Leaving Rafe

by Jamie Anderson

  “So that’s what is behind your slinking out of the bed at God knows what hour and taking a separate room.”

  She shrugged with a casualness she didn’t feel. “One night is one night. That’s all.”

  He stood abruptly, his eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “Don’t tell me that after what we shared you don’t want more,” he ground out. “I can disprove that kind of barefaced lie in ten seconds flat.” He advanced on her as he spoke, and Ali felt the familiar rising awareness as he approached. A tendril of excitement snaked through her, drying her throat and tightening her stomach.

  “You probably could, at that.” She raised her chin as she stepped back from the seething fury in his expression. “But the fact of the matter is, I’m now more convinced than ever that we’re not compatible.”

  It hurt to say it out loud, but that pain firmed Ali’s resolution, because it brought out the fact that she already cared far more than she should--about Rafe and about any hypothetical relationship they might have.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Ali, but it seems to me that last night wasn’t about incompatibility.”

  Ali broke the stare and turned away from him. “Physically, we’re compatible enough--I won’t deny that. But we want different things, Rafe. It wouldn’t work.”

  She felt the iron grip of his hand on her arm. He swung her around to face him. “How the hell would you know what I want?”

  Ali looked up to find him glaring at her with blazing eyes.

  She swallowed, then returned his stare. “All right, Rafe, let me put it as clearly as I can. I don’t want to get involved with you again,” she said, enunciating clearly. “I don’t want to open up that part of my past. Put simply: I do not want what you want. Whatever that is. I’m not interested in a physical affair with you. And I’m especially not interested in anything more than that. Clear?”

  His mouth twisted as she spoke and he released her arm as if it burned him to touch. “I see you have not lost your way with words, Ali. Yes, I do believe you’ve made yourself abundantly clear.” He swallowed, then held out his hand. “Give me the key card--I’ll take the other damn room. You’re settled here.”

  Now that he had backed off, Ali felt the fight drain out of her. She nodded, suddenly too tired to bother arguing with him about such a small point. She handed him the card, then watched as he packed the few items he had removed from his bag, his mouth thin and his movements tight.

  He closed the door quietly behind him, but it might as well have been a slam for the impact it had on her. She sank into one of the chairs for a moment and closed her eyes. He had gone--just as she asked him to. So why then did she want to run after him and beg him to come back?

  The room felt resoundingly empty without his presence.

  She drew in a deep breath, then stood. Time for a shower.

  Ali stayed under the jets of hot water for some time, trying to use the heat to work the tension out of her body. It wasn’t as effective as she might have hoped, and she eventually gave up.

  She emerged from the stall, wrapping her hair in one towel before swathing her body in another. Then, she left the bathroom, heading for the bedroom in search of some clothes for the day--only to come to a complete stop at the sight of Rafael, standing in the living room.

  “I forgot my watch--but don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in a second,” he said as he looked up from the table beside the sofa where he had slept. Ali stood, briefly frozen to the spot as his gaze came to settle on her face, then slipped down to just below her neck.

  With a sense of rising horror, Ali saw his eyes widen.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Her hands flew up to cover the scar even as she glanced down to find that the hot shower had brought out the contrast between the healed tissue and the unmarked skin around it. The throb of blood pulsed at her temples and her face grew hot.

  She looked up to find Rafe still watching her, his nostrils flared and his eyes as dark and treacherous as black ice on a winter’s night.

  “Let me see.” He walked towards her as he spoke, until he loomed in front of her, glaring.

  Ali drew in a deep breath, then made herself lower her hands. The damage had been done, after all.

  The bottom of the scar was concealed by her towel and he reached out to loosen the material. Ali kept her arms by her side as it fell to the ground. After a few moments of watching his dark scowl, as his gaze raked over her body, she looked away.

  “When?” His harsh tone grated on Ali’s nerves.

  She shrugged, still not looking at him. “About two years ago.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “One of my friends from school was visiting her family and asked if I wanted to join her for the weekend. A few of the other girls also had family in the same town, and a group of us were car pooling back to the city late Sunday night.” Her mouth twisted. “It was icy. Angela lost control of the vehicle and we went off the road.”

  After a pause, she swallowed. “I was actually the lucky one. None of the others survived.”

  Silence. After a few moments, it became unbearable. Ali had to look at him.

  He was staring at her, his mouth a thin, hard line and his eyes burning coals in his rigid face.

  Feeling intensely self-conscious, she bent over and picked up the towel, noting with an odd kind of detachment that her hands were shaking.

  Turning away from him and walking towards the bedroom, she wrapped the towel around her once more. Then, she paused and glanced back to find he hadn’t moved. Her voice sounded strange to her. “Lock the door when you go, will you?”

  His hands curled into fists. “Dammit, Ali.” He spoke in a growl, his accent grown thick.

  She looked down at her hand as it held the towel tight around her, absently noting the gleam of fine golden hairs on her wrist. “I was right, wasn’t I? We simply aren’t compatible, Rafe,” she muttered, her voice a little too ragged for her liking. But what could she do about it?

