by Unknown
The last hostage situation a few weeks ago with Rafael as the main negotiator had been picked up by the local media and included his picture and footage of him and his family leaving the scene. Since then he had become even more popular and in demand.
None of the members of SORT minded. They admired his ability to keep the smile he now wore while women asked silly or personal questions and passed him phone numbers that he’d never call.
Officer Diaz waited until the commander placed an orange cone behind the last woman in Rafael’s line. He should wait, but what the heck. He stepped beside Rafael. “Guess who I just saw looking hot as ever.”
Rafael’s head snapped around. His usual smiling eyes were hard. “You’re talking about a lady.”
Ronald frowned at Rafael’s unexpected reaction. The only times he’d seen that unbending expression on Rafael’s face were when they were in tense situations. Never where a woman was concerned.
“Excuse me,” the woman waiting said, her eyes shooting daggers at Ronald. “Officer Dunlap and I were talking.”
“Sorry.” Rafael turned to her. “As I was saying, we don’t make personal visits, but this pamphlet will give you information on personal and home safety tips.”
The tall, slender woman dressed in a halter top and shorts took the pamphlet, handing Rafael a piece of folded paper. “Hands-on has always worked better for me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodbye,” Rafael said, wearing the same smile he’d worn patiently all day.
The redhead reluctantly moved away and another young woman eagerly took her place. “I saw you on television. Could you please sign your card for me?” Her pretty smile widened. “The name is Patience Johnson.”
“I’d be delighted.”
Ronald couldn’t resist as Rafael grabbed a pen and bent to sign his name. “There’s a drawing at the Fontaine booth in twenty minutes.” He waited until Rafael looked up. “Five-dollar tickets. Guess what the prize is?”
Rafael’s black eyes narrowed. “Since you can’t wait to tell me, it could only be one thing.” He straightened and held out the card to the woman, unobtrusively looking at his watch. “Thank you.”
She sighed, pressed the card to her chest. “My book club members won’t believe this. Thank you.”
“It’s dinner for two with the owner,” Ronald said as soon as the woman moved away. “I would have purchased you a ticket, but I didn’t want to see you lose and be reminded of striking out.”
“I’ll bet.” Rafael greeted the next two women and quickly moved each along until he was finished. He turned to the commander standing nearby. “Since I’ve been good and didn’t take a break, I’d like permission to do something for me.”
“Just remember you’re in uniform,” Commander Coats told him.
“I’ll go with him to remind him,” Diaz offered.
“Me, too,” Gibbs added.
“If I go, will it make it three?” Cannon asked. “I missed it last night.”
The commander held up his hand before the next person could ask. “Why don’t we pack things in, and then we can all go?” The team quickly complied.
“Clarice, I think you’ve mixed them up enough,” Nathalyia said, standing by the half-full drum to draw the winning ticket.
Clarice continued to turn the handle. “I want to give everyone a chance.”
Nathalyia frowned at Clarice. She’d been turning the thing for the past five minutes, all the time straining her neck in an attempt to look over the crowd gathered in front of their booth.
“It’s ten past five,” a man in the front of the small crowd yelled, waving his tickets.
“You’re right.” Nathalyia placed her hand over Clarice’s, effectively stopping her, then spoke to those gathered. “I want to thank each of you for purchasing a ticket for a chance to win dinner for two at Fontaine’s and a tour of the restaurant. Thanks to projected sales for today, as well as corporate and private donations, I think we’re going to greatly surpass the funds raised last year, which were close to a quarter of a million dollars.”
She paused as people applauded. “Thanks to you, families with a critically ill child will receive much-needed financial assistance.” Nathalyia reached for the latch.
“Wait!”
She turned to see the man who had tried to pick her up the night before at the restaurant pushing his way through the crowd. She was surprised to see him wearing a police uniform and annoyed when her pulse sped up. With him were several other men in uniform. She recognized a couple as Fontaine regulars. “Is there a problem?”
