I'll Be Seeing You

by Beverly Bird

  “I’d been planning on it.”

  “You were? Good. That’s good. That’s great.” She dropped down on the sofa, cradling it in her lap. “Where are our glasses?”

  Raphael frowned, then he leaned down to the table and slid them toward her. In the next motion, he picked up more dishes. “Look, I mean, assuming this wouldn’t really stress you out, I’m just going to move these. Because, you know, I kind of like to put my feet up on the table when I watch television.”

  Kate’s heart sprung like a rubber band being shot. Was he telling her no? Already? She hadn’t even started yet! She was just laying the groundwork!

  No, she thought wildly. He was just suddenly being…neat. It was out of character, but there it was. Either way, she had no choice but to swim with it. Presumably, once he dumped the dishes, he would come back.

  But what would she do if he didn’t? No, no, she thought, he would. Where else would he go, and why? And anyway, the town house was only so big. She could find him again and start all over.

  Raphael went to the kitchen. Then he stood near the sink with plates in each hand, and he stared at them. What in the hell was going on out there?

  He half turned toward the living room, frowning. He almost went back to ask her. But that would be useless. A woman never coughed up her secrets until she was damned good and ready. Something was definitely on her mind, but he was just going to have to watch her for a clue as to what it was and tread carefully until he figured it out.

  He deposited the dishes in the sink and went to the living room. Then he froze. She was drinking wine directly from the bottle.

  Raphael forgot everything he had just decided in the kitchen and asked anyway. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

  Kate jerked the bottle away from her mouth quickly. “You think something’s wrong with me?”

  Every male instinct in his body went on red alert. Whoa. Dangerous ground. Really, really dangerous ground, he thought. “Did I say that? I didn’t say that.”

  “You said exactly that. You asked what was wrong with me.”

  He lost patience. “Because you’re acting…different.” Again. “It’s not like I’m passing judgment on your entire character!”

  Kate sat the wine bottle on the coffee table very carefully. “So is there? Anything wrong with me?”

  There was absolutely no safe way to answer that, Raphael thought. He set his jaw stubbornly and remained silent.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I need to know.”

  Trapped. Okay, he could deal with this. “Nope. Not a thing that I can think of.”

  Kate licked her lips.

  For a moment, Raphael stayed where he was, at the door to the kitchen. He watched her tongue flick in and out. There was an instant tightening inside him, a flare of heat through his blood. He studiously ignored both.

  Then he found himself trying to remember again why he had to.

  Because he wasn’t ever going to get involved again, he remembered. Because of what had happened to Anna…a whole lifetime ago. Still, it was a viable reason. A good reason. And this woman, oh, yeah, this woman had involvement written all over her. He couldn’t think about that quick flick of her tongue just now, couldn’t dwell on teasing it with his own, because he couldn’t do it. Sinking into that mouth of hers even one more time would be…involvement.

  With her, with this woman, it would be everything. He’d known that for days now, since she’d unraveled in his arms in the kitchen.

  Raphael crossed slowly to the sofa. He sat beside her, watching her out of the corner of his eye. His better judgment shouted in his head, pounding fists against the inside of his skull, telling him it wasn’t a good idea to be here. But where else was he supposed to go? He slept on the sofa. Figuratively speaking, this was his bedroom.

  Then she reached over and switched the light off on the end table. And Raphael thought he understood what was going on.

  The fire in his blood was instantly painful. His heartbeat was hard and hurting. Think, he ordered himself. He was jumping to conclusions. Had to be. She’d thrown off a whole lot of signals early on, telling him to keep his distance. What had she said that first night when he’d thought to steady her after McGaffney had died? He’d reached out to her, and she’d said, Don’t touch me.

  But now, lately, there’d been that bathrobe. And more than a couple of open bedroom doors.

  “Kate…”

  “We’ll watch TV,” she said quickly.

  He reached cautiously for the television remote. He clicked a button with his thumb. Flickering colored lights filled the darkness of the room, shadowing her face, then throwing it into light again. He risked another glance at her. She was staring fixedly at the screen, then her eyes came around to his, and they were huge.

  And in that moment, Raphael knew he was absolutely right about what was on her mind. He knew, because she looked terrified and unsure. And he was reasonably sure those words were not even in her vocabulary.

  He had to get up off this sofa and walk out of the room. He wasn’t right for her. He’d get her killed, sooner or later. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who could walk away from this after it was over, not if they…if they did what he thought it was she was thinking they should do.

  He watched her hand come up, moving as though in slow motion. She took the headband from her hair. Her curls cascaded free. She licked her lips. And then, God help him, she leaned toward him, her lips parted.

  “Raphael, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to have what I want right now. Please help me.”

  Her words drove to his soul. One minute he had air in his lungs, in the next there was none there at all.

  The right answer was crucial. If he hurt this woman, he’d hate himself for a lifetime. She was honest, she was good. She was smart, she was spunky. She did not deserve to be hurt, and he would destroy anyone who dared to do it, including himself.

  Raphael could not find his voice.

