Can't Help Loving You

by Nika Rhone

  “It’s their only review, period.”

  After clicking on several links that went nowhere, Rafe looked across at Des, understanding dawning on his face. “The website’s a fake.”

  “So it would appear.”

  Unable to believe what she was hearing, Lillian snatched the tablet and did the same thing as Rafe, with no better results. The page holding the review was the only one that existed. “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone’s gaslighting you, sweetheart,” Des said. “Art Regard doesn’t exist. Someone made it up to try and get to you.”

  “But…” The words took a long time to make sense in her spinning head. Someone was gaslighting her? Purposely manipulating her into believing her work was derivative and emotionless? “But why? Why go to all this trouble”—she shook the tablet—“just to give a phony review? I mean, if it’s not a real review site, who’s going to see it?”

  “You.” Rafe removed the tablet from her grasp and put it on the coffee table. “Did you tell anyone else about this guy? What he said or who he said he worked for?”

  Something in his voice made Lillian give a good, hard look. Cop face. She recognized it from when Peter did the same thing, switching gears and pushing everything personal under the armor of their professional persona. But there was something else there. Something she might not have recognized a week ago, before she’d spent almost every free moment in Rafe’s company.

  He was hurt.

  Damn, damn, damn. She hadn’t meant for that to happen. The blow to her ego and self confidence had made her revert to her old habits of protecting herself: laugh, party, and surround herself with people who didn’t expect anything more out of her than a good time. She hadn’t even considered she now had another option.

  She had Rafe.

  The realization stunned her. She did have Rafe. Things between them might have started out a little rocky and strange, but this past week had been amazing. And not just the sex, although that deserved a highlight reel all its own. No, it was the comfort he brought to her life. The companionship. The fun. All of the things she’d been telling herself she wasn’t jealous about when she saw how happy and content her friends were.

  I’m falling in love with him.

  Oh, boy. She was in serious trouble here.

  “Lil?”

  She jumped at Rafe’s soft prompt. Right. He’d asked a question. Work problems first, earth shattering personal insights later. “Um, no. Wait, yes. Bernice. She asked about him after he left, and I’m pretty sure I told her he’d said he was a reviewer.” Or had she? She couldn’t remember. “I know I told her he didn’t like the painting.” The receptionist’s tepid It’s nice still rang clear as a bell in Lillian’s head. Nothing like being damned with faint praise when you’re at your lowest to make an indelible impression.

  “Did he tell you anything else other than who he said he reviewed for? Give you his card? Tell you why he was there in the first place?”

  “No. I don’t think so, anyway. And no card for sure. He did say he saw the painting from outside and wanted to come in and take a closer look. He made it sound like he was walking by, like it was a fluke.”

  “But we know that’s not the case, if he’s a fake,” Thea said.

  “Are we sure of that, though? Really?” She was a little afraid to believe it.

  “Pretty sure,” Des replied. Rafe nodded in agreement.

  “So, what? He just came in to give me a hard time, then? Why?”

  “Because people can be jerks?” Thea said, scowling.

  “There are some people who live to rip other people’s efforts to shreds to make themselves feel good,” Des said. “But I think there’s more to it than that, given the rather personal feel to his attack. Not to mention the fake website charade.” He gave Lillian a serious look. “Who have you ticked off lately, kitten, that they’d go to so much effort to hurt you?”

  It felt like all of the air had disappeared from the room. No. No way.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Lillian looked at Rafe. “This can’t have anything to do with that.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “What ‘that’ are we referring to, kiddies?” Des asked, sitting forward. “I’m feeling a tad out of the loop at the moment.”

  With great reluctance, Lillian told him about the damage done to her car—which she still hadn’t gotten back from the police impound—and the theory that it had might have been something more targeted than simple random vandalism. A theory that didn’t seem to hold much water, since nothing strange or awful had happened since her tires had been slashed.

  She leaned a little into Rafe and rubbed his leg. “I appreciate the concern, but honestly, I think everyone overreacted.”

  Des looked at Rafe as he raised an eyebrow. “And what do you think?”

  “That I’d rather overreact than be caught off-guard.” He put his hand over Lillian’s, which she realized was still petting his thigh. She only had a second to be embarrassed before he lifted it to his mouth for a kiss and put it on the cushion between them, their fingers entwined. The kiss meant a lot, but the fact that he didn’t let go meant even more.

  Thea made a small noise, drawing Lillian’s attention to where she was grinning like a loon. “What?”

  Her friend just smiled wider. “I didn’t say a word.”

  She didn’t need to. Lillian could hear the gears spinning in her head. Thea had seen her around a lot of men over the years. She would know better than anyone that Lillian was always quick to laugh off that kind of gooey, sentimental gesture. The fact she hadn’t was as good as a great, big alarm bell going off. A quick look at Des showed he hadn’t missed the by-play, either. His expression was full of curiosity, and a little bit of the devil.

  Not good.

  Hoping to forestall any of his troublemaking, Lillian said, “There’s one huge problem with your theory. Whether or not this has anything to do with the other stuff going on, the fact is no one outside of this room has any idea that the painting this jerk trash-talked was mine. So, it couldn’t have been personal.”

