Rafael Read online

  So the last fucking thing I should be thinking is of all the dirty things I want to do to Carrie Whitney. It would make an even bigger bastard than I’ve been already. I view women as a pleasurable way of spending an evening, nothing more. While I’m aware, family obligation means I’ll marry and have children I am in no rush to do so. For now, I take my pleasure from a woman for no more a week or two—to prevent them from getting ideas of it becoming something more. Everything about Carrie Whitney screamed she isn’t cut out for sex only. She’s too young and naïve. She would dream of tomorrows and marriage and love.

  A deep shuddering breath goes through her, causing her breasts to press more firmly against my chest. I fight a groan at the sensation. It’s still there, the low hum of electricity that hit me when I pulled her into my arms. I’ve never felt it before, am wondering what it is. Then she sighs melting into me even more and I forget about everything but the feel of her against me.

  Too soon, she takes a deep breath and lifts her face to look up at me. Beautiful, even with a pink nose and red-rimmed eyes. I tug out my pocket square and begin to wipe her tears away. Her skin is so soft, I linger longer than I should. Those blue eyes are soft as she looks up at me with the desire she can’t hide. I should send her away, far, far away from me only it’s too damn late for that. Hell, the moment I laid eyes on her it was too late for the both of us.

  “I want to apologize for my rude words. They were thoughtless and unwarranted. I was annoyed with myself and you for beginning to have doubts about my actions. I should not have been taken it out on you. Come, sit down and let us discuss the matter a little more. No, not at the desk have a seat in the sitting area. I’m going to order some tea, is that all right or would you rather have coffee?”

  She steps back from me, and instantly I want to pull her back against me again. I slide my hand around her back and guide her into the small sitting area, pressing her down into a leather club chair. A quick call to Lindsey for tea and sandwiches are made with my eyes on Carrie, I can’t take my eyes off her. I’m wondering why she stiffens as I make the call. It’s late in the day, almost four, I’m concerned she hasn’t had anything since lunch. The earl gray tea can be strong on an empty stomach. I notice she’s pressing her hands to her cheeks that are still heated. Damn it, I’m far from done in making up for my harsh words.

  2

  Carrie

  I stiffen when I hear him order tea and sandwiches. Of course, order the fat girl food and it will make her feel better.

  A few minutes later he is back. Without asking, he presses a wet and cool cloth firmly to my forehead, then slowly over my eyes, down to my cheeks. His touch is gentle, I have no idea why it leaves me trembling. No one has ever taken care of me before, not my mother when I was sick as a small child, or my friend’s parents when I moved in with them. I’ve always prided myself on not needing anyone. So why did his gentleness leave me wanting more?

  The woman from the desk carries in a tray of tea along with a small plate of pretty sandwiches as well as what appears to be fresh cookies. Rafael and the woman speak in hushed whispers behind me. Then he sits in the chair beside me. He pours a steaming cup of tea and asks if I take sugar. I nod, not trusting my tight throat to get the word out. He adds a cube of sugar then stirs it, before handing it to me.

  I wince in embarrassment at the way my hand trembles as I take the cup and saucer. Everything about the delicate cup and saucer screams money and now I’m terrified I’ll drop it and break it. I don’t dare look at him, simply take a sip of the tea. The heat warms me from the inside out, a few sips and the tea is gone. Suddenly, the cup is taken from me without a word. Flushing, still too embarrassed to look at him, I focus on my clenched hands.

  He offers me the plate of sandwiches, “I think you should have a sandwich. Which would you like, smoked salmon or chicken salad?”

  Shaking my head, I don’t look up from my hands, the idea of eating in front of him has me wilting. Then my traitorous stomach growls. He sighs. “Carrie, do not try my patience. If you do not take one, I have no problem forcing it upon you.”

  The threat is clear in his tone, I have no doubt he’ll do it and I have no idea why it makes my stomach flip with anticipation. I give in, taking a chicken salad triangle and begin to nibble at it. He refills the cup and adds a cube of sugar. I can’t take my eyes off his beautiful hands; they are long and elegant even though they are also large and powerful. Accepting the cup, I finish the sandwich and sip on the tea.

  The silence stretches between us until finally he breaks it. “I hadn’t thought it possible—I’m finding a woman so quiet, extremely unnerving. Look at me, please.” Unable to deny him, I looked up. God, he’s just so beautiful. It’s not fair for a man to be beautiful. “Why so quiet?”

  Blushing, I drop my eyes again. “I’m embarrassed. I never cry. I’m sorry for crying all over you, Mr. Castillo.”

  “Never? You will call me Rafael. I believe we have moved beyond last names.”

  I nod, yet know I couldn’t call him Rafael, it felt too personal. “I haven’t cried since my mom died. At first, it was so the twins wouldn’t be upset or concerned. Then it became important to never break down. Like, if I did, it would be admitting I was weak.”

  “Look at me,” I’m unable to refuse his demand. Hazel has softened to a shimmering moss and I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. “It is not weakness. Your load has been a heavy one, you must have been quite young yourself when you took on such a large responsibility as two young children. Not many people would have been able to bear something so difficult without breaking down from time to time. There is no shame in it.”

