by Francis Ray
“Doesn’t matter.” Leaning closer, she peered at the instructions for the crystal-and-brass pineapple lamp.
Rafe smelled the floral fragrance in her hair, felt the brush of her bare arm against him. Desire was there, but so was another curious emotion he’d never experienced before. “That tea looks good.”
“Yours is on the kitchen table. You want some of mine?” she asked.
He took it without hesitation and took a long, satisfying swallow, then handed it back to her. It tasted sweet, just as he’d imagined her lips would taste. “Thanks. Now let’s see what we can do to untangle your lamps.”
In less than thirty minutes, Rafe had the three lamps together. Kristen stared at them in disbelief. She’d deliberately mixed up the parts so they could spend more time together. “I can’t believe it.”
Rafe shrugged. “They were easy.”
Kristen stared at him.
“I’m used to following blueprints,” he said quickly. “You want to put them in your car?”
She bent to pick up the boxes they’d come in. “I just wanted to see what they looked like assembled. Can they stay here?”
“Sure.” He took the box from her and picked up the other two. “I’ll put these out back.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to stay, but she was already an hour late for work. As it was, she had to go by her place and change into less casual attire. She hadn’t been able to leave until she was sure Rafe would be all right. “I’ll see you later then.”
“Yeah.”
She stared at him, wishing she had the nerve to close the distance between them, to kiss each scratch that marked his face. “Good-bye, Rafe.”
“Drive carefully.” He wrapped his arms around the cardboard when he wanted to wrap them around her.
“I will.” She started toward the door, feeling satisfied that he no longer wore that haunted look on his face.
Rafe watched her go, observing the unconscious grace, elegance, and beauty of her slim body. And so much heart, with an endless capacity to love. It occurred to him that there was more than one kind of hell: the hell his father put him through when he was growing up, and the hell of caring for a woman who could never be his. Both could destroy him. He just had to make sure neither did.
Laying the cardboard on the workbench, he went to the answering machine in the corner of the shop, took out the tape, and tossed it in the trash. Some hells he knew how to deal with.
twenty-four
Kristen made it to work two hours late. Opening the gallery door, she didn’t know if she’d find the usual calm Jacques or an out-of-sorts boss. He answered that question when he excused himself from the man he’d been speaking with and came to her.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, his concern obvious.
She might have known. “Fine. I’m sorry to have left you shorthanded for two days in a row.”
The frown on his rounded face smoothed into a pleased smile “Yesterday turned out quite nicely and, as for today, it’s been slow. If you want to leave, you can.”
She stared at her boss. There was definitely something new about him that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. It didn’t take long to recall what Angelique had said about him and Claudette. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Good, I’d better get back to Kenneth. He’s looking at the Arthello Beck. If it sells, we can close the shop for the rest of the day.”
Kristen smiled as he walked away. They were a party of three, trying to find their way in love. Going behind her desk, she put her purse in the drawer. Her gaze was drawn to the writing box Rafe had made for her. Her hand stroked the smooth wood, much as Rafe’s must have while he was making it. He created such beauty and was unable to see it in himself.
Someday he would. She wouldn’t think otherwise.
Seeing Jacques and the customer move out of sight in the back of the gallery, she decided it was as good a time as any to call Adam. He’d been champing at the bit to talk with her both times she’d called Lilly to get a report on Adam Jr. The only reason why she’d put Adam off was to tell him it was too involved to go into over the cell and she’d call him as soon as she could.
Oddly, as she dialed she found herself more concerned about Adam wanting to interfere in her life than she was by what he’d think of her. Somewhere in the past weeks she’d developed a backbone and thrust aside all the insecurities she had harbored for as long as she could remember. Her family loved her and she was blessed to have them.
“Kristen, what’s this about Rafe being there for you?” Adam asked the moment he came on the line.
Keeping her eye on the back of the gallery, she told him everything about the night Maurice tried to seduce her. Adam was livid. Hearing that Rafe had knocked Maurice out cold helped to ease some of his anger.
“Rafe came to help without a moment’s hesitation. He was the one who found the ad for St. Clair’s. I can no more walk away from him than I could you,” she finished quietly.
“You’ve really grown up on me,” he said softly.
Her lips curved into a pleased smile. Her fingers stroked the wood. “It’s about time. But, please, do me a favor and don’t mention this to Mother.”
A chuckle came through the line. “She’d have Maurice for dinner.”
“That she would, and as satisfying as it might be to watch, Claudette doesn’t deserve the humiliation just because she fell in love with the wrong man,” Kristen said, recalling her own infatuation with a man who wanted to use her, not love her.
“You never told me what happened that night you came back early from New York. I figured you saw Eric and it didn’t turn out well. You might as well know, although I hurt for you, I wasn’t sorry to see you break up with him,” Adam said. “Jonathan didn’t think much of him.”
That said it in a nutshell. Her stepfather and Adam were in perfect sync. They respected and loved each other deeply. Adam had given his blessing to their mother’s and Jonathan’s relationship from the first. “Jonathan likes Rafe.”
