by Hebby Roman
She left the room with her brother and found Rafael in the waiting room, still reading the outdated magazine. She explained that her father wanted to see him. Mirroring how she’d reacted with Juan, Rafael lifted his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. She shook her head, not knowing how to explain the sudden change in her father. And she was as mystified by her father’s request as Rafael was.
Hand in hand, they went to her father’s room, but when they entered he had his eyes closed. They started to leave, not wanting to disturb him.
He must have heard them because he called out, “Come over here. I need to talk to both of you, but especially Rafael.”
They moved closer and stood together beside his bed.
“I don’t have much strength, so I’ll make this short,” her father said. Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze on Rafael. “Thank you for helping Adriana. She needed someone.” He paused and licked his lips. “And I want to apologize for the way I acted that night at dinner—”
“Really, Señor de Los Santos, you don’t have to,” Rafael said. “I understand.”
“Don’t cut me off, young man, and don’t call me Señor de Los Santos. It’s Miguel to you.” He coughed and cleared his throat. He touched Adriana on the arm. “Would you please get me a glass of water?”
She did as he asked, pouring one from the carafe beside his bed and putting a straw in it. She held the glass and Rafael leaned in, helping him to sit up and sip from the straw. After a few swallows, he waved it away and said, “I wanted to apologize for my behavior that night. It was inexcusable, and all I can offer as an explanation is that I was concerned about my daughter’s future.” He looked at Rafael. “It was easy to see you were in love with my daughter. Your feelings were written all over your face. You looked like a lovesick dog.”
He started to chuckle but was forced to stop when he started coughing again. After he caught his breath, he continued, “I was like that about Adriana’s mother, Carmen. She was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He turned his gaze to Adriana. “I loved her more than life itself. When I lost her, it was difficult for me to go on.”
He motioned for Adriana to come closer, and then he reached out to her. With tears swimming in her eyes, she grasped his hand and squeezed it.
“I made myself go on because of you children. You weren’t grown, and you needed me. But I felt so inadequate.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I knew you were close to your mother, Adriana, as a daughter should be, and I didn’t know how to replace her. All I knew was how to work hard and provide for my family. I lost my dream, so I thought I should help you to find yours. I thought if I did that, I would be a good father.”
“So I drove my children to succeed, especially you, Adriana, but I was wrong. I didn’t know how to teach you about the important things, like your mother did—that loving someone and having a family are far more important than a career.”
He gazed up at her, and his eyes were full of tears, too. “I knew these things in my heart, of course. That’s why I selfishly tried to hold onto you, Adriana. I didn’t want you to date and marry or leave town for a better job. I wanted to keep you to myself. Because ... because ...” His voice broke. “You were all I had left of her, of your mother. And you reminded me so much of her. And I loved you so completely, as I had loved her.” He shook his head again. “I just couldn’t lose you, too.” The tears were streaming down his face.
“Oh, Papá,” she said, putting her arms around his neck and hugging him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand how much you were hurting. I guess because I was hurting so much, too. And I love you, too, Papá. Even if I marry and have my own family, I’ll always love you, don’t you know that?”
“Claro que, sí. It was foolish of me to think I could hold onto you.” Over her bent head, he looked at Rafael. “And you’ve found yourself a good man, m’ija. I knew he stayed with me so you could rest. After the way I treated him, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he never wanted to lay eyes on me.” He patted her back and shifted against the pillows. “Don’t let him get away. He’s a ‘keeper.’”
“I know that,” she said. She straightened up but hung onto her father’s hand. She’d never known so much love and peace before, as if she were surrounded by it, enfolded in it. Her father loved her, and he had always loved her.
He just hadn’t known how to raise her or show his love and that had made him feel inadequate. He’d done his best, teaching her to make her way in the world. But he hadn’t wanted to let her go. He’d loved her so much he wanted to keep her with him always. What he’d said was a revelation and a catharsis all at once, freeing her, making her feel whole again. Her entire body flooded with a raw and bittersweet knowledge, pushing the shadows of her doubts and fears out.
The door opened and one of the nurses stuck her head in to tell them they’d stayed too long and the patient needed to rest. Adriana looked down at her father and was surprised to find that he’d closed his eyes again and his breathing was regular. Gently, with the pad of her thumb, she wiped the tear stains from his cheeks.
Then she linked her arm with Rafael’s, and they tiptoed from the room. Her brother was waiting for them in corridor. She explained to Juan that their father was resting, and she apologized for monopolizing his time.
