"Right," she said, smiling, trying to kiss his ear by standing on her tiptoes, "and that's where I'm picking up—where you left off."
He sighed. It was difficult to be mad at her when she aroused him so, even when he was mad. "Tell me more about the way you wanted to run into your old boyfriend," he prompted her, wanting to get that behind him before he made up his mind whether or not he was going to give in to his desire.
"Oh, you know," she said, "I'd rather have met him with you beside me, just to show him I could do better, and am doing better without him."
"Oh," Rafe answered, softening because the appeal of making love with her again was beginning to outweigh the anger he had been feeling a few minutes before. It could have been a chance meeting between them on the beach.
"Do you know what the best part was?" she asked, rubbing up against him, enticing him to forget everything but what was happening between the two of them.
"What?" he asked, giving in and kissing her, while his mind still lingered on that bobbing sail in the distance.
"I didn't feel the first twinge of feeling for him. Not even a flash of memory for the good times we shared."
Rafe relaxed against Lacey, pulling her tighter against him. If he couldn't trust her at her word, he couldn't trust any woman. This was one woman he wanted to trust with his life.
"Do you know why I think that was?" she was asking, still talking as she started to unbutton the shirt he had just put on, and unzip the jeans he had just climbed into.
"Why?" he asked, helping her with his clothes.
"We didn't ever have any good times. The good times were always in my imagination, dreams of what I wanted but never even came close to having. Until I met you, Rafe."
He couldn't stand it any longer. He stepped out of his jeans and hauled her against him, not even bothering to take her the distance to the bed. He started kissing her shoulder, letting his tongue swirl around to her soft breasts, and he took her down with him, laying her gently on the cushion of carpet, cradling her body as he kissed her. She tasted of salt and sea. Her body moved sensuously up to greet his, like the waves rushing in to take him.
She was wet and ready for him, as hot with desire as he was for her. Their coming together was like the crash of breakers against the shore. Rafe released his mind to the sensations she was causing as she held him deep within her.
Then they were both laughing and tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked when he could breathe again, ready to leave her.
"Oh, no. No," she said, smiling, shaking her head, pulling him back because she wanted to keep him with her as long as possible. "Don't leave me."
He kissed her, smoothing back her damp hair, wondering how he could ever have questioned her this morning. What would he do if she left him?
Their lovemaking that time had been shorter than ever before, but for both of them it had also been the most intense experience they had shared in each other's arms. Rafe rested his cheek against her left breast, and made up his mind he was just going to have to do something to ease his own mind about the permanency of Lacey in his life.
He wanted to tell her now what he was thinking, but he couldn't. It had to be something he gave a lot more thought to, as serious a step as he was deciding to take. And he had to take the proper steps about it. She wouldn't appreciate a run-of-the-mill approach from him about something so serious. It would take some planning to make it impossible for her to refuse.
He looked down at her flushed, smiling face and knew she meant the world to him. He wouldn't take losing her very lightly. And if he did lose her, it would take a long time to get over the memory of her.
Chapter Thirteen
Lacey thought the weekend with Rafe had gone well, in spite of Dominick's appearance on the beach. Rafe had taken the ex-boyfriend very well, she thought as she chewed on her drawing pencil in her office later that week. He hadn't seemed the least bit interested in what they had discussed, not the tiniest bit jealous.
She frowned. She didn't want to start playing games with him, but it would have been nice to have noticed a twinge of jealousy. Just the least little bit to know he cared enough about her not to want other men stealing her away.
Maybe he knew her too well already. Maybe just from the little time they had been together he had already guessed she was a one-man woman. She might flirt with other men and play their games, but she didn't follow through. The only time she followed through was when she was dead serious, and that was how she had felt about Rafe right from the beginning. Even at first she hadn't played her usual feminine games with him; she'd been right up front about her feelings.
Surely he had taken her to enough of his parties by now to know how she liked to play word games with other men. But he probably had already guessed all he had to do was catch her eye across a crowded room and she was ready to home to his side. Rafe was the only man she wanted. He was the one she was going to leave the room with and who would share her bed at night.
Some women might like the freedom of having affairs with other men, but not Lacey. She liked a man who made it clear how much he wanted to keep her. Dominick had given her too much freedom, because he wanted justification for his own affairs. Lacey wanted possession rather than permission.
Rafe could do with some improvement there, she decided, but that was just because of her own insecurity about what she meant to him. If he'd only tell her a little more often, or write a guidebook of hand signals so she could identify his body language.
But all in all, Lacey thought, the weekend had been fun. The time had flown past, and yet when she tried to tell the girls in the office what they had done, all she could say was "We went to a wedding, we ate, we walked on the beach." The girls had just looked at each other and smiled, filling in all the blank hours Lacey hadn't talked about. Lacey had just smiled with them, letting them think what they liked.
What Rafe had neglected to tell Lacey until after they had driven back to town late Sunday evening was that he had to leave again on another business trip. When her spirits sank and she asked why he hadn't told her sooner, he said, "That's why. Look at that pouting face. I like the smiling one I spent the weekend with better."
