Every Deep Desire

by Sharon Wray

  Someone’s looking for you. Tall. Hot. Eerie walk. Cool tats. Did I mention hot?

  A jackhammer snagged bedrock, groaned, and backfired.

  She gritted her teeth against the rising panic. She met with male clients all the time. And while Rafe might still be tall and handsome, he didn’t have an eerie walk. Whatever that meant.

  What did he want?

  While she waited for a reply, a workman passed with oleander bushes. She sent him to the west garden room. They couldn’t be planted near the doggy fountain. They were poisonous.

  Samantha texted back.

  To see you. No idea why. Told him you were at the work site. Hope that’s ok?

  Juliet swallowed, only to taste the bitter dryness of concrete dust and mulch grit. She should’ve mentioned Rafe’s return to Samantha but was avoiding questions she had no answers to.

  Ok. After this going to Prideaux House to meet Delacroix. Will stop at store then go set up for funeral. Want lunch?

  Thanks but Pete is dropping off lunch. SYS.

  Juliet sighed. Pete, Samantha’s newest boyfriend, worked at Rage of Angels club with Deke and probably sold this new heroin fueling the city’s epidemic on the side. Juliet didn’t like being judgy, but the guy carried serious muscle and, with his long black plaited hair, tribal tats, and gunmetal lip piercings, looked like he could bench-press her mulch truck.

  Juliet took off her hard hat and threw it onto a newly installed iron bench. The man looking for her could’ve been anyone. That hot, panicky sensation returned, making her hands and legs tingle. Despite the sunshine, thunder clapped in the distance again. She gripped the edge of the table and stared at an invoice until the image blurred. She didn’t hate Rafe, she just had no reason to see him again. Their marriage had been a youthful mistake she’d put behind her.

  Voices sounded from near the fountain, and she looked up. Bob and the water inspector were arguing again. Sighing, she slipped her phone in her pocket and went toward them…and stopped.

  A man over six feet tall had come through the privacy fence and strode toward the fountain. She paused not just because he wore combat boots, low-riding jeans, and a black T-shirt that outlined his ridged stomach, wide shoulders, and tattooed arms. Not just because he reminded her of Michelangelo’s marble male studies exhibit that’d left her with pudding knees. Not just because he carried the aura of carved masculine perfection with ease.

  She paused because his gait stole her breath. Elegant, even graceful, he moved with a determined purpose wrapped in fluid weightlessness. She wouldn’t call it eerie so much as powerful. It had to take enormous strength and self-control to move a body as large and muscular as his so…beautifully.

  He spoke to Bob, who pointed toward her. The man nodded, shrugged on the leather biker jacket he carried, and turned. Oh God. His long stride ate up the plank walkway while she wiped her palms on her dress and inhaled deeply. In the space of her exhale, he stopped a few feet away. His brown-eyed gaze clasped onto hers with a longing that kept her still. His sheer size and the yearning in his eyes flooded her with the kind of heat that pooled low.

  He was larger than she remembered. And the way he studied her, like she was the only thing in this world worth noticing, reminded her of everything they’d been to each other. Everything they’d once had in that forever-and-always kind of way. Which ended up being a total lie.

  She had to remember that.

  She swallowed. “Hello, Rafe.”

  Seriously? The man had abandoned and betrayed her, and that’s all she could say? She couldn’t even keep the tremor out of her voice.

  “Juliet.” It sounded like a prayer, and her breath hitched in the back of her throat. After eight years, she still remembered how her name resonated on his lips, how the word ended with his soft drawl instead of a sharp consonant.

  She blinked while he took her hands and moved in. He brushed a kiss on her cheek, and his familiar musky scent teased her nose. She closed her eyes, and her eyelids burned. It was like the anger and sadness and disappointment that had lived inside her for so long were so deeply buried they couldn’t find their way out. She could only stand there, feel his lips on her face, and remember what used to be. Part of her—the traitorous part that exhaled when the kiss ended—was even relieved that he was still alive. For a few of the eight years he’d been away, she hadn’t been sure.

  Could she be more pathetic? Probably not. Because she considered the possibility that if she kept her eyes shut, time wouldn’t only stop, it would swing back to the last hours they’d spent together. The last moment they’d been happy.

  What is wrong with me?

  She opened her eyes and used her fingers to wipe her cheeks. Her gaze darted around—to her worktable, the fountain over his shoulder, his dusty boots—until landing on the blue ribbon wrapped around his wrist under his jacket’s sleeve. She was over him. So why was this so hard? What was it about him that made her tremble, made her limbs feel heavy? She should be angry and dismissive, yet all she could do was ask, “What are you doing here?”

  There were so many other questions loaded into that one: Why did you leave me? Where did you go? What were you doing? Do your tattoos mean what you said they mean? That prickly feeling rushed through her again, and she fisted her hands until her nails cut her palms.

  His relentless gaze shone with unapologetic determination. A trait she remembered. “The army released me from prison.”

