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Hi Chelsea. I’ve got some bad news and some good news. First, the bad news. I think that nasty flu is gaining a foothold on the mainland. John’s not feeling well. I’m sorry, but we have to cancel dinner and reschedule our meeting for tomorrow morning at our office. The good news is Rafe volunteered to stand in for us tonight, and I know he’ll take care of you. Look forward to meeting with you tomorrow.
Shit. She switched her attention to Daryl. “I’m sorry. I have several important meetings to prepare for. Could you please tell Mr. St. Sebastian I appreciate his invitation, but…”
Daryl’s smile turned disarming. “I don’t keep my job by disappointing Mr. St. Sebastian.”
A polite way of saying, “I’m a driver, not a messenger.” Whatever she wanted to say to Rafe, she’d have to say it herself. In person. And the painful truth was she couldn’t say a damn thing without sounding like a fool. He’d asked her to go to the re-launch party with him. She’d said no. He’d taken someone else, and now she was jealous. Why? Because she suddenly realized she wanted him all to herself. Admitting that would be the quickest way to scare him off for good. Hastening the inevitable might be the safest option, but she didn’t have the strength to bare her heart and endure his rejection, which meant tonight would be an exercise in holding her tongue and keeping a lock on her feelings. She sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Okay Daryl, lead on, and please call me Chelsea.”
“This way, Chelsea. I know you had a long flight. Don’t worry. I’ll get you to your destination in no time.”
“Where, exactly, is my destination?”
He smiled again. “Mr. St. Sebastian requested that I tell you it’s a surprise.”
Not good. She still reeled from the last surprise he’d given her, when she’d seen a picture of him wrapped around another woman.
An hour later her stomach pitched when Daryl slowed the town car, turned left off Pacific Coast Highway, and inched down a winding drive lined with gnarled bishop pines. The clean lines of a two-level home shifted into view through the fringed green screen of trees. Late afternoon sunlight slanted off wide expanses of glass and wood.
Daryl stopped the car in the circular drive, directly in front of the house. Even from her vantage point in the car, Chelsea could peer through the soaring windows, all the way to the ocean.
Rafe stepped into view and descended the steps, barefoot, wearing jeans and a navy cashmere sweater that turned up the blue in his eyes. A poster boy for casual elegance, but she couldn’t stop picturing him in a tuxedo, holding that other woman in his arms. She wanted to hide in the back of the car but Daryl came around and opened the door, and then, ready or not, she stood face-to-face with the casual diversion she’d foolishly fallen in love with.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Surprise,” Rafe murmured and lowered his head to kiss her. She turned at the last moment and the kiss landed on her cheek. Impatience sprinted through him. Yes, he’d promised discretion, but Daryl didn’t moonlight for the Montenido Enquirer. He caught her chin, tipped her face up, and planted a kiss on her mouth, then nibbled and teased her stubborn lips until they parted around a reluctant sigh. He rewarded them both by deepening the kiss for one dizzying instant, before drawing back to stare down at her.
The sight greeting him gave him pause. Evasive eyes shielded by lowered lashes, and two slashes of red riding high on otherwise pale cheeks. He frowned and brushed her hair off her forehead, relieved to find it cool. “You okay?”
She flashed an unconvincing smile, but didn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Not too good with surprises, I guess.”
Tired, he deduced, and something more, but he didn’t need to pry it out of her right here on the doorstep. He had all night to figure out what troubled her. And he would. He took her hand and pulled her up the steps. The ever-efficient Daryl followed with her bag, set it inside the door, and then waited while Rafe signed the receipt. With a nod, he was gone.
“This way.” He led her through the open entryway to the light-saturated sitting room and pointed her toward the long, low-slung white sofa Arden had talked him into on the grounds of its “aggressive impracticality.” He had to admit it fit the space. “Something to drink?”
She snuggled into the gray wrap she wore over a formfitting gray and white striped sweater and slim white jeans that made her legs go on for miles. “Anything,” she said as she wandered over to the retracted glass doors framing the view.
“Two anythings coming up. Make yourself at home.” He swept her hair aside and kissed her neck—another surprise gauging by the way she stiffened. The urge to turn her around and ask her what the hell was wrong returned. He shook it off and headed to the kitchen. Sometimes patience presented a better strategy. Give her a drink, let her relax, and she’d probably share whatever was on her mind of her own accord.
When he returned with their drinks he found her out on the deck. She’d slipped off her heels somewhere along the line, and stood barefoot on the bleached wood, elbows propped on the rail, staring out at the waves. As he watched, she wrapped her arms around herself. The pose made her look disconcertingly solitary.
“Cold?” February evenings in Southern California fell a good twenty degrees short of the warm Maui nights.
“A little.” Her eyes remained trained on the water.
“This will warm you up.” He handed her a glass, and then stood behind her with an arm braced on the rail on either side of her. “I wanted to meet you at the airport, but my schedule didn’t cooperate.”
“The limo was very comfortable.”
“I looked forward to sharing the ride.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. I can’t stop thinking about the last time we found ourselves together in a limo.”
“Was it memorable?”
Did she think that prim voice could freeze his dick off? He retaliated by moving his hips forward so she could tell he wasn’t easily discouraged. “Yes. I remember tying your wrists to the door, bracing your feet against the ceiling, and making you come so hard you cried.”
She lifted her glass and took a sip of her drink. The tiny pause before she swallowed told him she remembered the last time they’d shared rum and Coke, too. He waited until she was done swallowing and then touched his glass against hers. “I’ve missed you.”