“I do, too. Even more after what you just told me. I now realize you would have gone anyway, but thank you for going out there. Lilly won’t worry as much now.”
Through the plate glass, Kristen watched a couple stop and share a passionate kiss. Love seemed so easy for some and so difficult for others. “You love her.”
“She’s my soul mate.”
Was Rafe hers? Laughing, the couple moved on. Kristen felt a prick of loneliness and caught back a sigh. “Good-bye, Adam. Kiss Adam Jr. for me.”
“I will, and you might as well know, the minute Maurice is exposed, I’ll be standing in his face.” The line went dead.
Kristen replaced the receiver. Jonathan would probably be waiting his turn when Adam finished. Having a protective, loving family had its advantages.
* * *
Damien was restless, a noticeable and annoying first for him.
He couldn’t concentrate on the contract in front of him. He’d shuffled the papers, reread them, and still hadn’t gotten further than the second page of the thirty-page document in the last half hour. Considering he had to present an evaluation of the contract to Claudette and the executives of Thibodeaux at nine the next morning, he had a problem.
Instead of the words, he saw the alluring face of a woman who intrigued and annoyed him, heard the beckoning sound of her sultry laughter, felt the passionate heat of her body burning into his, felt his body respond. Damien threw the contract down on his neat desk in disgust at himself. No woman, no matter how beautiful, how great in bed, had ever interfered with business. He appreciated women, respected them, and that had been the extent of it … until now.
Rearing back in his executive chair, he whirled toward the immense plate glass window in his home office that offered a commanding view of the Mississippi River. In the distance he could see the chimney stacks of the steamboat Natchez docked and waiting for the first launch of the day. Speedboats and jet-skiers plowed through
the pliant waters, relishing what was shaping up to be a great summer day.
As for himself, he didn’t mind being inside. He’d learned long ago to forgo pleasures.
Or thought he had.
He glanced back at the contract, but made no move to pick it up. Instead of working, he wanted to see Angelique and not just to take her to bed, although he got hard just thinking about her. He’d told her he’d leave her alone until Wednesday. It was only Sunday and he was weakening already.
He could sit here and worry about his lack of restraint or go see her. The thought had barely registered before he was up and heading for his car keys in his bedroom. The masculine room done in chocolate and ecru was as spacious as the other open areas of the apartment.
Keys in hand, he stuck the contract in his briefcase. He could always do the “I was in the neighborhood” excuse. Only slightly less annoyed with himself for thinking of telling a lie, he left.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Damien rang Angelique’s doorbell. He didn’t expect it to open almost immediately or to see the annoyance on her face go from surprise to pleasure in a heartbeat. He attributed the erratic thud of his heart to shock that she had answered so quickly.
“Hello,” he said, trying for a casual approach. “I was in the neighbor—” He sighed. “That’s not true.”
Apprehension washed across her face. She caught him by the arm and tugged him inside. “What’s the matter? Is it your father?”
Her distress touched him deeply and gave him another out, if he wanted to take it. “Dad’s fine. It’s his son.”
Her puzzlement increased. “Jacques has another son?”
He was making a muddle of this, but how did a man admit to a woman that he hadn’t been able to stay away from her for more than eleven pitiful hours? “I’m talking about me.”
She looked at him closely. “Damien, I’m going to think you’re a prime candidate for me professionally if you don’t start making sense.”
Since his behavior wasn’t making sense to him, he could hardly explain it to her. Searching for a way out, he glanced behind her into the living room. Books, magazines, and papers were scattered around the couch. A laptop sat in the center. “Looks like you’ve been working on your dissertation.”
Her hand started to plow through her hair, discovered the scrunchie, then impatiently tore it free. The thick, luxurious hair tumbled down her back and around her face. “Yes.”
For a man who had never been jealous or tried to compare himself with others, he felt a spurt of annoyance that she could work while he couldn’t. He moved toward the books and picked up a textbook that was as thick as any he had studied in law school, but certainly not of the same subject matter. Sex Through the Ages.
“I’m doing a comparative analysis.”
He might have gotten caught on the interesting subject if he hadn’t heard the irritation in her voice. “Problems?”
She folded her arms. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“What is it? Maybe I can help.”
She took the book out of his hands. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“I may be in law, but I’m used to reading technical papers and doing analysis,” he told her, beginning to feel better. “I bet I can help.”
Her eyebrow arched over the most beautiful hazel eyes he’d ever seen. “Pretty sure about that, are you?”
“I am,” he said with absolute confidence.
She placed the book on the cluttered table before she looked back up at him. “I’ve worked my butt off to get my doctorate. I have my plans laid out, and now that it’s within reach, there’s an unexpected problem.”
The way she was glaring up at him, he strongly suspected what her problem was. He was definitely feeling better. “I’ve worked very hard to get to my position as chief counselor at Thibodeaux. I have a contract in my briefcase that I have to give a report on in the morning at nine and it took me thirty minutes to read two pages, and I have absolutely no idea what is on them.”
