He shrugged. “They can wait.”
“No.” When Emma’s sharp tone made him raise a brow at her, she added, “Please. The boys need someone watching them.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Far be it from me to interfere with women’s work.”
Relieved, Emma ignored his sarcasm and pushed her way into the kitchen. Her mother helped clear the table, then she shooed Sylvia into the living room to start watching her soaps.
Twenty minutes later, Emma had finished loading the dishwasher and was filling the sink with hot, soapy water to wipe down the cabinets. She’d just about convinced herself that the reason she was upset was that if Rafe went back to the newspaper, he’d forget all about Southern Yesteryears and she’d lose the job she’d come to love. She’d been hoping that after a few issues went on the stands, Rafe would offer her a full-time job as production supervisor.
Then he stepped into view, framed by the window looking into the backyard.
With her rubber-gloved hands sunk deep in hot water, she froze, eating up his tall, lean, well-muscled form with her eyes.
Who was she kidding? She was afraid of losing Rafe...again.
Damn it! This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him again. She was supposed to protect her heart, to keep her relationship with him all business.
But keeping Rafe out of her heart had been about as easy as stopping a tidal wave with her bare hands. For the past six years she’d believed a person made his or her own fate through hard work and sacrifice. Now...
She was beginning to think Rafe was right when he said there was some primal connection that had drawn them back together even though they hadn’t known each other was alive.
She felt the connection in countless ways: she knew without looking that he’d walked into a room; she wanted to touch him whenever he was around, as if the connection was so magnetic it physically drew them together; he always seemed to know what she was thinking.
Rafe’s uneven gait took him out of sight again, and her eyes dropped to the sponge she was squeezing.
She was falling in love with him again. How could she have let this happen? And what the heck was she going to do about it?
She sighed, knowing there was no way to prevent it. All she could do now was damage control.
Okay. The main reason loving him scared her was she didn’t want him returning to the dangerous assignments he’d loved so much before, right? So she had to find some way to keep him with her. As long as they were working together on Southern Yesteryears, he’d be safe.
Emma thought about ways to convince him to stay in Memphis as she finished cleaning the kitchen, then went to Rafe’s apartment to work on the magazine.
Rafe joined her an hour later. Randy had gone home, and Gabe went in to have his bath. Without a word, Rafe sat down at his desk and pulled out a file. He was leaving for Atlanta the next day, to convince Coca-Cola to advertise in Southern Yesteryears. Emma was certain he’d succeed. After all, Coca-Cola was itself part of Southern history.
As he shuffled papers, she stared at the ad for antique guns on her computer screen. The air in the room seemed electric, just because he was there.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the keys to save the file, then swiveled around. If she wanted him to stay, she had to give him something to stay for. She had to show him that she was enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life. She had to give him the one thing she knew he wanted.
“Rafe?”
He looked over his shoulder with surprise, probably at the huskiness in her voice. “Yes?”
“I was wondering—” she cleared her throat “—if you wanted me to touch you.”
He froze except for the widening of his eyes. She froze, too. This was the first friendly overture she’d made toward him. Though he’d given her every reason to believe he’d welcome her touch anytime, she couldn’t help but be apprehensive.
“Like I told you.” His voice was deeper than usual. “Anytime. Anywhere.”
Her heart pounding like the roofers’ hammers, she slowly rolled her chair closer to his, then hesitantly reached out her hand. He met her halfway, his warm, strong fingers closing around hers.
She watched his face relax as he went back in time.
“What are you remembering?” she asked.
“The times we spent at my apartment on the river.” He smiled lazily. “You’re as good a cook as your mother.”
Suddenly something occurred to her. What if he was falling in love with the nineteen-year-old Emma, not the woman she was today?
That was a very real possibility. She’d done everything she could to prevent him from falling in love with her and nothing to make him love her. She’d better put her plan in motion without delay—make him focus on the woman she was, not the girl who no longer existed.
“Anything else?” she asked.
His eyes focused on her face. “Actually, I’m beginning to get repeats. I guess I’ve remembered just about everything there is to remember.”
“About us,” she clarified with a frown. “You don’t remember anything about your life before we met, do you?”
He shook his head. “Your magic extends only to the time we were together.”
Relieved, she didn’t notice he was rolling her closer until her knee slid alongside his. Her first reaction was panic. “What are you doing?”
He stopped immediately, but didn’t let go of her hand. “I want to touch you back, Emma. I want to kiss you.”
She inhaled quickly. This was exactly what she needed to do. She had to let down her defenses and let him get close. It was the only way to keep him with her, the only way to keep him safe. And, God help her, she wanted to feel his lips on hers.
“All right,” she whispered.
His face tightened and his eyes burned into hers. She wanted to look away from their intensity, but she couldn’t.