Juan glanced and them and smiled, saying he didn’t mind. With a twinkle in his eye, he asked if their father had given them his blessing. At first, she didn’t know what he meant. But then she understood and smiled.
Her brother inclined his head and told them he’d be in the waiting room if they needed him. Adriana watched him go, knowing what she had to do. She turned to Rafael and couldn’t wait another minute to share the feelings flooding her heart.
She grasped his hand and brought it to her face, turning the palm up and nuzzling him. “I love you, Rafael. I guess I’ve always loved you, from the first minute I saw you.” She purposely echoed his words from that rainy day in her car. “I was just too blind to see it.”
Rafael whooped with joy and grabbed her in his arms, spinning her around and around, not caring about the horrified expressions on the nurses’ faces at the nearby station.
When he set her down on her feet again, he said, “Marry me, Adriana. Now. Tonight. There are wedding chapels all over Vegas. We can be married in a couple of hours.”
“What? What are you saying, Rafael? My father just got out of surgery. I want to be married in the Church and wear a beautiful gown. I want my father to give me away.” She poked him in the chest with her finger. “And I should think you’d want me to meet your family first and have them at the wedding, too.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “We’ll do all that later. We’ll be married a second time, with all the family and gowns and flowers you want. But I don’t want you to have second thoughts or get cold feet. I want to marry you tonight and know we’re bound together, that we’ll make our lives together.”
“But tonight isn’t a good time. I want to come back and visit my father—”
He silenced her with a kiss, and his lips on hers were hard and demanding, hungry and needy. Melting against him, she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
He broke their kiss and grinned at her. “There will never be a perfect time. Or maybe I should say that if we love each other, truly love each other, any time is perfect.”
She couldn’t argue with the logic of that.
And she understood his need. It had taken her so long to recognize and accept her feelings that he craved her reassurance, wanted to know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that she was willing to commit her life to him.
And she was more than willing. She wanted to marry him.
He’d been so devoted and patient, so caring and understanding. He’d always been there for her. Now he needed her devotion. Now he wanted her to show her commitment to him. Thinking of it that way, it was the least she could do, and it was the right thing to do.
She wanted to marry hi
m with all her heart. Marrying him in a Las Vegas wedding chapel sounded so romantic. And then they would have a second wedding, too, a proper wedding. How many women could boast of that?
Gazing into his warm, brown eyes and said, “Yes, I’ll marry you tonight. And next month, and the month after that, and three years from now and—”
His mouth found hers, stopping her words and sealing their newfound commitment—a lifelong commitment.
__________
Author Bio
Hebby Roman is the author of eight print published romances, four historical romances and four contemporary romances. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the past president of her local chapter, North Texas Romance Writers. She was selected for the Romantic Times "Texas Author" award. She lives in Arlington, TX with her husband, Luis, and her maltipoo, Max.
Please visit her at: www.hebbyroman.com or on Facebook at: http://tinyurl.com/q79n4qp
Also by Hebby Roman
The Best Game
(Excerpt from the companion book to BEST BET, featuring second twin of the series)
Leaning against him, she put her head on his broad shoulder and gazed at his profile. He lowered his head. Their lips were a mere two inches apart, if that much. This was known as the defining moment. But she didn't want it, didn't want him to kiss her. Not now, maybe never.
She pulled away and skipped ahead, hurtling down the steep, stone-carved stairs. Stopping, she waited for him on the walk in front of the exclusive hotel La Maision. When he joined her, she offered her hand.
He grasped it, and she fought the feelings coursing through her. She tried to ignore the touch of his rough, male flesh against hers, tried to disregard the pull of his masculine appeal. Her feminine needs, long suppressed, clamored like a Hydra monster, threatening to gobble her up.
She struggled to sort out her confused feelings and reversed her earlier decision. She wanted to kiss him, because she needed to know what this crazy attraction was about. Too much tequila, maybe?
Reaching up, she curled her arm around his neck and forced his mouth down to hers. At first, he seemed startled by her blatant approach. He hesitated and his lips merely grazed hers.
But then he warmed to the task.
His mouth moved over hers, warm and supple, molding to her lips. His hands came up, cradling her head. His mouth was like hot velvet against hers, his lips firm and moist, searing her senses and heating her blood.
Moving with infinite care, he made a song of their lips pressed together. With each fraction of a second, she expected the questing thrust of his tongue, demanding access, suggesting intimacies she didn't care to share. But he surprised her, his tongue slid over her lips, worshipping their contours but not demanding to get in.
