I Run to You (11 page)

The house had narrow rooms, and he was
changing that. He had seen the place, walked in, and ignored the
gaping hole in the roof, the busted windows. He saw the circular
room up front, as a great room, and he mentally tore down the
dining room—and eventually did that, opening up the gutted
kitchens.

He finished dressing and ran a hand through
his damp hair, then turned and scooped up his keys. Leaving the
room, Rafe entered the hall, seeing more board walls, for now.
Taking the newly restored stairs to the lower floor, his black
leather shoe soles touching treads echoed in the high ceiling
house.

The house—meant something to him. It
represented something. It would be the first real home he had ever
known.

He checked on everything, making sure the
outside lights were on before he headed out to his car. The lawn
was gone—weedy, taken over, so he had new sod put down. It did not
look pretty— but it was another of those one-step at a time
things.

Getting in the car, he gave Brook a quick
call.

“I’m ready.” she assured him,

“On my way.” He clicked off and backed out,
seeing the neighbor’s houses only an acre away—newly built, big
houses. The location had been a farm at one time. Now lots were
sold off. The agent assumed whoever bought the Victorian was buying
it for the land— to tear it down. Rafe let them assume. He had
saved everything he could when he worked at the Tavern. When Sunny
realized his talk about opening a restaurant was not just talk;
another of his dreams had been realized.

Sunny was like that. Despite being a
businessman, loving new challenges, he was a man who believed in
giving people chances.

Rafe would not be alive today, without
Sunny.

Grunting, in that silent way of agreeing with
his thoughts, Rafe slid a CD into the player. Melodic Latin sounds
filled the car while he debated when and if he should tell Brook
about his past. Not tonight, he decided. He had waited too long for
tonight. He was not going to spend it talking about himself.

When he reached Brook’s house, he saw her
walk out on the porch before he could cut the engine. He got out,
opening her door for her, his gaze going over her short black skirt
and chic white blouse. She had on sexy black shoes, and carried a
light jacket over her arm. She smelled like a spring bouquet.

“You look hot.”

She grinned and got in. “So do you.”

After closing her door, he went round and
slid behind the wheel, guilty of glancing at her shapely legs while
he backed out. Peeking up at her face, his heart drummed a little
faster. She wore shimmery mauve eye shadow, enough liner, and
mascara to give those violet eyes a sultry look. Her lips were
glossed with pink shimmers.

“You’re going to wreck doing that.”

He laughed softly and got his eyes on the
road. “Do you mind the music?”

“Not at all.” She relaxed in the low-slung
seats. “It’s nice.”

He drove in the night traffic, more aware of
her perfume, her presence, not even able to think about, over the
years, because what mattered was right now.

“The restaurant is Indian cuisine. You like
it?’

“Yeah.”

He talked a bit about nothing serious, a
little about the town, answering her questions. Some, about the
restaurant, and his first months opening it. It was easy, normal,
and pleasant. Though, part of him felt that way around Brook. Part
of him, was unexpectedly nervous.

Rafe did not have to worry about dates or
women. He never had. Brook was just—different.

The parking lot was not as crowded as he had
feared it would be. After parking, the rest of the time was filled
with getting in, being seated. The Indian music was somewhat loud,
but the food was good. He and Brook kept up a steady stream of the
same relaxed conversation throughout the meal.

They had strong coffee afterwards. Then, out
in the parking lot, stood by his car a moment, to enjoy the spring
night. He glanced at her profile as she stood watching people go
in, at times, looking around at the traffic.

She sensed his stare and turned her head. “It
was lovely.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

Her teeth raked her lip in a sexy way.

When Rafe leaned and kissed her, he again did
it softly, quickly, again. He pulled away from the car and opened
her door. “Ready for a drink?”

“Yep.”

He got in and soon pulled out, and they were
headed for the tavern. Holding to the gearshift, his fingers were
inches close to her thigh. He could touch her. Rafe didn’t want to
do anything wrong. Nothing too fast— despite, in his own mind,
seven years, until today, had moved too slowly.

