Fight for Love

by Delaney Diamond

  It was possible Ricardo had seen the replayed matches on television without her permission. It could even be from the occasional commercials Rafael shot. Since retiring from wrestling, he endorsed a variety of products. In addition, he’d licensed his name on a chain of gyms on the west coast.

  “He’s a boy,” Rafael said. “When I was his age, I was curious about fighting. He could have found out about me—my persona—from one of his friends at school. It’s natural for boys to be into that kind of thing.”

  Rebekah knew he was right, but she had no interest in fighting and tried to limit her young son’s exposure to violence. The idea of co-parenting with Rafael was daunting, and she had no idea what kind of parent he would be. He deserved the opportunity to play that role, but she’d had Ricardo to herself for eight years. She would have to relinquish any hard feelings she harbored toward Rafael and allow him to participate in all aspects of his son’s life. Her only fear was that their parenting styles would be so different he would undo everything she’d taught their son.

  “About California,” she began, “what did you have in mind?”

  “He could come spend the summer with me in L.A.”

  “I don’t know, Rafe. The entire summer is a bit much. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? We’ll see how he handles finding out you’re his father, and then we’ll go from there.”

  “Rebekah, I’m asking for one summer.” The underlying accusation being she had robbed him of eight years.

  A tug of war for Ricardo’s time had already begun. He didn’t even consider they may already have plans. “I understand, but I was thinking about taking him to St. Kitts to see relatives this summer. I think it would be better if we put off this conversation until later.”

  St. Kitts was a small island nation in the Caribbean where her mother was from. As children, she, Samirah, and their older brother, Adam, spent their summers there. As the years passed, they visited less frequently, but she wanted her son to be aware of his Caribbean roots. The last time he visited was at the age of five, and he hardly remembered his time there.

  “All right,” Rafael agreed. Rebekah eyed him suspiciously. That was almost too easy. “Are you ready?”

  Nodding, Rebekah resigned herself to what was to take place. There was no point in a delay. That didn’t keep the bundle of knots in her stomach from reappearing, and she wondered how she would make it through the difficult explanation without looking like a villain.

  As they neared the staircase, she turned to Rafael. “Wasn’t there something you said you needed to tell me?” she asked.

  Rafael looked intently at her, as if trying to gauge how to say what he was holding. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I came here to tell you when we signed the divorce papers nine years ago, there was a problem at the courthouse. Our papers were never filed. Legally, you’re still my wife.”

  Chapter Three

  Rafael could relate to the stunned look on Rebekah’s face. Her expressive, cocoa-colored eyes held a look of such bewilderment, he was certain she would collapse at any moment. No doubt he’d had a similar expression when his attorney had informed him of the error.

  She reached wildly for the wooden handrail of the staircase for support. He grasped onto her instead, holding her steady just above her elbow. The softness of her skin sent shock waves through him.

  “Take a seat,” he said firmly, escorting her to the carpeted stairs where she collapsed with a thump.

  He needed a seat, too. The simple act of touching her arm had caused his heart rate to accelerate way too fast. His body recognized hers right away. When he released her, his fingertips still burned with the memory.

  She had gained weight over the years, but it had settled in all the right places. Her hips were rounder and more pronounced. Her waist, though not as small as before, was still spannable with his two hands.

  Her breasts were definitely fuller. He struggled not to stare at them in the little pink tank top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her large nipples protruded against the thin material. She hated the size of her nipples, but he’d always loved them, and how sensitive they were. The sound of her moans as he sucked them and stroked them with the tip of his tongue had been music to his ears. He would kill to pull one into his mouth right now.

  “Tell me this is some kind of sick joke,” she whispered, looking up at him as if she really expected him to take back what he’d said.

  She wasn’t wearing any makeup, allowing her natural beauty to shine through. Rafael swallowed. He could tell she had been working in the yard. The muskiness of her feminine scent wafted up into his nostrils. He turned his back on her, trying hard to maintain his composure and erase the underlying smell of a familiar tropical fragrance that lingered to tantalize his senses.

  “I wish I could,” he said. When he felt strong enough, he faced her once more. “My attorney explained it to me. Nine years ago, the clerk responsible for our case accidentally clipped it to the back of another case, so it was never signed by the judge. The misfiling was discovered a couple of years later during an audit, but they were never able to find either of us. Since we never responded to the notices, our case was dismissed.”

  She stared up at him, eyes still opened wide in shock. Both her upper and lower lashes were long and curled, forming a frame around almond-shaped eyes whose beauty had snared him from the first day they met.

  The jolt of seeing his son had somewhat worn off. Now all his senses were concentrated on the woman before him—the woman neither his mind nor his body had been able to forget. The woman who, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop imagining beneath him, writhing and moaning with pleasure.

  “What if one of us had gotten remarried?” Rebekah asked.

  The possibility she might have remarried had crossed his mind when he had looked for her. The fact that she mentioned such a scenario had him wondering if there was a promising prospect.

  “That would have been a problem, of course.” His voice sounded fittingly casual. “Dating will be out of the question until we can get this straightened out.”