They stared at each other. Angelique spoke first. “Try an hour and zero pages.”
Damien picked up her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Looks like we’re going to have that study date after all.”
Angelique shivered. Desire shimmered in her eyes. “There’ll be no touching until we’re finished.”
Until caught his attention. He released her. “How many pages do you have to do today?”
Her hand raked through her hair. Damien thought he’d like to do that for her. “Ten, but I’d settle for six. The dissertation can vary from fifty to a hundred pages. I’m at twenty, but I want seventy-five, then tighten to fifty.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Damien nodded toward a small mahogany accent table with gracefully curved legs by the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. “Mind if I sit over there?”
“I’ll clear it for you.” She started toward the table.
“I can do it.” He set his briefcase on the corner of the sofa. “I’ll get a chair from the kitchen.”
She bit her lower lip as he went into the kitchen. “Do you really think this will work?”
“We’ll soon find out.” Returning with the high-backed chair, he cleared the small, oval table of a healthy rabbit-foot fern, two hardback novels, and a shiny assortment of brass candlesticks.
“There’s plenty to snack on. Fruit, nuts, and cookies. Crab salad in the refrigerator, if you want something more substantial,” she told him.
“I’ll be fine,” he told her, then removed the contract from his briefcase and took a seat. As if drawn, he glanced over at Angelique on the floor, her back braced against the front of the sofa, her laptop resting against her up-drawn knees. Dressed in another oversized, faded black sweatshirt and blue jean cut-offs, she flipped though the notes in her hand.
Any other woman he knew would be frantic at the thought of him seeing her at less than her best. Not Angelique. She knew her worth and was proud and comfortable with who she was. You either took her as she was or not at all.
He’d take her anywhere and any way he could get her.
Damien turned sideways by the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him, then crossed them at the ankles. He didn’t have enough space to put all his papers out; the straight-backed chair didn’t conform to his body like his custom-made leather chair at his apartment, but that didn’t seem to matter as he settled back, pen in hand, and began to evaluate the contract.
* * *
Damien had expected to finish first and he had. He’d looked over and Angelique had been busy typing into the word processor, her gaze glued to the notes on the floor beside her. Afraid he’d break her concentration if he went to the kitchen, he settled back in his chair, crossed his hands over his flat stomach, and thought of all the ways he was going to make love to her when she finished.
“Stop that! Go get a glass of iced tea and cool off before you break my concentration,” she told him, never pausing in her typing.
Chuckling, he stood and made his way to the kitchen. The bright blue room was as neat as her work area was messy. Feeling not the least bit uncomfortable, he prepared a plate of crab salad, fresh fruit, crackers, and iced tea. He was just about to sit down when Angelique entered, rubbing the back of her neck.
“You need to be at a desk.”
“Couldn’t spread all my notes around, so I borrowed Kristen’s laptop.” She picked up one of his crackers and took a generous helping of crab salad.
Damien moved behind her and began massaging her neck and shoulders. Her skin was like warm silk. “You’re as tight as a taut rubber band.”
“A hot shower usually takes the kinks out,” she said, eyes closed, her head lolled back against his chest.
His hands paused. “How many pages do you have to go?”
His deep, mesmerizing tone sent desire spinning though her. “I’m finished.”
“In that case, I think I have another remedy to relax you even more.” He lo
oked at her in a way that made her hot and needy.
His eyes on her, he pulled off his polo shirt, unbuckled his belt, removed a foil packet from his pocket, then pulled off his slacks. His blatant arousal was clearly evident in his black silk briefs.
Angelique’s eyes widened. With unconcealed longing, she stared at his powerfully built body. Hunger spiraled though her.
“I’ve fantasized about this for the past thirty minutes.” He slowly came to her, his eyes gleaming. He pulled the sweatshirt from her. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her naked breasts, but he only grazed the tip of one finger across each nipple.
Her knees shook. “Damien.”
He unsnapped her jeans, then bent and pulled them off. Still in front of her, he started from her knees and kissed his way up to the place that ached, then progressed past her navel to tease and suckle her breasts. He took his time building a fire inside her that could be quenched in only one way.
“I-I can’t stand it much longer.”
“You won’t have to.” He ripped open the foil package.
Angelique watched his every movement, then gasped as she found herself being lifted, then straddling Damien, who sat in the straight-backed chair. His tongue slid into her mouth as his hard length slid into her. His hands cupped her hips, bringing her closer, allowing him to go deeper into her satin heat.
When completion came, she screamed. Damien was right again. His way was better.
* * *
Kristen had been gone an hour. During that time Rafe had done more thinking than he wanted. He had also put off the call to Lilly as long as he could. Sitting behind his desk in his office, he stared at the phone.
Lilly had put herself in harm’s way trying to protect him too many times not to love and respect her. She’d tried so hard to make the marriage to his father work, to make him love her. Instead, he’d used her goodness to trap her, then abuse her until she had broken free.
Rafe admired her as much for her courage as her faith and determination to turn her life around and find her own happiness. She had, but she had not forgotten him.