by Unknown
“If I leave, how can I make sure you’re sleeping?” He picked up a small chair by the fireplace and placed it a few feet away from the bed. He paused before sitting. “You kept the rose.”
“It was the last thing you gave me,” she told him.
“Have you made an appointment to see the doctor?” he asked.
“No.” She played with the top bedsheet. “Although I know I’m pregnant, sometimes it’s like, if a doctor doesn’t confirm it, it might be a mistake.”
He leaned forward and took her hand. “The past couple of weeks haven’t been easy for you.”
She almost lied, but if they were to develop a friendship beyond the bedroom, she had to be honest. “I worried about what kind of parent I’ll make. How I’ll manage the restaurant later on and take care of the baby.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“I know.”
“Enough talking.” Standing, he lifted the covers so she could scoot down farther. He tucked her in. “Close your eyes and go to sleep. I’m here.”
She wished he were in bed with her, holding her. “Good night.”
“Night, Nat.”
Nathalyia turned on her side away from him, but she didn’t close her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder and found him looking at her. “You should be in bed.”
“I’m fine. Go to sleep.” The light went out.
She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The full moon and drawn drapes allowed her to make him out. “You can’t sleep in that chair and I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re uncomfortable.” She scooted over, keeping her back to him. “This bed is big enough for both of us.”
Seconds stretched into minutes. She looked over her shoulder. Sitting up, she snapped on the lamp on the night table, then picked up a magazine.
“What are you doing?”
“Either we both sleep or we both stay awake.” She went back to the restaurant industry magazine. “I’ve been meaning to read this article for a week.”
“You know you’re just being stubborn.”
“I could say the same thing about you,” she said and began reading.
“Move over.”
Placing the magazine back on the table, she scooted farther over in bed. She felt the bed dip. The light went out. “Good night.”
After a long moment, she heard him say, “Night.”
Closing her eyes, she clasped the pillow under her head, wishing it were Rafael.
Rafael lay on top of the sheet. He’d removed his shoes. Anything else was asking for trouble. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep his mind from thinking about the woman he wanted and how close to him she was. He wasn’t afraid of his own death. He couldn’t be and remain effective. Yet he knew the possibility was there, just as every policeman did. He hadn’t counted on a family, but he had one anyway.
He heard a whimper from beside him. His heart squeezed in his chest. Nathalyia was turned toward him, her body huddled in a fetal position, her eyes closed. Throwing back the sheet, he pulled her into his arms.
“Shhh. It’s all right,” he kept repeating, rocking her, kissing her hair. She burrowed into him. The trembling of her body gradually eased and so did the death grip she had on his shirt.
Finally, her even breathing told him she was asleep. He could release her. He told himself he didn’t want to because she might wake up. He pulled the cover over them. If a raging hard-on was the price he had to pay to ensure she had a good night’s sleep, he’d gladly pay the price.
. . .
Nathalyia woke up in Rafael’s arms. She smiled to herself, feeling the bulge against her hips, and snuggled closer. He stiffened. At once the night came crashing back.
She shut her eyes tighter to keep the stinging moisture at bay. Moving away, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Not giving herself time to dwell on her unhappiness, she took a bath. When she came out in her robe, he was gone. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she dressed and went downstairs.
She entered the kitchen to find him sitting at the large breakfast table, which looked out to the east gardens. On the table was a glass of orange juice and two slices of toast.
“Good morning. I can go get you something, but I didn’t want to leave until you came down.”
“I’m not very hungry, but thank you.” She rubbed her hand on her slacks.
“It’s important that you eat,” he said.
A stiff smile on her face, she said, “I know. I’m fully capable of taking care of my baby.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “It’s mine as well. Maybe we should get married.”
“We had this conversation last night. You don’t love me, do you?” His silence wounded her just as much as his words had last night. She tried not to let it show on her face. After all, she’d known what his answer would be, but she realized that deep in her heart she thought that after last night he might have realized he loved her.
“Neither one of us expected this,” he finally answered.
“Of course.” She dragged her hand though her hair. “It’s better this way. A child shouldn’t grow up feeling unloved or in the way.” Her hand fisted on her stomach. “I couldn’t stand that.”
He looked at her for a long time. “Is that how you grew up?”
Her eyes widened. His accurate assessment caught her by surprise. She started to retreat from the truth as she’d always done, then decided the truth might help him accept and understand her decision.
She took a seat in one of the chairs. “I have a confession to make. Both of my parents aren’t dead, and I’m not an only child.” She frowned. His expression didn’t change as he took a seat beside her. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. You have a very open face.”
Her frown didn’t clear. “Yet you said nothing.”
“It wasn’t my right to dig,” he replied.
She understood. “And since neither of us planned for this to last, it didn’t matter.”
“No.”
The pain deepened. She glanced away. “I guess I’m like them just like she said.”
