Abena took the elevator to her floor, each hand clutching the handle of two different bags filled with shoes. Having the blues, she’d gone overboard today, but shoes made her feel better. She found a gorgeous pair of gold sandals. As if she needed another pair, but they were on sale and she couldn’t resist them.

She turned the corner to her condo at the end of the hall and pulled up short. Her stomach lurched in distress when she saw Santiago. He was in her building, and all of a sudden she felt cornered.

“Hi,” he said.

She didn’t reply.

“I saw you drive into the parking garage and came up ahead of you,” he continued.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said in a hard voice.

“I only want to talk.”

“Didn’t I make myself clear? There’s nothing for us to talk about. Should I call the police?”

“You won’t.”

“I should.”

“But you won’t.”

No, she wouldn’t. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Can we have this conversation inside? I only need a few minutes.”

“If I let you come in for a few minutes, do you promise not to try anything?”

He studied her carefully. “No.”

Her heart stopped beating for a second. At least he was being honest.

He looked so good, her entire being ached. She wanted to rush to him and fling her arms around his neck. The urge became so strong, she gripped the bags with tighter fingers.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, a bit of tension and the ever-present charge of sexual energy generating between them. She should turn him away, but against her better judgment, Abena walked slowly forward. Her skin prickled as she neared him and fiddled with the door.

Letting them both in, she said, “Give me a minute to put away my packages.”

In the spare bedroom, she dropped the bags on the bed. After taking a few minutes to calm her racing pulse and pull herself together, she walked with measured footsteps out to the living room, where Santiago stood in the middle of the carpet, waiting for her.

“How have you been?”

“Say your piece and then leave,” she said curtly.

“Fair enough.”

His brooding eyes assessed her appearance, and though they were no longer together, she was glad she’d dressed well today. The emerald-colored spaghetti-strapped top flattered her ebony sun-kissed skin, and high-heeled sandals gave her short legs an elongated appearance in skinny jeans that molded to her curves.

“I’m not used to being in a relationship, Abena. I sleep with a woman, get bored, and then move on. I’ve always thought of marriage as a waste, a flawed institution I wanted no part of. It seemed to often result in broken promises and broken hearts. Why would I want any part of that when I was perfectly happy with my life?” He blew out a heavy breath. “And then you and I got involved, and I started to think about marriage. I thought about marriage and everything that came with such a commitment, but I didn’t trust your love. I assumed you were emotional because you’d never been with any other man but me.”

“Do you really think I can’t separate sex and love?”

“Lots of people don’t. I can’t say I’m sorry enough. But I want to be clear, I was not rejecting your love.”

“That’s exactly the way it felt.”

“And yet you came to New York to help me.”

“To help Esteban,” Abena corrected.

“No, to help me,” he said firmly. “I appreciate your efforts. Thanks to you, I signed Carlucci like I promised Esteban I would, and you helped me prove my father wrong when he said I’d never get Carlucci.”

“Just so you know, your father is an awful person.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Abena clasped her hands together before her. “Did you say everything you came to say?” She was softening and needed to keep a firm handle on her emotions.

“Not quite. I’m here to beg you to take me back.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. I can’t.”

“I love you.”

The words sucked the air out of the room and time stood still. She didn’t move.

“Te amo.” Santiago took a step closer. “Te necesito en mi vida.”

She resumed shaking her head. “You don’t need me in your life. I don’t believe you.”

“Te amo, Abena. I want to marry you. I want to make babies with you. I want us to grow old together.”

She drew in a shaky breath, fighting the urge to fling herself into his arms because he said all the right words. “I’ve heard something similar before. The last man who talked marriage to me said I forced his hand by refusing to have sex with him. I don’t want to force your hand.”

“I’ve already had sex with you. You’re not forcing my hand,” Santiago said patiently.

“I want you to want a loving relationship as much as I do, but I don’t know if you’re being true to your feelings. You love me? How much? Because I can’t express how much I love you. I feel you, all the time. For over two years, I’ve felt you.” Right there, in the middle of her torso. The center of her being. An ache, a heaviness she couldn’t shake. “I know when you’re in the room. I feel you, Santiago. You’re not the only one who’s scared.” Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She’d cried enough tears over this man.

“You doubt me? Weeks ago when I saw my sister, I volunteered to hold her baby, and actually enjoyed it. When she came back to get her daughter, I almost didn’t want to let go of my niece. I’d never experienced that type of emptiness before. Do you know why? Because I imagined a little Ghanaian-Argentine baby, lying in your arms, who eventually grows up to speak Twi and Spanish. I felt empty at the thought of never having a life and children with you.”

He came closer. “I’ve been jealous of everyone in the office because they get your smiles and I don’t. I want to tease you about your shoes, but I can’t, because I’m not allowed. I miss jollof rice. I miss you in my bed. I miss your laughter. I miss your common sense. I miss you, Abena. When I say te necesito en mi vida, I mean those words. I need you. I love you, more than I loved any woman before you. More than my career. I would give it up and start over if you asked me. I love you more than anything or anyone else in my life. I. Love. You.” Worry clouded his eyes, but he took two steps closer. “Is there still a chance for us?”

For the first time, she saw the unguarded rawness of emotion in his eyes. Her despair disbursed like smoke, and his passionate response gave her the confidence to take two steps closer, too, bringing her within arm’s length of him. “You’re not allowed to make fun of my shoe obsession.”

A slow smile converted his sexy lips into a curve. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t.” He took her hand and pressed the back of her fingers to his mouth, holding them there for a long time. “Tell me you love me.”

“Me dor wo,” she said. “It means I love you in Twi.”

He cradled her face in his hands, gently, as if her skin were made of the most delicate porcelain. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” No hesitation. The bands of fear that had kept a stranglehold on her heart and mind loosened and fell away. “I love you, Santiago.”

“I love you, too, Abena Dubango. I fell in love with you two years ago, and my feelings have only grown stronger.”

She bit her lip and flung her arms around his neck. They kissed hungrily, with an urgency born from having been apart for too long. She fed greedily on the sweetness of his mouth, twirling her tongue against his and arching into his hard body. They kissed for an eternity. Absorbing each other.

“I missed you so damn much.” Santiago lifted her from the floor, and with purposeful strides, carried her back to the bedroom.