Chapter Twenty
The insistent ring of a cell phone dragged Raphael out of a heavy sleep like a nagging insect he couldn't slap away. He pried an eye open and glared at the top of the phone visible in his jeans pocket.
"Damn it, Chay," he muttered, the ringtone unmistakable. Careful not to awaken the sleeping woman in his arms, he uncurled from around her soft form and snatched up the jeans where he'd dropped them the night before. He pulled the phone free. "You have the shittiest timing ever," he snapped, tugging his pants on and striding from the bedroom.
A pause. Then snort. "Sorry I had to pull you away from" -a snicker- "whatever. But we have a nine o'clock appointment this morning. I figured you may have forgotten about it with everything that's been going on this week."
"Shit." Rafe thrust his fingers through his hair, dragging the tangled strands out of his eyes. He scrubbed a hand down his face, and stubble scraped his palm. "The Taylor consultation?"
"I wouldn't bother you with it except they made a specific request that we both come to their home for the meeting."
"Yeah." He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom door. A fierce objection surged within him, demanding he stay, that he not leave Greer alone. Especially after the attempted kidnapping. And last night. But this appointment had been set weeks ago, and he couldn't bail on Chay. Not when meeting such a high-profile client. While Chay could answer most client questions, when it came to the technological area, Rafe was the expert. "I'll be ready."
"I'm sorry," Chay said. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"I know. Pick me up at the house?"
"No problem. And Rafe?"
"What?"
"Don't forget the suit." The click reverberated in Rafe's ear before he could reply.
"Bastard," he snarled to the dead line before plunking the phone down on his desk. With a resigned sigh, he jogged up the steps. Thirty minutes later, he entered the basement again, tightening the knot of his "consultations and christenings" tie. He hated the damn thing with a passion. Muttering about pretentious clients and stupid monkey suits, he crossed the office and paused at the darkened doorway of the room where Greer continued to sleep.
The sheet covered her, revealing the smooth slope of her shoulder. Her long hair spread across the pillow like a dark velvet flag, some of the heavy strands obscuring her face from his view. A sinuous heat unfurled in his gut, stretched up his chest like a slow-burning fire. Need, true, but something else, too. It was the "else" he didn't dare analyze.
Her stunning revelation from the evening before drifted back to him, the admission no less shocking for the hours that had passed.
I didn't even love him the way a woman should when she's about to pledge the rest of her life and body to a man. The sex was more dutiful than mind-blowing.
She hadn't loved Gavin. Not consuming you-complete-me love. And yet she'd been ready to marry him. Why? Granted, her father was a controlling asshat, but he wasn't a feudal lord forcing her to marry someone he'd chosen. What had been her motive to chain herself to someone she'd had "dutiful" sex with? Shit. Many words described sex with Greer-hot, blistering hot, and fucking hot just a few of them-but "dutiful" didn't make the list. Hell, it wasn't an option. But it did obliterate any lingering doubt he'd harbored about that ludicrous abstinence agreement Greer claimed she and Gavin had before his death. If their relationship hadn't been a love match, and the sex yawn-worthy …
He closed his eyes. Relived last night. Her body had been just as lovely, as sexy as he remembered. But there had been changes. Minute, but still there. Slightly fuller breasts. Definitely more sensitive. Her nails had nearly drilled holes in his head when he'd sucked her nipples in his mouth. Damn. Desire pulsed in his veins, heading straight for his cock. And while her belly remained flat, there was a firmness there where the baby slept. She would begin to show in just a few weeks, maybe as early as two. He couldn't wait to see her rounded stomach, to touch the swell …
Stop it. With a shake of his head, he pumped mental brakes on the thought. One night of sex-albeit the best sex ever-and he waded into dangerous territory of hope and fantasy. He lifted his lashes, stared at the woman sleeping so peacefully in his bed. A hard wrench twisted his gut, knocked against his heart.
God, he wanted to believe. To accept. And now with her confession about the truth of her and Gavin's relationship, slapping back the hope had suddenly become tougher. Because part of him didn't want to fight, just surrender. And be happy for fucking once. With pathetic ease, he recalled the joy in seeing the son he believed his and Yolanda's for the first time. Those beautiful eyes had gazed up at him, and his heart had been lost. Love as he'd never experienced, not even for the boy's mother, had swamped him. And the agony had been equally devastating when he'd discovered he had no claim on the baby.
Rafe sucked in a breath, rubbed a hand across his newly shaven jaw. Yeah, he believed Greer. But what happened when the baby was born? What happened when he looked into the infant's eyes, fell deeply in love, and then lost him? He couldn't bear it. Not again.
Not again.
He sank to the bed, stroked a hand over her warm, silken skin. And sighed. Jesus, she was beautiful-
"Touch me again, and I'll cut it off myself," she grumbled, slapping his hand. "Need sleep."
His shocked crack of laughter quickly transformed into a cough when she flipped over on her stomach and burrowed her head beneath the pillow. Who knew? Mannerable, polite Greer Addison was a certified grouch in the morning. He grinned, his confusion from moments earlier dissipating. Risking the health of his dick, he nudged her shoulder blade.
"Princess, I have to leave for an appointment. I should be gone about three hours. Greer, are you listening?" He poked her again, and his smile widened at her aggravated, muffled sigh. "Don't leave the house. And Gabe's coming by to stay with you while I'm gone. He has the key and the code. He's the only person inside, all right?" He tapped the pillow. "All right?" he repeated.
"For God's sake, yes," she groused. "Don't leave. Nobody inside. Gabe. Sleep."
He waited, but moments later when a soft snore came from beneath the pillow, he chuckled and exited the bedroom.
Best. Morning. After. Ever.
…
"That went well," Chay said, descending the front steps of the Belmont Hill McMansion and the site of their meeting with Colleen Taylor, owner and CEO of the T&T Corporation.
"Oh, definitely," Rafe drawled. "Especially since Colleen couldn't seem to take her eyes off your pretty-boy face." He snagged Chay's cheek in a rough pinch, wagging the skin back and forth. "You're so pretty, yes you are," he cooed.
"Fuck you," Chay growled, knocking Rafe's hand away and stalking toward his parked SUV. But not before Rafe caught the faint blush staining his face. He hooted in laughter.
"Sorry, big boy, not my type. But Colleen, on the other hand … " Rafe fluttered his lashes. "I'm sure she would take you up on the offer."
"How a grown-ass man can be such a damn pain in the nuts is beyond me," Chay snapped, hitting the key fob. The vehicle unlocked with a high-pitched beep, and he glared at Rafe as he rounded the front of the truck. "And you can take that smile and-"
A ping rang in the morning air followed by a low, hollow thud. Rafe stared in stunned disbelief at the small hole in the roof of the truck, inches from where he stood.
A small, bullet-sized hole.
Anger and fear burned off the shock, and he ducked just as the window above him shattered. A furious bellow echoed in his ears as Chay launched himself behind the truck, tackling Rafe to the ground.
"Are you hit?" he demanded, the same anger and horror roiling inside Rafe reflected in his friend's eyes. "Rafe, damn it! Are you hit?"
"No, I'm good."
With a nod, Chay rolled off him, crouching next to the driver's side door. Rafe joined him, their harsh breaths thunderous in the still morning air. Another shot punched the air and glass from the side window showered down on them in a sharp, cutting rain.
What the fuck? Fear left a nasty coating on his tongue. He shifted, and glass sprinkled off his head and shoulders, crunched under his feet.