Page 45 of Rafe’s Future

And then, there was the kiss. That incredible, soul-stealing moment she’d never forget. Lena had hoped it would lead to so much more, but unfortunately for her, he didn’t feel the same.

Oh, Rafe wanted her. Physically, anyway. Of that, she was utterly certain. No man pulled a woman into his arms the way he had or kissed the way Rafe did without the possession of genuine desire. Question was, why did he stop?

You know why.

She looked at the bruises again.

Lena sighed, abandoning her reflection to flip off the lights and leave the en-suite bathroom. She glanced around at her temporary home on her way past the amazing bed.

Its dark mahogany frame rose high to a rectangular canopy lined with the most beautiful, ornate carvings. Swirls and swoops that gave its otherwise masculine appearance a feminine touch.

Romantic.

That was Lena’s first thought when Rafe had appointed the space as hers. The bed. The room. The entire house held a classic, romantic feel. Just like the burly Brit who resided within its walls.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

She opened the door and headed down the long hallway, toward the stately home’s spectacular staircase. Lena was mid-way past the structure’s smooth, wide curve when she heard voices coming from the main floor below.

One was deep. Male. Definitely belonged to Rafe. The other was much softer and higher pitched. A strange feeling crept into her tightening gut, and it took her a few seconds to recognize it for what it was.

Jealousy.

Whatever. She was closing in on fifty, for crying out loud. She didn’t get jealous. The thought was so absurd it was laughable.

Then why are you still standing here, hiding out like a coward?

Lena filled her lungs with a cleansing breath before letting it back out with a silent exhale. Spine straightened and chin lifted, she bounced her way down to the home’s gorgeous entrance. Following the sounds of conversation, she bypassed a formal sitting area on her way to the kitchen.

She spotted Rafe first. He was sitting at a round, wooden table in a windowed corner at the far side of the room. He was dressed in well-worn jeans, a pair of slightly scuffed boots, and a heather gray t-shirt that stretched over his delicious muscles with perfection.

Damn, he looks good.

Morning. Afternoon. The time of day didn’t seem to matter. Rafe Owens was a sexy silver fox who’d given her the best kiss of her forty-nine years.

Soft laughter pulled Lena forward another step, clearing her view of his female guest. The tension in her shoulders fell away as a rush of chagrin settled in.

It’s Alice.

Or Shadow. Lena still wasn’t quite clear on which name she was supposed to use when it came to Rafe’s daughter.

Either way, the intelligent blonde was sitting at the table, smiling at something her father had just said. He opened his mouth to say something more when his Spidey senses picked up on her presence.

In pure gentlemanly fashion, Rafe stood and greeted her with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Lena smiled back, trying hard to read his thoughts through his eyes.

Was he thinking of last night? Did he regret pulling away?

Does he regret the kiss?

“Your voice,” Rafe rumbled. “It sounds much better this morning. How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Hating how superbly awkward this moment is, but other than that, I’m good. Her gaze slid to the right. “Hi.” She went over to Rafe’s daughter and offered her hand. “You must be Alice. Or should I call you Shadow?”

“You can call me anything but late for dinner.” The pretty blonde grinned, but then winced as she started to stand.

“No, don’t get up.” Lena stopped her with a raised palm before the two women shared a quick shake. “Save your strength. Getting shot takes a lot of you.”