“Hey?”

He glanced away from the road, to find her
studying him.

“We both need to relax a little.”

Rafe laughed and looked back at the road.

He breathed out and nodded. “There’s some
tension.”

“Bound to be,” she murmured.

Attraction, he said mentally. He added a few
words in the other languages he spoke that described why his heart
was trying to break his ribs, pounding too fast.

They reached the Diamond Back Tavern.

It appeared the usual locals were out for a
weeknight.

Rafael parked and helped her out, keeping
hold of her hand as they entered. A band was playing in back.
Popular country tunes. He wanted her to himself, somewhere seated
at the more private tables, but he asked first if she wanted to
check out the band?

“I’m good with whatever.”

He was headed in that direction when Nick
Peyton hailed them from behind the bar.

Rafe still held her hand as she hurried over,
leaned, and kissed Ruby’s brother. Ignoring chuckles and jokes from
people on the bar stools. Afterwards, they talked a bit.

“Going in the back?”

“For a little,” Rafe said.

“Renee’s back there. She’ll take care of
you.”

“Good to see you.”

“You’ve got the day shift tomorrow?” Nick
asked Brook.

“Yeah. So don’t be too hard on me.”

He laughed and winked, assuring her he would
be gentle.

They went through the back, unable to see the
patrons distinctly because of stage lights. Though Rafe saw Renee,
and Renee saw them, waving excitedly after she set down a tray of
drinks.

“You’re here.” She came over, kissing both
their cheeks. “Let me lead you through this gloom.” She took
Brook’s free hand, taking them to a back table.

Rafe ordered beer and Brook the same. After
Renee brought it, she chatted before she was in demand again. He
relaxed back, sipping on the beer, his chair to the brick wall
behind him. Brook, close to his right side, was seated to view the
stage.

It wasn’t a big band. Three guys that sang
good harmony and were doing a McGraw tune.

They were mid-way through the beers when
Brook looked at him. He felt that sizzle and crackle of attraction,
a skin-warming flush of desire.

The ballad was easy. They could talk. He just
couldn’t form anything benign while he tried to read her
expression.

“I was thinking of that dance…”

He thought about it a lot, too.

Rafe released the beer and slid his hand
over, so that his fingers covered hers. “Let’s see if we still move
as well together.”

The lead was singing, Kevin Sharp’s, Nobody
knows it but me. Even though he smiled, Rafe was still feeling the
heat and chemistry when they stood, making their way to the almost
empty dance floor.

He took her in his arms smoothly, feeling
chills at the supple way her body just moved and molded to his. It
was just like the first time—perfect. He was going to play hell
keeping his body from telling on him.

~*~

Brook let Rafe skillfully lead the slow
dance. His scent was a little heady, warm male and desire, his body
strong and graceful—as sensual as she remembered.

Her bare thighs brushed against his legs, his
hand firm, and low on her spine, the other cupping hers near his
shoulder. He danced so well, the sways and turns, a subtle dip of
hips that she gave herself up to it. The words of the song—one that
may have reminded her of someone else, faded back, as the world
seemed to.

She had not felt this intimate, this safe,
this feminine, this turned on, in years.

Turning her face into his sinewy neck, she
felt her breath modifying, felt the slow burn of hunger. She was,
somewhere in her mind—aware, that her body was telling on her too.
Moving against him, close, close enough to feel the hardness of his
thighs, the rigid sex behind his fly. She was playing with fire,
and relishing the burn.

The song was almost too short, ending before
Brook had time to get herself under control. It was not half a beer
that fogged her eyes slightly and intoxicated her.

Rafe was obviously an experienced man, and an
aware one. He kept his arm around her, leading her into the shadows
of their table, but only long enough to put down money and leave a
tip.

In a bit of a haze, Brook didn’t respond to
Renee’s knowing grin as they left. Likely, she had watched that
dance.

She was jolted only slightly when they walked
out into the front, sports on the multi TV sets seeming loud. Rafe
did not let her go. It seemed only steps, before they were at his
car.

