid the last soccer family farewell, gathered his paperwork and escaped into the warm autumn evening. His heart pounded and every inch of his flesh was on fire for one thing, one woman. He tried to convince himself it was simply her luscious body that he craved. But he knew himself better. He wanted all of her—to hear her laughter in the morning and sit at the end of the day with her feet in his lap.
The wind whipped his hair around as he drove home with all the windows down, smiling at his own sudden surge of cheesy sentiment. He had reservations at her favorite wine restaurant, but he would have paid any price to skip it. The nearly overwhelming desire to toss her over his shoulder and keep her captive in his bedroom for the next twenty-four hours made his throat close up. He ran a hand down his face as he turned into his building parking lot.
Her twins were going to be an issue and he knew it. He was game for sitting them down and telling them flat out that he loved their mother and was prepared to be with her forever, but knew that would get him exactly nowhere, with Ella especially. He climbed out of his car and whistled as the elevator carried him to the top floor and pondered how his life had changed forever today, and how he had never been happier.
“So,” Maureen’s lips mesmerized him as she sipped her red wine. “You work for Jack, now, eh? On the big soccer project?”
He blinked and tried to pry his eyes from her amazing cleavage encased in a sinfully silky blouse. Focus, Inez. Don’t be the horny kid. You’ve had plenty of conversations with her before. Have one now.
“Yeah, so it would seem.” He gulped back the urge to run his tongue down the long line of her neck. Her lips moved again and he had to force himself to listen over the ferocious desire that threatened to deafen him. The memory of that sweet glove of her pussy made him grimace as his trouser zipper took a bite out of his cock. “I’ll be heading overseas soon. I’ve got a coach identified. But he’ll be hard to pry out of retirement, after what he’s been through.” He sat back, tried to calm himself.
“Why? What happened to him?” She sipped some more, watching him.
He took a breath, channeled some of his frustration with the potential coach—and with Maureen’s brother—into an attempt at conversation. “I don’t want to bore you with this….” He flinched when she touched his arm.
“I’m not bored. I’m interested, really.”
He looked at her. Her tone made his newly discovered Maureen radar ping with alarm. He put one of her freezing cold hands between his. “What’s wrong querida?”
She flushed and put a hand to her neck. Rafe tried very hard not to jump over the table and kiss her. “It’s Jack. He…I don’t know. I’m just worried about…never mind.”
“He is into a lot of things, your brother, no?” He forced himself to remain casual in the face of her obvious distress.
“Too much, really. I don’t even know where this stupid…I mean, well, this soccer thing just appeared one day and gripped him. And it coincided with a really difficult period with his family. And now…,” she shrugged.
“The soccer project would be very distracting I can see. He told me that he was approached by the expansion league’s organizing committee because he was a “connector,” or some shit like that. Anyway,” he picked up his wine, soothed by the chat but unable to drag his eyes from her bare arms and shoulders. “He let himself get convinced, and then dove in with his feet,” he narrowed his eyes when she snorted with laughter.
“Oh, Rafe, I’m sorry. You mean, “jumped in with both feet,” I think.” She waved a hand in front of her face.
His smile stretched wide. He must look like a goof ball. But it felt good. “Okay, okay, so sue me. I use English as a second language. But he’s all in now, and we are ready to make some serious money offers to players and this damn coach….” He gripped his glass, determined not to let work stress get in the way of his time with her.
“Well, Jack is in serious danger of losing a lot over this,” Maureen’s blue eyes darkened with worry again. “He’s such a….”
Rafe put a hand, unwilling to get into a conversation about Maureen’s brother, considering his own conflicted opinions about the man. “Say no more. But, listen, we are going to make this work. It will be worth it.”
“I hope so, for his family’s sake. But what about this coach you have to go see. What’s his problem?”
“Oh,” Rafe took a breath, relieved to be discussing it with someone other than himself. “Metin Sevim is a Turk but played in the Spanish league for years, one of their absolute top players from a ripe old age of eighteen. He was one of the rarities—a young but very mature talent that got snapped up and tossed around different teams for years, finally settling with one. But he had much tragedy in his life and went into hiding when he was in his late twenties. A real loss to the game, I assure you.”
“What kind of tragedy?” She asked, her voice less tight, as if the simple act of talking relaxed her as well.
“Oh, my love,” he took her hand. “Nothing more than what you’ve been through. Except…well, let’s say deeper pockets than your brother’s have reached out to him to no avail for nearly ten years now. He’s in Istanbul part of the year, and in Grosse Point for the rest. Long story, and one I’m only just getting my head around.” He held onto her hand, loving the feel of her skin.
“Well, you are a pretty damn convincing guy. If anyone can talk him into it, it’s you.” She smiled. Rafe’s heart felt as if it could burst with happiness.
He stared at her, still gipping her hand. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. He shivered in spite of himself. “Are you trying to seduce me Maureen? Because it is very much working.”