  “For God’s sake, why?” She hadn’t meant to screech—and had, in fact, never screeched before—yet his flinch testified to her pitch and tone. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and shook her head. Embarrassment sent a flush from her neck to her face.

  “The army dropped the charges and let me go.” His voice was low and melodic. He even reached out to touch the strand that wouldn’t stay put and hung over her forehead. Except she turned until he lowered his hand. “I know seeing me must be…unsettling.”

  Unsettling. Yes. That was a word she could support. She took two deep breaths before meeting the heat in his eyes. “I thought you had a life sentence.”

  Or was that a lie too?

  He shoved his hands in his front pockets. Despite his jacket, the movement only emphasized the width of his muscled chest. He was so much bigger than when he’d left. “One day I was in solitary confinement, the next I was free.”

  She frowned. The whole thing sounded sketchy. “Do you know why? Or who orchestrated it?”

  “No.”

  She studied the handsome face she used to cup with her hands and caress at will. Square jaw framed by firm cheekbones and deep-brown eyes. Shorn hair with slashes for eyebrows. Lips that protected white teeth, one with a small chip from the time he fell out of the tree next to her balcony. The same face she’d once loved now had tiny lines around the eyes, a jagged scar on the forehead, and a darkness in its eyes. “So you came home?”

  He stayed still under her visual assault, as if daring her to look at all of him. As if daring her to see the man who had supposedly gone AWOL to work as a gunrunning mercenary. As if daring her to ask the question they both knew she wanted to ask but was too afraid to.

  “Yes.” He spoke softly, his words edged with steel. “I came home.”

  With his obvious physical strength and don’t-screw-with-me-or-I’ll-kill-you attitude, he seemed capable of working for an arms dealer. Heck, he could even be an arms dealer. Yet he kept a polite distance between them and moved slightly so the shadow he cast kept the sun out of her eyes. Then there was his upper body, which shook as if the act of standing still in a garden, talking to her, required a tremendous amount of self-control.

  Frustrated with her all-over-the-place emotions, she tucked back that damn stray hair again and walked toward the fountain. He fell into step next to her. “When are you leaving?”

  “Depends.” The way that word rolled off his ton
gue, heavy and intense, loaded it with all sorts of meanings.

  “On what?”

  “On you.”

  She stopped near Bob and faced Rafe. “You nuked my life, yet your decision depends on me?”

  “Yes.” For the first time, his attention shifted from her to the horse rising out of the fountain four feet away. “Pegasus?” Memories of their childhood were evident in his half smile. “Our winged horse?”

  She shrugged. If he wanted to play the deflection game, she would too. Because no matter what he said or did, she wasn’t going to allow him to mess up her life again. She was no longer the wounded bird he’d married. “Classical architecture is still around. Timeless beauty always trumps dead war heroes.”

  When he turned to her again, his stare took in her clunky, steel-toed garden clogs and pink linen dress up to her hard hat–mussed hair. “It does indeed.”

  She pressed her palms against her skirt. “What do you want.” No question mark. A direct statement requiring a direct answer.

  His eyes narrowed. “To see you.”

  “Why?” Her question sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. “It’s been eight years.”

  He ran a hand over his head and glanced away. “Because it’s been eight years, and I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I sent our divorce papers to you in Leavenworth.” She grabbed his leather-clad arm and forced him to look at her. “We’re not married anymore. I’m not your wife.”

  “Juliet.” His voice was so broken she almost couldn’t hear the words. “No matter what the world says, and regardless of what you believe, you’ll always be my wife. Your safety always trumps everything.”

  Thunder hit hard, much closer this time, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m here to protect you. And I’m not leaving until I do.”

  Chapter 5

  Rafe’s vision narrowed on his wife in a pink dress and adorable clogs, her hair twisted up with tendrils framing her face. Even with her arms crossed and her spitfire, brown-eyed glare, she appeared delicate, graceful, perfect. Everything he remembered.

  Was this what it felt like to die from regret? His heart burning from the inside out. An ache in his arms from staying still when all he wanted was to pull her against his chest. And he had a hard-on, like an iron dumbbell in his pants, that he prayed she hadn’t noticed.

  “What do you mean by protecting me?” she demanded.

  Since he’d left Pops’s trailer with no plan or thoughts about what he was going to say or do, all he could offer was, “I was worried.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought…” He ran a hand over his head again, grateful that none of his Fianna brothers—or any of his buddies from his ex-A-team—were watching. He could barely put two words together. “You might be in trouble.”

  “I’ve built a life for myself without you, and I can take care of myself.” She waved an arm to indicate the garden square that he remembered as a parking garage. “I’m okay.”

  “More than okay. You’re beautiful.” Fuuuuuuck. Could he be more lame?

  A flush turned her cheeks pink, and she pursed her lips. A sure sign of her rising anger and eventual retreat. Hell. This wasn’t going well. Which was probably why the Prince had forbidden Rafe from ever seeing her again.

  He felt a raindrop and glanced up at the darkening sky. He’d missed the storms that rolled in from the Isle. The ionized air that cleared out the humidity, the city’s moldy stench eclipsed by the tang of wet pavement, the static-charged breeze.