It was a full kiss, a kiss of heated and moist flesh, of wonder and awe, of reverence and carefully controlled passion. It was a kiss that was hot and tender and cherishing, all at the same time. It was a kiss she would never forget because she'd never experienced anything like it before.
This was her first kiss . . . Her first real kiss, she realized with a sense of awe. Not that she hadn't been kissed before. She'd been kissed many times, too many times. But the kisses had been meaningless, a predictable prelude to seduction.
When they were both breathless, they parted and gazed deep into each other's eyes. Taking each other's measure again, a new awareness suffused them, along with a grudging respect.
He circled his arm around her waist again. She followed suit. "Let's walk," he echoed her earlier request. "Finish telling me how you started modeling."
And weak fool that she was, grateful for a kiss that hadn't been a prelude to anything other than the simple pleasure it gave, she did as he asked. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "When I was close to graduating, the agency wanted me to move to New York and start my career. My parents wanted me to go to college." She paused, glancing at him. "I was torn. I wanted to go to college. I've always wanted to be a social anthropologist."
"A what?"
"A social anthropologist."
"Forgive my ignorance, Liana, but what in the hell is that?" She laughed and squeezed his waist. "An anthropologist is someone who studies cultures, usually ancient cultures in conjunction with archeologists. But a social anthropologist is different; they study present-day cultures, the cultures they see around them." "It sounds like what my brother, Rafael, does. He's a professor of multicultural studies, specializing in Mexican-American culture." Recalling her conversation with Elsa, she said, "I knew your brother was a professor, but I didn't know that was his field." She tapped her chin with her finger, considering. "That's interesting. I wish I could talk to him." "He took a teaching position at the University of Las Vegas. He's in the process of moving, but if he has the time, I would be happy to reintroduce you two."
"Thank you, I'll look forward to it." "What did you decide to do, Liana?" Damian circled back to the original subject. "Although I guess it's a stupid question. It's obvious you went to New York."
"Sí, I defied my parents." She tossed her head. "I ran away to New York to be a model.”
"And you were successful?" "Yes, I was successful. Maybe not supermodel status, but I work steady."
"Do you know Cindy Crawford?"
She cringed. This was the man who had just gifted her with the most soulful kiss she'd ever experienced. Unfortunately, like everyone else, he couldn't get enough of talking about famous people. And just like everyone else, he wanted to know if she brushed elbows with stars. It was too stupid. After all, his small ordinary life wasn't going to be suddenly made bigger by a vicarious association.
"Nah, Cindy was a little before my time. She’s retired and has her own furniture line, I think. But I met Daisy Fuentes early on. Daisy is a Latina, too. Her people are from Cuba." She fluffed her hair. "And I know Heidi Klum, Sofia Vergara, and Elle MacPherson, to name a few." She pinned him with her gaze. "Are you impressed?"
"I didn't mean to . . . That is, that's not what—""Don't apologize, Damian. It goes with the territory." She stopped in front of the Hyatt Riverside. "I'm tired. Could you take me home?"
End of Excerpt
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Summer Dreams
Where else but in her beloved New Mexico would Natalia Colon want to spend a summer---preferably in the strong arms of her macho childhood friend, Esteban Montalvo. But when she arrives home, hurting from a broken engagement, Natalia discovers her childhood pal has become a minor league baseball player, and with his dark, athletic good looks, is attracting women like bees to honey. She fears he'd never be interested in a bookish school teacher like her. But how wrong she is! Esteban has been secretly in love with Natalia from the time they were children, but he worries his love isn't good enough for her. Can he win Natalia's heart with a soul-searing romance that fulfills all of her summer dreams.
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The Princess and The Templar
(a medieval romance) To be published by The Wild Rose Press in January 2014
Raul de Porcelos, a dedicated Knight Templar, is duty bound to bring orphaned Irish Princess Cahira O'Donnell to wed the Earl of Orkney, Raul's lord. But Cahira has a mind of her own and resists the handsome Templar, refusing to relinquish the castle and lands that her family died to protect. Thrown together by fate, they come to know each other and a forbidden passion is kindled. Who will be the first to surrender to desire, the warrior-princess or the warrior-monk?
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Copyright
Copyright © 2000 by Hebby Roman
Previously Published by Kensington
Cover by Kim Van Meter
Formatting by Ink Lion Books
All Rights Returned to the Author
All Rights Reserved
This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise—without prior written permission
of the author and publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Table Of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Author Bio
Also by Hebby Roman
Copyright