Because she was a weak woman.
“Okay.”
And there he went again with the ‘okays’. It was not okay.
“Did you like your cappuccino?” he asked. “It’s from that café you love on State Street.”
Sarika held back a groan. This man could woo a dragon from its pile of gold. “Yes. I…thank you. But that doesn’t mean—”
“I’m glad. I just want to make you happy. Bye, sweetheart. Have a good day.”
He hung up before she could assert herself, leaving her staring wide-eyed at the phone. He just wanted to make her happy – right. He just wanted to win. Well, she would show him. It was his total surrender or nothing.
She took another sip of her cappuccino and released a pleasure-filled sigh. If this was how he intended to fight his battle, she was okay with that.
* * *
“What else?” Elena asked, standing in the middle of her library with a felt pen in her hand. Beside her stood a whiteboard on a tripod listing the qualities Sarika had decided to look for in a man. It started with ‘Honesty’ and ended with ‘Nice Eyes’. Elena had originally written ‘Great Ass’, but Sarika had made her change it.
She slumped sideways on the couch, put a pillow to her face and groaned. It was all so pathetic. Wasn’t it supposed to happen naturally? She would bump into a nice man on the street, and he’d invite her for coffee. Or she’d take a class and they’d end up sitting beside each other, chatting about Greek history or classical music. Not that she knew much about either, but somehow she and the nice man would connect.
This way, Elena’s way, made it seem tawdry and desperate.
“Come on, Sarika, it’s not that bad. If you know what you want then it’ll be easier to eliminate anyone who doesn’t fit.”
“But maybe the guy who doesn’t fit is the guy. Nobody’s perfect.”
“And that’s how you end up with a broken heart two years later and nothing to show for it.”
She flushed. “But what about mystery? Romance?”
“Oh, good ones.” Elena turned back to the whiteboard and wrote ‘Mysterious’ and ‘Romantic’.
“No, I didn’t mean for you to write them down, I just meant…oh forget it.” She sighed heavily and glanced around the room. Another whiteboard with scribbles on it in different colored ink was propped against the desk, as well as a bulletin board full of magazine pictures. “Can we get back to planning the business? We need to focus.”
“In a minute.”
Sarika rose from the couch, stalked toward Elena, and snatched the pen from her hand. “I appreciate you want to help me find the perfect man, but how about we find out what makes us the perfect people to plan a party.”
She lifted the whiteboard labeled ‘What Sarika Wants In A Husband’ from the tripod and laid it against the back of the couch. Then she went to the desk for the other whiteboard and put it on the tripod.
“Let’s talk about how we’re going to market ourselves. Do we want to go after high, medium, or low end customers?”
“High,” Elena said. “This is the world we know, we’ve got the connections, and we’ve been to a million parties like the one the other night. On the planning side, I could have pulled everything together just as efficiently, and on the creative side, you could have done it better. We’re the perfect team, organization and imagination.” Her brown eyes lit up. “Oh, write that down!”
Sarika drew a line beneath a list of party supplies and suppliers and wrote ‘Organization and Imagination’ in quotes. Then she circled it. It gave her a thrill, so she also marked it with an asterisk. She smiled up at Elena who was staring over Sarika’s shoulder at the couch, eyes wide.
A funny feeling formed in her stomach, and she turned around. Rafe stood behind them wearing black jeans and a blue button down shirt that set off his gorgeous brown eyes. He had the other whiteboard in his hands and that muscle in his jaw ticked crazily as he read her list.
Shock and horror rooted her in place. She made an inarticulate squeaking sound, and he glanced up, raising his brow.
“This is your plan?”
Chapter Seven
Rafe looked back at the list. ‘Nice Eyes’.
He had nice eyes, didn’t he? They were brown and…well, they were brown. He tried to remember if anyone had ever told him he had nice eyes. Surely one of the women he’d dated over the years had said so. They didn’t bug out, or droop, or squint when he smiled. At least he didn’t think so.