  Since they had at least fifteen minutes before the storm hit, and Juliet stared at him like he had horns on his head, he motioned to the iron bench wrapped in plastic beneath an oak tree. “Can we sit?”

  She turned toward the fountain.

  He followed her gaze, and the warmth of hope loosened the tightness in his gut.

  Yes, he’d screwed up his life beyond repair. Yes, he may have broken his tithe and put her in more danger by coming here for no good reason. Yes, she had every reason to hate him and not speak to him. But from the moment he’d seen Pegasus, the winged horse from the constellation they used to follow in the Isle’s summer skies, he’d wondered if maybe there was a way to repair what he’d destroyed.

  And if not fix, then atone for. Maybe that would bring them both some closure.

  Maybe that would bring them both some peace.

  Her rapid breathing, raising her breasts in a rhythmic pattern, proved she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended. While he stood there with his heart pumping wildly, his desire out and about for all to see, Juliet finally nodded.

  After he used his hand to wipe her seat clean, she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, looking at everything other than him while he lowered himself next to her. Her lavender scent slammed into him, and he held back a groan. Not happy with the way his lower half responded, he leaned forward until his forearms cut into his thighs. “Has anything weird happened lately?”

  “Weird how?”

  “Has anyone been following you? Or harassed you in any way?”

  “No.” She blew away the strand of hair that kept falling forward. “I’ve had some vandalism at my shop, but the city is seeing an uptick in low-level crimes and drug use.”

  “Has anyone broken into your apartment?” From the pots of gardenias, lavender, and roses he’d seen on a balcony over her shop, he figured she lived above her store. She’d always loved those flowers. She’d even carried them in her wedding bouquet.

  “No.” She glanced at him with a furrowed brow and questioning eyes. “Have you seen Pops yet?”

  “Yes. I’m staying with him for a while.”

  “Good.” She slipped her hands between her clenched knees, the action pulling down the fabric of her dress and lowering the neckline a quarter of an inch. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make his sweat burn his skin. “I hope he was happy to see you.”

  As opposed to her? Rafe studied her face, with her downcast gaze, tight lips that were turning white, and high cheek bones that seemed more prominent. Probably due to her weight loss. Yes, he’d noticed that too. She’d lost at least ten pounds since he’d left her. “He didn’t throw me out.”

  She nodded. “So why do you think you have to save me? Because, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I can take care of myself.”

  Yes, she’d said that a few times now. He also knew it wasn’t completely true. Hell, he understood her better than anyone. When faced with conflict, she retreated inside herself, afraid to rely on another. Her fear of trusting anyone—especially him—with her heart had been the greatest source of conflict in their marriage.

  Then again, she had good reasons not to trust people. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father had neglected her. The Isle had turned against her. Rafe had abandoned and betrayed her. The rationalization that he’d destroyed her to save her only worked on mornings when a bullet through the head seemed more inviting than the morning sun.

  “I believe someone I worked for is following you. Or at least keeping track of you.”

  She squinted at him. “The arms dealer you left your A-team for?”

  That was the rumor she believed? Although it wasn’t true, it’d work for now. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward. “Why would this person care about me?”

  “Because he believes you’re important to me.”

  “Am I?” she asked softly, her eyes filled with other questions he knew he couldn’t answer. “Important to you?”

  “Always and forever.”

  She stood suddenly, her hands tucking hair behind both ears. “How long has this keeping track of me been going on?”

  He stood and made sure to keep at least a foot of space between them. He didn’t trust hi
mself any closer. “I don’t know.”

  “Does it have anything to do with your release?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me for sure? Like why you left? What you’ve been doing for the past eight years? Why you came back?” The pain in her voice sent an ache deep into his heart. All of this hurt was his fault, and he had no idea how to fix it. The only thing he did know was that telling her the truth would get them both killed.

  “I’m sorry, Juliet. I can’t give you the answers you need. All I can do is ask you to trust me. And watch out for anything unusual.”

  Her laugh sounded hoarse, like she was holding back tears. “You should go. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave town as soon as possible—” A phone buzzed, and she took her cell out of her dress pocket to read the message. “When you said unusual, did you mean like this?”

  She handed him the phone with a text. From Escalus.

  What you’ve done? Tis forbidden.

  “Rafe? What does this message mean?”

  “It means I was right about you being in danger.” Rafe texted back.

  Where are you?

  Let us withdraw unto some private place and reason coldly of your grievances. The site of Lord Capel’s demise, perhaps?

  Rafe deleted the messages and handed the phone back. “Where did your father die?”

  She paused for a long moment before saying, “Capel Manor.”

  He wished he didn’t have to do this, but since his wishes were never granted, he said, “I have to leave, but please go back to your apartment and lock the door.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s forbidden?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why do I have to hide?”

  “Because I can’t protect you right now. I’ll come to your apartment later and explain as much as I can.” He kissed her on the cheek—for the second time that day—and left the square.