“They who? Like whom?”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her head. “My mother never even came close to marrying any of the three men who fathered her three different children. My two older sisters each have children by two different men.” She clasped her hands tighter.
“I made myself a promise that I’d never be like them, being passed from one man to the other, hoping for ‘the big score’ as they called it.” Her head lowered. “They saw the baby as a meal ticket, and when that didn’t materialize, a nuisance.”
“You’re nothing like that, could never be,” Rafael told her, anger in every line of his body. “You would never see your child that way. You have an amazing capacity for love. You care about people.”
But very few adults love me in return. She stood. “I need to go to work.”
“You need to rest.” His brows knitted.
“Thanks to you, I did.” Leaving the kitchen, she went to the front door. “Goodbye, Rafael.”
He didn’t move. “I don’t want us to be polite strangers.”
“Then we won’t be.” She glanced at her watch and opened the door. “I don’t want to be late.”
He stopped when he was even with her. “What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I’ll call.”
“All right.”
He started out the door again, only to stop and look back at her for a long moment before continuing to his car parked at the curb.
Refusing to cry, Nathalyia closed the door and started toward the stairs. She’d cried enough.
NINETEEN
Rafael got into his car and just sat there. What had he
done? He’d seen the sheen of tears in Nathalyia’s eyes that she refused to give in to. She was hurting. Hell, what decent, honest woman wouldn’t be in her situation?
It didn’t do any good reminding himself that he should have walked away. He hadn’t and now she was going to have his baby.
A baby!
He rubbed his face and felt the tightness in his chest. He’d never thought of being a father. Yet there was no way he wouldn’t be there for his child and for Nathalyia. To do that, he had to somehow get his desire for her under control. Continuing the affair would be selfish and irresponsible. He never wanted a family to worry about him. Yet whether he was married to Nathalyia or not, that was going to happen.
He pulled away from the curb and headed home. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with his brothers, but knew he’d have no choice.
Twenty minutes later, he turned onto his street. Several houses away, he saw the metallic gray truck in his driveway. He parked on the other side of Sam’s truck in the double driveway of the detached garage.
They’d all had keys since he’d never changed the locks on the house, but his four brothers sat on the rattan furniture his mother prized. He winced and got out. She’d be ashamed of him. His father even more so. They’d been taught from an early age to honor and take care of women.
He hadn’t.
Rafael wasn’t feeling too pleased with himself at the moment either. He’d prided himself on swaying people to his way of thinking. He’d failed last night and this morning with Nathalyia. The hard question he had yet to answer was: Had he tried hard enough to get her to marry him, or subconsciously had he thought that if they were married and something happened to him, it would be harder for her?
He slowly went up the wooden steps and unlocked the front door. “Anyone want coffee?”
“No, thanks,” came the response from his brothers.
Rafael continued to the kitchen, the place where many of the family decisions were held. He pulled out a chair that allowed him a view of the marshes and ocean beyond. Before she became pregnant, he had begun to toy with the idea of bringing Nathalyia here. He could easily visualize them walking along the beach holding hands or sitting on the back porch relaxing, just as his parents had done.
“Did you change your mind about getting married?” Sam asked. His big brother was never one to shy away from the tough subjects.
“No.”
“Why?” Again Sam spoke. Apparently Patrick, Simon, and Alec were content at the present to let Sam handle things.
“Lots of reasons.” Rafael watched a seagull glide on the wind above a sailboat. He and Nathalyia had planned to go sailing the week she’d told him she was pregnant.
“Rafael?” Sam pressed.
“We care about each other, but we don’t love each other,” Rafael finally answered. “She thinks we’d end up hating each other if we got married. More important, it would ruin the child’s life.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Patrick said. “Women get moody sometimes when they’re pregnant.”
“Her home life growing up wasn’t like ours, and that’s all I’m going to say.” It still made Rafael angry to think she compared herself to her mother and sisters.
“You’re a persuasive man, Rafael. You proved that by pursuing Nathalyia when she didn’t seem interested,” Alec pointed out. “So, what’s the difference this time?”
“I never planned to get married.” Rafael looked at Simon sitting across from him. “I don’t want an officer knocking on her door to tell her I won’t be coming home.”
“You’re sure that’s the only reason?” Sam asked. “I’m sure,” Rafael said. “And before you ask, I plan to be a part of the baby’s life.”
“From a distance?” Patrick commented, his displeasure obvious in the stern set of his mouth.
“If she needs me, I’ll be there.” With Patrick’s wife pregnant, Rafael understood his brother’s annoyance with him. He wouldn’t let Nathalyia or his baby down.
Patrick looked at Sam, then Simon. “Does Helen or Maureen always tell you when they’re bothered or not feeling well?”
“No,” the brothers answered.
“Add Celeste’s name to the list.” Alec shook his dark head. “She’s as independent as they come, and thinks she can take care of everything herself. Her reasoning is that she doesn’t want to worry me. I worry about her anyway.”
