CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHAT HAD HE BEEN THINKING? Rafael wondered early the next evening as he helped Vivian into his truck. What had possessed him to think it would be a good idea to take her out? Even worse, to bring her to meet his family?
He circled around to his side of the vehicle and climbed in. He tried to smile at her as he started the ignition, but from the expression on her face, his smile had come across even more sickly than he’d been afraid of.
He’d woken up that morning with an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach, and his first glimpse of her apartment had only made things worse. He’d known from the beginning that she had money, but that didn’t quite cover it. She was filthy rich.
Ivory tower rich.
So rich that her pocket change could probably buy him three times over.
And he was bringing her to his parents’ restaurant to meet his family—on their first date. Was he completely insane? What if she didn’t like his family, or God forbid, pitied them?
What if she reminded them of the last woman he’d brought home who was out of her element? Normally his family did its best to pretend those five years hadn’t happened. Was bringing Vivian to the party waving a red flag?
“Rafael?” Vivian asked quietly. “Is everything okay? With Diego, I mean?”
“I think so. I haven’t talked to him since this afternoon, but he sounded as good as could be expected then. Why?”
“You seem…different.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just been a long couple of days.” Forcing a smile, he glanced at her, doing his best to keep his eyes off the large, perfectly wrapped box on her lap. It screamed expensive and was just one more thing that was making the collar of his dress shirt feel too tight.
“I know that feeling.” The smile she sent him was a lot warmer than he deserved. “I’ve been working like crazy to try to get as much evidence lined up as I can for the hearing tomorrow. I contacted someone I know in Vice, who was able to back up Ric’s and Danny’s involvement in dealing, and the school finally came through with Diego’s records. They’re completely clean.”
Rafael eased off the freeway and took the first left, told himself to concentrate on what he could control. “Do you need me to testify?” he asked, a cold drop of sweat rolling down his back as he checked the clock.
They were only a couple of miles from his mom and dad’s place now, and everyone should already be there. Part of him wanted to delay the inevitable, and the other half wanted to just get it over with.
“Not yet. This is early days.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and he barely kept himself from groaning. Why had she chosen tonight of all nights to leave her hair down? He was supposed to be paying attention to the road, but he kept imagining what it would feel like to wrap himself up in all that hair as he kissed every inch of her.
He tried to focus on something else, told himself he wouldn’t try to rush her into bed. It was enough that she’d agreed to go out with him knowing his past. Asking for more would be a blueprint for disaster.
Though he knew he was doing the right thing, the dress Vivian was wearing was driving him nuts. Even with her coat on, it exposed luscious glimpses of her breasts and legs.
“When would you need me to testify?” He said it with the desperation of a man grasping his last lifeline, but surely focusing on Diego’s plight would help keep his mind off his own.
She shrugged. “It depends on what happens from this point on.”
Rafael shot her a quick look. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that as soon as I get the judge to agree to hear the case in juvenile court, I’ll be filing for a dismissal, based on the lack of state’s evidence. If that fails, I’ll go after the little bit of evidence they do have.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then a trial date will be set, and when it comes up, I’ll need you to testify to Diego’s character.” She reached over and placed a hand on his knee as if to comfort him. “Of course, by the time that comes to pass, we should have found at least one witness who saw someone other than Diego near Esme’s house. Plus, by then, the private detective I hired might actually have something concrete on Barnes and Turner.”
“The report didn’t turn up anything.”
“It turned up a whole lot of suspicions, but nothing substantial. Seems to be the story of my life right now, and it’s driving me nuts. They’ve been in disciplinary hearings twice, but never suspended. There are credible rumors that they’re dirty, but…”
“The boys in blue protect their own.”
“Exactly.”
He reached beneath the damn present and squeezed her hand. “I don’t think I’ve said thank-you for everything you’re doing for Diego.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re doing a hell of a job.” And she was. She’d turned over stones he hadn’t thought to mess with, like with the cops. Sure, he’d thought they were prejudiced against Diego, but he’d never thought to dig deeper, to see if they had another motive for their incompetence.
Vivian had. She was thorough and tough and more than willing to play every card she had to get a winner. The differences between her and the public defender Diego first had were so huge that it was hard to imagine they were both in the same profession.