Rafael made his way to the front. Nathalyia was even more beautiful in daylight. She looked sinfully sexy in the hot pink top that lovingly cupped her full breasts. “I wanted to purchase tickets for the raffle.”
“The raffle is closed,” the slender man in front who had spoken earlier told him, his voice filled with annoyance. He was wearing sandals with socks, a Hawaiian shirt, and a straw hat. Cleanshaven, he appeared to be in his late sixties.
Rafael kept his gaze on Nathalyia. “Since the aim is to raise money, it would make sense to sell more tickets.”
“It certainly would,” Clarice said, stepping forward and reaching for the roll of tickets. “How many?”
“But it would also decrease the chances of winning,” the irritated man pointed out. “I bought twenty dollars’ worth of tickets. The sign said the drawing would be at five. Policeman or not, fair is fair.
“You’re right, of course,” Nathalyia said, turning to the drum, her fingers fumbling with the latch.
“Let me get that for you.” Rafael opened the latch, then stepped back.
It hadn’t been fast enough. She felt the heat of his muscular body, the pull. Commanding her fingers not to tremble, Nathalyia reached inside and dug deep to give herself time to catch her breath. He was without a doubt the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, with sculptured cheekbones and incredible long black lashes over beautiful black eyes. His mouth was made for sin. He was definitely off-limits. She swallowed hard.
The easygoing smile he’d sent her tempted her to smile back. He enticed her to throw caution to the wind, to brush her lips across his. No man had ever made her feel this hot, edgy way. She didn’t like it one bit.
Confident that she was in control once again, she pulled the ticket. “The winning number is one-nine-five-five-five-five-one-two.”
A high-pitched scream went up in the back of the crowd. “That’s me! That’s me!” An elderly woman in slacks, a blouse, and a floppy straw hat pushed her way to the front.
Rafael instantly turned to the woman. “Excuse me. How much for the winning ticket?”
“What?” she asked, blinking up at him from behind silver-rimmed eye-glasses.
“I’d like to buy your ticket,” he explained, pulling out his black leather wallet.
“There’s nothing about selling the ticket,” Nathalyia said, a bit frantic. He made her nervous. Her stomach fluttered, and that was reason enough to avoid him.
Rafael grinned. “The ticket is the property of Mrs.—”
“Evans,” she supplied, straightening her hat.
“Evans, and if she chooses to sell it, it is her right.” Rafael pulled out two twenties.
Nathalyia’s lips pressed together in annoyance. “But I’m sure she’d rather dine at Fontaine. She and a guest can order anything on the menu.”
Rafael plucked more money from his wallet. “Or she can have a hundred dollars.”
“Appetizers and dessert are included,” Nathalyia said, determined to win.
“One fifty,” Rafael amended.
“A bottle of wine to complement her dinner selection,” Nathalyia added spontaneously.
Rafael looked in his wallet, then at Nathalyia. She sensed victory until his fellow officers stepped forward, drawing out their wallets and handing him money. “Two hundred fifty.”
Mrs. Evans looked at Rafael, then apologetically at Nathalyia. “Sorry. Wine gives me
a headache. With the senior discount I get at your restaurant, I could eat several times and have my tea and a dessert.” She handed over the ticket. “But if I was a few years younger, I’d hold out and ask you to take me since it’s dinner for two.”
Rafael smiled down at the older woman, enjoying the twinkle in her hazel eyes. “It would have been my pleasure.”
She pressed her hand to her chest, then looked at Nathalyia. “You’re a lucky woman.”
Nathalyia said nothing.
“Thank you,” Rafael said. He gave Mrs. Evans the money and waited as she took out a wallet from her fanny pack and carefully placed the $250 inside. “Do you want an officer to walk you to your car?”
“Do you think that’s necessary?” she asked, glancing around nervously as two other older women approached. “These are my friends.”
One of the women waved a stout walking stick. “Just let some thug try to hassle us. I retired from teaching high school a few years back. They don’t want to mess with me.”