“Exactly,” Patrick continued. “When Brianna is at work, knowing she’ll be home later makes my day better. Since she’s pregnant, I don’t relax completely until she is home, until I hold her, and know she and our baby are all right.”
“No matter how many times I tell Celeste not to drive up here at night from Charleston, she continues to.” Alex grimaced. “I worry about her driving back in the morning. My transfer can’t come soon enough.”
“Phone calls aren’t going to do it for you,” Sam predicted. “I don’t mind saying, you wouldn’t be the man I’m proud to call my brother if they were.”
Rafael turned to Sam. “Even after what’s happened?”
Sam affectionally clasped him on the shoulder. “Things happen for a reason. You and Nathalyia just have to figure out, once the shock wears off, what happens next.”
“You think that’s marriage?” Rafael didn’t have to look at his brothers to know they all felt the same way.
“Honestly, yes.” Sam stared at Rafael. “But that’s a decision for you and Nathalyia.”
“There won’t be a wedding,” Rafael said.
Sam stood. The other brothers followed. “I’ve lived long enough to learn that life has a way of changing people’s minds.”
“Not this time,” Rafael said.
“We’ll see.” Sam continued out the door with his brothers. They all climbed into his truck. Backing out of the drive, Sam drove away.
Rafael went back inside to shower. He loved and respected his brothers, but this wasn’t going to turn out the way they wanted. He just wished he didn’t have this unsettling feeling in his gut that he was missing something.
Clarice walked from the parking lot early the next morning with a huge grin on her face. Jake hadn’t left her apartment until almost four. She should be tired, but being with him was exhilarating. They hadn’t made love, but they had come close. As usual, Jake had been the one to pull back. He’d said he wanted her to be sure. Telling him that she was hadn’t convinced him.
She finally realized why she sought him out while they were at work, why she liked to tease him. She cared deeply for him. She was on the brink of falling in love for all the right reasons—not just to have a man—and it felt wonderful.
If possible, her grin widened. It was fantastic being able to tease the man who held your heart in the gentle palm of his hand, as well as to get him so turned on that he forgot everything except pleasing each other.
Jake was still a little hung up on the difference in their ages and, despite his being one of the most self-confident men she’d ever met, he worried that his scar bothered her. Her smile faded and she had to stop.
Tears mixed with anger clouded her eyes. Tears for what he had to go through, tears for him thinking he was less because of the scar, anger at the ignorant people who had made him feel that way.
“Did Theresa mess up?” Clarice turned to see Nathalyia staring at her. “Or did you and Jake have an argument?”
Clarice still didn’t understand why Nathalyia kept a troublemaker like Theresa, but she had more important things to think about—like driving Jake to the edge again tonight.
“No, I can handle her.” Jake was right, Nathalyia had enough on her mind. Clarice looped her arm through Nathalyia’s and continued toward the back door. “As for Jake and me, we’re doing fine. How about you?”
“Hopefully getting there, but I’m tired of talking about me,” Nathalyia said. “I’m glad about you and Jake. A good man deserves a good woman.”
About to punch in the code, Clarice straightened.
“Thank you.”
“Just telling it the way I see it.” Nathalyia punched in the code and opened the door. “You ready for the private party?”
“Yes.” Clarice stepped though the door Nathalyia held open. “Thanks for selecting me.”
“I always want the best for private parties. That’s you. Besides, you’re doing me a favor by coming in on your day off.” Nathalyia closed the door. “Serving thirty women, as you know, can be challenging.”
“I’m up to it.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the bar. “Besides, there are certain perks.”
Nathalyia smiled. “Go on. He probably can’t wait to see you.”
Clarice was already moving. “Later.” She stepped around the corner and saw Jake immediately. Her heart did a little dance. His back was to her as he reached up to place bottles of liquor on the display above the bar. His jeans cupped his rear, his white shirt stretched over his chiseled back and broad shoulders. He was built, and all hers.
He turned, saw her, and stopped. From thirty feet away she saw the flare of desire in his blue eyes. Her body reacted; her nipples hardened. Somehow, she made her legs move and went around the bar. All the while, he watched her like he wanted to strip her naked and do wild erotic things to her. “Hi,” she managed, when she could draw enough air into her lungs.
“I thought I could handle this,” he said. “It’s getting harder and harder.”
“What is it?” she asked, reaching out to brush her hand down his arm.
“I see you and I want you,” he growled.
She smiled provocatively at him despite the desire surging through her, the need. “Same here, and, in spite of that, I want to be near you, have you chew on me.”
His eyes seared her. She sucked in her breath. “There’s something on the shelf in the storage room I can’t reach. Maybe you can help me.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked away. She heard him following and smiled.
“I don’t see why I wasn’t asked to work the party,” Theresa said, her hand planted on Nathalyia’s desk.
