“And that was?” He spoke on a sigh.
She gave him a cold smile. “That I hadn’t been completely honest with you. Remember that little accident I told you about a while ago? The one that left me with the scars?” She didn’t wait for his acknowledgement. “They weren’t the only things it left me with. See, it turns out that I can’t actually have children.”
Now that she had dropped her bomb, she watched him in silence, searching his face for a reaction. He had looked away from her as she spoke. Now, he raised his eyes to meet hers and she almost had to step back from the fierce intensity in their depths.
Without breaking the stare, he stood and walked over to her. This close to him, Ali felt suddenly short of breath, like he was pulling her into that dark gaze of his, drowning her in it. Her anger had drained away, leaving her feeling empty and helpless against the pull he exerted upon her.
“Do you love me, Ali?”
She tore her gaze from his with a sigh. “Does it really matter, after what I just told you?”
“It matters.”
She looked up to find his somber scrutiny hadn’t wavered. “All right then. I suppose I do. What of it?”
“Would you marry me if I asked?”
She moved away from him, pacing restlessly about the room. “I’m not really in the mood for academic questions, Rafe. But no, I probably wouldn’t.”
“Even if I said I loved you and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”
Ali stopped in her tracks, but didn’t dare look at him. “Is that what you are saying?”
“It is.”
She looked at him, but there was no sign levity in his expression--no indication that he was anything except completely serious. For a moment she felt overwhelmed by an incredulous joy that made her want to shout her exhilaration to the heavens before giving Rafe an emphatic “yes!”
But the reality of her situation followed fast on the heels of her delirium, tamping it down firmly.
“The answer’s still no.” Though it pierced her to say it.
“Why?”
“You may not have had a chance to realise the full implications of the accident yet, Rafe. But just think about it. I’ll never be able to give you children of your own. How long before you start to resent, and then hate me because of that? I’d rather just walk away now, than see that happen.”
His mouth thinned and his eyes flashed with anger. “Do you really think that I would marry you only for the children you would bear me? That I would choose to spend the rest of my life with a woman solely on the basis of whether or not she can provide me with offspring?”
“Think about it, Rafe--“
“You think I have not? Perhaps there is a twinge of regret--that I will never have a daughter who looks up at me with her mother’s eyes and smiles her mother’s smile. But I’d rather spend my life with you than have children with some other woman. If we want to have children someday--“ He shrugged. “There are plenty of babies in the world that need good homes with loving parents.”
“You’re reacting off the cuff, Rafe. I only just gave you the news and you’re not really thinking about it--you’re just pushing your side without looking at the full implications.”
He snorted. “I’ve been thinking of little else all afternoon, Ali. Going over it from every possible angle--”
“What? How? I only just--”
“Your father and I met today, and he told me what happened.”
“So, filled with pity, you rushed over to--”
“Do you really think I would propose to a woman out of some altruistic motive like that?” He shook his head. “Honestly? It would take a better man than I to make a sacrifice like that.”
Her mouth twisted. “True enough, I suppose. But this isn’t trivial, Rafe.”
“Did I claim it was? As I said, I went over the situation from every possible angle, but always came to the same conclusion.”
“Which was?”
“I would rather spend the rest of my life with you than anyone else in the world. Period. I love you--I love your laugh, your kindness and your drive. I love your independence, your strength and your beauty. I want to share my days with you.” He grinned. “Not to mention my nights, though really, that should go without saying.”
Ali could feel her throat tightening as he spoke words she had never expected to hear--from anyone, but least of all from Rafe. “You’re sure?” She only barely managed to keep her voice from shaking.
“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, querida.”
Ali couldn’t help it. She sniffled.
“And be warned, I do not give up easily. Now that I know the truth about your feelings, I will keep asking until you say yes. So you may as well save us both a lot of time and trouble by yielding sooner rather than later.”
“Oh, Rafe…” Ali’s voice disappeared into a quaver as her face dissolved.
“Now what did I say?” But he walked over to where she was standing and folded her into his arms, stroking her hair while she cried into his chest.
“I’m getting your suit all wet,” she finally muttered between sniffles.
“I am not concerned about this suit. It will survive. It is my other suit that I am more interested in at the moment. So what’s your answer, querida?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“I would like to hear you say it. At that point, it will officially become a verbal agreement, you see, and I know from experience how scrupulous you are about keeping to those.”
Ali gave a watery chuckle. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Rafe.”
~~~
Other books by Jamie Anderson:
Her Roman Holiday
When she is attacked while backpacking around Italy, Calia finds herself clashing with her handsome, Italian rescuer, whose old world machismo rubs her the wrong way at first. But as they argue, the sparks begin to fly, and Calia soon discovers that leaving her gorgeous Mediterranean lover at the end of her holiday will be far more difficult than she anticipated...
Excerpt:
Her bravado lasted until she entered the sitting room—and met Gio’s smoldering silver gaze. For a breathless moment, she froze, held in place by that mesmerizing stare, as a wave of heat suffused her body. He had dressed for the reception that he would be attending later—and he looked absolutely devastating in the casual elegance of a dark shirt and slacks, his golden skin, black hair and hard features sending her body into overdrive.
They eyed each other like circling predators for several hungry moments, while her mind raced.
He wants me—I can’t be misreading him. A man doesn’t look at a woman like that when he’s indifferent.
