Relentless Seduction (14 page)

“About that.” Julia folded her arms. “Would you really
have shot me?”

“Hold out your hand,” he ordered Julia.

She did and he pressed something on the gun and a long black metal piece fell out and into her palm.

“Check inside the magazine,” he said.

Julia looked surprised. “It’s empty.”

“What?” Claire wanted to throttle him. “You came here and faced a cult with an unloaded gun? Of all the stupid, dangerous stunts! What if—”

“Claire?” Julia cut her off.

“What?” she snapped.

“We should probably get him to the hospital.”

Claire frowned. “Fine.” She turned to Rafe. “Julia drives.”

For a moment he looked as if he might argue, but he finally gave a disgusted sigh and pulled his keys from the pocket of his leather jacket. “I can’t believe I’m letting the cracked chick drive my car.”

Julia grinned and took the keys and they fell into step together down the porch steps. Claire stopped and watched them head down the circular drive.

“You realize this is a classic car, right?” she heard Rafe telling Julia. “It’s irreplaceable.”

“What kind is it?”

“A seventy-three Barracuda.”

“Oooh, I love those big strong muscle cars. 340? Four speed?”

Rafe’s jaw dropped.

Claire blinked back tears. It was over. Julia was going to be all right. And Rafe. He’d risked his life for her. How did you repay someone for that? Just saying thank you seemed embarrassingly inadequate.

But saying goodbye was going to be even harder.

15

C
LAIRE
WORRIED
HER
thumbnail and tried to stay calm as she sat in the emergency room. She hated feeling so useless. She could tell Rafe was in pain, yet he sat stoically, refusing even an aspirin.

Cell generation was all about the future of human health. But working in a lab all day, looking into microscopes and running tests was nothing like the chaos and the suffering of life in the trenches of emergency health care. This trip had certainly yanked the blinders from her eyes and made her see how insulated she was in her own safe little world.

Rafe was finally taken back to a treatment room. And after waiting another hour amid the groans and whispers of the sick and injured, Julia was finally called to a room. Claire went with her.

The physician’s assistant examining Julia stated she didn’t need stitches. She applied butterfly bandages, asked her about a tetanus shot and then discharged her. The P.A. didn’t act surprised to see someone come in wearing nothing but a black hooded robe and sporting two puncture wounds on her neck.

That was somehow more disturbing than Julia’s nonchalance about her wounds.

“Really, Claire, they’re no big deal.” Julia flashed her winning smile. “The scars will only make the story better when I tell it at work.” She signed the papers the nurse brought her for discharge and then hopped off the examination table and peeked through the privacy curtain. “Honestly, have you seen all the hot doctors in this place? Mmm, maybe I should get hurt more often.”

Claire took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was either that or smack Julia upside the head. She was already looking for another man.

The only man Claire could think about right now was Rafe. He’d gone off with a different nurse to a separate treatment room and she hadn’t seen him since. That had been two hours ago.

Was his arm broken? Had they set it? Was he in pain? She slipped her glasses back on and then chewed on her thumbnail.

What if she never saw him again? A sharp ache stabbed her chest. Never see that roguish grin or those steel-gray eyes? Never feel his rough hands on her skin or hear that soft southern voice? She took off her glasses again, wiped her eyes and then put them back on.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Julia hunkered down in front of her and held her shoulders.

“Nothing.” She straightened her spine and managed to meet Julia’s gaze and smile. “I’m just tired.”

“Guess you can’t wait to get back to your normal routine, huh? I’m so sorry I’ve caused you all this trouble. I don’t know what I was thinking!” She curled her hand into the shape of a gun and pretended to shoot herself in the head. “I’ve learned my lesson, though, I swear.” She leaned forward and wrapped Claire in a big hug. “I’m really sorry I said those things. I didn’t mean them.”

“I know you didn’t. But in all fairness, I think some of it is true. I do tend to be...rigid in my routine.”

Julia sat back on her heels. “But that’s just who you are, Claire. I shouldn’t try to change you. Believe me, I could learn a lesson from you about responsibility.”

Claire smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll try to be more spontaneous. And you try to be more responsible.”

Julia stuck out her right hand. “Deal.”

“So, do you want to get out of here?”

“Let’s go.” Julia got to her feet and headed out of the room and down the corridor. She’d gone about three feet when she stopped in her tracks. “What about your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Julia grinned. “If he’s not your boyfriend, then why do you keep making googly eyes at him?”

Claire blinked. “I do not— Never mind.”

“What was his name again? Rafe? I love that name. I bet it’s short for Rafael. Oh, Rafe?” she yelled down the length of the corridor. “Which room are you in?”

“Julia!” Claire whispered loudly and made a grab for her arm.

Julia pulled away. “Oh, Rafe,” she singsonged, peeking into a door that was half-open.

Claire hurried to catch up to her. “Julia, you’re infringing on people’s privacy. We can wait for him in the lobby.”

A door on her right opened and Rafe stepped out into the hallway not two feet from where she stood.

Claire sucked in a breath. He was disheveled, unshaven, deliciously rumpled. He wore only his low-slung jeans. His left arm was in a cast and held with a sling against his chest. His very bare chest. All that bronze skin and hard muscle. She licked her lips. He exuded heat and she wanted to rub up against him and purr.