Lacey tried to smile, but her heart wasn't in it. He'd just been gone a week; now here he was leaving town again. "How long will you be gone this time?"
"A week, maybe two. I'm not sure," he answered.
Lacey bit her tongue to keep from badgering him. He never told her exactly what he was doing or how long he was going to be. He was always vague about time. Get used to it, she reminded herself, and think of the wonderful homecoming you can give him, time after time after. … "How many times after this?"
He shrugged. "You know I have to leave town periodically. Just the way you do."
"I wouldn't mind it so much if we could time our periodic trips to coincide with one another."
"We'll try that next time. I'll know sooner what I'm going to be doing after this trip."
"You're sure about that?" she asked, resigning herself to the few hours she still had to enjoy with him before he jetted off to only he knew where. She put her arms around his neck and sidled up to him.
"Positive."
Lacey barely heard his response as she kissed him. Trust Rafe. He knew what he was doing, and it always ended up making a lot of sense.
"Where are you going this time?"
"I'm going to be moving around," he answered, giving her the same vague answers that were his trademark. "I'll call you. I'll let you know where I am when I know."
"When you get home this time, how long will you be here before you leave town without me again?"
"As long as you want me to be," he answered. "As long as you put up with me."
"Oh," Lacey said, and smiled. "Then I give you my permission to go anywhere you need to go if that's what's going to happen when you get back. Of course, you know you don't need my permission to do anything you want to, Rafe."
"I know," he answered, and hugged her, and Lacey could tell by the intensity of the hug that her words had awed him.
But now here it was with nearly the entire week past and he had called her only once to tell her where he was, but he was checking out of that hotel the next morning. At least he had called. It showed he had her on his mind a little bit.
A very little bit, the agitated side of her answered. He could have sent her a postcard or a letter. She hadn't gotten one word from him after the initial deluge of letters he'd written to get her to go out with him the first time. Maybe she should frame those letters with a brass plaque underneath —Lifetime Writings of Rafe Chancellor to Lacey Adams. He'd started off so well; where had she gone wrong?
"Lacey." Jane was standing in the doorway of the office, trying to get her attention. "This just came for you, special delivery."
"What?" Lacey got up and met Jane halfway across the room to see what the flat package was.
"I signed for it. It looks important."
Lacey took the special-delivery letter from Jane's hands and turned it over. It was from some hotel in Chicago; wasn't that the place Rafe had said he was leaving when he had called her the other night?
She smiled, breaking a nail in the effort to open the flap.
"It's an airline ticket," she said, flipping through the package. "To Denver." She looked inside the envelope again, and a small note fell out. Lacey bent to the floor to pick it up.
"What does the note say?" Jane asked, trying to peer over Lacey's shoulder.
Lacey turned the note right-side-up and read, "I'll meet you. Love, Rafe."
Lacey couldn't stop grinning as she looked back at the airline ticket. That was just like Rafe, surprising her with something through the mail, from the first invitation for a date to the Stetson hat to this. She flipped open the airline ticket again to read it more closely.
"The twenty-third. That's tomorrow. Oh, blast," she moaned, looking at the details of the connecting flights.
"What's the matter?" Jane asked. "You are going, aren't you? You know we can handle the shop for as long as you need to be with Mr. Perfect."
"There's no return ticket," Lacey said, checking through all the documents. "It's just a one-way ticket."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. I guess. But as usual, he hasn't told me what to pack or for how long. He has given me nearly twenty-four hours notice this time. But who cares? I'll be with Rafe tomorrow night."
"Well, I don't see any problem with that," Jane said. "Why all this moaning and groaning?"
"It's just another one of those early-morning flights, that's all. You have to get up before the roosters do, and you're dead tired all day, and—"
"But you'll be with Rafe tomorrow night," Jane reminded her.
"I love it! I love him! What should I take?"
"I don't imagine the man would mind too much if you just showed up with nothing but your ticket," Jane said, grinning. "I think it's just the most romantic thing I've ever heard of."
Lacey hugged the ticket to her chest. "It is. I've never had someone just send me an airline ticket in the mail before with orders to 'meet me.' And he's even paying for the ticket!"
"Did you expect anything less from a man like Rafe?"
Lacey shook her head. "But you know some of the duds I've been out with. They've expected me to buy their rounds of beer."
"Don't forget that guy who expected you to get him an entire wardrobe cheap, because you design clothes."
"I forgot about him," Lacey said. "All he needed was a Hong Kong tailor, not a girlfriend."
"But he needed the tailor to get the girlfriend. Remember how poorly he dressed?"
Lacey was laughing now, planning the packing of her suitcases in her mind, with or without Rafe's suggestions. She'd better arrive prepared for anything where Rafe was concerned. She had at least learned that lesson.
The flight touched down in Denver twenty minutes early. Lacey tried to calm her nerves at the excitement of seeing Rafe again in just a few minutes, and let the more eager passengers get off the plane ahead of her. But when she couldn't stand the suspense any longer and there was a slight break in the line jamming the aisles for the exit door, she stood up with her carry-on bag and joined the line filing into the airport.
