Leaving Rafe

by Jamie Anderson

  After the clerk nodded obligingly and sorted out the paperwork for Rafael’s room, Ali smiled at him. “I’m probably under ‘Witherspoon’ then, if you’ve only got one booking for Alvarez,” she said, glancing at Rafael for confirmation.

  He grinned at her. “Actually Ali, we’re sharing the suite.”

  The smile dropped from her face. “What? You have to be joking.”

  “Not at all,” he said, smoothly taking her weekend bag from her nerveless fingers before striding away down the hallway. Ali shook herself and hurried after him, catching up as he waited in front of the elevator.

  “Take one of the keys.” He fanned out the two keycards he held in the same hand as his own case. Automatically, she grabbed one, just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

  As they ascended, Ali rounded on him. “What the hell is going on here, Rafael? Why wasn’t I booked into a room of my own?”

  He watched her in silence for a few moments, obviously enjoying himself. Then, he shrugged. “August is their busiest month, Ali. I think you will find it impossible to get any kind of accommodation at short notice. Both Tofino and Ucluelet--and every place in between is booked solid for the month,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “And, since Shana had reserved a suite for me, I saw no reason why we couldn’t share.”

  “Except for the small fact that I’d rather have flaming hot pincers shot up my nails than share a room with you.”

  The elevator doors slid open and he strode out, forcing Ali to hurry after him once again. He had just finished swiping his key by the time she caught up. He glanced at her as he picked up his case, then shook his head.

  “For shame, Ali. At least be honest,” he said over his shoulder as he walked into the room.

  “About what?” She followed, close on his heels.

  “You say you don’t want to share a room with me, when we both know that’s not true.” He set down the cases and turned to look at her.

  “Do we really?” She crossed her arms, too angry to spare even a moment for their surroundings.

  “If you simply didn’t want to share a room, then you’d shrug philosophically and accept the situation. The reason you are so angry, querida, is that you actually want to share a room with me but don’t want to admit it--maybe not even to yourself.”

  His calm self-assurance only served to further stoke the fire of her anger--particularly because she recognized an element of truth in what he said. “Don’t flatter yourself, Alvarez.”

  “More distancing techniques. Most interesting. But need I remind you that we are both adults? Or do you require my solemn promise to sleep on the couch and keep my hands to myself?”

  His mocking tone had a flush rising to her cheeks. She glared at him a few moments, then swung away. “I’m going down to check whether they have any last minute cancellations.”

  She slammed the door on the sound of his laughter.

  “So let me guess--a wedding party cancelled in the eleventh hour. The management greeted your request with open arms and offered you a pick of all the best rooms in the place.”

  “Oh shut up, Rafael,” Ali muttered, ignoring his insolent stare as she strode out to the balcony. Of course, he had been right. They had absolutely no rooms to spare. Nor did any of the other hotels she had tried calling from the lobby--not that she had any way to get to one of them even if they did have the space.

  The clerk had noted her name and room number very politely, assuring her that if there were any cancellations, she would be first on their list. But there really wasn’t anything else they could do.

  At least it’s a beautiful view. The hotel had been built just at the edge of the forest, and so she could see the stretch of pebbled, sandy beach beyond the last of the trees. Surf pounded in the distance, the high waves--which made this area so popular with surfers--curled over themselves in their haste to reach the shore. The clouds had moved in while she was making her calls, and now the water and sky had turned a wistful grey. Clusters of mist clung to some of the more distant trees, islands and mountains along the curve of the shoreline, making them seem like half-imagined dreamscapes.

  It was this moody, magical West Coast beauty that she had most missed during her time in Germany. For a moment, she was almost able to forget about her edged awareness of Rafael’s mocking presence, like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Ali started. He had moved to stand behind her with the silent stealth of a jungle cat. The tension between her shoulders increased tenfold.

  “Yes.” Even to her own ears, her tone sounded clipped.

  She heard him sigh. “Look Ali, why don’t you just admit to your attraction? It will make you feel a lot better.” He touched her bare arm and she swung around, practically jumping out of his reach.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  He tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms. A lock of his thick, dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and she felt impaled by the darkness of his gaze. “Just admit it, Ali. It might bother the hell out of you, but you want me.” He began moving towards her.

  She shook her head, only half realizing that for every step back, he took one forward. “I--“

  Before she could continue, he reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She froze a moment, transfixed by the potent electricity of his touch. Then, recognizing her own danger, she tried to pull away from him--only to find that he had backed her into the corner of the balcony.

  “Admit it, Ali.”

  His body pressed against hers, and she suddenly found it extraordinarily difficult to breathe. Drawing in a long pull of air did nothing to help, for it filled her nostrils with the spicy blend of leather, cologne and Rafael that had been haunting her since last Saturday.

  Still, she tried for bravado. “Or you’ll do what?” The question came out sounding only slightly breathless.

  He dazzled her with the flash of his grin. “You still believe in living dangerously.” And then, before she could think up a suitable reply, his lips closed on her own and for a few moments, all coherent thought was submerged in the maelstrom of sensation evoked by the hard press of his mouth against her own.