  She made herself look at him.

  He stared at the carpet, his expression bitter. “No. I cannot accept…” He broke off, shaking his head, his jaw tight. “Now is not the time to discuss this. I will be back. We can talk later.”

  And he was gone.

  Ali stood in silence, her chest suddenly heavy. She struggled exhale a steady breath, then gave up, allowing a sob to erupt from her throat.

  You wondered what his reaction would be. Now you know. She nodded, pulling the rest of her hurt back inside. He might not want to accept the scars. But he doesn’t have any damn choice.

  She squared her shoulders and walked into the bedroom, where she dressed with a brusque efficiency. Then, she packed her clothes and laptop.

  Insofar as she was concerned, she and Rafael had nothing further to discuss. His obvious horror and revulsion spoke quite clearly for themselves. The thought of spending all those hours riding home with him tomorrow was simply insupportable.

  Once she was ready to go, she sat down at the desk in the living room, pulled out a sheet of the hotel stationary and began writing,

  “Rafael. Thanks for the tour. Your co-operation in addressing my questions and concerns regarding the real estate development aspect of the fund was very much appreciated. Insofar as I can tell, however, my business here is concluded and I see no reason to linger. I will discuss the details with Dad and contact Shana for a Wednesday appointment, as discussed, to let you know of our decision. A.”

  She sealed the note in an envelope with precise movements, then wrote his name and his new room number on the outside.

  At the front desk, she left the note to be passed on to Rafael upon his return and began making inquiries as to how she could find her way back to Vancouver without a car.

  The clerk glanced at his watch. “There’s a bus that runs once a day to the ferry terminal in Nanaimo. You’ll probably be able to make the Ucluelet stop if you take a taxi over. I can call one, if you like.”

  Rafe dropped
his pen on the desk in the temporary office he had set up for the development. It was no good. He had needed to get away from Ali--to get some distance and regain control over his emotions--and had figured that doing a bit of work would be just the thing. Instead, his thoughts kept returning to their encounter.

  The scars, in themselves, weren’t even all that noticeable--the marks had faded, and though they remained visible, they were not particularly obtrusive. He just couldn’t stop thinking about what they represented.

  I was actually the lucky one. None of the others survived. Her words kept echoing through his head, accompanied by a bleak, desolate feeling at the thought that she could have been killed. And all this time, he hadn’t even known how close to death she had come. He shook his head.

  It all makes sense now. No wonder Mason looked like he had aged ten years when he came back from England. He had almost outlived his only child.

  Rafe rose from his chair with a growl. He needed to walk--to sort through his feelings. The intense protectiveness he suddenly felt towards Ali--who had, in turn, become a completely different woman to him in the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday, he had still considered her a man-eating vamp.

  Now… she was a vulnerable woman who had suffered as much as he over their misunderstanding so many years ago. Like him, her pride had prevented her from revealing her true feelings.

  But, while he had turned to other things--focussed on his life and his career while something inside him became hardened and cynical, preventing all the other women he had since met from getting close to him--she had suffered even more.

  She had lost her friends and had herself barely survived a car accident. She had been scarred, both physically and, he suspected, emotionally. Thinking on it, he now wondered if it was because of the scars that she had stopped him from turning the light on last night.

  Rafe headed out onto the property, walking hard.

  Perhaps she had feared he would reject her if he saw them. He snorted. Far from it--they made him want to hold her against him. To protect her from the world and shelter her from the judgment of others.

  But, while in many ways he didn’t know the woman she had become, she had demonstrated her stubborn independence again and again over the short period of their re-acquaintance. She wasn’t someone who would take well to that kind of sheltering.

  He’d never met anyone like her--despite all the challenges life had dealt her, she had met them on her own terms and become a success in her field. He wanted to know her better. He wanted to continue as her lover, certainly--but he also wanted to be her friend and confidant. Someone whom she respected.

  But, given her independence and the vulnerability she hid behind the façade of confidence, he now knew he’d have to hold himself back--coach himself to take things slowly and work on building her trust.

  By the time he returned to the hotel in the early afternoon, he felt in control once more. Ready to face her. He had marshaled his arguments for continuing their relationship--but he was also ready to pull back or change tactics, depending on her responses.

  He went straight up to the suite, only to find the door open and the cleaning staff inside. He walked through the rooms, frowning--all of her things had been cleared out. The cleaning lady saw him and switched off her vacuum with an inquiring look. He shook his head.

  “Sorry--I thought a friend was staying in this room. I guess I was wrong.”

  He returned to his own suite to find his bed had been made. A sealed envelope with his name on it rested on the impeccably smooth counterpane.

  Ripping it open, his frown darkened further as he read the terse note she had left. He let the page and the envelope flutter down to the bedcovers as he sank down beside them, glaring into the distance.

  So what now? She had left him in no doubt as to her feelings--the only kind of relationship with him that interested her was a business one.

  Part of him wanted to respect that. She had made her choice and he had no right to undermine that.