He turned at the back of his car and cupped
her face. There wasn’t any soft pecks when she stepped close,
between his slightly spread legs.

Her hands on his shoulders, Brook made a soft
sound at the velvet feel of his lips. A rush of air escaped her
nostrils when that beautiful mouth parted and he slid his tongue
inside hers,

Hotter and more turned on, her fingers dug
into his shoulder while they explored the secret recesses. Sensual,
sexual, the heat was electrifying

She felt a spike of lust in him too.

Rafe pulled back to nibble and tease, and do
sensual things with his lips on hers. At some point he stopped and
drew her to him, his arms inflexible around her, locked at her
spine. Her own were around his neck.

His heart thumped hard behind his firm pecs.
She felt the overlay of warmth on his skin through the shirt, and
the rise of his scent, warmth, and hungers. Brook’s legs trembled.
He could feel that response. There was no way to hide it.

His mouth found her ear. Her eyes were still
closed as he kissed it. Neither wanted to separate but they
couldn’t make out in the Tavern parking lot.

He leaned back. Their eyes locked a moment
before Rafe released her, scrapping his hair back in a way that
revealed his tension. She smiled and moved away, then walked to the
passenger door, her body feeling him when he came up beside her and
opened it.

Brook got in, put her seatbelt on, and
watched him do the same. He started the car, and changed the CD for
another slow and sexy one.

Her hand covered his on the gearshift.

No words, just that telling action,

Rafe glanced at her, and then back out, on
the road, his fingers stroking hers while he drove. It wasn’t that
far to her house.

Brook remained silent he parked and opened
her door. He was behind her when she let herself in. She didn’t
bother with lights. The moon glimmered through the French doors and
there was a soft amber spray from a lamp in the kitchen.

Kicking off her shoes, she turned at the
sectional—and reached for him.

They floated down, his body over hers, legs
between hers, so that the short skirt covered nothing and rode up.
Kissing deeply, scorching, their breath collided—diminutive
intense.

Her hands left his back to bury in his hair,
her body arching. Rafe skimmed a palm from under her arm, down her
side, stopping when it was against her necked thigh. The high cut
lavender panties were lace and silk, nothing but a scrap. He kissed
her, next nibbling her throat and ear. Brook was overwhelmed at the
firestorm of hunger inside. Unaware, until then, that any such
passion still existed.

She was still caught up in it when he lifted
his torso, bracing himself on his elbows to stare at down at her.
She was some time getting her eyes to open. Her hands now on his
sides, she took in his sexy dark gaze, the muss of his wavy hair
falling over his brow. His lips were darker where she had kissed
them.

His voice and accent were thick as he
whispered, “Things are going too fast?”

“I’m fine. I—No, I’m not fine—but it’s
okay.”

He laughed low but shook his head. Rafe moved
so that he lay against the sofa back, fixing her, so he could look
down at her, her legs over one of his. He rubbed his way delicately
down her stomach; his gaze watchful, reading her in a cautious
way.

Brook, trembling, reached up and traced his
seductive mouth.

He kissed her, that hand travelling under her
blouse and up to the front latch of her lace bra. It gave easily.
When his fingers found her nipple, she sucked her breath in,
gasping next against his mouth.

Rafe raised his head. After sliding up the
hem of her blouse, he began to delicately lave her nipples, to
nibble then gently soothe them.

“Rafe...” It was a breathy moan in the
shadowy room.

Adjusting, he moved the material out of his
way. His lips and tongue then driving her crazy, — so soft, so
easy, and yet hot. Her nipples ached, burned, were harder than she
could stand.

His palm began to descend, gliding smoothly
over her ribs and trembling stomach. The muscles there were
quivering.

Brook closed her eyes tightly, her hands in
his hair— gently now, feeling ultra-sensitive to each time he moved
his head in circles or switched from breasts to breast. The velvet,
warm, tongue was skillfully driving her mad.

Hand working down over the short skirt, the
hem bunched, he glided his fingers over her thigh, resting his hand
to the inside a moment.