by Donna Hill
* * *
Avery lay curled on her side with Rafe spooned against her. He was insatiable. From the kitchen to the living room to her bedroom without the slightest indication that he was in any way satisfied.
Her body moaned, weak as a newborn. She felt his erection press against her. Rafe slid one leg between hers and cupped the weight of her breast in his palm.
“You make me crazy,” he breathed into her neck. He tugged the sheet that was down around their hips and pulled it up to cover them. “Crazy,” he whispered. He settled against her.
Avery couldn’t keep her eyes open as Rafe’s soothing heartbeat and steady breathing lulled her to sleep.
Chapter 14
After a much-needed nap followed by a thrilling shower together, Avery and Rafe padded off to the kitchen to whip up lunch. The cable repairman arrived in the meantime and changed Avery’s router and reset her system.
They took their roasted chicken sandwiches and curled up on the couch to watch season three of House of Cards. Avery was both surprised and tickled that Rafe was a rabid fan even though he had so much disdain for what his father did and politics in general. Perhaps the fictionalized version of the backdoor double-dealing in the nation’s capital validated his real-life misgivings.
“One of the elements that really gets to me are the winks and nods at Shakespeare,” Rafe said. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, then pointed to the screen. “See right there? Spacey turns to the camera and talks directly to the audience. Totally Shakespeare.”
Avery chuckled. “I thought I was the only one who noticed that! And what about the underlining concept? Husband and wife take over the government—totally Macbeth.”
“Yes!” Rafe slapped his thigh and tossed his head back with laughter. “Exactly.”
They shook their heads in amusement, then looked at each other and broke into laughter again.
“Great minds...” Rafe said. He draped an arm around Avery’s shoulder and eased her close.
“Think alike,” she said finishing the age-old adage. “I wouldn’t take you for a fan of Shakespeare. More of a Sons of Anarchy kind of guy.”
Rafe chuckled. “I have all kinds of hidden surprises, darlin’.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t want to scare you off, but Jax Teller is my hero,” he teased, referring to the leader of the rogue motorcycle gang.
“I can kinda see that,” she said with a grin. “But it took me a minute to get used to Peg from Married with Children as Gemma Teller, the double-crossing, obsessive head of the family.”
“Yeah, that Gemma is a piece of work. Never want to get on her wrong side.”
They continued watching the episode, commenting and joking along the way.
Avery had never felt more comfortable with someone. Rafe was funny, smart as hell, considerate, sexy and an incredible lover, everything that a woman could want. The more they talked the more they discovered all that they had in common, from travel to books, world issues to television shows. The men she’d sporadically dated usually left much to be desired. Either they were closet chauvinists, were with her because of her father or simply did not turn her on in the least. Rafe Lawson was almost too good to be true. And even though his somewhat checkered reputation preceded him, he’d proven to be none of the things the tabloids said about him. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something beneath the surface. It was the faraway look in his eyes at times. As if he’d disappeared and gone to a place that didn’t include her, even as he seemed to be attending to her every need. She wanted to simply “go with it” and relish the moment, but the pessimist in her, that part that was trained to spot possible danger, was waiting for the other shoe to fall.
“Do you want anything more to drink?” she asked when the episode ended.
“No. I’m good.” He turned to her. “Actually, I need to get back home. I plan to fly out in the morning.”
“Oh...sure.”
“As a matter of fact, I should be getting over to my place.” He pushed up and stood. “Have some things to take care of.”
She glanced up, working to keep her expression neutral. “Yeah, I have things to do around here, as well.”
He reached out. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. “’Preciate the hospitality, darlin’,” he said, in the raw lazy voice that thrilled her to her toes. That grin.
Avery tugged in a long breath. “It’s been my pleasure.”
“I aim to please.” He leaned down and kissed her lips. “Anything you need me to do before I head out?” He held her at her waist.
“No. Go,” she said, waving him off.
She walked with him to the door. He took his jacket from the coat rack and turned to her.
“I’ll call you.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Promise.” He kissed her again, opened the door and stepped out into the waning light.
She watched him as he walked to his car, got in and drove off. Right before she closed the door she noticed a dark sedan parked across the street. She thought she saw the image of a driver behind the tinted windows. Her antenna went up for a moment, but she shrugged it off and shut the door.
* * *
The drive back to Virginia gave him some time to clear his head and put some much-needed distance between him and Avery. He could easily find himself totally involved with her—if he allowed it. And he couldn’t. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t go down that path again. Seeing her, being with her, was at first to stem his curiosity. Then it was to tick off his father after he’d found out about the rivalry that existed between his father and hers.
Well, his curiosity had been quelled and his father, surprisingly, didn’t seem moved one way or the other. So what motivation did he have to pursue this thing between them?
An image of Avery’s smile, her voice, the way she felt when he was inside her, the scent of her that still clung to him told him a different story, one that he was unwilling to confront. Yeah, he needed to get home, pack a bag and hit the road again.