  His one hand moved from the side of her face, tangling in her hair as he drew her even closer, while his other arm slipped around her body, transfixing her with the potent jolt of his sexual charisma.

  Her nipples hardened into nubs as they pressed against the solid muscles of his chest. Only half-aware of what she was doing, she shifted so that his thigh pressed between her legs. Then, she began rubbing herself against him, losing herself in the rising tide of excitement the movement engendered as she felt the hand on her back slide down to squeeze the curve of her buttock.

  His tongue plunged deeper into her and she opened her mouth wider, thrusting back with her own tongue as her hands reached up to tangle in the dark thicket of his hair.

  Some distant part of her was just starting to whisper its protest at this intimacy with him when, as suddenly as the contact had begun, it stopped. He pulled away, grabbing her wrists in an iron grip as he extricated her fingers from his hair. Then, he thrust them from him and stepped back.

  For a few moments, she stared at him blankly as she tried to silence the clamor of her senses and reassemble her scattered thoughts. Then, the fury rose as she noted the disinterested amusement in his expression. She hated him--she really did. But, even more infuriating than his actions was her reaction to them. And it was that self-directed anger and disgust that caused her voice to shake when she finally spoke.

  “If you ever do that again--”

  “It really bothers you that you can’t resist me, doesn’t it Ali? You might have gotten bored eight years ago, when you got your kicks slumming it with the naïve street kid, but no longer.” This time, his smile was arctic, his expression remote. “No matter what you say, the minute I touch you, you suddenly can’t wait to get into my pants.”

  She heard th
e crack of her hand against his cheek almost before she realised she had slapped him. “You are and always have been an unmitigated bastard,” she rasped. “So don’t start into this ‘naïve kid’ nonsense. You were born knowing the score.”

  He watched her, his eyes narrowed, but said nothing.

  “If you touch me again, I swear you’ll regret it.”

  His mouth twisted. “I already regret having ever laid eyes on you, querida.” He shrugged. “And correct me if I am wrong, but you didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight just now. Shall we test this claim of yours?”

  “Try it and I’ll scream the house down.”

  “Yes, you always were quite vocal in your ardour, weren’t you?” He caught her wrist moments before the second slap would have landed. “But you never used to be into the kinky stuff, querida. All this smacking about and you might have me getting the wrong idea.”

  “You bastard.” She shook her head, trying to pull her wrist free.

  “Yes, I do believe we’ve gone over that already--a few times, in fact.” He shrugged, releasing her hand once it had become clear that she wouldn’t have been able to extricate it without his complicity. “But rest assured—I am well aware that there is a fine line between seduction and coercion, which I make it a practice never to cross. I won’t touch you again until you ask me to. Or rather, until you admit you are attracted to me and beg me to give you what we both know you really want.”

  Ali raised her chin, disgusted to find that the relief she felt actually warred with a deep, humiliating disappointment. “Well, rest assured, I won’t be begging for it any time soon.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You may be eating those words.”

  Not if you don’t touch me, I won’t. So long as he kept his hands off her, she’d be fine.

  She stared up at the dark ruthlessness in his gaze and firmed her resolve. After all, this was the man who traded in his car because it was slightly less than perfect. She had little doubt that he wouldn’t bother to conceal his disdain if ever he saw the kinds of ‘dings’ her supposedly perfect body had acquired in the years since he had last seen it.

  And, much though she hated to admit it, his contempt would be utterly devastating. So, she’d keep her shirt buttoned and her guard up. She couldn’t afford to do otherwise.

  It’s only three nights. But the assurance was pure bravado. She already knew full well that it was going to feel more like three eternities.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rafael shrugged at her silence and turned away, returning inside. In a few moments he had settled in front of his laptop with every appearance of indifference to her presence.

  How utterly infuriating that Ali’s skin should still tingle with the memory of his touch and that she should still burn with the liquid heat of longing, while he clicked away at the keys, already deeply absorbed in whatever work he had brought with him.

  She had packed her laptop as well, but she couldn’t imagine getting any work done at all with Rafael in the same room. She shook her head and turned away.

  “I’m going for a walk.” She glanced back at him, but he didn’t even bother to lift his eyes from the screen.

  “Have fun. I may be out when you get back.”

  Ali walked along the beach for over an hour. At first, she set a tight pace, needing to work off the sexual excitement Rafael had provoked and then refrained from alleviating. After a good twenty minutes and a fine beading of sweat on her forehead, she was finally able to slow down and take in a little more of her surroundings.

  But, her thoughts kept returning to Rafael. What was he hoping to get out of all this? Obviously he no longer needed her connections to further his ambitions.

  So, was he trying to prove some kind of point to her?

  Or was he simply out for a little recreational sex? That would certainly make sense, given that his reputation as a playboy was second only to his reputation as a businessman. And if so, Ali found herself wondering how much harm it would do if she indulged in a few of the wild fantasies that had been flitting through her head--and she had been doing her best to repress--in the week since Rafael had swept her into the tango and her body had reawakened to his sexual pull.