Rafael stopped at a red light and turned to gaze at her. She looked beautiful in the dim light of the streetlamps, her peaches-and-cream profile perfect against the darkness.
Ignoring his erection, he carried the hand he still held to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on her open palm.
Her pulse jumped under his fingers and her eyes widened. In confusion? he wondered. Or desire? He didn’t know, and for the moment he was content not to analyze.
She felt so good beside him, her soft body only inches from his own. The cab of his truck filled with her sweet scent, which wrapped itself around him, made him want her more than he could ever remember wanting another woman.
“I’m only doing for Diego what any decent lawyer would.”
“That’s not true.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “You’re doing so much more than I ever expected.”
The light turned green, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Reveled in the fact that she made no move to let go of his.
She didn’t say anything else until they were pulling into a parking spot at the back of his parents’ restaurant, and then she whispered, “I don’t want your gratitude.”
His heart jumped as he wondered what she did want from him. For a moment he could think of nothing but leaping on top of her. It had been a long time since he’d taken a woman in his truck, but—
He stopped himself before he got any further. Hadn’t he just promised himself he wouldn’t push her? That he’d be content with what she wanted to give him? Too bad his libido hadn’t caught up with his conscience.
Holding himself steady, Rafael turned off the engine and then did the most stupid thing imaginable. He asked softly, “What do you want?”
Vivian’s hand tensed in his and she glanced away. The silence between them stretched so long that he was sure she wouldn’t answer him. But just as disappointment filled him, just as he told himself it was better this way, she whispered, “You.”
He groaned, and reached for her as all his good intentions went out the window. Pulling her across the seat, he scooted to the middle, then settled her in his lap.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders, while his hands tangled in her hair. He wanted to get closer to her, wanted to be inside her—not just her body but her beautiful, beautiful soul.
He lowered his mouth to hers and had one glorious moment to savor the taste of her—the unbelievable, addictive taste of her—before someone pounded on the hood of his truck. Laughter exploded around them and then Gabriel’s voice sounded right outside the driver’s window.
“Come on, Rafa. Do the lovebird routine later! You’re late. Miguel and Heather should be showing up any second now. Mama wants you inside so you can hide with the rest of us.”
Vivian was squirming away from him before Gabriel had finished his first sentence, her face flaming red in the dim lights of the parking lot. “It’s okay,” Rafael said, trying to soothe her, to pull her back against him. But she was having none of it.
She bent and picked up the present she’d brought for Miguel, then hid behind the large box. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said softly, watching her. “There’s no reason to be.”
“Are you kidding me? How can I be anything but embarrassed?” she hissed. “I almost had sex with you in the parking lot of your parents’ restaurant! In your truck! In front of people I can only assume are your friends and relatives!”
He nearly crowed at the acknowledgment that she was as willing—and obviously anxious—to make love to him as he was to her. Part of him wanted nothing more than to tell Gabriel to buzz off so he could pull her into his lap again and show her exactly how good it could be in a parked vehicle.
How good it would be between them, anywhere.
“It’s just my brother Gabriel and a couple of his friends. He’s the second oldest, so he takes his responsibility to harass and humiliate us seriously.”
“I can see that,” she murmured. “Please let him know that he’s succeeded—at least on my part.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Rafael repeated, before sliding from the car with a muttered warning to his brother to lay off. Then he walked around the truck to help Vivian out. She kept her face turned away as she slid from the passenger’s seat, and refused to look at Rafael even after he’d called her name.
He wasn’t willing to budge on this and before she could slip by him, he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and pressed just hard enough to force her to meet his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Gabriel’s happily married to a beautiful woman, and believe me, I’ve caught them doing much worse more times than I can count.”
“Stop it!” she whispered fiercely, trying to pull away. “You’re not going to make me feel better.”
“But it’s true.” Gabriel said with a wink as he extended his hand to shake hers. “And hey, it’s about time Rafael found a nice woman to hang around with. Mom worries about him, since he’s such a loner. Like a bear with a sore paw.”
Rafael watched his brother’s interaction with Vivian tensely, waiting for some clue as to what he was thinking. But if he was upset Rafa had brought an obviously wealthy, obviously fancy woman to the party, he certainly didn’t show it.