She smiled, cocked her head to one side. He grinned back and put a forkful of rich filet mignon to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and opened her lips for another bite. He winced, shifted in his seat to try and find a comfortable position and fed her again, and again until it was gone. “You know what,” she leaned across the table, giving him a breathtaking glimpse at the tops of her breasts. He shook his head, utterly speechless. “Take me home, Rafe. I don’t want to sit here another minute.” Her words touched a match to the simmering lust that he’d sustained since first laying eyes on the woman. He’d had a taste today to be certain. And needed more.
He stood, knocking his chair over backwards and drawing all eyes to them, but he didn�
��t give two shits about anyone else in the room. Tossing down enough to cover their tab and the tabs of the three tables around him, he smiled and held out his hand. “Don’t have to tell me that twice.” She got to her feet in a smooth, liquid movement, the slim skirt covering her hips making him want to reach out and run a possessive hand across her ass. He slipped her purse onto her shoulder, leaned into her ear, exposed by the upsweep of coal black hair. “I’m going to fuck you Maureen, hard. Then I’ll feed you more steak if you want it. Then I’ll make love to you nice and slow, and you are going to be mine by morning. Mine,” he bit her earlobe. “You game for that plan?” She blushed as he guided her out of the loud restaurant.
He kept his arm around her as they made their way towards his downtown condo. At one point, she stopped them, looked around and tugged him into an alley. The Ann Arbor street noises muffled as she pushed him against the wall and slanted her lips over his. He groaned and shuddered, cupped her breasts, ran his hands down her body and back up. She palmed his aching, khaki-covered cock, growling into his ear when she wasn’t kissing him. “Take me, now,” she exhaled into his skin. He tugged her from the wall and turned her around so she faced the bricks “Feel how ready I am for you.”
He yanked her short skirt up, marveling at the pure sensuality of her, and pressed a finger to her swollen clit, hissing at her wet silkiness. He shoved one leg between hers, forcing them further apart, and unzipped his pants. When he slipped into her she made that deep down noise, the one he loved to hear, somewhere between a gasp and a groan.
He gripped her hips, leaned over her back and threaded the fingers of one hand through hers that she had propped on the wall. She held him tight, milked him fast to climax, both of them shuddering and gasping for breath. He pounded into her, cursing himself for doing this in the alley but unable to stop.
“Aye Dios!” he cried out, their urgent sounds blending with the street noises all around them. He groaned and slid out of her, helped her readjust her skirt. “I am so sorry, mi amor. I don’t mean to be so coarse.” He let her press him against the opposite wall and kiss him, gripped her face, and held her close. “Maureen, you have got to let me show you…be with you…somewhere that’s not a smelly soccer venue or an even nastier back alley. Jesu.” He tried to get his head around what she’d just done to him as she zipped him up and tugged him back out onto the sidewalk. His nerves jangled, his head was a god damned mess. He draped his arm around her shoulder, sucked in a huge breath of everything he’d come to associate with her—that now had a distinct odor of Rafe underlying it, which made him grin like an idiot again. “My place, hot bath, relaxation.”
She snuggled into his side, kissed his neck. “Yep. Fucking part over. Now, make love to me,” she said. He nodded, and yanked the front door of his building open, practically shoving her inside the elevator.
The hot water slopped over the side of the tub onto the floor, extinguishing some of the zillion candles he had lit around the room. “Yes, Rafe, please, God!” Mo’s body rolled into another orgasm as they rocked together, her legs up over his hips. He pressed deep into her, amazed that he could keep doing this. Three times in a day was a record, frankly. But he felt like he could make love to this woman forever.
“I’m going to…Rafe….” She shivered and contracted all around him, yanking him over the edge once more. The water kept splashing and his vision went bright white, then black as his world exploded around him.
“You are going to kill me, mi amor,” he groaned. “But I would die the happiest man in the world.” They stilled, he held her close, then he felt it. Her shoulders hitched as sobs racked her shivering frame. Female tears didn’t really faze him too much, but hers made him want to punch something, anything, to make it better. He leaned back, tilted her tear-streaked face up to his.
“Sorry,” she hiccupped, and put a hand over her kiss-swollen lips. But the tears kept falling.
“Why, my love, my Maureen,” he said, releasing her so she could lean back against the tub. He drew one of her long, lean legs into his lap and kneaded her foot. “You have no reason to be sorry.”
She yanked her foot out of his grip and sat up, slopping yet more water onto the bathroom floor. “Because,” she said, staring at him, making him drown once more in the deep pools of her blue eyes. “I think I may love you.”
He met her halfway, tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear and let his fingers trail down her throat, across her breast. “Well, that, as you say, makes two of us.”
