Mendoza's Return

by Susan Crosby

He wondered if she remembered that night in the same way. Then he saw her expression turn serious and her breath go shallow. She remembered, he decided, just as clearly as he, just as erotically. Her nipples were pressed against her snug T-shirt, then got visibly harder. So did he. And she noticed.

  He moved around the table so that he could talk to her without being overheard. Barely any space separated them. “Why’d you kiss me the other night?” he asked.

  “I couldn’t help myself.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “It?”

  He knew she couldn’t be that obtuse. “You know, Melina. The attraction that never dies.”

  “It wasn’t part of the plan I was formulating to only be friends with you,” she said, moving a little closer, looking at his mouth. “Maybe it should be.”

  “Look who I found wandering outside,” Melina’s father bellowed from the kitchen, the back door hinges squeaking. “Can I get you a beer, Luis?”

  Rafe’s father’s much softer voice didn’t carry into the dining room, where Rafe and Melina jumped apart, caught like teenagers by their parents, and busied themselves setting the table so that by the time her father burst into the dining room, they no longer looked guilty.

  “Hey, Dad,” Melina said, going to give him a hug.

  “How’s my girl?” He patted her shoulder as she backed away. “Rafe.”

  “Sir.” They shook hands, Rafe noting the suspicion in her father’s eyes, the hesitance, but most of all the protectiveness.

  His own father followed, a beer in hand. After greetings were exchanged, all the men wandered out to the back porch, taking Gramps a beer, as well.

  Relief came over Melina once the door shut behind them. She wasn’t sure what to expect putting that group of men together, but no fireworks so far.

  She sat in a chair across from Elliot, who seemed comfortable being there, not fidgeting to leave. His parents had gone out for a rare dinner alone. Melina had hoped they wouldn’t have to leave early and pick him up.

  “Is Steph coming over, too?” she asked her mother.

  “She’s interviewing potential roommates now that Angie has moved in with Tommy. I think she’s got three lined up for tonight. Would you grab the potato salad from the refrigerator, please? The rolls should be warmed enough, too. Green beans need to be put into a serving bowl.”

  Melina kept busy with the tasks but wondered if her mom wanted to ask questions and yet not be intrusive into her oldest daughter’s life. After the food was taken care of, Melina rested an arm across her mother’s shoulder and said, “We’re doing this for Elliot.”

  Her mother smiled. “Are you?”

  Melina nodded. “I figure by the time this is over, Rafe and I will be good friends, and I’ll be glad about that.”

  “Your father’s not happy about it at all.”

  “And you, Mom?”

  “I see the hunger between you, Melina. I don’t want you to suffer again.”

  The meal started awkwardly then smoothed out as time passed and conversation came more easily. Elliot kept his head down and ate well, including a big slice of pecan pie.

  “Thank you for dinner, Patsy,” Rafe’s father said. “I haven’t had chicken like that since…” He let the sentence drift off.

  She laid her hand on the back of his. “It’s Elena’s recipe. She taught me how to fix it. I think of her all the time, but especially when I’m cooking certain dishes. She was the best cook I ever knew.”

  He nodded, looking down and swallowing hard, which brought tears to Melina’s eyes.

  “I miss her, too, Luis,” Patsy said.

  The whole table went quiet until Gramps said, “Did I tell you all that Melina thinks I should be dating?”

  The conversation got lively again. Melina caught Rafe’s gaze and smiled. It was such a familiar moment, all that laughter around the dining room table, although she felt the loss of her grandmother and Rafe’s mother starkly.

  The Andersons came to pick up Elliot, and the exodus began. Gramps yawned dramatically as his clue to Melina he wanted to go home. She couldn’t manage a second alone with Rafe, but watched him go then drove her grandfather to his house.

  After that she needed a swim. The day had been more cloudy than sunny, so the solar cover hadn’t warmed the pool as much as it did on clear days.