  Kate waited a heartbeat, then two. She leaned closer, and she touched her mouth to his. “Okay?” she asked tentatively.

  It was not okay. It was his undoing.

  He remembered what he had said to her days before in the kitchen…before he had kissed her for a second time. She would have to feel something special to go after a man. Desperation. Need. He would have been able to withstand Anna’s polished approach, he thought. He had laughed off Allegra’s teasing advances on more than one occasion. But Kate’s eyes were riveted on his, and her hand shook when she reached for him. Because she wanted him. He could withstand any clever female assault on his body. He had no defenses when Kate touched his heart.

  She was strong. She was sensible. And she was coming apart…because of him. It was humbling. It was devastating.

  Her mouth brushed his. She retreated, waited. He found his hand in those wild curls.

  He heard her gasp—maybe in relief—and his fingers spasmed against her scalp. Then her mouth was sealed to his, hard and needy. And everything he thought he wanted for his life was gone. The lemon scent lifted from her hair and filled his head. There was the taste of the deep, red wine on her tongue. And he thought, from somewhere deep in her throat, he heard the purr of his name.

  Please, please, don’t stop this time. It was a prayer, a litany in Kate’s head as she leaned into him, every muscle trembling, something hot pooling at the very center of her. If he stopped this time, she would die.

  She would want to die. But he didn’t stop. In a sudden, unexpected move, he dragged her closer, one hand at her waist, the other arm hooked behind her neck. Kate tumbled on top of him.

  She wanted to ask again if it was okay. She was afraid to hear the answer. Then she felt it, knew without words, as his hardness pressed against her belly.

  “Ah,” she whispered, and almost wept with the joy of it. He wanted her. Her muscles went liquid with relief.

  He felt her melting over him, as though whatever had driven her this far had suddenly aba
ndoned her. Raphael knew it was his last chance to stop. He found his mouth sliding hungrily for her throat instead, for that pulse he had seen beat wildly at the hollow of it. This time he was going to feel it. He touched his tongue there, and it fluttered.

  Excitement exploded in her. Kate dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Do that again.”

  His laugh was hoarse, raw. She was innocence. She was honesty. She wanted to be with him so much she was shaking.

  He felt the change this time, felt the tympanic beat of her heart when his tongue slid over her skin again. He licked and soothed with a kiss and moved on. She cried out in protest, then whimpered when his mouth found the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. He had known it would be there. And that terrified him.

  Not enough to stop him. Nothing could, not now. She moved over him a little more, shifting her weight, her legs straddling him. Raphael felt something threaten to explode at the core of him.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.” It was the last protest he could make.

  She leaned back from him. He watched her chin come up in the flickering glow of the television. “Oh, I do. Honestly.”

  And she’d take it all. Then she’d want more. And that, he realized, was exactly what he needed.

  With an inarticulate growl, his mouth covered hers again. He didn’t hold himself back. His tongue dove deep at the same moment his hand dragged her T-shirt free from her slacks. He felt her gasp shimmy through him against his mouth. Then he found skin, his palm sliding up over her ribs, and everything about her was small and delicate, and her skin was warm and flushed and heated. He closed his hand over her breast, over thin, gossamer fabric there, and she arched into his touch without pretense or guile.

  There were fractured words and gasps. Kate heard them like echoes in her head, realized it was her own voice and marveled at that. She was coming undone.

  “Please.” She was begging, had never begged in her life and didn’t care.

  “Now.” His voice was raw as he dragged the T-shirt over her head.

  “Don’t stop. Just…please, don’t you dare stop this time, or I’ll kill you.”

  He gave a laugh that turned into a groan. “I don’t think anything could make me.”

  She’d unleashed something, Kate realized, and it gave her a thrill that was wild and exhilarating and wholly female…something she knew she would cherish all the rest of her life.

  Somehow she found herself on her back. He was leaning over her, one of her wrists in each of his hands. He let one go to tug her slacks down and off. Then one finger hooked under her panties at her hip, his skin hot and rough against hers. She thought her entire body throbbed. She had never known that needing could be pain. She had never known how it could tighten everything inside her, every muscle, every nerve ending, coiling them smaller and smaller into something that hurt. She watched, protesting when he eased away from her, trying to pull him back as he leaned away from her to pull at the fastening of his jeans. She put her hand to his chest and felt his heartbeat crash against her palm.

  Then there was no more room for coherent thought. He caught her hand away from his skin and dragged it to his mouth. And even as he kissed her fingers, she felt him plunge inside her with a suddenness that ripped another cry from her throat.

  He’d hurt her, he thought, dying a little inside, pulling back. And then he felt her close over him, holding him, and he saw her tremulous smile.

  He drove into her again. And she welcomed him as though she had been waiting for him all her life. Then she came apart beneath him, wild and hungry, just the way he had known she would.

  Chapter 15

  Kate breathed in deeply. That scent of something warm and summery filled her head. Not August after all, she thought dreamily, and not the night. It was him…purely, one-hundred-percent Raphael.

  As it turned out, he had wanted her in a most emphatic way.