Did that mean he was hiding his concerns, or that Rafael had blown the whole thing out of proportion? As attached as he was growing to Vivian, he could only hope it was the latter.
* * *
VIVIAN HAD NEVER BEEN more embarrassed in her life, but she figured at this point it was better to brazen things out than to curl up in the fetal position and try to disappear. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriel,” she murmured as she clasped his hand, which was almost as big and nearly as rough as Rafael’s, in her own.
But his smile was more open, more relaxed, and she couldn’t help responding to him. “Rafael didn’t tell me this was a surprise party.”
“Yeah, well, Rafael doesn’t say much more than he has to, or haven’t you figured that out already?” Gabriel draped an arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the restaurant.
“I’m beginning to realize that,” she said, glancing at Rafael from beneath her lashes. “But I’d love to hear any other tips you’ve got for me?”
Gabriel threw back his head and laughed, then opened the door of the restaurant and shouted, “Mama, Dad. Come see what Rafael brought. You’ll love her.”
“Well, bring her in then, mijo.”
As she walked into the restaurant, Vivian was greeted by a tall, curvy woman whose beauty was as fierce as her son’s.
“Hi, Mama.” Rafael leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. She hugged him tightly before returning the kiss.
“Now introduce me to your beautiful friend, Rafael.” Her eyes were bright and inquisitive as she turned to Vivian.
“This is Vivian Wentworth. Vivian, this is my mother, Angelina.”
“Hello, Mrs. Cardoza.” Vivian glanced around at the brightly decorated room. “Your restaurant is lovely.”
“Thank you. It’s hard work, but we love it. And please, call me Angelina.” She took the present from Vivian’s hands and handed it to Gabriel. “Go put this on the table with the others. And hurry—your brother will be here soon.
“And you…” She looked at Rafael. “You go get Vivian a drink. There’s fresh margaritas and sangria at the bar. What would you like, niña?”
“A margarita sounds great.”
“Got it, and for you, Mama?” Vivian watched, amused, as Rafael hopped to do his mother’s bidding.
“Make it two.”
As soon as he walked away, Angelina looped her arm through Vivian’s and pulled her deeper into the room. “So, tell me about yourself, Vivian. What do you do?”
“I’m an attorney.”
“Oh, yes. That’s why you look familiar—you’re defending one of Rafa’s kids on that horrible murder charge. I’ve seen you on TV.”
Vivian didn’t know quite how to respond to that—the media hadn’t exactly been showing her best side.
“The press—they’re vultures. When Rafael was in trouble years ago, they used to hound us mercilessly,” Angelina said. She shook her head as if to clear it. “Anyway. You’re a lawyer and you’re a native of San Francisco?”
“I am. My parents are from Boston, but they moved here before I was born.”
“Boston’s a nice city—too cold for me. I was born in Rio.”
“Now that’s a beautiful city!”
“It is, yes. But crazy. I took the boys to Carnaval when they were teenagers.” She rolled her eyes. “They got into so much trouble, but had such a good time I couldn’t yell at them. And Rafa, he was the worst. That boy was always getting into something.” Angelina laughed softly.
“That doesn’t surprise me—he looks like trouble.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” She pointed to her head. “Half my gray hairs come from him.”
Vivian looked at her hostess’s sleek black hair. “I don’t see any gray.”
“That’s because I have a good hairdresser, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
It was Vivian’s turn to laugh.
“Now, tell me more.”
Those words started the madness, and for the next four hours, Vivian was passed from one member of Rafael’s family to another.
Roberto Cardoza was a charming man, who plied her with margaritas and with stories of his youngest son while he danced her around and around the small wooden floor at the center of the restaurant. He laughed and flirted outrageously, and as she smiled into his still-handsome face, she got a glimpse of what Rafael would look like in another thirty-five years or so. It was a nice image.
Each of his brothers also claimed her for a dance, including the birthday boy, Miguel, who was as serious as Gabriel was jovial.
No wonder Rafael had turned out so well, she told herself, as she whirled and spun, laughed and joked with Rafael’s family.
No wonder he was so compassionate and caring toward all those kids. His parents had given him such unconditional love….