  I shake my head, even though I want to believe him.

  “Carrie,” his voice is soft. “I’m sorry. From what you’ve mentioned about losing your job and the move here. It seems you were already stressed. I’m sure it’s been worse since the boys were arrested. How old were you when they came into your care?”

  “I was nineteen, for the last seven years. But I was there when they were born and their primary caretaker for their first year as my mom had a tough delivery and she went through bad postpartum depression. I was thirteen when my mom met their father. I hated him the first time I met him. There was something about him...he was too slick and...” I shake my head as I remember the way he made my skin crawl. “She wouldn’t listen, she’d been without a man in her life for a long time and she would do whatever it took to keep him.”

  As if now that I started, I can’t stop the past comes spilling out of me. “When he began to slap her around she blamed me, not him or even herself—it was all my fault. Then he hit me.” I wince as I remember the pain and fear of that day. “I couldn’t believe it when she yelled at me that it was my fault. If I had kept my mouth shut, he wouldn’t have had to hit me.”

  A noise brings my head up and the anger on Rafael’s face causes my stomach to twist in fear. Until he realizes I’m staring at him, then it’s gone. Reaching out, he takes the empty cup from me then sits it on the table in front of us. I can’t hold in my gasp when his big hand takes the hand I hadn’t realized was clenched tight into a fist. Tracing his thumb over the back of my hand, his touch is gentle so I don’t understand why the electricity that zips through my body is almost painful.

  Softly, the words are almost a whisper, “Did he hit you again?”

  I shake my head. “I knew I had to get out before it got worse. The next day I moved out and in with my best friend’s family. My mom didn’t care. It was a relief for her, she said it was best for everyone.”

  Even now I can’t believe she didn’t try and stop me. It hit me then that she was picking him. He was more important than me. It hurt, it still hurts.

  “It was more than a year before I heard from her again. He was in jail on a drug charge and she had just had the twins. She begged me to move back in with her. I told her no but she admitted to scary postpartum depression. She was afraid of accidentally hurting them or herself so I went back.”

  I can’t bring myself to admit how awful it had been living with her again. The way she treated me like a servant, the way she ignore the small babies, and how scared I was too take care of them all on my own.

  “When he got out of jail she told me I could go back to living with my friend. No, thank you or anything. I moved back in with my friend and her family. I never talked to her again. One day I got a call from Houston CPS with the news she was dead. She had left paperwork giving me custody. CPS confirmed I had my own apartment and a job then left with a wave and good luck. Never mind it was a one bedroom and the job was part-time because I was in school full time. And oh yeah, I was only nineteen. It was me or foster care and at their age it was highly unlikely they would be adopted. I couldn’t do that to them. So I dropped out of school and my job was happy to have me go full time.”

  “What happened with your job?” He asks gently.

  “I worked for a property management company as an assistant manager for an apartment complex. The owner sold the property. The buyer had their own property management. There weren’t any full-time openings with my company. For a while I filled in here and there. It was all over the place in Austin without consistency, there were some weeks I didn’t even get twenty hours. An old boss offered me a position here in Dallas but I stayed too long in Austin looking for a job there and it got filled. The twins acted like I was the wicked witch of the west for talking about moving from Austin.” I hate admitting it out loud, this was all my fault.

  “I couldn’t find anything. My savings account was dwindling. The cost of living is cheaper here and I was promised at least thirty hours paid so that I could be put into a permanent position for the next assistant manager or even leasing agent position that opens up. But it’s been three months and nothing has yet. I’m waiting tables at a family restaurant as a second job. I’m sorry I cried all over you. It wasn’t just what you said, I have been feeling like a failure for months.”

  “You aren’t a failure, don’t say it again.” His words are firm and those hazel eyes glow with a warning. With a small squeeze of my hand he lets me go, instantly I miss his touch. “Eat another sandwich. Give me five minutes and I’ll take you home.”

  He flicks back the cuff at his wrist, glances at a thin gold Rolex on his wrist and is up and moving back to his desk. “Lindsey, cancel my five o’clock and tell Benito I’m out for the day. I’m sending you the excel file. I want it redone. It doesn’t include the projections for the additional landscaping the client added last week. Have it ready and back to me by ten tomorrow. I’ll be in late, let Javier know he’ll be doing the conference call on his own.”

  I can’t take my eyes off him. His attention is back on me before I have a chance to look away.

  “Eat another sandwich or I will make you.”

  Blushing that he caught me staring and at the way my body reacts with longing at the command in his voice. I turn back to the plate and select a smoked salmon sandwich. It’s so good the triangle disappears in three bites. When he comes back, I’m on my second sandwich.

  “You don’t have to take me home.” I try to reassure him.

  “Yes, I do. You still seem a bit unsteady and Dallas traffic is bad enough even with all your senses about you. I also want to meet the twins and speak with them. After what you have told me it seems I have been a bit over-reactive. However, I don’t think simply letting them off without understanding the seriousness of their actions and the chaos they caused is the right thing either.”

  I wince at how right he is.

