Or maybe he just wanted privacy for when he explained why their reunion would be so short-lived.
Fine. She could handle that. She’d gotten over him when he’d walked out of her life once before. She’d pulled the tatters of her life back together, and she’d persevered. If he decided to pull the plug on their nascent relationship, she wasn’t going to beg him to change his mind. She would bounce back from this eventually. And when she did, she’d make sure he never got another chance to walk away and hurt her again.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
After gathering her things, she followed him out of the office to the great room. Sure enough, Renata and Sebastian were nowhere to be seen. They informed Connie that they wouldn’t be staying for dinner, then left.
Late-afternoon sunlight drenched the rich green lawn, promoting the promise of a cool evening. Raphael guided her toward a sleek black town car that sat at the end of the driveway. “Where’s your convertible?” she asked.
“In the garage,” he answered. “It’s easier to conduct business if I let someone else do the driving.”
He had a point, and she was relieved to know he hadn’t driven straight to Baton Rouge after leaving her condo. Still, that meant going to Baton Rouge without talking to her had been premeditated, not a spur-of-the-moment decision. He’d deliberately put distance between them again. It didn’t bode well for their relationship status.
The driver door opened, and a wall of a man who looked better suited to anchoring a defensive line than driving a car got out as they approached.
“This is Parker Reed,” Raphael said with a genuine smile. “He drives me around during the week and generally tries to keep me out of trouble. Parker, this is Macy Lovelace.”
The burly man shook her hand carefully, his hand easily twice the size of hers. “Pleased to finally meet you, Ms. Lovelace,” he said, a wide grin crinkling his face.
“Pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Reed,” she said in return, wondering about the “finally” part. Had Raphael talked to his driver about her, and if so, why? “I hope Raphael doesn’t make you work too hard, especially considering how much he loves getting into trouble.”
“Just call me Parker, ma’am. And it’s no trouble at all working for Mr. Jerroult.” He opened the rear door. “If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll make sure your MINI Cooper is safely delivered.”
“I can just follow along behind you,” she protested, not wanting to leave her beloved car behind.
Both men looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Macy, Parker can’t fit in your car,” Raphael said. “Nothing short of a zombie apocalypse would get me back in that thing, and even then I’d try outwalking the dead first.”
She settled her hands on her hips, appreciating the banter. “There’s nothing wrong with my car.”
“You’re right,” Raphael agreed. “Except that its first name is MINI. That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Parker would give me all kinds of hell if I let you drive over by yourself.”
“That I would, ma’am,” the driver agreed. “That’s not how you treat a lady.”
“See? I’d never live it down.” Raphael took her hand. “One of our security guys will get your baby to my place or yours without a scratch. Promise.”
“All right.” He was being adorable, and she could never resist him when he was being adorable. She dug into her purse and handed the keys to Parker. “And if you call me ma’am one more time, I’m going to kick you in the shins. Not that you’d feel it.”
Parker’s solemn nod was marred by the smile he wore. “Of course, Ms. Lovelace.”
Raphael guided her into the car, then got in behind her. He laced his fingers with hers as Parker closed the door before getting back behind the wheel.
They rode in silence, which was just fine with her. She felt off balance, not sure if they were copacetic or not. His hand, entwined with hers, gave her a comfort she desperately needed. Tension arced through Raphael, and that kept her from thinking they were truly all right. Perhaps he was just putting on a show for Parker’s benefit.
“Did things not go well in Baton Rouge? Or are you still upset about … about other things,” she finished lamely, conscious of Parker sitting in the front seat.
“I’m not upset about that—at least, not in the way you think,” Raphael said. He lifted their joined hands to press a lingering kiss to her knuckles that went a long way in soothing the turmoil in her soul. “As for the trip to Baton Rouge, I had a little housecleaning to do.”
“What?”
“They kept you from me, Macy.” His voice hardened. “I didn’t drop completely off the grid. They knew how to reach me in the event of any sort of emergency. You absolutely qualify as an emergency and they damn well knew that, even then. No one at JerTech will make that mistake again.”