Quinten was back in New York. Maybe he’d pay him a visit, hit some clubs, take him up on his offer to use his studio and hopefully make some music. He’d also received an invitation from Melanie Harte to one of her legendary soirees. He smiled. Melanie’s business The Platinum Society specialized in making connections between the elite clientele. Mel might even be able to hook him up with the perfect catch to get his mind and his body disconnected from Avery Richards.
Rafe spent maybe an hour puttering around the town house and making some calls to arrange to have the Cessna flight plan ready for departure back to Louisiana. He checked in with Quinten, who was more than happy to hang with his buddy, and as always, Melanie was planning a get-together and would be happy to have a sit-down with him. With his plans set, he grabbed his bag and sax case, left a thank-you note for Alice and headed out to the airport.
* * *
There was nothing quite as thrilling or as freeing as soaring above the earth, seeing the ground disappear beneath you, while the only thing keeping you in the air was skill, engineering and the Almighty.
He’d started taking flying lessons when he was sixteen after being introduced to a pilot during Career Day at his high school. He’d never forget Hugh McDonald. He must have been about seventy-five at the time he came to visit, but the teenage girls swooned over him as if he’d walked out of the movie screen and into their classroom. He remembered thinking “That old man ain’t about nothing.” He made up his mind to slouch in his seat and remain as disinterested as possible. But then Hugh began to talk about his experience as a Tuskegee Airman and what it was like for African American men in the military who had to not only fight the enemy abroad but the ones at home who believed that they didn’t have the skills or the intelligence to fly a plane. He talked a
bout his first mission with the 99th Fighter Squadron that was deployed in 1943.
Rafe was hooked. After the presentation he hung around and got to talk to Hugh. Hugh offered to take him up on a flight and that was the beginning of his lifelong love of flying. Hugh was that male figure that he needed, a strong, determined, forthright man who believed in him. Who told him that his dreams, no matter what they were, were worthwhile. Whenever he doubted his dogged pursuit of music, he thought back to the last conversation he’d had with Hugh. Hugh said, “I came up in a time, son, where the world boldly told black men and women that they were less than human, that we should be relegated to servitude, to the back of the bus. But we fought against all the hate, the pushback and the stereotypes to make history. You come from strong stock, son, from a people who lived and died for you to be here. So never let anyone tell you that you can’t. ’Cause you can. You looking at the proof.”
Rafe never forgot those words. He lived by them—maybe, at times, to the extreme.
Chapter 15
Avery still glowed inside from her time with Rafe, replaying every moment as she tidied up around the house before heading out to meet Kerry for a girl’s night out. Just as she was preparing to leave, her cell phone rang in her purse. She pulled it out while walking out the door.
“Hello, Dad. How are you?”
“I’m concerned, that’s how I am.”
Avery’s belly tightened. She knew all too well the tone in her father’s voice and steeled herself against whatever his tirade would be.
“Concerned?”
“I want you to stay away from Rafe Lawson.”
She stopped in her tracks. “What?”
“I know you heard me. Rafe Lawson is not someone I want my daughter associated with.”
Her thoughts spun. “How do you...” The car parked in front of her house popped into her head. “You’re spying on me!”
“I’m looking out for you.”
“Looking out for me by having someone watch me? Are you kidding me, Dad?” Her heart pounded with rising outrage.
“I’ll do what I need to. And I mean that.”
She was so stunned words escaped her.
“I hope I have made myself clear, Avery. Stay away from Rafe Lawson. There will be no discussion.”
The call disconnected.
Avery’s eyes burned. Her hand shook as she put her phone back in her purse. She opened her door and stepped out, expecting to see the car parked out front. It was gone. Her father’s domination knew no bounds. She got into her vehicle and could hardly think straight. How dare he? For her entire life she’d done everything in her power to please him. He had engineered nearly every aspect of her life for as far back as she could remember, from the schools she attended, the friends she made, right up to the profession she found herself in. Nothing was ever enough and now he’d amped up his reach by trying to manipulate her personal life. Having her followed! Demanding that she stop seeing someone! Her father had reached a new level of dictatorial manipulation.
I’ll do whatever I have to. The words replayed in a loop over and over. She knew her father and when he set his mind to something there was no changing it.
She slammed the heel of her palm on the steering wheel as she fought back hot tears of hurt and anger. Her father was a powerful man. He could make her life and possibly Rafe’s life a living hell. Of that she was certain.
* * *
Kerry had already gotten them a table at The Hub and waved Avery over when she walked in.
“Hey, girl,” she greeted with a big smile. “I ordered us drinks ’cause I know we have lots to talk about.” She paused and actually looked at her friend’s expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked, mildly alarmed.
Avery slid into her seat and dropped her purse next to her on the banquette. “I don’t even know where to begin. You want the good news or the bad news first.”
“Oh, damn. Give it to me. What happened?”
Avery lifted her apple martini and took a deep swallow then poured out everything, the good, the bad, the ugly.
