I feel the blood draining from my face and hold on to the bureau to steady myself. “Here? In St. Augustine? I thought you’d only be here for a day or two.”

He nods, my chin still in his fingers. He strokes my slightly moist bottom lip lightly with his thumb, which makes my clit pulse.

“I have a suite booked, but I’m looking at renting a house longer-term. With a proper kitchen and dining room and bedroom. Perhaps I can make you arroz con pollo. You always loved my cooking.” He studies me with a smirk. “Oh, that’s right. You want to keep things professional.”

My eyes cloud and flit around the room. “I think I should stay away from you during non-working hours. I’ll see you at the paper tomorrow.”

He sighs, a big, exaggerated sound. “You know, Justi, maybe you’re right. But for the sake of business, let’s try to make this work. You have a lot to lose, and I believe there’s money to be made here. Let’s put this night in our memories. Like we’ve done with everything else in our past.”

When he releases my chin, I turn from him and hold the corner of the bureau with both hands.

“How many papers are you looking to buy?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a few. That’s why I came here instead of my vice president. I’m considering a long-term investment strategy in hopes of owning media properties in every major market in the south and possibly looking toward the future at expanding nationwide. Like Warren Buffet has. I thought it would be worth scrutinizing your assets to see if the Times fits my future portfolio. After what I saw today, I’m not sure it does.”

Oh God, this is the worst possible scenario. I’m shaking now, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can feel him come closer, and his warm lips brush my forehead. His mouth in that spot is familiar and tender and also terribly bittersweet. I scowl.

“Sweet dreams, Justi,” he whispers.

* * *

I sink onto my sofa with a cup of chai tea and sniffle, finally calming after a solid, fifteen-minute crying jag. I haven’t been this overwhelmingly upset in years.

Thank God I didn’t let Rafa see me cry. I’d been close to melting down when he’d stared at me with hatred in his eyes, kissed my forehead, and stormed out of the house.

I thought I was over him. I thought our love was firmly in the past. I thought I’d moved on.

But I was so damned wrong about it all.

I shiver when I think of his hands twisting in my hair, his lips burning on my neck. The feel of his breath on my skin lingers. Having sex with him would have been a disaster. A beautiful, Category-5-hurricane type of disaster. No, it’s for the best that I stopped before things careened too far out of control.

Even if he’s ready to dive into bed, even if every molecule in my body wants him, I must not blur the lines between a personal and professional relationship. Because if I sleep with him, I’ll fall for him again.

I can’t afford that. I’m a grown woman with a business now. A rational woman who lives in a small town and not in Miami. And he’d never fit in here—he’d never want to.

But dammit, I need his company to help me. I wipe a fresh pool of tears out of my eyes.

It might be too late for help, though. Have I screwed things up by teasing him, then rejecting him? I swallow a lump in my throat. My tea is lukewarm, and I set it on the coffee table. It tastes entirely too saccharine for this moment, and I want something bitter to match my mood.

I groan out loud and think about calling Diana. It’s too late, though, and I don’t want to tell her that I’d practically pulled Rafael into bed, then kicked him out of my house. Instead, I drink the tepid tea and ponder my bleak options.

What should I do now? Have I screwed things up beyond repair, like I have with my business?

Newspapers across the country are changing for the worse, and the Times is no exception. If Rafael and his company don’t offer funding, I’ll be forced to let go all one hundred of my employees, many of whom I’ve known since birth. I’ll be out of a job. Stopping the presses at the Times will mark the first time on the East Coast that a city is without a daily newspaper.

And if any place needs a newspaper, it’s St. Augustine. The sheriff’s office is corrupt, the city council is sketchy, and the business community apathetic. Citizens need the paper, even if they don’t always know it. Or pony up the cash to subscribe.

I don’t want the paper to close on my watch. Ink is in my blood, and I’m fighting like hell to rescue my family’s legacy.

Rafael’s my last hope.

I guess I’ll have to pray he helps me. Hope he doesn’t hold tonight against me. Because if I refuse his help and tell him to return to Miami, I’ll have to file for bankruptcy.

I curse out loud and shut my eyes, flopping back against the pillows.