How about nice lips instead? He’d been told his mouth was sexy on several occasions. He went back to the top of Sarika’s list to see if she’d put down anything about a man’s lips. ‘Honesty’ was first. That was a good quality. He was honest. Then ‘Integrity’, ‘Strength’, and ‘Caring’. Yes, yes, and he’d cared for Sarika all day yesterday and planned to do so from now on. He mentally checked off caring.
‘Emotionally Available’? What the hell was that? Something out of those self-help books women read. He rolled his eyes and dismissed it.
‘Kindness’. He could be kind – to people who deserved it. ‘Financially Stable’, no problem. ‘Good With Kids And Dogs’, he loved big dogs and always stopped to pet them in the park. As for kids, he liked them and was sure to love his own.
He came back to ‘Nice Eyes’ and decided to check that off, too. No one had ever complained about his eyes.
‘Mysterious’ was next.
“Rafe, put that down. It’s private!” Sarika ran toward him. When she tried to rip the whiteboard out of his hands, he held tight.
“How can someone be honest and mysterious at the same time?” he asked. “To be mysterious implies secretive, and if you’re secretive, then you probably have something to hide. Something bad. So the person lacks both honesty and integrity.”
She groaned and rubbed her hand over the board, smearing the words. “I didn’t put ‘Mysterious’ down. Elena did. I’ve had enough secrets to last a lifetime.”
He winced, knowing she referred to their relationship. Still, if ‘Mysterious’ was off the list, he’d scored well, and that was something to celebrate.
He pried the whiteboard from her hands, laid it back on the couch, and pulled her into his arms. God, she felt good. Soft and curved. “You look pretty today. Like a daisy.”
‘Romantic’ could be checked off, too.
Her cotton, knee-length dress consisted of a wispy, white skirt, a fitted, yellow bodice that emphasized her curves, and loose, white sleeves. Kind of like a fairytale princess. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. He leaned in and nibbled her neck, inhaling the unique scent of her as he found her racing pulse. Her knees gave way which made him smile.
Screw the list. He would be her husband. The sooner she accepted it, the sooner he could take her home and do a lot more than nibble. Maybe tonight, after they’d visited Ana Lisa.
“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, trying to squirm out of his arms.
He kissed up her throat to her mouth, brushed it with his own, then stepped back. “I thought we could go see Ana Lisa. She’ll be expecting us.”
“I’m working right now. I can’t just leave. I told her I’d be there around six.”
He checked his watch. “It’s almost five.”
“We don’t have to go together.”
“No, but it would make her happy.” He’d play the guilt card for all it was worth. Anything so she spent time with him rather than meeting potential husbands.
Elena approached, and he greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. Her eyes laughed up at him. Brat.
“Hello, Rafe.”
“Elena.” Noticing the other whiteboard on the tripod, he asked, “What’s this? Are you planning a party?” God help them if they were already arranging Sarika’s wedding.
“It’s our new business. Didn’t Sarika tell you?”
“No. What kind of business?”
“Event planning. I’m the organization, she’s the imagination. She’s
very creative.”
He looked at Sarika. She clutched the back of the couch like it was a life raft. “I know. Smart, too. And funny.”
Elena put a hand on her chest. “Be still my heart. Maybe we should put ‘Sweet and Charming’ on the list.”
Sarika glared at her. “There is no list.”
Rafe hid a smirk. She wasn’t quite as willing to move on from him as she thought. Thank God for that. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it. “Come on Princess. Your carriage awaits.”
* * *
Sarika gazed at Rafe and silently sighed. He was gorgeous in his grey suit, trying so hard to be everything she wanted. The words he’d said yesterday had touched her, and she knew he meant them, but what she needed to be happy, and what he thought she needed to be happy were two different things. Maybe he was right. Maybe living with him as her husband, raising a family, sleeping beside him every night would make up for her need to be loved. To feel cherished and secure.