“Raffie, no.” Macy’s heart dropped. So that was how he’d dealt with the news she’d given him. To be honest, she’d been furious at being stonewalled when she’d called his office seeking information on his whereabouts—and that was when she’d believed his employees to be following his orders. But this? This was extreme.
He squeezed her fingers. “You probably think that was ruthless of me. It was, but I won’t apologize for it. No one comes between me and what I want. Not in business. And sure as hell not with you. They should be grateful I gave them severance pay.”
The car slowed to a stop. “We’re here, sir.”
Macy looked up to find that they’d driven into a courtyard behind a brick edifice the same color as the one she’d dropped him off at a week and a half ago. “This is the courtyard of your place?”
Raphael nodded. “All the furniture and accessories you helped me pick out have been delivered and set up. I thought you’d like to see your handiwork in person.”
Parker rounded the car to open the door and assist Macy out, Raphael following. She took in the parking pad with room for four cars, the courtyard and the two-story building beyond it, the cobbled driveway with an automatic wrought-iron gate at the street entrance. The private courtyard was a lush oasis, complete with a fountain splashing into a pond and a small pool with dark vegetation and a large tree framing it and providing a barrier to the property beyond. To its left was a glass-enclosed sunroom attached to the building proper.
“Thank you, Parker,” Raphael said as he guided her to the entry door. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Good night, sir. Ms. Lovelace.” Parker returned to the idling car, but waited until Raphael unlocked the door and disabled the alarm before easing back down the cobbled drive. She stepped into a travertine floor that led into a beautifully appointed kitchen with warm honey oak cabinets and stainless steel appliances. A large dining room and family room lay beyond.
“This floor has the kitchen and dining and entertainment areas as you can see. There’s also a half bath and a room I converted into a personal gym and added a changing room with sauna steamshower. I think the furniture we picked out fits well in here, don’t you?”
She gazed at the large entertainment area and the bright array of colors and fabrics that softened the edges of the natural brick but still gave the room an understated yet elegant air that would be perfect for entertaining friends or business associates. Raphael hadn’t added any personal touches yet.
“It does, but you still need to make it your own, add some personal stuff.”
“You’re right.” He looked around the room. “But this is the public space, so I don’t mind it too much. I think I did a better job upstairs. Come on.”
He guided her over to the wide refurbished staircase and let her precede him to the second floor. It opened into a slight alcove with a window overlooking the courtyard, filling the expansive hallway with plenty of natural light.
She spotted the first photo on the warm sand-colored wall. It was a picture of her, Raphael, and her brothers Josh and Eric covered in dirt. Though she and her brothers were beaming, only a ghost of a smile curved Raphael’s lips. If
she remembered correctly, she’d just met him and his mother had died the month before.
“Oh my God, I remember this picture!” she exclaimed, her fingers lightly touching the frame. “We recruited you to play baseball with us so we’d have an even number. You sucked.”
“Royally.” He smiled, his gaze focused on the photo. “I had a ball I’d found in the bushes by the field at school, and I’d smuggle it out of the house to bounce it against the side of the garage so my father wouldn’t know. I didn’t know how to play catch with other people. You had to teach me.”
“You got the hang of it though, like you do with everything you set your mind to.” She tapped his too-solemn image. “You didn’t want to be in the picture, but I put you in a headlock and dragged you over so Dad could snap it.”
“When he said, ‘Let me get a photo of you kids,’ I assumed he meant just his children,” Raphael explained. “But my little firebrand would have none of it. You declared me your new best friend that day, solely because I made you look good by being so bad.”
“Did you keep the glove, too?” she asked, taking note of the contents in the shadowbox beside the photo. A ragged, well-used baseball glove rested inside, sized to fit a twelve-year-old’s hand.
“Your dad bought me that glove. It was the best gift ever. Until my thirteenth birthday.”
