“I know,” he agreed. “And I behaved like a jackass today.”
It was hard to remain angry at a man who was beating himself up for his behavior far better than she could have done.
“Keep going. You’re on the right track,” Rachel told him.
Matteo instantly noticed that the edge was gone from her voice. It gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t completely blown his chances with her. And then, a moment later, Rachel stepped back, opening her door wider, her invitation clear.
“Do you want to come in or keep apologizing until a crowd gathers?” she asked, keeping a completely straight face.
“If that’s what it takes to get you to forgive me, then I’ll do it.”
She was a sucker for sincerity, and he did sound sincere.
“You’re in luck,” she told him. “I’m feeling generous today. I’ll take an IOU, though, to be tendered at my discretion.”
He could have sworn she sounded serious. Even if she was, he figured maybe he owed it to her.
“You got it.” Once inside with the door closed behind him, he took her hands in his, his eyes holding hers. The look in his was repentant and contrite. “I’m really, really sorry, Rachel. It’s just that, all my life, Cisco has made a game out of going after anything that mattered to me. He’s always liked showing me up and beating me, no matter what the stakes or the prize.”
Apart from her father’s actions, she always tried to find the positive side of everything. This was no different. “Maybe Cisco’s just trying to get you to rise to the challenge, be the best you can be.”
He hadn’t attributed that sort of noble sentiment to Cisco. His brother had always seemed to be about nothing more serious than having a good time.
However, maybe there was something to what Rachel was saying. But now wasn’t the time to delve into the matter. Now was the time to make amends.
“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” he told her quietly. “In any case, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did toward you.” Matteo paused, weighing his words carefully. He wanted her to know what had motivated him to behave so badly. “But you have to understand, I thought that he was making a play for you.”
“And if he was?” she asked, her tone telling him that it didn’t matter what his brother had attempted. He wouldn’t have been successful in his endeavor.
“All my life, I’ve watched women flock to Cisco. All he ever had to do was show up, and if he wanted a girlfriend for the night or the month, he just had to put out his elbow. There’d be a girl hanging off it in no time flat.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Rachel wanted to know. “It sounds like you’re describing some empty-headed, vapid Valley girl type, not a real, red-blooded American woman.” And by that, she made it clear that she meant herself.
Matteo regretted his behavior. “You’re right. I should have had more faith in you. It’s just that there are times Cisco makes me so angry, I can’t see straight.”
“But you have so much to offer. Why does what Cisco does—or doesn’t do—bother you so much?” she asked. Since he looked so unconvinced, she began to enumerate his good qualities. “You’re trustworthy, helpful—”
“Kind, don’t forget kind,” he interjected. “That’s part of the Boy Scout Law, too.”
Was he insulted to have those qualities attached to him? “There’s nothing wrong with being a Boy Scout,” she told him.
She was kidding, right? “Most women aren’t attracted to Boy Scouts.”
“That depends on who the Boy Scout is,” she countered in all seriousness.
Okay, he’d bite, Matteo thought. “And if it’s me?” he asked.
“I can foresee tons of women being attracted to those qualities—and to you,” she told him, then repeated, “Tons,” in a lower, far sexier voice.
That was when Matteo finally gave in to what was going on inside him. Gave in to the passions that were making such urgent demands on him.
Framing Rachel’s face with his hands, he leaned in to kiss her.
For just a moment, his heart stopped pounding.
It was supposed to be only a simple make-up kiss, full of contrition, apology and a great deal of relief. Matteo should have known that those three ingredients created a far more volatile reaction when they were combined.
It was as if he’d just had an infusion of molten lava into his veins, shooting all through him, igniting every part of him, especially his desire.
His heart slammed against his chest and then began to pound.
Hard.
He’d thought he had it all under control, but he underestimated the power of his passions when combined with hers. Suddenly, nothing else meant anything. Not time, nor place, nor all those rules he’d always held rigidly in force. The rules all broke apart.
Matteo told himself he was still in control. That he would just allow this momentary aberration to continue for a few more glorious seconds, and then he’d put a stop to it. As painful as it might be to him, he’d pull back. After all, he’d done it before.
But, he quickly discovered, that was then and this was now. It seemed as if a whole incredibly long lifetime had occurred in between.
In place of common sense and control, there was an insatiable insanity that was running riot through him, eagerly savoring every nuance of every kiss, every caress he delivered, every wondrous, silky inch of her that he touched.
Rachel wasn’t sure just how it happened. Maybe it had to do with the complete reversal she experienced, going from the depths of an inky sadness to the utter dizzying heights of supreme joy.
Truthfully, she didn’t know, couldn’t even begin to reasonably speculate. All she knew was that there was this wild squadron of feelings, comprised of peaks and valleys that approximated the giddiness of riding a roller coaster going at top speed.