  “It was their fault, not yours. They know right from wrong. You are doing the best you can under the circumstances you have been dealt, they are not. I am willing to move forward with a punishment for them outside of pressing charges. Will you allow me that freedom?”

  Standing, shock hits me when his arm goes around my waist as he guides me from the room. My brain short circuits at his body so close to mine again. We’re in the elevator before I realize he is waiting for a response.

  “I don’t understand the question,” I admit. Breathing deep the scent of him fills me. Rain, moss, leather, and something unique only to Rafael has me never wanting to exhale.

  A small smile plays over his beautiful mouth, a stray thought of what it would feel like against mine has me blushing. “I’m asking for you to allow me to handle the situation we find ourselves in. I want to be able to decide the punishment for the twins.”

  “What kind of punishment are you thinking of?”

  “I’m thinking they work it off at the construction site they destroyed, with the men who have to repair the damage they did. Where are you parked, in the garage?”

  Exiting the elevator I feel dozens of eyes on us, I can’t bring myself to tear my eyes off Rafael.

  “I’m on the street. I found a space a block down. Is that safe? Aren’t the men going to be angry and take it out on them? I’m not against them working, I think it would be good, actually.” Now that we are outside with the bright sun beating down on me, I come back to my senses. I fight a blush at the way I’m pressing myself against him and try to discreetly move away. Except his hand on my hip tightens, holding me firmly and it causes wet heat to flood my body.

  “I will take care of the men on the site. They will not be mistreated or bullied. The havoc they wrought on the site is still being cleaned up and they should see the results of their destruction.”

  Nodding, I startle when he yanks me tight against him. A screeching car and the driver yelling has me realizing I had almost walked right out into the street without stopping. Embarrassment fizzles away in an instant when he doesn’t loosen his grip on me. I’m aching for him. My skin is heated, unbearably tight and I know only he can make the ache go away. This wasn’t like when he held me as I cried.

  “Careful, just a moment for the light to change. Are you on this side of the street or should we cross?” His words are light but his eyes are knowing. I’m blushing as I take in people around us. What the hell is the matter with me?

  “This side of the street. Thank you, okay, yes. I’ll leave it in your hands and support your decision.” I point out my car. It’s a late model car my brothers frequently complained about but I love how dependable and gas friendly it is.

  I stop as we get close and root around in my large purse. Dang it, I’m all thumbs. His grip loosens and he steps away. I’m able to focus again and find my keys. I pull them out and he immediately takes them. He scans the busy street then leads me out onto the street. Hitting the button to unlock the car, he opens the door for me. When I’m settled into the passenger seat, he closes the door then walks around and gets into the driver’s seat.

  Laughter escapes me at how when he gets into the car he is bunched up because of his long legs. I’m surprised he laughs too, it’s a rich, throaty sound that steals my breath. I hadn’t thought he would be willing to laugh at himself. His smile is lethal to a woman’s sensibilities is all I can think as I force my eyes off him and out the window.

  The soaring sounds of Chopin come through the speakers when he turns on the car. I turn it down low. The drive had been hectic and I flipped to the CD player instead of the radio. “Sorry, you can turn it off if you want.”

  “It’s fine, I like Chopin. Is this a CD of just him or does it have other composers?”

  “This one is just of Chopin. I have two of Mozart and one of Hadyn. The other discs are the twin’s and it’s all rap so be careful if you want to change it.”

  “Ah, my nephew is a fan of rap. I’ve become used to listening to it as a means of having something other than work to talk with him about.”

  “Really? How old is your nephew?”

  “Yes, really. He’s twenty-four.”

  “How old are you? You don’t look old enough to have a twenty-four-year old nephew.”

  “I’m thirty-eight, my older brother got a girl pregnant when he was only sixteen and I was twelve. My parents weren’t about to let him ruin his life by marrying the girl and they took in the baby. He was very much a little brother. My youngest brother was only eight when he came into the family.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “My older brother, Santos’ father, died almost ten years ago. I have two younger brothers. I don’t have any sisters, my mother only kept going until she gave up on getting the girl she wanted. To this day I get to hear her moan of the lack of a single daughter-in-law.”

  “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  His sigh is heavy as he shrugs. “Manuel had too much yet none of it was enough. He was the first born, a boy and my father over-indulged him. There was no need for him to be accountable for anything he did from the time he was very young until the day he overdosed. My grandfather stepped in when Manuel died. Retiring, he left the company in control of my father and uncle. He purchased a home near my parent’s home and basically moved us in with him. From then on, he began to take us to the work sites and had us working on the weekends. He gave us an allowance, taught us how to handle our money and made us save as well as give to charity. Even more importantly to him, he taught us Spanish.”

  “Your parents didn’t teach you Spanish?” Growing up in Texas I’ve often been surprised by how much Spanish was spoken, not just by Hispanics but by non-Hispanics. I can understand a small amount because of how much it was spoken by kids I went to school with.

  “No, my mother was very much the blonde Dallas society young woman. She didn’t speak Spanish and didn’t care to learn. My father didn’t have the time. He was always working. It was important to him to expand the company into Houston and beyond Texas as a way of feeling like he made a major contribution to the company beyond just being the son carrying on my grandfather’s company.”