Another frame, another photo. She recognized the Lovelace family kitchen. All of them wore silly birthday hats and grins, even Raphael. In front of him was the gaudiest, most lopsided cake ever created.
A lump formed in her throat. “That was my first attempt at decorating a cake. I was in a rush, because you had mentioned on the way to school that your housekeeper had put chocolate chips in your pancakes and she only did that on your birthday. I wanted to give you something special, too. Josh and Eric teased me, but you acted like it was the best thing ever.”
“It was,” he said. “My first birthday cake.”
“I got better at it.” She had, because of him. Because she wanted him to always have a special treat to celebrate his birthday.
The walk down memory lane continued. Photo collages from homecoming and prom and high school graduation. Shadowboxes with his tassel, prom tickets. Photos of game nights at home and at college, then college graduation. And always, in every picture they were together. Inseparable.
By the time they made it to the master suite, Macy was in tears. There were more photos here, but they were different. Macy, sitting in front of a window, the sun setting her hair on fire. Lying on a blanket, her nose in a textbook. Making rabbit ears behind Raphael’s head as they split a plate of curry at Family Thai’s. On the nightstand a photo of her in bed, fast asleep with her hair spread out like a flag. It looked as if it had been taken on her last day with him.
Shocked, she turned to stare at him, openmouthed. “Raffie?”
He pulled open the nightstand drawer, pulled out a stack of paper. “I didn’t forget,” he told her, handing her a stack that she realized were letters. Her letters, addressed to him. “Who forgets the best moments of their life?”
The emotional dam broke. Sobbing, she threw her arms around his neck, holding on because she never wanted to let him go again. A shudder shook his large frame as he held her until her tears subsided.
He eased back slightly, his eyes shiny as he carefully brushed her tears away. “We’re going to come to an understanding, you and me. By the time this night is over, there will be no doubts between us. Come here.”
He took the letters from her, returning them to the nightstand. Silently he undressed her, kissing his way down her body as he did so, stripping away layers of uncertainty, pain, and anger. She stood bare and exposed to him, waiting. Wanting. Everything fell away, everything else was unnecessary except for this moment, her, him, and the emotions that had bound them together from the first day they’d met.”
“Raffie?”
“On your knees, sweetheart.”
Unsteady, she climbed onto the bed, bending down on her knees and elbows, exposing her intimate parts to him. Clothes rustled as he hurriedly undressed. She could feel the need welling between her thighs, the anticipation making her pant. Finally, the crinkle of a condom packet, then he climbed up behind her on the bed.
He used both hands to touch her, his fingers stroking over every inch of exposed skin, teasing her, cupping her, filling her. Each touch brought him back to her, her to him, reconnecting until his presence filled her senses.
He rested the blunt head of his cock against her opening, sending a jolt of want through her. “Do you want this?”
“You know I do.”
He stroked her, just the tip slipping into her slick folds. “Why?”
“Because I need it,” she gasped. “Because I need you.”
“But I abandoned you, Macy,” he said, his voice scraped raw. Another shallow stroke that made her whimper with frustration “Twice. Eight years ago I took off. Then three nights ago I did it again. I left you when you needed me most. When I should have been there for you, I wasn’t. That must have made you angry. Weren’t you angry?”
“Yes!” she cried, hot tears spilling free again. “I was furious with you!”
“You had a right to be. I deserved your anger. Hell, I deserve your hate. Do you hate me, Macy?”
“No!” She pushed back against him but he withdrew. She nearly howled. “I don’t hate you, Raphael. I can’t!”
“Why not?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You of all people should hate me, but you don’t. Why?”
“Because I love you,” she sobbed. “I’ve always loved you. But it hurts when you leave, Raffie. It hurts because I know you’re alone and you’re suffering but you act like you don’t need me.”
“I do need you,” he said, his voice gravel-rough. “So damn much it scares me. I need you to want me as much as I want you. I need you to want to be with me. But mostly I need you to forgive me. Forgive me for hurting you, forgive me for leaving you. Forgive me for taking too long to come back to you.”