The only thing she could do was give herself permission to enjoy the sensations as they swept over her one by one while she held on by her fingertips.
Rachel and the man she had lost her heart to went from standing at her door to her sofa. There they assumed various positions while in the throes of the all-consuming passion that had seized them in its viselike grip.
From there they went onto other surfaces—the sofa, the floor—only half-conscious of doing so. Making the halting trip surrounded by a frenzy of heat as they tugged off each other’s clothing, desperate for the sensation of bare skin against bare skin.
And all the while, Matteo’s strong, full lips were branding her, bringing the ache that was within her up to a full, near-deafening crescendo.
She’d had no idea that a touch so gentle could still be so provocative, so possessive. Though she kept it to herself, there was no question in her mind that at this very moment, on this page of history, Matteo owned—her. She was his from the moment his fingers skimmed along her flesh, no question, no doubt about it.
Rachel kept on kissing him, feeling as if she was never going to get enough of Matteo, never tire of trailing her lips along his skin. And when he returned the favor, she was certain that she was slowly becoming delirious.
She embraced the state, as long as he was there with her.
* * *
She was sunshine in a bottle—without the bottle, Matteo thought, unable to believe that what he was experiencing was real. That joy this pure actually existed.
He had never known lovemaking could be like this, had never known that he could feel like this. Because he seriously felt as if he could fly and touch the sky—but only as long as she was with him.
If he’d believed in magic, she, here like this with him, would have been the perfect example of it.
The exquisite tension was building up within his body, and he was aware that he couldn’t hold back any longer. What it quickly came down to
was that it was now—or never.
He chose now.
Matteo pressed her lightly back onto the sofa, then came to her, eager with still a drop of restraint left to him.
His gaze taking hers prisoner, Matteo whispered her name as if he were saying a prayer.
And then he made them one.
The subsequent rhythm that took hold of him captured her as well, and they rode the wave, dancing the eternal dance until they found their way to the very top of the summit.
The gratifying explosion quickly occurred. Fireworks covered them like a sparkling blanket with more than a small amount of euphoria in its weave.
He held on to the feeling for as long as was humanly possible.
Held on to her.
But eventually, the sensation faded back into the shadows, leaving them on the sofa, their bodies and souls entwined, their energy spent.
When he finally found his voice, Matteo quietly said, “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes were shut, and she was in a half-dreamlike state. At the sound of his apology, her eyes flew open. She stared at him incredulously. Hurt formed just under her skin.
“For?” she asked, her voice hoarse as she prayed he could find a way out, a way not to shatter this feeling of happiness that was so new to her.
“For earlier. For this afternoon when I first opened the door.” And then he summarized it and wrapped it all up with a big baby-blue bow. “For acting like an absolute jerk.”
Rachel was extremely relieved. For a moment there, she had thought Matteo was apologizing for making love with her. For her part, she didn’t think her heart could have taken that, his apologizing for making love with her.
“You’re forgiven,” she told him. And then she smiled. “I’d say that, on the whole, everything turned out pretty well, wouldn’t you?” she asked teasingly.
“More than well,” he agreed, nodding. “I’d even venture to use the word excellent.”
Rachel considered the word. “Yes, it was,” she agreed, then sighed contentedly. “It was excellent.”
Matteo propped himself up on one elbow, looking down into her face. He enjoyed the view.
“If I wasn’t as exhausted as I am, I’d be tempted to see if I could up the ante,” he told her.
“Up the ante?” she repeated, not quite sure what he meant by the gambling term. “How would you go about doing that?”
“You know, see if I can beat my own personal best.”
“Where I come from, we don’t mess with a perfect thing,” she warned him teasingly.
“Are you trying to tell me that I can’t mess with you, then?” Matteo asked. There was a twinkle in his eye as he regarded her.
“I wouldn’t dream of telling you that,” she said, just as she turned her body into his.
“Oh, good,” he said, brushing his lips along her shoulder ever so slowly. “Because, as it happens, I’m already dressed for the experience.”
She laughed then, and the sound felt good as it echoed through her.
She felt good.
Rachel wasn’t sure what the future held, but she prayed that Matteo Mendoza was in hers and that she was in his.
That, she thought, would make for a totally perfect world in her estimation.
All she could do was hope.
Chapter Eleven
It took Rachel several moments to orient herself as she slowly emerged into a wakeful state. She didn’t open her eyes immediately.
The events of the night before seemed to come racing back to her the second she was fully conscious, bringing a rosy glow along with them that filtered all through her. It had been a wondrous night, full of revelations, both about herself and the man she had been so strongly attracted to.
She wanted to wrap her arms around the sensation and hug it to her.
Wanted to hug Matteo.
Rachel turned toward him.
He wasn’t there.