He grabbed the seat of her chair and pulled it beside his, though turned around, making their modern office chairs into an old-fashioned love seat. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck as he encircled her waist and pulled her against him.
He closed his eyes, as if he were again seized by the past.
Frowning, she dug her fingers into his hair. “I’m here, Rafe. I’m not a memory.”
His eyes opened, searing her with their heat. “Believe me, I’m aware of that. Every inch of me knows you’re here.”
“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
“I fully intend to.” He traced her cheekbone with his fingers. “It’s just that I’ve got you where I’ve wanted you ever since we kissed in my truck. Hell, ever since you walked into that damned conference room. I want to savor the moment.”
“Savor this instead...” She leaned forward and touched her lips to his.
The world exploded inside her head, leaving only the reality of his arms tightening around her, his mouth drawing the very breath from her lungs. He held on until she was about to faint from lack of oxygen.
“Damn, Emma,” he breathed when he pulled back a scant inch. “This is a helluva lot better than any memory. Let me in.”
Joy spread through her. Her plan was working. Willingly she opened her mouth to his questing tongue, inviting him in with her own. Her blood went up in flames, blazing through her body, making her bones melt against him.
With a rough curse, he scooped her out of her chair and thrust it away with one foot. He dragged her onto his lap, settling her over the rock-hard ridge of his desire.
Emma whimpered. She vividly remembered the pleasure he could give her. This was her husband, her long-lost lover. She would recognize him if she were blind, deaf and dumb. He smelled the same. He tasted the same.
It had been so long. So long.
She wiggled closer.
With a groan Rafe leaned her back against his arm and took the weight of her breast in his hand. She arched against the exquisite pleasure, and his mouth left hers to trail down
her throat. She gripped his biceps, reveling in the strength she felt flexing beneath her fingers.
Suddenly his hand left her breast to grip her chin. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes to see him inches above her, his fierce desire making his face hard as stone.
“Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
His passion frightened her, yet at the same time made her want to crawl inside of him and never come out. “I—”
“Mom? Rafe? Y’all up here?”
Gabe’s distant call made them freeze.
“Damn.”
They echoed the sentiment together, then shared an uncertain smile.
“I wish I could say we’ll finish this later.” Rafe pushed a strand of hair off her face. “But I think we’d better take this a bit slower.”
Emma sat up, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed. “You’re right. I never intended for it to go so far.”
He smiled ruefully. “You forgot you’re dealing with someone as randy as a teenager. If we make love, it will be my first time, for all practical purposes.”
Emma blinked. She’d never thought of it that way. Amazed at the phenomenal control he possessed if he’d been dealing with those kinds of urges, she stood to open the door for her son.
Thank God Gabe interrupted them. If he hadn’t, they’d have probably ended up in bed before they knew what happened.
As she watched her son climb on to Rafe’s lap for another chapter of Ivanhoe, she realized that was exactly where she wanted to end up.
What better way to show him that the woman in his arms was far more desirable than the girl in his memories?
Two nights later Rafe climbed the stairs quicker than he ever had. Though it was almost midnight, the light was burning in his apartment. He hoped Emma was waiting for him.
When he turned the knob, he knew she was. The door was unlocked—something he should get onto her about. But at the moment he was too elated to care.
He pushed open the door. “Emma?”
Frowning when he got no answer, he set his garment bag on the floor and stepped into the room that served as the office. From the feel of the warm, stuffy air, the air conditioner had been off for hours. Whenever she worked up here alone, Emma switched it off.
Two steps more and he saw her, asleep on the couch.
Relief relaxed him, and his smile returned as he knelt beside her. She lay curled on her side, her head resting on one of the brocade pillows Sylvia had provided. She looked so young and innocent, like the Emma in his memories.
He pushed a strand of blond hair off her cheek. “I’m home.”
Home. It really did seem like he’d come home. But home wasn’t the apartment, it was this woman. In a few short weeks he felt like he belonged. That hadn’t happened in all the years he’d spent in Houston.
She murmured something and burrowed deeper into the pillow.
“Wake up, querida. I want to kiss you.”
Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened. He watched with fascination as her eyes turned from a murky green to the bright hue of spring leaves. He realized then that he didn’t know everything about their past. He just remembered they’d never wakened together. They didn’t dare go to sleep back then for fear Emma would miss her curfew and be grounded. They didn’t want anything to interfere with them being together.
His smile softened as he realized he still had a lot to learn about this woman who was becoming more important to him every day. He was definitely looking forward to it.
When Emma’s eyes focused, she smiled sleepily. He’d never seen anything so sexy in his life.
“You’re home. What time is it?” She placed her hand over a yawn.
“Almost midnight,” he replied. “It was raining in Atlanta, and my flight was delayed a couple of hours.”