But what if he was wrong, and it was a disaster?
He wrapped his other hand around her nape and touched his forehead to hers. “You’re thinking too much. Just let me take care of you.”
“Like you did before?” she asked, not quite ready to let it go.
“No. Like I plan to do from now on.”
He tugged her behind him toward the door. She waved good-bye to Elena who smiled and fanned herself. ‘You love him’, she mouthed at Sarika.
Yes, she did. She probably always would. Was that enough? Maybe now, but what about in ten or fifteen years? What if he met someone and fell madly in love? For real. Not just caring, good sex, and familial ties.
True love.
The kind she felt for him. The tumble of crazy emotions that made her want to climb inside his heart and stay there. Tears pricked her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.
Didn’t they both deserve better?
He ushered her into the limo, and seeming to sense her mood, didn’t speak. He didn’t release her hand, either, linking their fingers and rubbing his thumb over her palm. It soothed her, but at the same time it made her want so much more.
They stopped at the same café as last time and Rafe bought almond biscotti to go with their macchiato. At the hospital, he was more circumspect and kept a formal distance between them so as not to make Ana Lisa suspicious. His reserve bothered Sarika, and she mentally berated herself. She couldn’t have it both ways. Either she chose to be with him and hoped for the best, or she accepted he didn’t love her the same way she loved him and moved on.
“You seem distracted tonight, bambina,” Ana Lisa said.
Sarika raised her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired. You were talking about Maria Casale and her husband getting a divorce.”
“Yes…about five minutes ago. What’s troubling you? Are you thinking about that man in New York? The one who hurt you.”
Her heart stilled then raced ahead. “No…I was…I just—”
Ana Lisa took her hand. “No need to pretend, tesoro. You loved him and he left. It will hurt for a while, but you will mend and find some other young man who is worthy of you. What man wouldn’t love such an angel?” She turned to Rafe. “Isn’t that so, mio nipote?”
Sarika stared at him, her chest constricting until she found it hard to breathe. Would he agree? Say that he loved her, and he’d been a fool to walk away? Beg her to reconsider his proposal?
That muscle in his jaw jumped once, then again. “Any man would be lucky to have Sarika as his wife.”
The air rushed out of her on a disappointed sigh. Idiot. Even if he did feel those things, she’d told him not to involve Ana Lisa. What else could he say?
But really…lucky? How nice for him. He could feel lucky all the way to the altar, all the way through the births of their children, past every anniversary and milestone until he met someone else and fell in love.
Rafe rose abruptly from his chair and kissed Ana Lisa on the cheeks, bringing the visit to an end. Sarika quickly said goodbye and followed him out the door, rushing to keep up. He strode toward the elevator – a private one for this ward of the hospital.
On the ground level, he maneuvered her with an impatient hand toward the waiting limo. The driver opened the back door. She slid in, keeping her head turned so Rafe wouldn’t see how hurt and confused she felt.
He slipped in behind her. As the door shut, he grasped her shoulders, pulled her tight against his chest, and lowered his head.
She gasped in surprise. “Rafe—”
“This is how someone would feel to have you as his wife.” Then he pressed his mouth to hers, demanding entrance. One hand wrapped around her back while the other dug into her hair, loosening her ponytail, so it tumbled down her spine.
She groaned, and he deepened the kiss, sweeping inside across the sensitive tissue as he held her in place. Each stroke of his tongue and lips sank her deeper into a whirlpool of sensation. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Squirming closer, she snaked her arms around his neck, wanting more.
Wanting everything.
Heat swirled through her body, pooled in her center. She lifted her leg over his knees, opening herself to him. Her nipples peaked as she arched her hips. She was powerless to the desire that saturated every cell and pulsed through her veins, urging her to curl around him and never let go.