Sitting up in her bed, where last night’s revelry had eventually brought them, Rachel pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them instead. She just wanted to allow herself to savor the sensations that were sweeping through her like the tail end of a hurricane.
For the life of her, she’d had no idea that she could react as strongly as she had, nor feel this wild abandonment that had taken possession of her last night. She had been a completely different person with Matteo.
Slowly her smile began to fade as reality, dragging jagged-edged uncertainty behind it, began to wedge its way sharply into her consciousness.
Yes, last night had been wonderful in her estimation, but if it had been wonderful for him as well, why wasn’t Matteo still here?
The place beside her where he had lain was cold to her touch. That meant that he had gotten up a while ago.
There were a lot of reasons for him to have left. She got that. And she would have even been fine with that if he had just told her he was going.
If he had just said goodbye.
But he hadn’t.
And she couldn’t think of a single reason for Matteo to go without either first waking her up or, barring that, leaving her some sort of a note, saying he had to leave. She didn’t think she was being too unreasonable, asking for that. She didn’t need pages of effusive writing. A couple of lines on a Post-it saying he had to go but he’d call her at the first opportunity he got would have been enough.
It certainly would have made her happy instead of fostering this empty feeling that was beginning to take hold of her very soul.
Suddenly entertaining a shred of hope, Rachel pulled back the covers and lifted Matteo’s pillow, hoping that perhaps the note he’d written had gotten lost in the bedding. But it hadn’t.
Getting up, she checked under the bed. She found the left sandal she’d lost almost a month ago and a pen she’d been looking for, but no note.
Neither was there one to be found on her bureau.
Or anywhere else in the room.
“Face it, Rach,” she murmured under her breath to herself. “He didn’t leave you any note.”
And any hope that Matteo might still be on the premises, maybe making coffee or even breakfast for the two of them, was quickly yanked away from her when she stopped to listen for the sound of distant movement. A cabinet being closed, a chair scraping along the kitchen floor, anything.
There was nothing.
No telltale sounds, no noises to indicate that she wasn’t alone in the apartment.
Because she was very much alone.
With a sigh, Rachel sat back down on the bed, feeling dejected, trying very hard to reconcile this disappearing act with the man she’d been with last night. The man who’d disappeared and the man she’d been with last night weren’t even close to the same person.
Last night, Matteo had been kind, sensitive, passionate, loving and just about sweetest man who had ever walked the earth. He had been far more than anything she could have hoped for in a lover.
Today, with his disappearing act, he was none of those things.
Maybe he never had been any of those other things, Rachel suddenly thought. Maybe it had all been just an act for him, a means to an end. Maybe what she had actually been for him was a feather in his cap, a trophy he could brag about because he had slept with the woman his brother had indicated that he wanted. And Matteo had slept with her when Cisco had not.
That was it, wasn’t it? Rachel asked herself, feeling angry tears stinging the inside corners of her eyes. She was the prize at the end of the tug-of-war Matteo’s father had told her that Matteo was forever waging with Cisco.
That had to be it.
Why else would he just disappear without a trace like this the morning after they’d made love? The only thing that made sense was that he felt he’d gotten what h
e came for. Once he had, he left. It was as simple as that.
And that made her a prize-winning fool, Rachel thought, feeling both ashamed and madder than hell.
What was wrong with her? she silently demanded as she went into her bathroom to take a quick shower. She was supposed to be smart enough not to be utterly blinded like that by someone like Matteo.
Good looks only went so far. Integrity and dedication were the real turn-on in her life, and apparently Matteo Mendoza had neither integrity nor any sort of loyalty to speak of. When she’d been at the top of her game, she would have seen through Matteo in a heartbeat. Instead, her heartbeat wound up blinding her to his flaws.
And now it was obviously time to pay for it, she thought bitterly.
Squaring her shoulders as she stepped into the shower, Rachel attempted to give herself a pep talk. After all, she had already endured a great deal in her short life, uprooting herself and leaving everyone she knew—or thought she knew—behind. This was just another bump along the way.
“This, too, shall pass,” she murmured under her breath, trying to think herself past the hurt she was feeling, even as the water from the shower head mingled with the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.
* * *
Although Matteo hated to admit it—even if it was only to himself—fear had made him leave Rachel’s bed in the middle of the night.
Fear of what he might see in her eyes when she looked at him in the morning.
If he saw regret there—or even just a glimmer of regret—it would tear him apart. Better not to have been with Rachel at all than to see the regret that the deed had created and brought forth there in her eyes.
Doubts and uncertainty about what had transpired between them had crept in the moment the last of the breathtaking euphoria had finally receded, slipping away from him.
They had made love twice last night, and as impossible as it seemed, the second time had been even better than the first. The second time, he’d known what to expect, yet somehow it had still wound up being a joyous surprise because of the intensity that had woven itself in and through the familiarity that was there beneath the top layer.
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