“Having fun?” Rafa asked the first time he managed to catch up to her. He held out a glass of water, which she gulped down thirstily.
“Your father’s a wild man.”
“Only with the people he likes.”
“Well, he must love me then,” she teased. “I can’t remember the last time I danced so much.”
“I think he’s crazy about you.”
“Well, the feeling’s entirely mutual. Your family is fabulous, and you’re so different when they’re around.”
“What do you mean?” His eyes searched hers warily.
“I mean, you smiled more in the first hour you were here than you have in the entire time I’ve known you. You’re happy here.”
“Of course—this is home. Isn’t that what family is for?”
“It’s supposed to be.”
Vivian thought of her own family, of the layers and layers of ice between them and any real emotions. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with her mother that didn’t include full emotional body armor. And yet here, everything was so effortless, so joyous. Rafael’s mother was so far away from Lillian Wentworth in style and attitude that she might as well have been a different species.
Vivian wanted to talk to him more, to spend some time analyzing this Rafael. Here his defenses were down, he was relaxed, calm, centered in a way she never saw when he was fighting for Diego. It was a whole new side of him, one she found exponentially attractive.
But just as she was leaning in to kiss him, his youngest sister, Michaela, swooped in and spirited her away. “Hey, no fair hogging Vivian,” she called over her shoulder as she pulled her along in her wake. “You get her all the time.”
“Make sure you bring her back in one piece, brat!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
They swept into the kitchen. “Some of the trays are empty—you can help me refill them.”
“Sure.” Vivian glanced around the kitchen cluelessly. “Where do I start?”
“See the big baskets over there? Fill them with chips.”
“Okay.”
They worked in silence for a couple minutes, then Michaela said, “I love that dress, it’s totally cool.”
Vivian glanced down at the dress her mother had gotten her for her birthday. “Thanks. I don’t wear it very much.”
“If I had something couture, I’d wear it every day.”
“How do you know it’s couture?”
“I’m going to the Art Institute, majoring in fashion design.” She grinned as she loaded a tray with fresh sopaipillas. “Fashion is my life.”
“I can see that—your scarf is fabulous.”
“I made it.”
“No way.” Vivian stepped closer, ran the fine silk through her hands. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I know, right? Rafael bought me the material a few months ago, told me he knew I could do something fabulous with it.”
“Rafael?”
“Yeah, he’s always doing stuff like that, you know? Material for me, a new kitchen tool for Mama. He’s a great guy.”
Vivian glanced at her, amused. “Is this the part where you tell me all about Rafael’s virtues?”
“No,” Michaela snapped. “It’s the part where I tell you I’ll break one of your bones if you hurt him.”
“Well. All right.” Vivian backed off, started arranging watermelon on a plate. Then, because she couldn’t resist, added, “Can I ask which one?”
“Whichever one hurts the most. Look, no offense. You seem really nice, but Rafa’s been through the wringer and he can’t take much more disappointment.”
“I think you’re confused about Rafa’s and my relationship. This is our first date.”
“I don’t care if it’s your fifty-first. He wouldn’t have brought you here if you didn’t matter to him, and that’s cool. I want him to be happy, believe me. He deserves it. I remember what it was like before, when he wasn’t happy. When he wasn’t here.” She paused. “I much prefer happy.”
“I’m not planning on hurting him.”
“Good, then don’t. He’s already had more than his fair share of pain. He doesn’t need one more, especially now. This whole thing with Diego’s killing him.”
“I know.”
Michaela’s gaze shot to hers. “Do you?”
“Yes.” Vivian fought to keep her voice steady. “He told me about his past.”
“Wow. He never talks about it. Never.” She reached for a sopaipilla and a bottle of honey, then settled on one of the high stools next to the counter. “I was six when it happened, and I didn’t understand. How could Rafael be here one day and gone the next? Mama and Papi, they would visit him, but I was never allowed to go. It was too dangerous, they would say. No place for a little girl. But I missed my brother, missed the young man who would toss me in the air and laugh when he caught me.
“Miguel and Gabriel aren’t like Rafa. They don’t always take the time to do the little stuff, but it’s the little stuff that makes the difference, you know?” She drenched the sopaipilla in honey, then gave half to Vivian.
“I do know.”