  Pent-up desire drove her lap after lap until finally she had to stop. She leaned her forehead against the side of the pool to catch her breath before she climbed out.

  “Need a towel?”

  The familiar voice didn’t really surprise her. She’d been torn between wanting him to show up and wishing he would stay away.

  She lifted her head. He was crouched, waiting for her, her towel held loosely in his hands, his eyes searching, questioning.

  “Yes,” she said in answer to everything and anything.

  Then she climbed out of the pool and into his arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Melina had just barely shut her living room door when she found herself up against it, her hands locked with his, arms pressed to the painted wood. The towel dropped to the floor. Her bathing suit didn’t create a barrier but friction instead, exciting and welcome, as he moved his body along hers.

  “I’ll only ask once,” he said touching his forehead to hers, his face taut with desire. “Are you okay with this?”

  She nodded, then his mouth was on hers, attacking at first, then slowing, lingering, indulging. Savoring. His fingers tightened and released around hers, again and again, mimicking what was to come. He let go, freeing his hands to touch her, to slide his palms down her back and over her rear, cupping her, bringing her even closer as he dragged his mouth down her neck. Her wet hair dripped onto him and the floor. The scent of chlorine made her wish for a shower, but she didn’t want to wait that long. Couldn’t wait. This moment had been building, day by day. She needed him here and now.

  Melina curved her fingers into his flesh as he sank slowly, exhaling hot air through her suit as he made a meandering trail down her welcoming body, stopping to nibble here and there, to run his hands along her breasts, her abdomen and beyond. She arched as his mouth settled between her legs, his fiery breath arousing, his teeth finding just the right places with just the right pressure. Then he rose, bringing along her towel to rub her hair, drawing audible breaths, deep and shaky.

  She took him by the hand and led him upstairs and into her bedroom, wishing she knew what to say, wanting words from him, as well. And yet, what would they say?

  He moved past her, flipped on two bedside lights, grabbed hold of her bedding and pulled it down, leaving only the bottom sheet. When he faced her he seemed like an entirely different person from her memories of him—a fully adult male instead of a young man, one who had life experience now. Other sexual experiences. She wondered—

  “Take off your suit,” he said, low and harsh, standing two feet from her.

  She hesitated only long enough for the order to reach her brain, then peeled it off and tossed it toward her bathroom, where it landed with a splat.

  Then he stripped, all the while watching her, revealing his perfectly toned body slowly, enticingly. She wanted to feel him inside her right now….

  “I’m on the pill,” she said, reaching toward him, needing to touch, to feel, to taste. He would be familiar and yet new. The memory of this night would replace others from so long ago. Was that a good thing? She would know soon.

  She started at his chest, teasing him with light touches, exploring the planes of his body, going lower and lower, until he sucked in an audible breath. She wrapped her hand around his bold heat, swirled a fingertip around and around, glorying in the sounds he made.

  “Keep it up and I won’t be of much use to you,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, I fully intend to keep it up.”

  His laugh was filled with frustration and arousal. He let her explore for a little longer, then he took charge, moving her onto t
he bed, landing on top of her, maneuvering his legs between hers to nestle heat to heat, capturing her mouth with his in a deep, hot kiss that shut out the world, encasing them in their own erotic cocoon. She wrapped her legs around him, felt the hard heat of him press against her, pressure building inside her from the contact alone….

  Rafe felt her arch and clench, heard her breathless sounds, squeezed his eyes shut when her fingernails dug into him and she moved rhythmically, powerfully. The moment she started to slow, he slid down her, took a hard nipple in his mouth and cherished it, then the other, arousing her again, ready to explode himself. His hands moved over her warm flesh, his mouth tasted her skin until he threaded his fingers through the soft curls between her legs—and then let his mouth go exploring.

  He didn’t have to wait for a response. She cupped his head, grabbed his hair, angled her hips higher. She was vocal and bold in her pleasure, then demanding as she pulled him up until he buried himself inside her, feeling her envelop him and tighten, finding paradise and satisfaction and a need for much, much more.

