by Unknown
Yet there had also been those rare, wonderful moments when he’d been unable to hide his desire for her. But desire wasn’t love.
Shoving her hand though her hair, she went to her desk. She’d drive herself crazy if she kept thinking about the situation she’d placed them in. She’d made a horrible decision and there was nothing she could do to try and fix it until Rafael was better. According to the doctor, that wouldn’t be for several days. She just had to be patient until then.
Her office door opened behind her. Frowning, she turned to see Theresa. The surprise on her face was obvious. “Why were you coming into my office?”
“I thought you might have a comb,” she said, her hand going to her wig, this one a sleek bob.
“Your hair looks fine.”
“Really?” Smiling, she touched her hair again. “This is a new look for me, and I guess I’m kind of nervous. I’m trying to be the best waitress I can.”
Her explanation sounded plausible, but Nathalyia wasn’t sure she believed Theresa.
“You don’t look too hot.” Theresa folded her arms. “The cop didn’t welcome you with open arms, did he?”
Nathalyia didn’t want to talk about it, especially with Theresa, who never had anything good to say about the baby or Rafael. “I have an extra comb in the bathroom. I’ll get it for you.”
Theresa crossed to her and lightly touched her shoulder. “It’s all right if you’re ashamed. It sucks when a man turns his back on you, but I tried to warn you.”
Nathalyia went to the bathroom and returned with the comb. “You should get back to work.”
Theresa’s lips, painted a bright red, tightened. “The sooner you accept that you’re just like me and Paula, the better off you’ll be. Men use us; they don’t love us.”
Nathalyia stared into Theresa’s cold, calculating eyes. “You’re wrong. I will never be like you, Paula, or Mama. I love the father of my baby. I didn’t go out with him because I thought I could get something out of it, and I’m not running to another man hoping he’ll make me feel better about myself. And when I have our baby, it will know that I love and want it. I won’t teach it to hate its father, nor will I blame and hate it for the decisions I made.”
“You can say that because you have money.” Theresa lashed back, her voice trembling with anger. “You don’t have to worry about food or rent like we did. You have that big house and never invited me over. Not once. It hurts when you care more for Jake and Clarice.”
“Because they’ve proven they care for me. You’ve never asked how I felt since you’ve known about the baby. You just keep telling me what an awful mistake I’m making,” Nathalyia told her.
“Because you are! Jake and Clarice are probably painting this rosy picture, but they’ve never been really poor like we have. You have it made, but if this restaurant fails, you and the baby will be on the street.” Theresa shook her head. “You can’t have both. I don’t want to see you lose all this and end up with nothing.”
“I’ll have my restaurant and my baby,” Nathalyia told her fiercely.
“But not the father of the baby,” Theresa tossed in. “A man that good-looking wouldn’t have stayed faithful for long anyway. He probably misses the sex, but once his old girlfriends hear he’s been shot and how he played the hero, he’ll be swamped with so many women he’ll forget about you.”
Not wanting Theresa to see how much her words echoed her deepest fear, Nathalyia turned toward her desk. She wanted Rafael to want to be with her because he loved her, not out of obligation and duty, once she told him about the baby. “Jake is probably looking for you.”
“You never listened when you were growing up either. Just remember, we’re sisters and I’ll always be here for you and tell you the truth even when you don’t want to hear it,” Theresa said. “I know what it is to hurt like you’re hurting because a man you care about has moved on. Clarice and Jake don’t have a clue. I’ll check on you before I leave tonight.” Theresa closed the door, and took a deep breath.
That was close. Theresa had thought Nathalyia was still gone. Good thing she didn’t go in earlier or she might have been caught rifling through her desk for the petty cash box. It turned out good anyway.
She was able to plant more doubts about the cop, but she had wanted to slap Nathalyia a time or two. She thought she was so much better than Theresa. She couldn’t let her anger get the best of her. She had to play this cool and keep Nathalyia off balance. Marrying the cop would blow Theresa’s plans to hell.
The moment Helen arrived home and saw Rafael’s face she knew her plan hadn’t worked. He looked lost and lonely. Standing beside him, Sam stared at his feet.
“I know you did it to help me, but please don’t interfere again. She has her life and I have mine,” Rafael said. “Sam is going to take me home.”
“No.” Helen quickly went to him. “Get mad at me, but don’t do this.”
“I’m not mad at you.” He curved his right arm around her shoulders, held her close. “I just want to be by myself. Walk on the beach.”
Fighting tears, she looked at him. The kind of pain that no pill could ease stared back at her. “Who will take care of you?”
“I’ll be fine,” Rafael told her. “I called a nursing agency and hired someone to change my bandage daily.”
Anger flared in her eyes. She straightened. “You do that, Rafael Dunlap, and I’ll never cook for you again. Plus it will break my heart.”
“He wouldn’t do that, would you, Rafael?” Sam said softly, but there was no mistaking the bite in his voice.
“Never.” Rafael rubbed his forehead. “I can’t be what she wants and needs. You have to understand that.”
Helen opened her mouth, but Sam touched her arm and shook his head. “All right, now go lie down while I fix supper.”
