The Tie That Binds

by LAURA GALE

  And for today that was okay.

  Because Lucas was trembling nearly as much as she was. His rapid, erratic heartbeat matched hers. Their breath was mingling, creating the one scent that only the two of them could create.

  Laying her head against his shoulder, Rachel recognized her own surrender. So, too, did Lucas.

  He stroked her hair, differently than he had in Dr. Graham’s office. The feel of her hair, the feel of her—it was exactly how it was meant to be. He didn’t even realize it when his lips began to move, caressing her cheekbone just where her eyelashes would flutter. Trailing along toward her ear, down her neck, until he was burying his head in her glorious hair—the very hair that he had stroked, combed his fingers through, so many times in his dreams.

  “Oh, Rachel, I’ve missed you so much.” Need was rushing through him; desire would not be denied this time.

  “Me, too, Lucas.”

  The dance continued, but it no longer had anything to do with the music playing on the stereo and everything to do with love.

  “So perfect. It’s just so perfect with you, Rachel. The way I remember.”

  She stiffened at his whispered words.

  “It’s true, Rachel. You know it is. Let me show you.”

  Rachel met his gaze, knowing he wanted her to accept his words. And she loved him so much, she could listen. In this moment.

  Maybe she’d never believe him again, but in this moment it was working for her. For now, she could give herself over to his words. And let herself feel what she could only ever feel for him.

  It was his breath against her skin that was her undoing. She had dreamed of that, had woken up in the night so many times, thinking she felt it. Only to find herself alone.

  His breath against her skin. It stirred her hair—and also something inside her that she had carefully tucked away many years ago. Something she had left for dead.

  This is seduction, pure and simple, Rachel decided.

  Not that he was talking her into anything. She knew what she was doing, what she needed. He was giving her an opportunity, yes, but he wasn’t talking her into anything. She knew that.

  And so did Lucas. He knew it very well, knew exactly what she needed, exactly how she would respond.

  Yes, seduction, Rachel confirmed, but maybe not so pure.

  Fleetingly, she considered that Lucas knew what he was doing because he had had so many opportunities to learn, and not just with her. She wondered about the other women he had done this to, whether he was comparing notes.

  Then she decided this was not the moment to dwell on it. She knew she would eventually, because she had some insecurities of her own. But right now…right now, Lucas was running his fingers through her hair. He was kissing her. She was kissing him.

  They had found their way to her bedroom, their clothes had fallen by the wayside. His skin, his warmth, became her world, closing around her, pushing away everything else. It was his mouth that was consuming hers, his hands that were bringing her body to life. His body that she stroked, his body that she needed so much.

  He teased her, caressed her, tasted her, coaxed her, brought her to the edge time and time again—only to retreat, leaving her wanting more. Leaving her weak.

  And then he gave her what she wanted, what she needed, letting her warmth surround him this time, letting her shatter around him even as he fell apart in her arms.

  This moment was theirs. And it was enough.

  Wow. It wasn’t a very profound thought. But it did sum up how Lucas felt when he stirred sometime later. He stretched, lazy, satiated, reaching for Rachel, only to find an empty space where she should have been. He heard the water running in the bathroom, realized that Rachel was taking a shower.

  He stretched again and felt an enormous stupid grin spread across his face. If she was in the shower, he could stop…and remember…Rachel.

  Wow. Yes, it deserved a wow. And much, much more.

  One thing hadn’t changed: how it felt to be with Rachel. How it had always been with Rachel. The souls touching and all that. He remembered; it was better than he remembered.

  He was cautiously, optimistically, beginning to suspect that happiness might be his again. Knowing Rachel as well as he did—or at least, as well as he had known her—Lucas knew that making love meant she still felt something for him. She had gone to bed with him because going to bed with him had felt right to her. And that meant she still cared. That meant he could hope.

  His grin turned into a full-fledged smile. If they were going to put the past behind them and have a chance at a life together, Lucas reasoned, knowing that their sex life would still be as fulfilling as it ever had been—well, that was a very positive development.

  At the same time, Lucas thought, today changes everything. It’s a step in the direction we need to be heading. Together.

  Lucas attempted to see the bedside clock, checking for the time. He couldn’t quite see it, though, and he wasn’t willing to go to the effort it would have required. He dropped his head back onto the pillow. He was pretty sure he and Rachel had actually dozed off together. He hadn’t known when Rachel left the bed, but it would have been rare for him to fall asleep with her still awake. If they fell asleep after lovemaking, it was always together—he caught his train of thoughts.

  That was before, stupid. It’s been a long time since then.

  Lucas knew he shouldn’t take for granted that anything that happened now would be exactly like it used to be. Still, being with Rachel was the most natural, perfect thing.

  He leaned over again, this time finding the clock—5:00 p.m. That meant the afternoon was coming to an end.

  And that I should get dressed.

  Hearing the water still running in the bathroom, Lucas decided to explore Rachel’s house. He wanted to see what kind of place she had created for herself and Michaela.

  I am not prying, he told himself, just getting familiar with the place.

  He liked her home. That was his first general impression. Nothing cold and impersonal here, not like the condo he’d bought.