  If it were anyone else, he knew they wouldn’t care—not when nine years had already passed. But he knew Rebekah’s staunch moral code, and he couldn’t resist dropping that little nugget into the conversation. If she was dating anyone seriously, there was no way she would continue the relationship now that she knew they were still married.

  A shadow crept into her eyes, darkening the vivid pools of dark brown to almost black. Without saying a word, she let him know there was someone, and the thought dealt a devastating blow to his midsection, more powerful than any fist he’d encountered inside or outside of the ring.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured, averting her eyes. Her shoulders drooped almost imperceptibly. The enormity of his visit, his discovery of his son, and their still intact marriage seemed to weigh her down.

  “It was a shock to me, too. I’ve spoken to my attorney about how to proceed. Of course, that was before I knew about Ricardo.”

  Her eyes flew to his face. By her expression, she already knew what he was about to say. The pulse at the base of her throat started to beat rapidly. “Custody.” Her words were laden with dread.

  He nodded.

  There was no point in beating around the bush. He had a son, and he intended to be an integral part of his life from now on. He also needed to provide for his care. He glanced around the small foyer. The modest house with its simple furnishings was adequate, but he could provide a lot more, and he intended to. He wanted his son to have all the things he hadn’t as a boy growing up poor in Mexico City.

  “What do you intend to do?” Her expression was guarded, and she eyed him as if he were a predator trying to breach her defenses.

  “I’m not trying to take him away from you, but I want my fair share of time. I’ve lost a lot of time already. Joint custody with us alternating holidays, maybe him spending su
mmers with me out in California. I’m not asking for everything, but you have to give me something.”

  Rebekah flew to her feet. She looked him right in the eye. “How long do you intend to play Daddy?”

  He was taken aback by the question. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “How long, Rafe?” she asked again. “I won’t let you get his hopes up, hurt him, like…”

  “Like what, Rebekah?” he demanded harshly, already knowing the answer, bracing himself for her verbal blow.

  “Like you did to me!” She averted her eyes, swallowed, and then raised her gaze to his again. He could see the remnant of pain in the depths of her dark brown eyes. Knowing his actions caused it made him clench his jaw so tightly his teeth ached.

  “You got tired of playing husband,” she continued in a quieter voice.

  “So that’s the real reason you kept him from me,” Rafael said, as if he had just solved a riddle. She frowned in confusion. “To punish me for what I did, you kept Ricardo a secret all these years.”

  Rebekah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t really think—”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t make any sense! If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve made sure you knew about your son and I would have made sure you had as little access to him as possible.”

  “No, this way, it’s better. You were quietly biding your time until the day you would tell me and I couldn’t do anything but accept the fact I had lost all those years.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Rebekah said in exasperation. “I’m not that conniving. You’ve obviously been jaded by the lack of character in the sluts who fawn all over you in Hollywood.”

  He stepped angrily toward her, but this time, she didn’t retreat. She stood her ground, almost eye to eye with him on the bottom stair. The only indication she was even the least bit disturbed was in the almost unnoticeable tightening of her hand on the balustrade.

  “You always could make my blood boil,” he ground out. In more ways than one.

  He lowered his gaze to take in the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the pink top. The provocative protrusion of her nipples against the material tortured him mercilessly. The shallow inhalation of her soft breaths teased his senses and stoked the flame of arousal in his loins.

  He could clearly see in her face that she was not any more immune to him than he was to her. Without thinking, he reached up to stroke her face, and was rewarded when her hand swatted his away.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes darkening in anger. Had he imagined the desire he saw smoldering there? “Don’t think for one minute that because of an unfortunate twist of fate that kept us married you have any right to touch me. You gave up that right years ago.”

  “I suppose you’ve had plenty of opportunity for exploration since then.” He shouldn’t have mentioned it, but he couldn’t help himself. His stomach muscles tensed as if in preparation for a punch.

  “I suppose it’s none of your business,” Rebekah replied with a defiant tilt to her chin.

  The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. Over the years, he’d used other women to help him get over losing her, yet here he was, torn apart by jealousy at the thought that any other man had touched what was his.

  Rebekah took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” She marched up the stairs.

  Rafael followed more slowly. He took in the view from a few feet behind her, the curve of her bottom and the shapely brown thighs in a pair of cut-off denim shorts. Thighs he wished he could now slide between and ease this voracious craving for her.

  Emblazoned in his mind was the image of her beneath him in their bed, his fingers entwined in the tangled disarray of her long hair as she moaned her encouragement. He could still hear the sweet words. Mmm…yes, I like that…please…don’t stop…ahh…Rafe…Yes! Yes!

  He had been her first. Every chauvinistic bone in his body rebelled against the thought that others had been in her bed and now knew the truth beneath her reserved exterior—that she was a passionate, giving lover. That even though he had prided himself on being her teacher, the exuberance of her responses and sweetness of her touch had wielded substantial power over him. More than she even realized.

  * * * *

  They sat on either side of Ricardo on his bed and explained Rafael was his father. The conversation went better than expected.