  “Damn, you’re right.” Rafe frowned. “Well, that’s one theory shot to hell.”

  “Maybe not,” Des said. “What if it wasn’t directed at our sweet Lily, but at the gallery as a whole?”

  “But why?” Rafe asked. “What does he get out of it, other than upsetting Lillian? It’s not a real review site. Who would see it?” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, sending delicious shivers along her nerves and almost making her forgive Des for using that stupid name again. Quite deliberately, if his smirking expression was anything to go by.

  Forcing her thoughts back to the discussion, Lillian said, “He was probably someone with a grudge. Maybe he did just walk by, like he said, and when he saw the painting in the window it, I don’t know, set him off somehow. Made him feel like he had to come inside and get his rant on.”

  “Maybe he’s an artist who had his work rejected by the gallery,” Thea suggested.

  Lillian gave a slow nod. “He did have the artist vibe. I remember thinking at the time he reminded me of a starving hipster, if there was such a—oh!” It hit her then. How could she have been so stupid?

  “Such a what?” Thea asked.

  “Roman!”

  “Oh, not this again,” Thea groaned, flopping back against the cushion.

  Lillian ignored her. She was too busy trying to keep a grip on her temper, which continued to spike as she connected the dots. And every one of them pointed right back at Roman.

  “Roman put him up to it. I know he did!” She started to pop to her feet, but Rafe’s hold on her hand kept her anchored to his side. She leaned into him with a huff.

  “Why would he do that?” he asked. “We already said no one else knows you’re the artist.”

  “Because he knows I’m the one who brought the painting in and convinced Felix to feature an unknown artist. Which is something he hasn’t been able to do yet.”
>
  “But he’s tried?”

  “Oh, yeah. Lots of times.” She made a face. “He has no eye whatsoever.”

  “Dogs playing poker?” Rafe asked with a small, private grin.

  She grinned back. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Des raised that expressive brow again. “An art gallery assistant manager who doesn’t know art? Interesting.”

  “I know, right?” She sometimes wondered if Felix had been on heavy-duty cold medicine or something the day he interviewed Roman.

  “So, you’re thinking Reynolds resents how much better you are at your job than he is, so he decided to, what? Give you a hard time by having some fake critic come in and tell you how horrible and trite he thought the painting was? What does that get him?”

  “It might make her doubt her own eye for talent,” Des said, one long finger tapping a beat on his lips. “Undermine her confidence. Maybe make her second-guess her push for the artist, if she was worried it might damage the gallery’s reputation.”

  “Head games.” Rafe sounded disgusted.

  “Precisely.” Des looked at Lillian. “Does that sound like something this Roman would do?”

  She pretended to think about it. “Gee, let’s see. Something devious, mean, manipulative, and potentially career-damaging? Yup, that would be Roman to a tee.”

  “I’m guessing there’s no love lost there,” Des said with a dry tone.

  “That would be a big nuh-uh.” Thea sighed. “Lil, I know I wasn’t a hundred-percent on-board with your idea that Roman might have been planning to sabotage the show you’re putting on tomorrow, and I’m still not sure we’re right about this—”

  “Who else could be behind it?” Lillian demanded.

  “—but to be on the safe side, maybe you should talk to Felix about it.”

  “Which ‘it’ do you mean?”

  “The snooping through the files, the damage to your car, the phony critic…all of it. If there’s something going on here, he needs to know. What impacts you could impact the gallery. You don’t want him to get blindsided by anything.”

  “But I don’t have any proof yet it was Roman.” The frustration of that was killing her, since she knew, knew, in her bones, it was him.

  “Don’t say anything about Roman, then,” Des said. “Just give him the facts. It’ll be up to him to draw his own conclusions. But at least he’ll be informed, and maybe, if he’s paying attention, he’ll see what you do.”

  Fat chance of that happening. Not while he was wearing his Roman-blinders.

  “If I tell him about the review, he’s going to freak.”

  “The fake review,” Thea said.

  “Which is posted on the real internet. Anyone who searches the gallery’s name will be able to find it.” When Felix read the way the gallery had been trash-talked, he’d lose his mind. That place was his baby. Hearing someone rip it apart, even if it wasn’t on a legitimate review site, would hurt him worse than if he’d had a knife plunged into his back. And no matter how she told him, he would definitely blame her.

  Still, they were right. He needed to know. She just didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

  “Okay, yes. Fine. I’ll tell him.” After the show. With any luck, he’d be in such a good mood it would help soften the blow.

  Maybe.

  After hugging her friends goodnight, Lillian rode home in uncomfortable silence with Rafe, wondering what he was thinking. It was obvious he was upset with her for some reason. She hadn’t forgotten the hurt look he let slip earlier. If he hadn’t taken very firm possession of her hand the second the truck started moving, she would have been worried.

  It wasn’t until they got to her apartment that he finally broke the silence. “Okay, let ’er rip. The suspense is killing me.”

  Lillian blinked. “Let what rip?”

  “You yelling at me for setting this up tonight.”

  “Oh, right. That.” She went on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” She knew she surprised him when he didn’t immediately follow her into the bedroom. When he did, he stopped at the doorway and watched her start changing for bed.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I was pretty pissed once I figured out what you were up to.”