“When he came in here today, he was nervous. I mean, really worried about introducing you to us.”
Her heart beat a little faster. “How could you tell?”
“He always sticks his left hand in his pocket. And he does that thing with his face.” She did a credible imitation of Rafa’s downturned mouth and furrowed brow. “Like he’s contemplating world peace—or domination.”
“I’ve seen that look before. Are you sure it means he’s nervous?”
“I’m positive. He’s been doing it his whole life.” Michaela stuffed the last of the dessert in her mouth, then hopped off the stool. “We need to get back before Mama comes in here and starts yelling.” She grabbed two heavy trays and started out.
Vivian followed her, then spent the rest of the party being passed between aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends as they filled the colorful restaurant to the breaking point. Everyone seemed to want to meet her.
When she was sure she couldn’t dance to one more song without a break, she cried “uncle” and made a quick trip to the restroom.
As she splashed water on her overheated cheeks—her makeup had worn off five or six dances before, so she had nothing to worry about on that front—she couldn’t help glancing in the mirror. And was surprised by how happy she looked. How at peace, despite Michaela’s warnings echoing in her head. Despite her own warnings.
But how could she have known as she dressed for this party that she was going to end up having such a fabulous time? It was nothing like the get-togethers her parents and work colleagues threw. Those were catered and organized with a precision the military could only hope to emulate. And everything was sedate—from the dresses, to the music, to the dancing and conversation. The goal was to see and be seen, and fun rarely factored into it.
She hadn’t known what she’d been missing. Oh, she’d hated the parties her parents forced her to attend, and did her best to squeeze out of them when she had the chance. But she’d thought the flaw lay with her—that what had happened to Merry had simply made Vivian herself too uptight, too untrusting, to have a good time.
Tonight had proved it wasn’t her, though, she thought in triumph as she applied a fresh coat of the nude lip gloss she wore in the hopes of downplaying her annoyingly crooked mouth. Because she didn’t feel dull around these people, didn’t feel uncomfortable or annoyed or like she had to escape.
Instead, she felt free. Free of all the social conventions her mother worshipped. Free of all the undercurrents it took so much work to keep up with. Free to be herself, and everything that entailed, good or bad.
Tucking the gloss into her purse, she all but floated to the bathroom door. Maybe she’d be able to snag Rafael for another dance. She had loved the feel of his arms around her earlier, when he’d whirled her about the dance floor to a wild flamenco tune. And she wouldn’t mind another margarita, though she’d already had three. She was thirsty, and never before had a citrusy drink tasted so good.
Opening the door with a grin, determined to find Rafael in the crush, she was thrilled when she almost ran facefirst into his broad chest.
“Hey there,” he said, with the slow, lazy grin she’d seen so much of tonight. “Where’s the fire?” he asked, bending down so that his warm breath brushed against her ear.
“I want to dance with you again. You’re really good at it.”
“So are you.”
She grinned in turn. “Eight years of dance lessons. When I was a child I was totally clumsy, always running into things. Mom enrolled me in ballet and ballroom dancing so I could learn to be more graceful.”
They bobbed and weaved their way through the throngs of people, and when they finally reached the dance floor he pulled her into his arms. A slow song was playing—one of the first of the night—and she melted into Rafael. Reveled in the feel of his long, hard body against hers. Relished the fact that she didn’t tower above him in her high heels, that she could comfortably rest her head on his shoulder and absorb the incredible masculine scent of him.
He smelled like the ocean, wicked and wild and so incredibly sexy that she wanted to lick him. To taste him.
She must have made a sound that tipped him off, because the muscles of his back and neck grew tense beneath her arms even as his thighs tightened so quickly it had to be painful.
It was a delicious feeling having this incredible man so attuned to her moods that he knew what she wanted before she asked for it. But she didn’t move despite his obvious arousal, afraid that if she did, the rosy glow of contentment that she was using to look at the world would shatter around her.
“Do you want to go home?” He whispered the words in her ear as if he, too, was afraid of breaking the moment.
She knew what he was asking, knew that if she left with him now, she’d end up making love with him tonight. She turned the decision over in her head, realized that for once she felt no trepidation, only a sense of rightness she didn’t want to deny.
Pulling away from Rafael, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “Come home with me.”