Rafael smiled. “It pays to be proactive. An officer can be there for backup.”
Stubbs stepped forward. “I’m the driver for the unit. Officer Stubbs. Ladies, whenever you’re ready.”
Mrs. Evans looked at Rafael, then at Nathalyia. “Be glad I’m not younger.” Then she turned to Officer Stubbs. “Let’s go, young man.”
Rafael stepped forward and presented the winning ticket to Nathalyia. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”
Nathalyia could barely keep from gritting her teeth. He had her trapped, and from the smile on his incredibly handsome face, he knew it. It had been thoughtful of him to think of the woman’s protection, but Nathalyia wanted nothing to do with him. He made her nervous, restless. Despite her best efforts he got to her, and he knew it.
“We have large crowds and groups on Sundays after church,” she finally answered him. “It will have to be early Monday—if you’re free.”
He quickly glanced at an older man in a police uniform. “Sir, can I come in two hours late on Monday?”
“Yes,” the man answered without hesitation, a small smile on his angular face. The jovial expressions of the other police officers surrounding him widened.
Grinning, he turned back to her. “How does eleven sound?”
She nodded abruptly. She might as well get it over with. “I’ll see you at eleven.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Rafael Dunlap.”
She remembered too much about him. “Nathalyia Fontaine.”
“Until Monday at eleven, Nathalyia.” Bowing his head, he turned and left. The other policemen followed, slapping him on the back with congratulations.
Nathalyia swallowed, swallowed again. The way he said her name sounded like a caress, the erotic sound vibrated though her body. Her skin tingled. She didn’t have time for all these crazy feelings, or for a man as persistent and compelling as Rafael. It appeared as if she didn’t have a choice.
Rafael was fifteen minutes early Monday for lunch at Fontaine, and he hadn’t come empty-handed. He realized Nathalyia would probably be the most difficult challenge in his lifetime. Her defenses were already up. He had to go slow and show her he was interested in her and that he was worth getting to know.
“A beautiful bouquet,” said the hostess. “Table for two?”
“Yes, I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Mrs. Fontaine.”
“Oh, she’s expecting you.” The young woman smiled. “Please follow me.”
“Thank you.” Rafael followed her to a table in the middle of the restaurant. On the paneled walls were fly rods and reels, a rustic wooden steering wheel, and an anchor. In an arch near the glass-enclosed kitchen was a twelve-foot canoe. Marble lined the aisles. There was a casual elegance about the restaurant.
The young woman stopped at a table in the middle of the restaurant, pulled out a leather and wood side chair at a linen-draped table, and handed him a menu. The place was already beginning to fill up. People surrounded the table on all sides. Nathalyia clearly didn’t want them to have a quiet conversation.
When he didn’t immediately take his seat, the young woman glanced from the flowers back to him. Her smile became a bit strained. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“Thanks, I plan to.” Placing the bouquet of orchids on the white tablecloth, Rafael took his seat, wondering how long she planned to let him wait or if she’d even show.
He glanced around to see the woman who had been with her yesterday and who had also been their waitress on Friday night, coming toward him. He came to his feet when she stopped at his table.
Smiling, she extended her hand. “Clarice Howard. I was with Nathalyia on Saturday.”
“Hello, I remember. You were also our waitress Friday night,” he said. “Are you taking Nathalyia’s place?”
“I guess it’s no secret that she wasn’t too happy with how things turned out with the drawing, but she takes her responsibilities for Fontaine seriously.” Clarice folded her arms. “She’ll be here.”
Relief swept through him. He wasn’t sure what his next plan would have been had Nathalyia sent a replacement. Loud laughter erupted. He looked around to see a large group of men and women. All of them had cocktails.
Clarice frowned and unfolded her arms. “This table is not very conducive to conversation, is it?”
“Exactly what she planned,” Rafael said. There was no sense in beating around the bush.