Why can’t I be one of those women who fucks a guy and doesn’t get attached? Why couldn’t I have enjoyed myself tonight in bed with Rafael and then met him in the office with a knowing wink and a handshake tomorrow? Why did I think I would get attached if I spent one short night with him?

With aching joints, I rise and head for the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of scotch and answer my own question.

I knew from the moment I saw Rafael fifteen years ago that he would get under my skin, work his way into my soul, embed himself into my consciousness.

Not one thing has changed. I plod back into the living room, sinking again into the sofa, remembering our first date, our first kiss, the night we first slept together. 

And I cry.

* * *

“You’re gorgeous in that dress, but you’re going to have to take it off.”

“W-what?”

Rafael grinned. “You should see the look on your face. I’m not asking you to strip for me. We haven’t even kissed, silly. You’re going to have to wear something else because I have a motorcycle. You can’t wear a dress on a bike. See?”

He walked to my window and pointed down to the street. I stood next to him, feeling the heat of his body, staring at the black-and-blue motorcycle parked below. He was the first guy to actually pick me up on an old-fashioned date. Even guys in high school never had, preferring to meet somewhere and hook up. Rafael had this old world quality about him, a formality, even though he was only twenty years old.

“It’s a Honda CB 125,” he said. Like that meant anything to me.

“I’ve never been on a bike.”

He rested his hand at the top of my back and circled his thumb on my bare skin.

“I’ll go slow.”

Would he go slow when he found out I was a virgin? That I was still broken from grief after my mother and brother had been killed in a car crash the summer before I left for university? That I’d almost dropped out?

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”

“Why?”

“Um. I don’t want to tell you on our first date. Maybe we can walk down the street for pizza, or I can make something…”

No way was I going to tell him a motorcycle going the wrong way down the interstate was what led to the crash that had killed my mother and brother. I’d been in the backseat and walked away, unhurt. Everyone said it was a miracle, but I thought it was a curse.

Rafa shrugged. “I don’t care where we go or what we do. I just want to be with you. Hey, are you okay?”

I swallowed tears and nodded.

Rafa put his arms around me. He was wearing a leather jacket, and the smell was heady, intense, inconsistent with his soothing gesture and voice.

“We don’t have to go anywhere. Your apartment is perfect.”

I snuggled into his chest. Hesitant, I slid my arms around the hard muscles of his torso, in between his jacket and T-shirt. I put my ear to his chest and listened to his fast heartbeat.

One of his hands wove through my hair and the other claimed the small of my back, drawing me tight against him. He kissed my forehead, and I'd never felt anything so tender, or so erotic.

For the first time since the car crash, I felt safe.

It was like that every time we were together. Which was a lot, because we soon became inseparable. For weeks, we’d hang out, eat, talk, and kiss. He didn’t demand anything, but each night, we explored a few more inches of each other’s bodies. One night, I told him that I was ready to go all the way. He’d smoothed my hair and kissed me deep and told me he’d arrange everything. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but two days later, he took me to the hotel on South Beach where he worked parking cars as a valet.

First he led me into an elevator, and then he stood behind me and covered my eyes, guiding me in little steps until we reached a door.

“Keep your eyes shut, okay?” I felt him put something over my eyes.

“A blindfold?” I giggled nervously.

“That’s right, baby.” I let him lead me by the hand a few steps. I heard the door close.

“Rafa, what floor are we on? Are we in a room? How did you get this? Did it cost a ton?”

“Shhhh. No more questions. Don’t worry. I have the hookup with my boss. It’s a slow week and the hotel gave me the room for free because I worked overtime.”

He cupped my face with his hands, my heart racing. His lips tasted like mint, and I swirled my tongue over them until his mouth was slippery and I was out of breath. I was scared and excited about spending a full night with him. Even though I lived in the dorm and him in an apartment, there’d been nothing stopping us from sleeping together. We just hadn’t because we’d been waiting for the right moment.

Tonight was that moment.

“Don’t move.”

I heard footsteps, the jangle of keys, and then the flick of a match. A second later, slow, sensual Cuban bolero music played in the background.

How much more perfect could my life be? After everything I’d been through, my time with Rafa was like a fairytale.

He returned to me, and I felt the warmth of his body before he kissed me again. I shivered as he stroked my face with his hands.