He kissed her and they laughed their way out of the now cold water. He handed her one of his shirts, but she shook her head and pulled her skirt and blouse back on. Holding off irritation, he left her alone and walked into the kitchen. “I’m starving,” he claimed, yanking open the refrigerator and pulling out eggs. “Jesu, woman you are going to…ah,” He leaned back as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck.
“I have to go,” she whispered. “All the kids are at my house—and I mean all of them. I left Ella and Adam in charge of everyone including the toddlers,” she hummed with pleasure when he turned and swept her into his arms, kissing her with a ferocity born of something that resembled desperation.
“I can’t let you go,” he claimed, mumbling around her lips. And he honestly didn’t want to. But she disentangled herself. A quick flash of a future with a woman as stubborn and control freakish as her brother gave him a half second’s pause.
“I have to, Rafe. I’m sorry.” She made her way back to the bathroom and emerged, her face set in lines he would come to know very well—the “This will go my way or not at all” attitude was one he suspected lurked around her psyche. “I have responsibilities, and I can’t ….” She looked down. “I want to stay with you,” she said, cupping his chin in one hand. “So much.”
He kept his distance at a huge cost to his heart. “Okay. I understand. My Maureen. My sweet…,” she jerked away from him, running her hand up and down her arm.
“Don’t call me that,” She looked forlorn and lost, not at all like the in control woman he’d just glimpsed. He wrapped his arms around her, determined to make her understand he did not intend for this to be a quickie, or a one-off or anything but a relationship. Rafe had never in his entire life felt so strongly about another human being as he did right now about Maureen Taylor.
“Okay. Sorry,” he backed away when she remained stiff in his embrace, a sudden tendril of remorse licking at his brain. He took a breath, shoving down his innate need to establish himself as the one in charge of the situation. “I’ll see you when? And I’m ready to talk to the kids too, so they understand.”
“No,” she said, her voice sharp. He took another step back. “I mean, we will but just…not yet.” She walked to his door, then turned.
His heart pounded and every inch of his skin felt clammy. “Okay,” he made himself say. She crooked her finger, and he walked to her slowly, cupped her chin and kissed her neck. “You are amazing. And I am very much not finished with you.”
She nodded. “I’m not finished either. But we…we have to go slow.”
“Whatever you want.” He claimed but not meaning it at all. “Maureen,” he exhaled into her neck, then opened the door behind her and watched her walk to the elevator. She turned at the last minute, making him rip his eyes from the sheer sensuality of her swaying hips. He gulped, took the five steps behind her and swept her into his arms once more. “I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to cope with my very base Latino male, but I do not like you just walking out like this. It feels…cheap and I don’t want that for us.”
She smiled and kissed him, a gentle, slow moving thing that enveloped him completely making him ready to toss her over his shoulder and dump her down on his bed. “You are very convincing. But, I told you, I have all the kids. And I….”
“Let me come with you. Kids love me.” He heard the desperation in his voice and hated it, but he meant every word.
“Oh, Rafe,” she held onto him, put her hea
d on his shoulder, making him feel complete and at peace for the first time in his memory. “I will, I mean, eventually. But all these kids are really going through a lot, and I don’t want to add to the emotional stress level right now.”
He bit back what he wanted to say: “You don’t want your kids to know you’ve had sex with me.” And instead took another long breath and forced himself to smile. “That’s fine. I will wait. But not for long.”
She gave him an odd look then. A bit of frustration, mixed with stubborn, all tossed together with longing—was clear as day. He held on to that, let it soothe him away from impending anger.
“Good night, Rafe. I’ll…talk to you tomorrow.” And she slipped into the elevator without another word.
Rafe stood, staring at the closed doors, listened to the lift ding open downstairs and to the doorman wishing her a good night. His hands hurt. He looked down and saw he had them clenched in fists so tight they were white knuckled. Rafael Miguel Inez, you need to get your head together. Get a grip, as your American friends say. Because this has the potential to be fantastic or terrible depending on how you handle yourself from here.
Going slow, being cautious, tiptoeing around important family issues, none of that was part of his nature. He put a shaking hand on the wall, trying to still his racing pulse and realized that he may well have met his match—a woman who would be his soul mate, or kill him, one or the other.
Chapter Twenty
The plane took off, bumped its way up above the clouds in time with the pounding in Jack’s skull. He’d done what he could to keep from looking as if he’d been in an a back alley fist fight but still got odd glances from fellow first class passengers. Although the whip-thin woman in a Delta flight attendant’s uniform didn’t even blink, a credit to her training, no doubt. He smiled at her professionalism, realizing his eye was nearly swollen shut. It sure hurt like the proverbial son of a bitch.
He winced when the bourbon she brought him hit his split lip then stretched his legs into the aisle and hauled out his laptop. After about fifteen minutes of messing around with emails he didn’t care about and asinine social networking, he shut the thing and put it in the empty seat. He stared at the blue leather in front of him, lost in thought. A hand on his shoulder made him jump.