  Everything was based on a color that Lucas saw as oatmeal—sort of an off-white with other nubby, neutral colors flecked through it. The primary accent colors throughout were forest green and cranberry. The coordinated color scheme worked well with the open floor plan, he decided. It was warm and comfortable.

  “Just like Rachel,” he whispered to himself.

  He smiled at the large basket he saw sitting on an end table in the living room. It was decoratively laden with yarn-and-popsicle-stick god’s eyes. One of Michaela’s many art projects over the past few weeks. Everyone who had come in contact with her had walked away with a god’s eye. Or two or three. Lucas himself had several that he had taped to his refrigerator. One he’d hung from the rearview mirror in his car.

  Thinking of Michaela, he remembered that her room was the only exception to this basic color scheme. Her room was bright and cheery, highlighted with equally bright primary shades of red, yellow and blue. A room Michaela hadn’t seen for a while, Lucas realized with a pang.

  But that was about to change.

  Lucas wandered into the kitchen, contemplating fixing a light meal before they returned to the hospital. However, a thorough search of the kitchen revealed virtually no food. While Lucas was confident in his ability to boil water and therefore prepare rigatoni, he saw absolutely nothing that might be used to give the pasta some flavor.

  She really hasn’t been living here. The obvious fact came home to him. She had said as much, of course, but only now did he see the remark for the very accurate statement it was. The bare kitchen provided a stark contrast to the homey feeling everywhere else.

  The water upstairs stopped. Rachel had finished her shower.

  Deciding to wait for her, see what she wanted to do, Lucas opened the sliding glass door that led to the patio area and stepped outside. It was warm, but on the shady side of the building, so it was bearable. He unfolded a chaise lounge tha
t was leaning against the wall and stretched out, watching the wispy white clouds drift by overhead.

  She’s found a good home, Lucas thought. She’s made a good home.

  Of course, the Scottsdale condo he currently lived in, the one he’d moved to nearly five years ago, would put this to shame in terms of luxury. But his place wasn’t half the home this was. Not even close.

  Despite the long-term absences of the occupants of Rachel’s town house, it still felt like a home.

  “Are you ready?”

  Lucas jumped at Rachel’s voice. He hadn’t heard her slide open the door.

  “Sure, if you are.”

  He followed her back into the house, noticing that her hair was still slightly wet. She had pulled it up in some sort of twist, then stuck in what he saw as Asian hair picks. Mother-of-pearl, he decided. They looked beautiful set against her magnificent chocolate hair. She smelled fresh, vanilla-y. Like herself. Unbelievably, he felt his body tighten with desire. Again. As if he was seventeen.

  Curling his arms around her waist from behind, he pulled her against him. He was already rock hard, ready for her. He took a deep breath, inhaling that scent that was hers alone, burying his face in her hair, thinking about removing those hair picks he had just been admiring. He was again nuzzling her neck, her earlobe. He felt a tremor shoot through her. He had known he was ready to be with her again. Now he knew she was ready, too.

  “Lucas,” she said in a voice that sounded odd to him, “I’ve got to get back to the hospital.” He was momentarily disconcerted by her change of subject, and slackened his hold on her just enough that she was able to pull away from him.

  “I’ve called Mamá,” she was saying, “and told her about Michaela. She’s already organizing the cleaning shifts we’ll take. We decided it would be best if the carpet was cleaned as soon as possible. Then we can do the rest of the cleaning. Rick will do the carpet. He gets into that sort of thing.” She smiled faintly. “So I decided to take some fresh clothes back to the hospital. I’ll just plan to stay there until the carpet dries, and then we can move back in.” She motioned toward a small suitcase she had brought downstairs. “So we can take that with us when we go.”

  It occurred to Lucas then that she was avoiding his eyes. She was keeping her head averted. “Regrets already, Rachel?”

  She didn’t look at him, but Lucas could see the blush that rushed to her cheeks.

  “Honey, what we shared, that was incredible. It was great. It’s right between us. It always was. You know that. There’s no need for regrets.”

  “Yes, Lucas.” She licked her lips. “It…was great. Great sex. You’re right. I have no regrets.”

  “Well, then, that’s okay.” He reached for her. He was kissing her again, his breath on her skin again. She was responding, kissing him back, giving in to the shimmer that was stealing over her.

  “I want you again, Rachel. Badly. Right now.”

  She stiffened in his arms, making Lucas wish he’d kept his thoughts to himself. Things had been progressing just fine without words.

  “I can’t, Lucas,” she whispered. “I…I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I need some time. Please.” She took a deep breath, sensing that he was getting the message this time, wondering exactly what her message was. Dios mio, but I am confused.

  Sighing heavily, he stepped back.

  She was heading toward the door now, but turned to face him again. “Look, Lucas. What we shared, for me that was special. I know it doesn’t mean anything,” she said, the words bubbling out of her mouth, “but, still, for me, it was a golden moment, something apart from my real life—”

  “It didn’t mean anything?” He was getting loud, struggling to control it. “Why do you say that?”

  Rachel didn’t answer but gave him a look he didn’t understand. Annoyance? Because he’d interrupted her? Or because she was having regrets? Or because she didn’t believe him?