  Except that it wasn’t quite so simple--because he also had the prerogative of choice. And he wanted her--both body and soul. He knew that, now.

  He nodded. She obviously needed some time. He still had a few things he needed to do out here, anyway. And, he’d be seeing her on Wednesday at his office, if the note was to be believed. He’d give her until then.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ali stepped out of the elevator, reflecting with amazement that it had only been a week since she had first visited Rafael’s office. It felt so much longer. But then, so much had happened since then.

  By the time she had gotten back to her dad’s place, she had managed to pull herself together for the most part--though she had started each time the phone rang. But, to her mingled disappointment and relief, Rafe hadn’t attempted to contact her. Part of her had hoped he would--that he would at least make the attempt to explain away his response to her scars. But he hadn’t.

  “Don’t worry about interrupting Shana from her work,” she now told the front receptionist at his office. “I remember the way.”

  She was a little early for her appointment--probably because she was eager to get it over with, so that she could stop fretting about what it would be like to see him again. After all, she still ached from their last meeting. The humiliatingly vivid image of his expression as he examined her body on Sunday contrasted with the shattering beauty of their lovemaking.

  Though she had tried to bury the pain of his rejection, it would ambush her at unexpected moments and freeze her as she struggled to shove it into the background once again. And the tender intensity of their coupling had haunted her in the dark hours of night, with her defenses lowered and her body yearning to feel the electricity of his touch once again.

  But no more. And that was exactly as it should be.

  This meeting will help. After all, they would be seeing each other in a strictly professional capacity today. And then she’d be able to put everything into proper perspective. The past was the past. And the future was--strictly business.

  Ali paused a moment, drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

  Then, pasting a professional smile on her face, she turned the final corner into Rafe’s portion of the office.

  “Hi Shana. I know I’m a bit early for the appointment. I don’t mind waiting, if he’s busy with someone else.”

  Shana returned Ali’s smile. “No problem. I’ll just check if he’s available.” After a brief conversation on the phone, she nodded at Ali. “He says to go right on in.”

  “Great.” Now that the moment had come, Ali felt ridiculously nervous. Just business. He hadn’t tried to contact her--hadn’t made any attempt to take it back to a personal level after she left on Sunday. So, he obviously concurred with her decision to keep things professional.

  “Ali! Good to see you. You’re looking well.” As she let herself into his office, Rafael rose from behind the desk with his usual dazzling smile. As if he hadn’t stared at her with undisguised shock and revulsion only three days ago. As if they hadn’t made searingly passionate love four nights ago.

  “Rafael.” Already, her body had wakened to his presence. She could feel the humiliating sensitivity of her nipples, pressing against the silken fabric of her bra. After sparing him only the briefest of glances, she made herself stare at the spectacular view beyond the windows of his office.

  He came around his desk, holding out his hand. Ali steeled herself and gave it a quick squeeze before loosening her grip. It was obviously just her overly-sharpened senses that made it feel like he lingered over the contact.

  Then, she sat in one of the two chairs opposite his desk, feeling the throng of sexual tension between them. Ignoring it as best she could, she opened her briefcase. “Though I’m sure it hardly comes as a surprise to you, after discussing the details of your newest fund with Dad, we’ve decided to invest.”

  “Business first, last and always, hey Ali?” His voice came from far too close. She l
ooked up, startled, to find that he had perched on the corner of his desk closest to the chair where she sat. He was grinning ruefully. Something heavy, warm and lustful stirred within her.

  She stiffened. “Is there a problem with that?”

  He shrugged, his gaze sweeping the room. “I suppose not.” Then, he leveled that black stare of his at her--and practically pinned her to the seat with it. “Except that, try though I might, I have been unable to stop thinking of what we shared Saturday night. Of how incredible it was between us.”

  Ali let out a hard breath. The tide of bitterness rose so quickly that for a moment, she was rendered speechless.

  Then, “So you’re telling me you’ve decided that it was incredible enough for you to overlook your obvious disgust for my scars. And I’m expected to--what? Swoon with delight and throw myself at you?” Her mouth twisted. “Pardon me if I’ve decided I’m not interested.”

  His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened as she spoke. “Is that what you believed? I was shocked by what you were telling me, Ali. Not repelled. You almost died and I hadn’t known a thing about it--how could you not expect a strong reaction to that? That I would not need time to absorb and come to terms with what I was hearing?”

  Excuses. For a few moments, her anger swamped other, more rational emotions. Then, she shook her head, pulling back. You can’t afford to care what he thinks about you, Ali.

  She made a slashing gesture with one hand. “Enough. I’m not interested in discussing this further.”

  “Well, that’s too damn bad, because I’m far from finished with the subject. Those scars mean nothing to me. I want to continue our relationship--to see where it will take us. To make love like that again.”

  “So says the man who swaps his Porsche because it has a few dings and he can afford perfection,” she sneered, forcing herself to ignore the way his eyes burned into her, fanning the flame of arousal that had been ignited upon seeing him again.