  Rafe scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. You were upset, but you wouldn’t tell me why, and nothing I said or did seemed to help. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was wrong. I just…” She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was embarrassed. No, more than that. I felt hollowed out, empty. Like everything I believed about myself and my talent had been scooped out and flushed down the toilet like a bunch of stinky fish guts.”

  Rafe snorted. “God, you do have a way with words.”

  Not when it counted.

  Because she hadn’t been able to find the ones to open herself up to the man looking at her with such a tender expression. The man who had become a lot more than just the sexy neighbor who currently shared her bed. Instead, she’d clammed up and left him feeling like he wasn’t important enough for her to confide in.

  But she could fix that.

  Getting to her feet, she slowly stalked toward him, putting some extra sway in her hips. “Words aren’t my best thing. I prefer action.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze following her like a gazelle watching a hungry tigress.

  “Actions are good.”

  Lillian smiled to herself at the hoarseness of his voice. Having kicked off her heels, she didn’t have the extra height she was used to when facing a man, but with Rafe, it never seemed to matter. She slid one hand up his chest, feeling the heat blasting from him.

  She slipped the top button of his shirt free. “So, did you like my friends?”

  “What? Uh, sure. Yeah. They seemed nice.”

  Another button slipped free. “You’ve probably met Thea before.”

  “I, uh, maybe. I don’t remember.”

  Lillian would be surprised if he remembered his own name at the moment. The hard evidence of his arousal pressed taut against his slacks. She bit her lip, barely resisting the urge to let her hand skip over the rest of the buttons and go right to the prize. Her general impulse control left a lot to be desired, but this was as much for Rafe as it was for her, so she held herself in check and freed another button instead.

  “What did you think of Des?”

  “I think he needs to stop calling you kitten.”

  She laughed. “He calls everyone kitten.” When he narrowed his eyes, she laughed again. “You do know he’s gay, right?” It seemed he hadn’t. A subtle line of tension eased in his body; she tried not to read too much into this apparent show of jealousy. Just because she’d decided what she was feeling was more than lust didn’t mean he was feeling the same way.

  “Then I liked him just fine.” Rafe skimmed a finger along her cheek. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”

  To hell with going slow.

  Lillian hooked her finger in the opening of his shirt and tugged Rafe toward the bed. “Why don’t you show me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Stop right there!”

  Rafe continued to move forward, gun out and ready.

  “I said stop! Are you fucking deaf?”

  “You need to put the knife down, Fernando, and let your wife go.”

  That only made the bastard grab the too-thin woman he held in front of his body as a shield tighter, squeezing a whimper from her. The rank stench of fear was so thick it almost overpowered the apartment’s usual bouquet of rotting garbage and cat piss.

  Fernando bared a mouthful of nicotine-stained teeth in a feral snarl. “Do I look stupid to you? Why would I do that?”

  Easing his way farther into the thrift store-furnished living room, Rafe did a quick visual sweep to clear the room. “Because you’re not stupid, and you know you don’t want to hurt her.” Total lie. Fernando was
dumb as a rock, and he hurt Lupe on a regular basis. Usually it was with his fists, though.

  The knife was an unwelcome surprise.

  “Pinche puta tried holding out on me.” The knife pricked Lupe’s neck, drawing a bead of blood and making Rafe’s finger twitch next to the trigger. “Said she gave me everything from her paycheck. But that was a lie, wasn’t it, bitch?”

  Tears ran over the bruises that marked Lupe’s face as she sobbed. “I had to pay the rent, ’nando. The landlord said—ayi!” She squealed as Fernando jerked her back and the knife nicked her again.

  “Fuck the landlord! You’re my woman. You do what I say.”

  “Fernando, you really need to put the knife down, man.” Rafe was close enough now to see how Fernando’s bloodshot eyes kept darting around the room, as if he wasn’t able to focus on one thing, not even the cop with the gun trained on him. Fuck me running. The bastard wasn’t high, which would have been bad enough. He was tweaking, his body craving to get high but no longer able to reach that state, and it made him twice as unpredictable and dangerous.

  “No, you put the gun down, fucker, or I’ma slit this bitch’s throat!”

  It was difficult to ignore the terrified whimpers leaking from Lupe’s throat, but Rafe couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He had an almost clear shot at Fernando’s head over his wife’s shoulder, but he didn’t want to take it. Not unless he was left with no other choice.

  Please let there be another choice.

  “You know you don’t want to do that, Fernando.”

  But he was past listening. “Fuck I don’t! Worthless bitch! Only thing she was good for was she could hold a job and bring me home decent money. But if she’s not gonna do that, then what the fuck good is she, huh?”

  Shit, where was his backup? Splitting his attention even for the few seconds it would take to advise dispatch of the situation and request Compton’s 20 wasn’t worth the risk. Rafe sent out a prayer to the universe he’d get there soon. Until that happened, he had to keep trying to talk the tweaker down from his building rage. “Fernando, you know I can’t let you hurt her. You need to put the knife down. Now.”

  “Worthless puta couldn’t even give me sons.”