  A smile curved her lips. She lay spent on her back, his weight heavy atop her. The arm she had wrapped around his neck a few moments ago was now more or less flung over his left shoulder. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything, and she didn’t want him to, not yet. She wanted to savor the moment.

  She loved him.

  The realization sent something hot and skittering into her blood. This kind of glow didn’t come from just wanting him. It was a way of needing him. If he left her world, if he went away and she never saw him again, it would take her to her knees.

  She finally heard the rumble of his voice, a vibration in his chest against her own. “You couldn’t have just asked me?”

  A gurgle of laughter broke in her throat. “What would you have done if I had?”

  He would have stood half a chance, Raphael thought. As it was, he had gone down like a detonated building.

  Something with claws seized hold of his nerve endings. Panic. It made him want to jump up, put some space between them. But the need not to hurt her was no less now than it had been when she had leaned into him with that plea in her eyes, her every muscle seeming to quiver.

  “Exactly what I did, probably,” he said finally.

  Maybe it was the jagged edge to his tone. Kate watched him as he straightened to sit on the edge of the sofa, her gaze trying to cling to his. Something was wrong.

  She sat up quickly, as well. She began reaching for her clothing.

  “Kate, it’s not—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. No, no, something inside her screamed. Just leave it alone! Don’t say anything! She found her panties and pulled them on without standing, finishing the motion with a little wriggle of her bottom.

  Watching it, Raphael’s mouth went dry as heat rose inside him all over again. “Yeah, it does.” He realized that it mattered very, very much.

  Kate shrugged as she yanked her top over her head. The movement was no less awkward than the other—should have been awkward, he thought—but the liquid heat inside him crested again.

  “I asked for it,” she said hoarsely. “You condescended. End of story.” And it hurt so badly it stole her breath. She would not cry.

  From out of nowhere, temper pounded him. “I did not condescend!”

  Kate found her slacks and jumped up to drag them up her legs. “What would you call it?”

  “I never stood a chance, damn it! You never gave me one!”

  For an agonizing moment, she went still. Her gaze flew to him. She couldn’t deal with this, not while he was still naked. The way he sat there was too intimate, too mouthwatering, more than she could bear while the conversation veered into something intolerable. “Get dressed,” she croaked.

  Raphael stood from the sofa, but he made no move for his jeans. Kate’s tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.

  “Don’t change the subject,” he growled. “We’re going to finish this.”

  “We just did.”

  “That was only the start. That’s the problem. You didn’t let me explain.”

  “You’re naked. Explain when you’re not naked.”

  Raphael looked down at himself and swore. He finally grabbed his jeans from the floor. Then he glanced at her again. “You’re a little late for that blush, honey.”

  “I’m not blushing.” Kate put her palms to her cheeks. They were warm. But the heat was not from embarrassment.

  How could she still want him after what he’d just said? But she knew, of course, she knew. She was helplessly, crazy in love with him. She needed him. He was the best person she had ever met—he had turned out to be true and strong, kind and selfless—and she needed him like the air she breathed. She would forgive him just about anything.

  “I’ve got to go.” She felt like an animal crawling off somewhere to lick her wounds. She wondered if they would be fatal. “Out,” she continued mindlessly. “Anywhere. Away from here.” Anywhere he wasn’t.

  She found her purse in the kitchen. She fell on it, digging for her keys. As soon as she got them, he snatched them out of her hand.

 
She’d never heard him coming up behind her. She looked at him wildly, and his expression had her heart pounding in an entirely different way from when he’d been standing there in the living room arguing with her in all his considerable glory.

  “That van of yours is so big, you might as well paint a bull’s-eye on the side of it,” he snarled. “You’re not leaving in it. In fact, you’re not going anywhere without me.”

  “You have no right—”

  “I have every right. I’m a police officer—”

  “Detective—”

  “—you’re under my protection. That means you’re stuck with me.”

  It was a handy excuse, he thought, but a lame one for what was really going on. He simply could not let her go.

  A kind of desperation rose from the core of him. It had nothing to do with anyone wanting to kill her. It had even less to do with his job. All he knew for sure was that he couldn’t let her walk out of here. Not like this, not now, not in anger. He couldn’t let her walk away from whatever had just happened out there between them on the sofa, not until they figured out what to do about it.

  More than sex. He knew it had been, and his mind reeled away from that truth even while his body gathered for more. He knew it even as he opened his mouth again to somehow deny it. It changed everything.

  Kate made a move for the kitchen door. He reached out reflexively and caught her elbow. She whirled at him.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me do this.”

  He gave an ugly laugh. “But it’s okay for you to make me.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I didn’t force you! I thought you’d push me away again!”

  How could she believe that? How? “Honey, you’ve got everything upside down. Want to see how it feels? Okay, my turn.” And with that he dragged her into his arms. What he couldn’t say, he would show.

  She needed to protest, Kate thought helplessly. There was the matter of her pride, if nothing else. And she knew, too, that if she made love with him one more time, she would be gone. She would never be whole again, never get back to herself when he was gone.