  After a couple of minutes, Melina reached for the sheet to drag over them. Rafe had dropped onto his back, breathing hard, his arm across his eyes.

  While she waited for him to say something, she looked around. Her bedroom was simple, the bed itself decorated with a white matelasse coverlet, a sage green dust ruffle and a few contrasting pillows—which had been tossed onto the floor in the heat of passion. Her pine furniture was bought at a yard sale and refinished. The real color came from family photos on the dresser and some of her mother’s stunning art on the walls, single flowers in deep, rich tones, their bold colors at odds with her mother’s calm, soothing personality.

  What are you thinking? she asked Rafe silently. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Or maybe he was avoiding talking to her. For all the heat between them, it had also been comfortable. No awkwardness of a first time, even though he had some moves that were new to her. Did he want to spend the night? Continue the relationship after this?

  Or would this be it?

  Finally he stirred, letting his arm fall away from his face. He opened his eyes and met her gaze, his expression serious. “We haven’t lost our touch,” he said.

  Which told her nothing. “No.”

  He watched her a while longer. “Do you want me to go?”

  Her stomach clenched. Her throat burned, tears threatening. He didn’t even want to hold her for a while? “It’s up to you, Rafe.”

  In truth she didn’t know if she wanted him to go or stay. What could they talk about? To only discuss casual topics like Elliot or Beau or their families would dilute the intensity of their lovemaking, driven by a desire left unresolved for too long.

  And yet, she felt good, too. He’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. Time and distance had only strengthened their physical compatibility.

  She’d spent years keeping her relationships short and simple. If she could do that with Rafe, would it run its course by the end of baseball season, so that they could go their separate ways, the past buried, the future brighter for both of them?

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.” Rafe rolled to his side, facing her. “But I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Your decision.”

  “No, it isn’t. Yes or no, Melina? Go or stay?”

  She decided she didn’t want him to stay, that she didn’t want to talk or hang out watching television or whatever other possibilities there were, since it was several hours until bedtime.

  “If you leave, is that it for us?” she asked.

  “Meaning what? You want to keep me as your stud?”

  “Something like that.” Her heart pounded so loud she thought surely he would hear it. She’d intended to be friends with him, not lovers, but maybe answering the attraction would help seal their future relationship. “I’m not seeing anyone right now,” she said.

  “Nor am I.” He tucked her hair—her still-damp, totally messed-up hair—behind her ear then rubbed her lobe. “I’m game. So. How does this work?”

  “We meet every so often for sex, but we won’t spend the night.” She didn’t know why, but sleeping with him seemed more intimate than having sex with him.

  “Well, now, that’s a fascinating proposition, Mel. I’m to be your boy toy when the need arises, but that’s all? We won’t have dinner together or watch a movie? Sex only, no strings attached?”

  She wanted strings. She wanted nights in his arms and waking up to watch the sunrise and a kiss good bye in the morning. She didn’t want her parents finding out and the reproachful looks that would follow, or the pity when it ended. Because it would end—she had no doubt about that.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want,” she said, sure of her decision finally.

  “And either of us can end it when we see fit, no recriminations, no blame? A no-fault affair, as it were?”

  “We’re adults. We can choose what kind of relationship we want.” But even as she said the words, she knew it wasn’t true. She was already falling in love with him again. If she’d ever stopped loving him.

  He didn’t speak for at least thirty seconds. Feeling almost sick to her stomach, she waited and waited.

  “Okay,” he said at last.

  She wanted to weep. It was what she’d wanted to hear, and yet it wasn’t enough.

  “Have you been happy, Rafe?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Life is what you expected?” she asked, wanting more of an answer.

  “More than I expected.”

  “Yet you moved back here…”

  “I’ve made a whole lot of money, and that’s not going to stop because I live here now. I have a certain skill that people pay well for, and an above-average tolerance for risk. I won’t apologize for what I’ve achieved. It feels good.”