“She left food in the refrigerator,” Rafael said.
She, not Nathalyia. “Would you like that or chicken tacos?” It was the quickest and the most opposite to seafood she could think of.
“Tacos.”
“Go to bed,” she told him. “I’ll take you home myself in a few days when you’re feeling better and can handle a can opener.”
The corners of his mouth tilted upward slightly. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Will you cancel the nurse for me?”
“Yes, and thank you,” she told him.
He hugged her again. “I know you did it because you love me, but no more interfering.”
“All right,” she said slowly.
Straightening, Rafael slowly went back to his bedroom. Helen went into Sam’s waiting arms. “I made it worse.”
“You made him see and realize what he’s missing.” Sam kissed her on the cheek, and curved his arms around her waist.
“I only hope she’s doing better than he is,” Helen said.
“From the frantic way she was last night, I wouldn’t put money on it.”
“I started this. I’ll go into the kitchen and call her.” Pushing out of his arms, Helen pulled her cell phone from her handbag and punched in Nathalyia’s number. She answered on the third ring. Helen circled her arm around her waist. Nathalyia sounded as lost and as lonely as Rafael had looked.
“Nathalyia, this is Helen. I—I’m sorry.”
There was a slight pause. “Don’t be. I did this.”
Helen’s antenna went up. “Why do you think that?”
“Nothing. But could you please do me a favor and let me know when he’s well?”
Helen reached out her hand to Sam, who had followed her into the kitchen. “Of course.”
“I’d also like to send Barron’s family some gift certificates to eat at Fontaine. Would you mind picking them up? I’ll leave them with your name on the envelope at the hostess station.”
“Not at all. That’s thoughtful of you,” Helen told her. “When I went by the hospital before I came home, his wife said he’s stable.”
“That’s good news. Thanks for the call.”
“Goodbye.”
Helen turned to Sam. “It isn’t over between them. Come on, help me cook. We’ll talk later.”
Sam went to the sink and washed his hands. “Good news or bad?”
Helen glanced toward the hallway. “Heaven only knows.”
He was a weak man. Two weeks after he’d last seen Nathalyia, Rafael blew out a breath and climbed out of his car in front of her house. When she’d called that afternoon asking if he could come over later tonight to talk, he should have said no. But the slight trembling in her voice tugged at his heart, no matter how he wished otherwise.
She probably just wanted to see that he was well. His wounds had healed and the bruising on his chest had disappeared. The doctor had cleared him to drive, and he was returning to work in two weeks. He’d reassure her, and then he was out of there and going back home, where he hoped he’d sleep better.
Nearing the door, he saw her pacing in the entryway. The ability to see inside still bothered him, unbreakable glass or not. He stepped onto the porch. By the time he reached the door, she was there.
“I thought you might have changed your mind.”
“I was talking to Barron. He’s out of ICU and on a regular floor,” he explained.
“I heard. Please come in.” Stepping back, she waved him to a seat in the den. “That night the doctor said you made the difference.”
Rafael shook his head and sat on the teal leather sofa. “There was no indication that things would go bad.”
“Then how did they know you were the police?” she asked.
“Bad luck.” Rafael blew out a breath. “We learned later from an informant that a friend of theirs happened to see the police cars and our transport and called them.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I want to be there when they find and arrest him.”
“I always thought being a policeman was more than just a job for you. You like what you do. You like helping people.”
“Yeah. I guess it’s in the blood. I have no intention or desire to do anything else.”
“I guess not.” She rubbed her hands on her pants, then stood. “I’m sorry. Would you like anything to drink?”
“No, thanks. You said this wouldn’t take long.”
“That’s right.” She looked at him, then away. “This is difficult.”
“You said that before,” he reminded her.
“Yes.” She stepped away from him. “I also remember telling myself that you might hate me for what I was about to tell you. The same goes for this time as well.”
Rafael came to his feet. “What is it?”
“You’re the father of my baby. There was no procedure.”
EIGHTEEN
“What?” Shock radiated though him.
“I lied. I thought it was the only way.” She twisted her hands together. “We were just dating. Neither of us expected a baby. I didn’t want to trap you, but the night of the shooting, I realized how wrong I was. You deserve to know you’re going to be a father.”
Rafael felt his legs tremble. He plopped back in the chair. His gaze locked on her stomach. “We were careful.”
“It doesn’t appear to have mattered,” she told him and eased down on the sofa across from him. “I can understand you might have some doubt since I’ve changed my story, but the procedure to test for paternity is dangerous for the baby. We’ll have to wait until the baby is born.”
Baby. His hand scrubbed over his face. He stared at hers. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was telling him the truth this time. “I believe you.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you.”
“How—how far along are you?” he asked.
“About six weeks, as close as I can tell.”
Lines radiated across his forehead. “You haven’t been to a doctor.”
She shook her head. “I took a pregnancy test.”
He shot out of his chair. “Then you might not be pregnant.”
“There are other signs.” She twisted in her seat. “I’m pregnant.”
Blowing out a breath, he looked skyward. “When do you want to get married?”