Then the kiss softened, and he slowly withdrew, teasing her with light touches and nibbles. Tasting her. Pulling her back from the edge of oblivion. Finally, he rested his brow on hers and they gasped for breath.
He lifted his head and gazed at her. His face was open, his eyes unguarded, and the emotion that burned within was so intense, she felt scorched by it – rocked to her very soul.
She curved her palm against his cheek. “Rafe—”
But he pulled away, an invisible shutter dropping between them. He leaned back on the seat, exhaling heavily as he looked forward.
She reached toward him, in awe at the depth of emotion she’d just witnessed.
“Don’t.” His voice was sharp.
Icy cold washed over her, and she yanked her hand back.
He’d done it again. Given her hope, then snatched it away. And it was her own damn fault. She retreated as far away from him as she could and stared out the window, her mind a jumbled mess of scattered thoughts and emotions. How could he just turn off his feelings like that? Was any of it real?
As they drove in silence through the city, evening sunlight casting long shadows across the road, resentment and anger built within her. He couldn’t just kiss her like that and then push her away. Show her a glimpse of what he felt then shut down.
He’d played her. Hot and cold. The story of their relationship.
When they pulled up to the villa, Sarika glanced over to find him staring at her. He looked cool and remote, every emotion tucked neatly back into place. His restraint infuriated her and she wanted to scream and rail against him. Instead she smiled frostily, determined not to show how hurt she was, and reached for the door handle.
His hand on her arm stopped her. “I have an over-seas conference call at the office. I can’t come in.”
She dredged up a little laugh. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Rafe. Anymore than I do to you. You’re doing Ana Lisa a favor by staying here until she returns, nothing else.”
“Sarika—”
“Thank you for the ride and have a pleasant evening.” She exited the vehicle and ascended the stairs, head held high, but dying inside. Why did she keep allowing him in? Getting her hopes up that he might actually care, before he retreated behind whatever wall he’d built to keep her out. Why couldn’t she just shut the door for good and walk away?
He wanted her in his life, but not in his heart. That was unacceptable.
He’d have to give her a hell of a lot more than a kiss and a cup of coffee before she’d sign up for that kind of torture.
* * *
Rafe placed the cappuccino and choco
late on the nightstand and looked down at Sarika in the early morning light that crept through the heavy drapes. She slept soundly in her bed, cheeks flushed, hair tumbled across the pillow. He picked up a silky strand and rubbed it between his fingers. What he wouldn’t give to slip beneath the covers and pull her into his body.
Yesterday, she’d been his for the taking and he’d…he’d…hell, he’d pushed her away.
Again.
What was the matter with him?
Why couldn’t he have just hugged her, continued to kiss her until they’d reached the villa? If he had, he would have woken up beside her this morning.
He stroked a finger across her cheek. The one thing he wanted more than anything else, and he’d screwed it up.
When Ana Lisa had asked him that question at the hospital, he’d felt like a teen-ager faced with his latest crush. Impetuous words had rushed up his throat, but he’d held them back. Controlled himself.
Sarika had been hurt, he could see it in her eyes, and the urge to ease that pain had roared through him.
He couldn’t get her alone fast enough, rushing her to the privacy of the car. To say what, he didn’t know, but the kiss had spoken volumes. It was as if every emotion he’d been holding down for the last eight years had bubbled up.
He’d almost drowned, losing himself in her, barely managing to pull himself together to end the kiss before he retreated. But she’d reached out to him. And he’d known if she touched him, he’d crumble.
One word had ruined everything, and all the progress he’d made the last few days had scattered like dust in the wind. Why had he let himself lose control? Why hadn’t he just contained it? By the time he had, it was too late. He could see in her eyes she’d made up her mind.
Which was unacceptable.
She couldn’t marry someone else. It would be the worst kind of torture.
Was this how his father had felt? Tortured? Out of control? For the first time in a long time Rafe felt pity toward the man he had come to despise. The man he had once adored and admired.
The Fabrizio Bride Page 7