Clarice grinned. “We’ll just have to unplan.” She reached for the menu. “I think you’ll enjoy the new location better. Follow me.”
Picking up the vase of orchids, Rafael followed Clarice to a far corner of the room with a wall of glass looking out to the ocean. With the various flowering green plants inside and out, it was like being in the tropics. Although there were four tables in the area, all were empty.
“This is Nathalyia’s a favorite spot, and mine, too.” Clarice placed the menu on the table and pulled out a chair facing away from the ocean.
Rafael placed the bouquet on the table. “Thank you, but aren’t you concerned she might not like you changing her plans?”
“Nope. She might be annoyed with me for a bit, but when she thinks about it, she’ll realize that regardless of how you obtained the ticket, or what transpired before, the reputation of Fontaine is at stake,” Clarice pointed out.
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned her in connection with the restaurant.”
Clarice nodded. “Glad you’re listening. The restaurant is the most important thing to her in the world. Its continued success is paramount to her. Nothing else comes first.”
Rafael understood responsibility, and the subtle warning. He had his work cut out for him. “From what I’ve seen, she’s doing a fantastic job.”
“She’s good at what she does, but . . .”
“But what?” Rafael urged.
“Nothing. Can I get you a drink?”
Sensing he wasn’t going to get any more information, he said, “Iced tea.”
“The same drink you had the other night.” Her gaze ran over his tan dress slacks and white shirt. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a policeman in here who always orders a nonalcoholic drink.”
Since she had helped him, he explained. “I’m a hostage negotiator. I never know when I might be called, so I seldom drink.”
She nodded. “Seems I was right about you.”
“What do . . . ?” He broke off as she moved away. She’d heard him, but apparently wasn’t going to explain that comment. He took his seat.
When they returned to the station Saturday after the street fair, Diaz had told Rafael that Clarice had asked about him and told Diaz about the raffle. Now she’d changed their table. It appeared he had an ally. He was going to need all the help he could get.
Rafael saw Nathalyia the moment she stepped out of a door near the kitchen. His breath caught. His body tightened in response. No woman, and there had been quite a few, had ever affected him this way. She was grace and bea
uty in motion. He wanted her and he planned to have her. She paused as if fortifying herself, then continued.
She stopped by the bar, spoke to the same bald-headed bartender she’d talked with Friday night, then turned to the table where he’d first been seated. She stopped, her head lifting, searching for him.
Their gazes met, clung. His heart thumped. Her slim hand went to the triple strand of large pearls at her throat briefly, then she continued toward him. He hadn’t pegged her as the nervous type.
There was only one explanation. She felt the attraction between them just as he did, though she obviously wasn’t pleased and planned to fight her feelings. He wasn’t about to let that happen.
He stood when she was a few feet away and reached for the back of the chair next to him. She hesitated. Her gaze went to the chair across from him.
“Good morning, Nathalyia,” he greeted her to put her at ease. This morning she wore a fitted short-sleeve black dress with a wide belt low on her hips. Her lustrous black hair was in a sleek braid fastened with a black bow at the base of her slim neck. His fingers itched to take her hair down and caress her scalp with his fingertips while he leisurely kissed her glorious mouth.
“Good morning, Officer Dunlap,” she returned, her voice formal.
“Rafael, please.” He picked up the orchids. “These are for you.”
She looked startled, then pleased as she took the flowers. “For me?”
He was surprised by her reaction. As beautiful as she was, she must have received dozens of flowers in her life. “Yes. I know Saturday was exhausting and certainly wasn’t easy, yet you did it to help families and their children.”
“It was my late husband’s idea to help families, and my pleasure to carry on his work,” she said, her finger gliding over the tip of one thick white petal before her gaze returned to him. “Helping needy families has its own reward.”
“I agree.” He stepped behind the chair, giving her another hint.
Placing the flowers on the table, she sat.
“You have quite an extensive menu here.” He took his seat and picked up the menu. “I can see why the restaurant is so popular.”