Kerry muttered an expletive and slowly shook her head. “Your father is a piece of work. We both know that. I’ve been telling you for years that you have got to find it within yourself to get out from under his hold. I get that after your mother passed he poured his life into you. But you’re a grown-ass woman now. You are entitled to live your own life. You can’t spend it trying to please and win the heart of a man that cannot be pleased. The more you give the more he demands. Having you followed! What next, A?”
Avery had heard it all before. She knew every bit of what Kerry said was true. She knew that she allowed her father to run her life. But what Kerry never seemed to understand is how desperately she’d always needed and wanted her father’s love and approval. She’d been so conditioned over the years that it was part of her DNA. Breaking free would be like losing a part of who she was. She knew it was crazy, but it was all she’d ever known. She was like a Stockholm survivor who after years of captivity identifies with her captor and ultimately shares the captor’s beliefs, doing whatever she can to gain favor.
The waiter came and took their dinner order.
“So, now that piece of news is out of the way, how was your time with Rafe?”
Avery almost smiled. She pushed out a breath. “Like a dream...” She told her about his arrival, the talk they had, the time they spent together. “He’s amazing,” she finished on a soft note.
“Sounds like it. And I can’t remember the last time I saw that look on your face or heard that tone in your voice when you talked about some guy you dated.”
Avery lowered her gaze. Her cheeks heated. She could still feel his touch on her body, the beat of his heart against her.
“You have a decision to make, Avery. You can either collapse under the weight of your father’s irrational demands or you can finally do Avery for once and be happy with someone that makes you happy.”
Their dinner arrived.
Avery cut into her salmon. It sounded so simple, but she knew her father’s veiled threat was real. There was no telling what he might do if she defied him. Being followed was the least of it. But then she heard the words that Rafe had whispered to her that first time they made love; surrender to me. She knew she’d already done that and she wasn’t ready to let go.
She looked across the table at Kerry. “You’re right. It is time. I want to be with Rafe. I have no idea how it will work with him living across the country, but I want to at least say that I tried. Whatever my father tosses my way I’ll deal with it.”
Kerry’s eyes widened with delight. “There is a god,” she said with a grin. “Good. It’s about damned time. Take happiness where and when you can get it, girl, ’cause tomorrow ain’t promised.”
Avery lifted her glass. “To taking happiness.”
“To happiness.”
* * *
Rafe pulled into his driveway. He’d told Quinten he’d be in New York the following morning and invited him to Melanie’s soiree. Quinten wanted him to stay at his place, but Rafe liked his alone time and opted to stay at a nearby hotel in the West Village. He looked forward to the trip. It had been a while since he’d been to New York. Years actually. The city that never sleeps still evoked painful memories for him.
However, the time away would do him good. He would maybe get his muse back, and, most important, spend some time with his friend, who hopefully could help him sort out what to do about Avery Richards.
There was no denying that she’d entered a spot in his soul that had been empty for a very long time. The feelings were not new but different in a way that had thrown him off balance. He’d spent so much time avoiding real involvement, genuine feelings that he was for the first time in his adult life uncertain. Uncertainty was an emotion that was tota
lly foreign to him.
He wished he could say that it was only the incredible sex, but it was more than that. When he was with Avery, when he talked with her he felt truly alive, the way he did when he played his music or flew his plane or tore down the highways on his Harley. No woman had done that to him since Janae.
He shook off the memory. He didn’t allow himself to go down that road, that’s the only way he could make it through.
Rafe strode into the den, fixed himself a bourbon on the rocks and downed it in one long swallow. The warm burn seared away the memories.
* * *
He took the first flight out the next morning, opting for commercial rather than taking his Cessna. The almost three-hour flight was uneventful and he slept most of the way and was refreshed when they landed. Although he’d insisted to Quinten that he would get to his hotel on his own, Q was more insistent and picked him up at Kennedy Airport anyway.
“My man,” Quinten greeted, giving Rafe their traditional hug and simultaneous handshake.
“Good to see you, bruh. You know you didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it.” He draped his carryall on one shoulder and held his sax case in his other hand.
“Nothing to it. Come on. I parked in the lot.”
They wound their way around the travelers waiting for luggage and strode over to the parking lot.
“You know Rae is ticked that you aren’t staying with us.”
“I’ll make it up to her,” he said, laughing.
“You sure will, ’cause she fixed dinner and no is not an option.”
Rafe chuckled. “Can I at least stop at the hotel, drop off my gear and take a shower?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Be there.”
* * *
They pulled up in front of the hotel.
“Thanks for the lift.” Rafe opened the door and got his bag from the backseat. “See you at seven.”
Rafe checked in and got settled in his room then took a shower to wash off the day. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his phone. He stared at Avery’s number, wondered what she was doing. He’d been thinking of calling her from the moment he left, while trying not to think about it at the same time. Yeah, some time and space would do them good—do him good, give him a chance to get his head right. He’d call tomorrow or the next day. That was soon enough.