“Raphael.” Tears flowed freely. She wanted to reach for him, wanted to take him in her arms, to hold him and never let him go. “I forgive you. And I do need you, so much. I need you now. I’ll always need you.”
“Thank you, my dear sweet Macy.” His fingers tightened on her hips. “I want you, Macy. I want you like this. Want to be inside you like this.”
“Yes!” she shouted, desperation making her impatient. “Now, Raffie. Now!”
He fit himself to her opening again, then entered her, a slow, measured progression that she felt every moment of.
When he bottomed out, he held still, hot and hard inside her, filling her completely. She had just enough time to draw a breath before he began to move, long searching glides, short circular strokes, rapid-fire pistoning all designed to throw her over the edge of pleasure. All the while he whispered to her, nonsense words, blunt words, sweet words that fired her senses and demanded her response. His name tore from her lips as passion and pleasure broke, shattering her.
Before she fully came down from the orgasmic high, he tumbled her onto her back, then entered her again. She watched the emotions play over his expression—sorrow, need, hunger, and something her heart wanted to believe was love. Her heart stuttered, stopped, then lurched into motion again as she fell completely and irrevocably in love with him again, a stronger, truer love than she’d had before. In that moment, she knew with certainty that Raphael was her one, her only. Her forever.
He began to move, long, slow strokes all the way out, then all the way back in. He shuddered as her inner muscles clamped down on him, his eyes sliding closed on a soft moan of her name as pleasure washed over him. She pulled him down against her, needing all of him touching her. His eyes fluttered open with the purest smile she’d ever seen on him, then he fused his mouth to hers.
It reminded her of when they were caught in a thunderstorm—electrifying, energizing, deluging. Gradually he quickened his pace, the deep stro
kes coming faster and faster as her body rocked for him and his sensual onslaught. With one hand about his waist, she thrust the other between their colliding bodies, spreading her fingers around him, her thumb rubbing her clit. He groaned in response, his movements wild, jerky, the precision strokes disintegrating into feral passion.
She tried to hold back, tried to delay her climax but she was too open, too needy, too ready for him. The second orgasm struck like a lightning bolt, hot and powerful and blinding. She screamed, body rigid, pleasure short-circuiting her senses. Raphael’s eyes flared neon blue as he went wild, growling as he drove into her, taking her with an intensity that was almost brutal. He came with a shout, flooding her womb and wringing another smaller climax from her.
They collapsed against each other, unable to move, to do more than breathe. “It never was good-bye. It won’t ever be good-bye.”
“No,” she managed to say. “It’s perfect.”
CHAPTER NINE
“I have to go to Choux tomorrow, but not until mid-morning,” Macy said, settling back against a pile of pillows with a satisfied sigh. After a decadent interlude in Raphael’s oversized shower, they had headed downstairs to raid the kitchen. They’d made a picnic of fruits, deli cuts, and cheeses before returning the master suite, spreading their haul out atop the cerulean blue coverlet. “Do you think Parker will have my car here by then? I’ll need to go home for a change of clothes.”
“Knowing Parker, your car’s already outside,” Raphael told her, disposing of the scavenged tray on the mahogany dresser. “You can ride in with me, or Parker will come back for you. As for a change of clothes, I bought a few things for you and stored them in the closet. Lingerie, too.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You bought me clothes?”
At his nod, she jumped up and sprinted to the far end of the room and the walk-in closet that was the size of her living room and kitchen combined. One side held a swath of suits and dress shirts with racks of shoes and built-in drawers for more casual wear. In the middle sat two low-slung padded benches upholstered in ivory fabric shot through with gold, two gold-framed floor mirrors in front of them. The other side of the closet was just as full—with dresses, skirts, blouses, and trousers in her favorite colors, as well as shoes and purses and a couple of laptop bags in supple leather. She pulled open a set of drawers that matched the ones on his side and found piles of lingerie. It was all brand-new, tags still attached—and all in her size.
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