  “Do you ever wish you’d taken a shot at the big leagues?”

  “Now and then.”

  They climbed out of bed. He took her hand and pulled her toward the bathroom.

  They didn’t have much to say after that, just let their shower-wet kisses and soapy hands do all the talking. By the time he left an hour later, her body ached contentedly and her heart discontentedly. She’d entered into an arrangement that could lead either to a purging of past blame and hurt or a whole new level of agony.

  Either way, she had to give it a shot, once and for all. Her peace of mind depended on it.

  Rafe hadn’t been home for two minutes when someone knocked on his front door.

  Melina’s father stood in the doorway. Rafe didn’t invite him in, nor did he address the man. He’d always called Melina’s mother Patsy, but he had never called her father Jefferson—or even Mr. Lawrence. Just Sir.

  “I want you to leave my daughter alone. And before you say anything—I know you’ve been at her place for the past two hours.”

  “You also know we’re working together on Elliot Anderson’s situation.”

  Jefferson’s gaze pierced him. His hands fisted. “My girl went through hell after you walked away. She’s been steady on her feet for a while now. She doesn’t need tripping up by you again.”

  Rafe clamped his mouth against the words that threatened to spill. He’d walked away? Like hell he had. The fact that Jefferson didn’t know the truth made Rafe wonder if everyone thought the same—that Rafe had ended the relationship, when it wasn’t true at all. He’d acknowledged the end, but that was it.

  All Rafe said to her father, however, was, “Message received, sir.”

  The vague response obviously didn’t please Jefferson. “You know, son, I did some checking on you. You were a real ladies man in Ann Arbor, weren’t you? Cut a wide swath.”

  “So?” He’d had no reason not to. To his knowledge he hadn’t broken any hearts.

  “Melina’s a good girl. She deserves to find a man to marry and bear his children. She won’t do that if you keep stringing her along.”

  Rafe almost laughed. If only Jeffe
rson knew the deal Melina had just presented Rafe with. Who was stringing whom along? Rafe did, on the other hand, understand a father’s love.

  “As I said, sir. Message received.” It was all he could promise, after all. It was Melina’s choice as much as his.

  “I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Jefferson said, then he stalked silently down the front path to his big pickup truck and rumbled away.

  Rafe shut the door but didn’t move. He shouldn’t feel guilty, but he did. He’d done nothing wrong, yet apparently he was the bad guy in the breakup scenario. If that were the case, why had Melina let him back into her life? He was the one who should be leery.

  After all, she was the one who’d broken his heart.

  Chapter Nine

  Red hadn’t yet hit its Friday-night stride when Rafe met up with Ross Fortune and orthopedic surgeon Jeremy Fortune for an early dinner. Marcos had given them a corner booth, announcing that Wendy Fortune would be their server, then winking at Rafe as he did so, as if to say, “You’ll see what an experienced server she is.”

  “Howdy cousins,” she said, eyeing the two Fortune men thoughtfully. “You all look like nachos and beer fans. A pitcher of light, and a big plate of extra-peppers nachos coming up.”

  The men had looked at each other and smiled. “Summed us up pretty well, I think,” Rafe said, getting nods in return.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Rafe said to Jeremy. “Seems you’ve gotten yourself engaged since we last spoke in my office a couple weeks ago.”

  “Thanks. I’m feeling pretty lucky these days. Maybe you’d like to come to dinner one night and meet Kirsten? Are you seeing anyone these days, Rafe? Someone you’d like to bring along?”

  “I’d like to meet your fiancée, and no, I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “That’s not what the word on the internet is,” Ross said.

  “Huh?” was all Rafe could manage.

  “You and Melina Lawrence have been linked.”

  “On the internet?”

  “June’s ‘Around Town’ column for the newspaper. It’s on the paper’s website as a daily column before it hits the stands in print.” The often-gruff, dark-haired P.I. seemed to be enjoying himself at Rafe’s expense.