Then, his mouth thinned and he looked away, his jaw clenched, triggering in Calia a strange blend of vindication and embarrassment.
He does want me. But he’s not happy about it. The sinking feeling that accompanied the thought had her straightening her shoulders. Maybe he didn’t think she was good enough for the likes of him. As far as she was concerned, that was his problem—and his loss. She strode into the room with as much regal dignity as she could muster and he stood politely until she was seated in a chair adjacent to his.
Larissa had already set out coffee, biscotti and custard fruit tarts. Calia helped herself, her senses sharpened by his presence. She could just catch the faintest trace of that spicy fragrance she had come to associate with him. Now, it only served to heighten the jumpy tension that had edged her nerves since entering the room.
“So, when do you leave for the reception?”
He swallowed a sip of coffee, then glanced at his watch. “In about twenty minutes.” He glanced at her. “You can come if you wish.”
“Now that I’m halfway presentable?”
“More than halfway, I should say. You’ll put all the other women there to shame.”
Calia had to laugh, pleased in spite of her desire to take the compliment with a grain of salt. “That’s laying it on a little t
hick, don’t you think? I mean, if you want me to come, just ask.”
He returned her smile. “The compliment was in earnest. But, come to think of it, showing up with a beautiful woman on my arm may help in keeping Antonia at bay for the evening.” His expression grew thoughtful. He sat forward. “That gives me an idea, in fact.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You will come with me tonight and we will pretend to be an item. With any luck, that will keep Antonia off my tail. Another woman’s presence will at the least hamper her, and I will be able to concentrate on business, rather than on trying to evade the wretched woman.” He shook his head, his expression grim. “I have been as clear as I know how to be in private—but she is my best friend’s wife. I cannot so disgrace him by publicly telling her off. But still, the woman is a menace.”
“I don’t know, Gio…”
He sat back, shrugging. “What’s not to know? It is an excellent plan.”
“It just seems strange, that’s all. I mean, I’m from a different world. How convincing is it going to be that we’re an item?”
“We will make it convincing.” His devastating silver gaze captured hers and held it. “I have every confidence in your acting abilities, Calia.”
The way he said her name, with just the hint of a cadence, gave her shivers. And in truth, that was the real reason behind her hesitation. The charade would play too closely into what she fantasized about every time she looked at the man: that they were together. That they were wildly in love with each other and ready to leap into a passionate embrace at the slightest provocation.
Of course, it wasn’t an impossibility—she had noticed he didn’t wear any rings, and certainly, there seemed little evidence of a serious involvement between him and another woman. Besides, if he were otherwise involved, then why would he be suggesting that Calia pose as his latest paramour?
She sighed. After all, such speculations didn’t necessarily mean that getting involved with someone like Gio was in any way a good idea.
Unforgettable
As a result of an abusive first marriage, which she has kept hidden as her own, dark secret, Claire's marriage of convenience with her sexy, workaholic boss Ethan has been all business--and that has suited her just fine.
But, when he is attacked and wakes with no memory of the person he used to be, Claire finds that her attraction for her gorgeous boss is all that much more difficult to resist--but can she learn to trust again?
Ethan might not have a memory of the man he used to be, but unless his former self was dead from the waist down, there's no way he could have been unaware of his stunning wife of convenience's many attractions--and he hopes to make their marriage a whole lot less convenient in the very near future.
Excerpt:
Darkness and pain. A throbbing in his head. Ethan opened his eyes and winced at the brightness. He remembered odd flashes. Making his way to a desk in a large lobby. Blackness. Then, the sound of sirens and the looming face of a young man, his dark hair cut short. “You’ll be fine, Mr. Forster,” the man said, before everything went dark again. Other, less comprehensible flashes of recollection.
He blinked and gingerly looked around, wondering where he was. It looked like a hospital, he realised. He felt uncomfortably warm, and glancing down, he saw that he wore some sort of hospital gown. From waist down, he had been swathed in layers of blankets. His head hurt more with his eyes open, but the need to know what was going on had overridden the pain. What had happened?
His light-blinded eyes were drawn to a figure in red, standing some distance away. A splash of vivid colour amid the drab greens and whites that swam on the edges of his vision.
Finally, his eyes finished adusting and the figure came into focus. For a moment, he forgot about the pain, forgot to wonder what might have happened to him. Forgot everything but her.
She stood in profile to him—and what a profile! The dress she wore caressed her figure, revealing curves that made him draw in a tight breath. Dark curls clustered around her face and cascaded down the silken curve of her back in a riot of darkness. Even what he could see of her face was exquisite—high cheekbones, full lips and large eyes. A Spanish gypsy, he thought with a smile.
He wondered who she was. She couldn’t work here—she’d give the male cardiac patients a heart attack. Even he was having trouble breathing smoothly as he watched her—and he didn’t think he had a heart condition. She was talking with a doctor of some sort. He frowned a little as he watched her. There was something intensely familiar about her—something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He almost felt as though he knew her, though perhaps that was just wishful thinking, he reflected ruefully.
I wonder if she’s married, he thought, then frowned, his eyes widening. I wonder if I’m married.
Jamie Anderson lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and two cats. She started writing stories not long after she learned to write, and hasn’t stopped since.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Leaving Rafe Page 13