Ever since she had gotten the airline ticket yesterday, she had been picturing this meeting with Rafe. She assumed he would be waiting for her on the concourse. A man like Rafe would know how to get past all the red tape with or without a ticket, and he would be as eager to see her as she was to see him. He was probably getting worried right this moment because all those people had gotten off the plane ahead of her. He might be wondering and worrying right this minute if she had gotten the ticket, or if she had missed one of her connections, or if she was coming at all. She hurried through the tunnel of passageways to reassure him that all he had to do was call or write or send airline tickets and she'd turn up at his side, no questions asked, in any climate, at any time of the year.
She was smiling already, anticipating the delight on his face at seeing her again. He would probably be first in line, where he'd be able to help her right away with her luggage, the same way he had done on the flight from Atlanta. She shifted her bag on her shoulder and hoped her makeup looked acceptable.
Ten minutes later she was still hoping, but not about her appearance. She was hoping that Rafe would show up at all. Where was he?
Maybe she wasn't supposed to meet Rafe, but someone else, the same way he had sent the car for her on their first date. Or maybe someone was playing a practical joke on her—an expensive one. Very funny, leaving her stranded in another state. Damn, in a whole other part of the country. She wasn't even sure she could put her finger on where Colorado was on the map.
She glanced at the airport clocks again and reminded herself her flight had been early. He could have gotten tied up in traffic. He could have had an accident racing to see her. He could have forgotten he had even sent her the note and was right now on his way to Bangkok, for all she knew. Just wait until she never saw him again!
At this rate she might have no choice in never speaking to him again, she might never have the chance.
Lacey looked around at all the people hurrying to meet flights, check luggage, greet friends. Everyone had a purpose, everyone had someone or someplace to be. She didn't even have a Plan B. All she had was a canceled airline ticket and a note that had read—could she have misinterpreted it?—I'll meet you.
Sure.
Lacey sat down and wondered whom she could call. Rafe worked out of his home, so there was no office she could call to check on his whereabouts. He never informed his housekeeper where he was going to be, and only rarely indicated when he was coming back. Damn the man for being so mysterious!
She could call her office, just in case he had left a message for her there. But everyone would be gone by now, even with the time difference. Lacey searched in her purse for coins to make a longdistance call and spent fifteen minutes trying to find a shop where she could buy a magazine so that she could get some change for the phone. Damn credit cards, she thought. They don't fit into pay phones. Someone needs to invent a Redi-Dime for phone emergencies. All this time she had spent looking for change, Rafe could have been looking for her, she thought, hurrying back to the phones near the arrival area of her flight.
Sure, she told herself. He's so worried he's missed me, he's gotten the airline to make an announcement about meeting him under the palm tree next to the Coke machine on Concourse B at 1500 hours. She'd kept her ears tuned for such messages and hadn't heard a word. But that did give her an idea.
She stepped over to the airline counter and asked about making an announcement and gave the ticket agent the message: "Rafe Chancellor, will you please meet your party of one at the phones near Gate Twelve?"
She had always wanted to have herself paged at a hotel, just so people could turn their heads and say, "Who was that girl?" But it
felt a little intimidating in an airport, where nobody cared, especially the absent party who was supposed to be meeting her.
Lacey put her coin in the slot of the phone and dialed Jane's home number. "Hi," she said casually, not ready to let anyone else know how worried she was getting. If someone said "Poor baby" to her she'd start crying, airport page or no airport page.
"Lacey, is that you?"
"Uh-huh." She swallowed, trying to keep the tears from blurring the numbers on the phone. "How did today go?"
"Just fine. I told you we could do without you. That's a joke, of course, but everything was okay. How's Denver?"
"Oh, just real Coloradoish," Lacey answered. She could be in Junction City, Kansas, for all she knew what Colorado was like at this point. It looked like any other airport. "Did I get any phone calls or any messages?" she asked.
"No more than the usual, and we took care of them."
"How about mail? Anything important?"
"No. I don't think so. We opened everything."
"Oh."
"Why?"
"Just wondered. Okay. Well, have a good weekend."
"You too," Jane said with more enthusiasm than Lacey thought she would ever feel again. "And we'll see you when we see you."
That might be a lot sooner than you think, Lacey thought, hanging up, wondering what her own Plan B was going to be, since Rafe wasn't here—twenty minutes after the flight was supposed to have arrived.
She walked back over to the gate area, her eyes scanning everyone in the concourse, as she asked herself: What would I do if I were Lacey Adams and wasn't met at the flight I was supposed to have been met at? He had written: "I'll meet you."
She stepped up to the airline counter and asked the agent when the next flight left that would connect her back to her home on the Gulf Coast. Tomorrow morning—early. Lacey sighed. She didn't think she could take two of those sunrise flights in a row. She also didn't relish the idea of spending the weekend in Denver alone. But if Rafe didn't turn up tonight, there was nothing she could do but play darts with the listing of hotels nearest the airport and sleep off this experience. She asked about directions to the nearest hotel and kept that information in the back of her mind, just in case. She'd give him an hour—from the time the flight was supposed to have landed—and then she'd write him off for the night, for the weekend, maybe forever, unless he came up with a really inventive excuse about where he was right now.
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