  But of course, it was impossible. He was accustomed to perfection--and she was none too eager to see his expression change and his interest die an abrupt death when he laid eyes on her scars. Besides, she didn’t particularly like the man he had become. If she were to break from her three years of celibacy, shouldn’t she at least do so with a man for whom she had some affection?

  And so, she concluded as she walked up the front stairs to the lobby, she would simply have to control herself and ensure that her fantasies remained just that.

  She stopped by the café for a quick bite, then steeled herself for the prospect of returning to the suite. She had already decided that if Rafael were still there, she’d take over the bedroom, lock the door firmly, and hope her imagination didn’t run so wild that she got no work done whatsoever.

  Given her good intentions, it was decidedly anticlimactic to find that the suite was empty. But, shrugging, she decided to make good on her plans nonetheless. Having closed the door, she seated herself at the desk in the bedroom and set about trying to get a bit of work done over the course of the afternoon.

  When she looked up from the computer, the light was starting to fade outside. The bedroom opened onto the same balcony as did the living room, and Ali stepped outside, massaging her neck as she watched the clouds turn spectacularly red and the sun sink below the horizon.

  “I wondered when you were going to come up for air.”

  Ali started, then turned to find Rafael leaning against the living room door frame, his arms crossed. The fading light deepened the bronzed luster of his skin and made his eyes seem darker and more inscrutable than ever, in the sculpted perfection of his face.

  “When did you get back?”

  “About ten minutes ago. I brought a couple of sandwiches. If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to one.”

  Ali’s demurral died on her lips when her stomach gave a loud growl.

  Rafael laughed. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then. Come, let’s eat.”

  The sandwiches, made with thick-sliced, homemade multigrain and positively overflowing with stuffing, were delicious, and for a time, the two of them ate in relatively companionable silence.

  Still, Ali’s awareness of Rafael’s proximity--he sat adjacent to her, and each time he leaned forward to take a sip from his soda water, their knees just evaded touching--prevented her from relaxing completely. She wondered if she’d ever feel comfortable in his presence.

  Though once we get back, we’ll probably only be seeing each other in more official contexts. Of course, this was also supposed to be “official,” but between the comfortable elegance of the suite and the knowledge that the sofa where Rafael sat would also be his bed tonight, it didn’t feel particularly official at all.

  “So, am I to infer that you passed the whole afternoon hunched in front of your laptop?”

  “After I got back from my walk, yes. You?”

  “I wanted to go over some things with a few of the contractors who would be involved in the construction of the site. Since Saturday is a holiday for most people, I figured they’d be more amenable to meeting today.”

  “It went well?”

  “Of course. It was mostly details I needed to clarify.”

  “Great.”

  The silence stretched between them once again, before Rafael slanted a speculative glance at her. “So what kind of work were you doing in Europe?”

  Ali took a sip of soda water. “After I finished my MBA, I worked in London for a few years, before going back for my Master’s in Finance.” Ali figured he didn’t need to know that her studies in finance had been interrupted by the car accident--or that she had taken twice the time to complete the program because of it.

  “After that, I figured it was time to get out of London,
so I went to work for Thorsten in Frankfurt. It was great. He basically filled in all the things I didn’t pick up from helping Dad out over the years. Thor made use of some really interesting strategies I had never seen before. I learned a lot from him, and I’m looking forward to applying all that to our clients’ portfolios.”

  “You astonish me, Ali. From the sounds of it, you’ve actually been doing some work these last eight years.”

  She shrugged, choosing to ignore the jibe. “All in all, I learned from the best. Thor’s mentorship really helped me develop and hone the skills I’ll need to succeed in the field.”

  “I’ll bet it did. The man has quite the reputation, after all.” Despite the innocuous words, Rafael spoke with enough derision to rouse Ali’s annoyance. His cracks were starting to get to her.

  It was true that Thorsten Wolff had a known reputation as a playboy. And indeed, Thor had once suggested that they move their relationship into a more personal arena. But, he had also respected Ali’s refusal, never once allowing it to affect their working relationship and the friendship that had emerged from it.

  Still, Ali wasn’t about to open up to Rafael with the details of her personal life. She didn’t even like him, for heaven’s sake.

  “I’m sure you’d know all about reputations, Rafe--and the challenge of then having to live up to them."

  His lips thinned into a smile. “Indeed I do. But that has never been a problem for me.”

  Ali just managed to suppress her snort. The conceit of the man! “And really, the same could be said of Thor. He was more than good at what he did.”

  “Indeed? So do tell me more about this business of refining your skills. I’m sure good old Thor showed you all the right moves to rise to the top.”

  Ali rolled her eyes. “It was a lot to swallow,” she said, matching his tone for insinuation. “But Thor made certain I never choked on too much information at once.” She shrugged. “What can I say? He has many talents.”

  Then, she grew serious. “And he’s a good man besides. I owe him a lot, which is a little ironic, considering that I went to Europe to make it on my own. But I guess no-one is an island.”