“I don’t want to get married, and neither do you,” she said. “You made that clear.”
“We don’t have a choice. Dunlap men take care of their responsibilities.” He forged on adamantly.
“If I weren’t pregnant, would you have asked me to marry you?”
She deserved the truth. “No, but then I didn’t plan to ever marry. My job is too dangerous. The shooting proved I made the right decision. It wouldn’t be fair to the woman or any children we might have.” His jaw tightened. “I won’t put any woman through what Barron’s wife is going through.”
“I understand.” She came to her feet. “I’m your worst nightmare.”
“Don’t say that,” he told her.
“It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”
He studied her, saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes. “Have you been sleeping all right?”
“I don’t require very much sleep.” She went to the door. “Good night, Rafael. Thank you for coming.”
“Why don’t you want to get married?” he asked.
“Because we don’t love each other, and you just said you never wanted to get married. Good sex isn’t enough to sustain a marriage, and the child would suffer,” she told him. “I hope you’ll want to be a part of the baby’s life, but of course I won’t ask for any financial support.”
Her reasoning made sense, but for some odd reason her easy acceptance annoyed the hell out of him. Without a word, he went through the door she held open. He didn’t stop until he was by his car. Instead of getting inside, he pulled his cell and dialed Sam’s number.
“The baby that Nathalyia’s carrying is mine,” he said as soon as his brother answered. “Tell Helen she was right.”
Laughter came through the phone. “Helen, get in here. Congratulations. Looks like you’ll need a tux for yourself.”
“There won’t be any wedding.”
“And why not?” Sam asked sharply.
“Like Nathalyia said, we don’t love each other,” Rafael said. “Marriage would be a disaster. I’ll be a part of the baby’s life.”
“You know how we all feel about a man taking responsibility, especially if he’s a father,” Sam continued.
“Just let me handle this. I’d rather be grilled once. All of you can come over to my house in the morning around nine. I’m staying here tonight.” Rafael stared toward the house. “She hasn’t been sleeping. She will tonight.”
“That’s the Rafael we all know and love,” Helen said. “Now, go take care of your family. Bye, and thanks for the call.”
Your family. Rafael never thought those two words would have any association or connection to him. He’d planned his life. Nowhere in it was there a family.
Rafael started back up the walk. Through the glass door, he saw Nathalyia sitting on the bottom step of the stairs with her head in her hands. He’d caused that. He’d only meant to—what? His mind stumbled. What had he planned for them?
He knew from that first kiss she wasn’t experienced. He should have walked away. In the past, he’d only dated women who knew what to expect—hot sex and short goodbyes.
With Nathalyia it had been different. Leaving never entered his mind. It wasn’t a matter of making a conquest; he’d simply wanted to be with her and earn her trust.
Reaching over, he rang the doorbell, his gaze still on her. Her head came up sharply. He watched the smile form on her face, then saw it disappear. Standing, she quickly crossed the room.
“Are you all right?’ Her searching gaze ran over him.
“I’m fine.” He stepped inside, closing and locking the door before turning to her. “It’s you. Tonight you’re going to sleep.” Go take care of your family. The words resonated in his head just as they had when Helen said them.
Grabbing h
er hand, he started up the stairs. “My turn to take care of you.”
“You should be home resting.”
Ignoring her, he continued up the stairs and pushed the bedroom door open. Memories hit him of the last time they were in this room, the wide bed, the pleasure. Shaking the thoughts away, he went to the bed. “Please sit down.”
Sighing, she perched on the side of the bed. Bending, he removed her heels, thought of her doing the same thing for him. “I’ll never understand how women can stay in these things all day.”
“You really don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. Tonight, you sleep.” He rose to his feet. “Which drawer is your gown in?”
“In the middle drawer of the dresser. but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to undress me.”
His mouth quirked. “Pity.”
Her lips almost curved upward.
He went to the dresser instead of leaning down and kissing her as he wanted to. Tonight wasn’t for him. Opening the drawer, he picked up the first gown he saw. Thankfully, it was long and made of cotton. He handed it to her. “I’ll step outside for a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Nathalyia lowered her head as soon as the door closed. Her emotions were all over the place. She had been so wrong. She’d thought he’d insist on marriage. He had proposed, but it had been because of duty, not love. Despite her being concerned that he’d think she was trying to trap him, she couldn’t push aside the feeling of hurt.
“Nathalyia.”
She started. “Just a minute.” Standing, she headed for the bathroom, the gown in her hand. Quickly undressing, she put on the gown and hung up her clothes. Removing the pins from her hair, she placed them on the vanity, brushed her hair, and then her teeth.
“Nat.”
“Almost there.” Rinsing her mouth, she hurried back to the bed, pulled the duvet to the foot of the bed, and climbed in. “Ready.”
The door opened. Rafael’s gaze swept the bed. “Where are your clothes?”
“I hung them up,” she said, then hurried on. “Habit.”
Something hot flared in his eyes. Both knew there had been times when she had cared less about her clothes. “I’m in bed, so you can let yourself out.”