  “The thing is, I’m not used to that sort of thing. It’s not like I bring men home—”

  “Rachel, I know that.”

  “Dios mio, you are just not understanding me, are you? No, I have no regrets. It was wonderful. It was special. I’ll never forget it. But I can’t do this, Lucas. Don’t you see? It matters to me. It goes too deep for me. I—”

  “Rachel, is it possible that you actually think it doesn’t matter to me?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged.

  My God, she has a low opinion of me, Lucas suddenly realized.

  “You have different expectations than I do. You can handle this sort of thing.” She fluttered her hand in the air, trying to punctuate her explanation.

  Lucas stared at her uncomprehendingly.

  She took a deep breath, wondering if she could possibly explain something she didn’t entirely understand herself. “Look, Lucas, I’ve told you before that I live one day at a time. But I do it with responsibility, very heavy responsibility. If I didn’t have that part, it might be easier—or even possible—for me to be with a man in a way that doesn’t touch me inside. Casually, you know. But that isn’t how it is for me. It does touch me. It overwhelms me.” She met his gaze, her golden eyes turbulent. Can’t you see that love is involved for me? She pleaded silently.

  In fact, Lucas didn’t understand. He’d decided things between them were going damn near perfectly. He couldn’t understand why she would say that what they’d shared didn’t matter to him. True, he saw sex as a natural progression, one they’d been heading toward from the minute their paths had crossed again. If he’d made that progression more quickly than Rachel, been able to adjust to that progression more easily, well…then he was a little ahead of her on that path.

  But she’d been ready today. She’d made the choice this time.

  Now she seemed scared again.

  He took her hand. “Rachel, sit down a minute.”

  Hesitantly she did.

  “Was it too soon?”

  She took so long to respond, Lucas had nearly decided she hadn’t heard him. When she did respond, it was a quick shake of her head. “No.”

  Through it all, Rachel believed she did have a commitment to Lucas. Just that it wasn’t necessarily mutual. She was far too aware of the mismatch between her ways and Lucas’s. The only thing she’d known to do was avoid physical contact with him. Now that that door had been opened, it would not be easily closed again.

  “Please, Rachel,” Lucas intoned, “help me understand.”

  She looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “I just think that…what it means to me is different from what it means to you. And that matters to me. I’m the one it hurts.”

  He still wasn’t sure he understood her exactly. Being with her couldn’t possibly be more important to him. Despite her denial, he thought the difficulty was a timing thing. That they were operating at different speeds. He would need to slow down. Give her more time. He didn’t have much choice. “It’s okay, Rachel.”

  “Bueno. Gracias, Lucas.”

  She stood, resuming her trek toward the door. Lucas understood that he was expected to follow. With a sigh that was part frustration, part exasperation, part something he didn’t have a label for, he adjusted his pants, picked up her suitcase and followed her.

  Chapter 15

  “Gracias, Mamá. Hasta luego.” Rachel hung up the phone, glad to hear that the cleaning of her town house was going according to plan. Rick—with Diego as his assistant—had cleaned the carpet, and Rachel had now been instructed by her mother that it would be okay to return and finish the other necessary work. She wasn’t altogether sure whom her mother had assigned to the cleaning crew, but Rachel had no doubt that the house would be ready for Michaela’s return in three days.

  Three days! Rachel threw back her head and laughed out loud. It was all just too unbelievable.

  Today, in anticipation of cleaning, Rachel was wearing denim shorts and a red T-shirt. She had covered her hair with a red bandanna, preferring that to the constriction of a
barrette. She just needed to tell Michaela where she was going and that she would probably stay the night at the town house. Somehow she thought she could get more done if she wasn’t worried about a return-to-the-hospital deadline, especially because she was likely to be sweaty and smelly by the time she was finished.

  “Hola, hermana.”

  Rachel looked up from her packing, knowing that the fabulous smile of Diego Fuentes would accompany the greeting. He’d always called her “sister” even though that was not their true relationship.

  “Hola, Diego. ¿Cómo está?”

  His answer was a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ve been to see Michaela,” he explained, a twinkle in his eye, “but I thought I would stop and speak to her mother, also.”

  Rachel took in Diego’s appearance, noting that he was letting his black hair grow again. He’d cut it short a few years back, having decided to look more like a conservative businessman, as he explained it. But the short cut really wasn’t his style. She could see that soon it would be shoulder length again, and he’d be pulling it straight back into a short ponytail. Personally, she thought he wore it well, a look that was clearly a throwback to an earlier time. A time of warriors, she thought. “I’m glad you did, Diego. It’s been too long.”

  “Sí, sí.” He flashed his wonderful smile at her again. “I guess we have a big day coming, no? She is so much more her normal self now. She has been so brave. As has her mother.”

  Rachel moved to stand beside Diego at the window. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he squeezed briefly, letting go before she could panic. Over the years Diego had come to know exactly how long she could tolerate physical contact. He always made a point of pushing her limit, believing that if he didn’t it would be all too easy for Rachel to slip away to a place where no one would reach her. He tried to keep her in touch, insofar as he could.