“You’re so beautiful. God, Justine.”

Reaching around my head, he untied the strip of black cloth wrapped around my eyes and allowed it to fall to the floor. My hands flew to my mouth and I gasped when I saw the simple luxury of the room. The candles flickered, and a stand cradled a bottle of champagne in ice.

I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck, meeting his grin with seductive eyes.

“This is like a dream. Girls are supposed to lose their virginity in the backs of cars or on their parents’ sofas, not in swank hotel rooms on South Beach.”

“I wanted to do this right. You’re not just any girl. You’re my girl. I’m responsible for your happiness.”

I pressed against him, my lips grazing his neck. He fisted my hair in his hand and tugged enough to send another wave of desire through me.

“I can’t believe we’ve managed to wait this long.” I sighed.

His hands skimmed down my back until they cupped my bottom. Reaching under my dress, his fingers found the lacy material underneath. I wanted him right then, wanted him to lay me on the plush cream carpet and strip me bare, but I didn’t want to show my impatience. I wanted to savor every moment, because this night would never happen again.

“Me neither. Not like you haven’t tempted me over the last thirty-two days, twelve hours, and five minutes since we met.”

“You’ve been counting?”

He laughed. “You haven’t?”

I grinned and pulled back from his embrace. His mouth was so sexy, and I was ready to consume it and the rest of him. I undid a button on his shirt as he slipped the thin straps of my dress down both shoulders. He kissed me twice, chaste kisses against my grin.

“It’s so awesome that we’ve waited. Thank you for respecting me and my wishes.”

“Of course. I would never hurt you or disrespect you.”

And then, we ignited. He kissed me forcefully with an open mouth, gasping for my kisses as he circled his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I moaned into his mouth and unfastened a few more buttons on his shirt.

Breathing hard from the kiss, I rested my forehead against his.

“Rafa, did you ever do this for anyone else?”

He sighed.

“Amor, I’m not good at talking about my past, but—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He pushed my hair away from my face.

“I could play with your hair for hours. Years. A lifetime.”

My eyebrows knitted and my eyes turned watery. I’d never been jealous before and never jealous of a girl—or girls—I didn’t know. But the idea that Rafa had been with others before me somehow slayed me.

“No, no, no. Don’t get upset.” He drew me closer, as close as we could be with clothes on. “I have a secret. I’m a virgin, too, Justine. I’m as nervous as you are.”

I was stunned into silence.

Taking my hand in his, he put it on his chest, over his pounding heart. “Feel that?”

I nodded, wide-eyed.

Rafael kissed me softly, then hovered his mouth over my lips.

“I’ve never said this to anyone. Never felt this way about any girl. It’s why I waited for you, Justi.” He sighed and smoothed back my hair.

“I love you,” I blurted. Diana had told me I shouldn’t say those words to him first, but something about the moment seemed right.

He swallowed, and his eyes got a little cloudy. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do.” I hugged him tight. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“You love me despite the fact that I’m an orphan, a kid who came to Miami on a rickety boat, a valet parking attendant hustling to get ahead in a crazy-ass city. You don’t care that I’m not rich. That’s incredible, you know what I mean? Especially because you come from all that money. Your father’s a big newspaper owner.”

“I love your hustle.” I kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

He broke out of my embrace and looked at me with blazing eyes. "It’s my plan to make enough money to treat you like a queen. Do you understand, Justine? Do you? Everything I’m working for is for you.”

I nodded. Rafa could be so intense sometimes, and that was one of the many reasons why I loved him. He was passionate about stuff, outspoken, decisive.

“I understand. But really, you don’t have to work hard for me. I don’t care if you’re rich or poor, you know that, right? Because I love you.”

He hugged me so hard I squeaked. Then he kissed me again and raked his hands down my body, which made me moan. When he stripped off my dress, I stood, half-naked and trembling. This was it. We were going to make love. Even though I hated that term and thought it was cheesy. But love was what I felt, and right then, I felt like my heart was too big for my body, so overfilled with happiness and excitement that it might burst.

“Rafa, you can’t be a virgin. You seem so…I dunno, experienced. You know exactly what you’re doing when you touch me.”

Rafa stroked my cheekbones with his thumbs. “I know what I’m doing because I love you.”