“How did it go? Did you get the account?”
He nodded. “They’ve committed for a year.”
She frowned. “Just a year?”
“A year is good. With a new publication, most advertisers go on a month-to-month basis until it gets established.”
She relaxed. “Oh.”
“They seemed very excited about the concept, and especially loved the prototype. I told them I had the best graphic designer in Memphis.”
Smiling, she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb tracing the jagged line running down his cheek. Though he was glad she touched him without hesitation, the muscle jerked reflexively. Somehow he managed not to pull away. He was glad, because her next words proved she wasn’t turned off by his disfigured face.
“I missed you.”
His breath caught, and he leaned close to slide an arm around her waist. While he was away, he’d convinced himself he’d dreamed the passionate episode the night before he left. He was very glad to know he hadn’t. “You did?”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I didn’t get in until very late last night. The advertising manager was so excited about the idea that he took me out to dinner. He even had some ideas for stories.”
She smiled crookedly. “Which you’ll use, of course.”
He smiled back. “Of course. But not just because he’s an advertiser. They were good ideas.”
They smiled at each other for several minutes. Finally she said in a slightly exasperated voice, “I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
Though his heart soared like the jet he’d so recently flown on, he hesitated. It was late and they were alone, not likely to be interrupted. He knew if he began kissing her, he’d want to carry her into the bedroom and stretch her out, naked, on his king-size bed. But then he’d have to get naked, too.
He shuddered, torn by self-loathing and pounding desire for the woman in his arms.
“What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly.
He traced a finger across her lower lip. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I won’t want to stop.”
She shivered. “And that would be bad because...?”
“I thought we agreed to take it slow.”
“I see.” Her smile faded and she pushed herself up on one arm. “My mistake. I thought you wanted me.”
He grabbed her hands and drew her to her feet, then pressed her against the evidence of his desire. “Tell me I don’t want you.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “Then kiss me.”
He obliged willingly. As long as he could keep them on their feet, he’d be okay. He wouldn’t have to bare his body and lose her forever. He could at least have this much of her.
Even so, the passion spiked so quickly he nearly lost control. Only when he’d reached under her sweater to unhook her bra did alarms go off in his head.
He released the elastic reluctantly and dropped her light sweater back into place. He held her close until her breathing eased.
“You stopped.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I...want you to be absolutely sure this is what you want.”
She leaned back in his arms to look up at him. “You kept pushing me until I finally realized I wanted you. Now you’re the one pulling away.”
“I never pushed you.”
She backed out of his arms. “Maybe not overtly, but you always looked at me as if you wanted me.”
“I did,” he told her. “I still do.”
“Then why did you stop?”
He couldn’t believe he was actually talking her out of making love. He’d dreamed about having her in his bed for nearly a month. Maybe if he turned out the lights...
No. The scars would still be there for her to feel, which would probably be even more of a shock than seeing them.
“I told you, I want you to be sure. You just decided three days ago to trust me. Let’s give it a little time.”
“How much time?”
He met her eyes squarely. “Until you can trust me enough to tell Gabe he’s my son.”
She looked away guiltily, and he knew he was safe for a while. Part of him was relieved, and par
t wanted to howl in frustration.
He grabbed her hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.”
They’d moved back upstairs after the roofers had finished two days before. Rafe escorted her to the room at the back corner of the house—the room separated from his by only twenty yards of grass and concrete. At the moment it felt like light-years away.
He kissed her lips. “Go to sleep. We’ve got a game tomorrow.”
She nodded and disappeared into her room.
He descended the stairs, locked the back door, then climbed to his apartment. He turned off the light in the office, then caught sight of her light through the open curtains. He limped over to the window.
She’d left her curtains open, too. Probably forgot to close them. Not that it mattered. The carriage house and thick oak trees blocked any neighbor’s view into her room. No one could see inside. No one but him.
As he watched, she passed in front of the window, pulling her sweater off over her head.
Every muscle in his body tightened with the need to forget himself inside her, to make her his. Knowing she wanted him, too, made staying in place the hardest thing he could remember doing.
Stiff-armed, he leaned against the jamb and took deep breaths, trying to cool his heated blood. It didn’t work.
He was beginning to believe that nothing would. Ever.
Pandemonium reigned in the private room at the back of the pizza parlor. The T-Ball Tigers and their parents had commandeered the entire room to celebrate the victory that morning. The kids were flying high because it was their first win, helped along by pizza and soft drinks.
Emma sat at a corner table with Randy’s mother, watching Rafe play video games with Gabe. They’d dropped Sylvia off at the house after the game because she had plans to lunch with friends.
“I’m glad you were there today,” Emma said to Audra Jenkins, who watched her own husband play video games with her son. “It means a lot to Randy.”
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