  After his apparent confusion at the turn of events had worn off, Ricardo was almost giddy with joy. He wanted to call his best friends and tell them, who Rebekah found out were the ones who had introduced him to Rafael’s past as La Sombra. One of the boys was a couple of years older than Ricardo, and he was the one who had shared Rafael’s wrestling persona with him.

  Then he wanted to know if Rafael could come to school with him in the fall, so he could show him off to his entire class. Overall, he took it very well.

  When he asked why his father hadn’t come to see him before, Rafael took charge of the answer. Without really explaining, he told Ricardo that would change and he would be in his life from now on.

  “What should I call you?”

  “What do you want to call me?” Rafael countered. His jaw became rigid with tension.

  Ricardo dipped his head shyly. “Can I call you Dad?”

  Rafael swallowed, and then he ran his hand over his son’s curls. “I would love it if you called me Dad,” he whispered in a thick voice.

  Rebekah turned away briefly, tears momentarily clouding her vision.

  “Are you moving here?” Ricardo asked.

  Rafael shook his head. “No, I won’t be. I live in California.”

  “Can I come visit?”

  “Of course you can,” Rafael replied. His eyes found hers over the top of Ricardo’s head. “I was just talking to your mother about a visit to California.”

  Ricardo’s head swung toward her, and Rebekah summoned a smile, hoping it appeared more genuine than it felt. “That’s true, Ricky. Your father and I were just talking about that. Maybe you could spend some time with him later this summer.”

  “Cool!” His eyes lit up. “Do you live on a beach?”

  “Not on a beach, but near it.”

  “Yes!” Ricardo pumped his fist. “Last summer, we went to visit Uncle Adam in Miami, and me and Mom built a sandcastle. We can do that again, Mom. It’ll be fun!”

  “Ricardo, your mom won’t be coming. It will just be you and me, so we can get to know each other.”

  Ricardo’s enthusiasm took a nosedive. He leaned closer to his mother, resting his small hand on her thigh. “I don’t wanna go without my mom,” he said in a small voice.

  “Sweetie, it’s okay. You should spend some time with your dad. It’ll be difficult for me to leave everything behind here.”

  His pitiful eyes pulled at her heart. “But you don’t work in the summer, Mom. You can come with us.” He turned to face his father. “Can my mom come?”

  Rafael’s eyes found hers again. “Yes, your mom is welcome to come, if she would like.”

  They both turned to Rebekah to get her answer. Her mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Flying to California to spend time in Rafael’s company was a disturbing thought, but how could she back out of it when Ricardo so clearly wanted her there? And if she did say no, it would affect her son’s decision to take the trip with his father.

  She smiled down at her son. “I’d love to come,” she said.

  “Good.” Rafael rose from the bed. “So you’ll both spend the rest of the summer with me.”

  “Wait a minute…”

  “Yeah!” Ricardo shouted.

  “…the whole summer is a bit much.”

  The entire situation had gotten out of control. There was no way she could spend the entire summer in Rafael’s company. There was still a twinge of attraction there, despite her rapid-fire reaction earlier to dispel any such thought in his mind. Besides, what would she do out in California for the next s
even and a half weeks?

  “It’ll be fun, like Ricardo said.” Rafael looked rather pleased with himself. He’d gotten his wish after all. “I’ll show you both around L.A., and we can build sand castles every day.”

  “Yeah!”

  If she could have shot daggers at him with her eyes, she would have. “I have things to do here in Atlanta.”

  “But you’re on summer break,” Ricardo reminded her helpfully. He was always helpful at the wrong times. Why couldn’t he have provided this kind of unasked assistance when she was working in the garden earlier?

  “I volunteer at a local women’s charity called Second Chance Closet every summer. They need me.” Her reason was weak, but surely there was some way out of spending the entire summer with her ex—no, estranged—husband?

  “I’m sure they can find someone else to help them this time,” Rafael said calmly.

  He opened his mouth to say something else when Ricardo sprang to his feet and started doing a little dance. Head and knees bent, hands in the air, he wiggled his body to his own silent beat. A bewildered expression came over Rafael’s face, and Rebekah covered her mouth to stop from laughing.

  “That’s his happy dance,” she explained. “He does it whenever he’s very excited about something.”

  “Oh.”

  Their gazes met and they smiled at each other over his head. It was the first time she’d seen a smile since his arrival. It revealed the twin dimples, one slashed into each cheek. In that brief moment, there was a connection, and her heart did an odd little flip-flop.

  Not good.

  Chapter Four

  Rafael left soon after the conversation with Ricardo. Before his departure, he informed Rebekah he would be in New York for the next couple of days. On his way back, he would stop by so they could make plans to leave for California and decide how to proceed with the divorce.

  She made a mental note to contact Buchanan, Rothstein, and Hoyt to set an appointment for a consultation on Friday. Sterling Buchanan, one of her brother’s best friends, was a respected attorney with a young, energetic firm in Atlanta. She trusted him to give her good advice.