“Ooh, I love your tat. What is it?” Julia asked. She raked her gaze over Rafe from head to toe and Claire had to suppress a strong impulse to step in front of the man and yell, “Mine!”

* * *

H
E
LOOKED
DOWN
AT
HIS
chest and then back to meet Julia’s gaze. “It’s tribal. It means Risen from the Dead.”

Claire remembered what he’d told her of his parents dying when he was just a kid. And it hit her, vampires were immortal. His bar, his tattoo... Rafe had been exposed to death at an early age in a horrifically up-close-and-personal way. Maybe the tattoos were his way of dealing with it.

She wanted to hug him and hold him and comfort him the way he’d comforted her after rescuing her from the tomb. She wanted to drag him back inside that treatment room and push him down onto the examining table and crawl up and over him and unbutton his jeans—

“Excuse me.”

Claire snapped out of her fantasy. A nurse wheeling a hospital bed transporting an elderly lady stood in front of her. What was she doing? Blocking an emergency room hallway while daydreaming about a sexual encounter? What was wrong with her?

“I’m s-sorry.” She sidestepped out of the way and the nurse wheeled the bed past her. Rafe stood next to her. She could feel him looking at her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. The spell had been broken. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. If she tried to speak she’d stutter again.

“Ready to go?”

Without thinking, Claire looked at him and got caught in his eyes. “Yes,” she breathed.

He nodded and disappeared into the room.

She glanced at Julia. “Would you please bring the car up to the doors?”

Julia nodded and winked, and strode off.

After a couple of minutes Rafe reappeared. This time he had his boots on and one arm in the sleeve of his black leather jacket, the other side just draped over his shoulder. She didn’t think it possible a moment ago, but he looked even sexier now.

He checked himself. “They had to cut my T-shirt off.”

Oh. She’d been staring at his chest again. Her cheeks burned.

He turned and made his way down the maze of corridors to the exit. Claire trailed behind.

Julia sat in the driveway waiting at the wheel. He held the door and folded the front passenger seat up for Claire. She climbed into the back, her knees almost to her chin.

“I’ll say this for New Orleans—no shortage of sexy men down here.” Julia wiggled her brows as Rafe got in.

Rafe gave her a lopsided smile and verbal directions to his place, and Julia headed out of the hospital parking lot, chattering away.

He took Julia’s flirting in stride, no doubt accustomed to women falling all over him. Before Claire. And after.

Why was she feeling so possessive? He wasn’t hers. She wasn’t his. And she could list a dozen reasons why they never would be. Yes, a list. That’s what she should do. She’d make a mental list. To remind herself why she was returning to Boston.

One: Rafe was a consummate player. What had Rowena called him? The King of Flings.

Two: Her home and her job were more than thirteen hundred miles away.

Three: She had only known the man six days. Not even that. No rational person could fall in love with someone in such a short length of time. Relationships took months—years sometimes—to develop. Theirs was merely a bond forged during an intense situation. It couldn’t last.

“So, Rafe.” Julia shifted gears and sped up onto the highway. “How did you know Armand wasn’t who he said he was?”

Yeah. How
had
he known?

Rafe shrugged. “I’ve known plenty of guys like him. Con artist. Chooses his marks well, lonely, needy—no offense—” He glanced at Julia.

“Hey, if the shoe fits me...”

“Anyway, he convinces them to hand over their ‘worldly’ possessions, including bank accounts, and then skips town before anyone fingers him as a fraud.”

Julia shook her head. “I got so sucked into his head game. I really thought he loved me.” Her voice wobbled on the last word.

Claire leaned forward, put her hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Do you think he got access to your bank account?”

Julia sniffed, and then shrugged. “I’ll have to check.” She twisted to glance at Claire and flashed her famous mischievous grin. “But I want to go to the police and press charges after we drop Rafe off.”

She saw Rafe stiffen. Right. They’d be dropping him off, and he’d go back to his life and she’d go back to hers. Claire sat back, studying the fringe on her poncho and trying to ignore the lump in her throat.

“Oookaaay,” Julia said. “How ’bout them Saints, huh?”

Claire sank farther into the backseat. She should continue her list. Where was she?

Four: Rafe was all wrong for her. She needed someone steady, reliable, normal. Geez, that sounded mind-numbing. And from the moment she’d asked him to help her, Rafe had been reliable, hadn’t he? He owned his own business. A person didn’t get much steadier than that.

Wait. This was supposed to be her list of reasons why they would never work. She chewed her thumbnail.

Julia exited the freeway and stopped at an intersection. “Which way?”

“Left.” Rafe was staring out the window.

They weren’t far from Once Bitten. Claire used her cell to call the cab company she’d been using, and asked them to pick her up outside the bar. She noticed Rafe’s jaw muscle twitch, but he didn’t say anything. Did he not want her to go? He’d asked her to stay one more day yesterday morning. Did he still feel that way?

If he did, he didn’t say anything.

Silence had never felt so awkward. Claire tried to think of number five and gave up. The list seemed silly now. And pointless.

Before she could accept that it was really over, Julia had pulled into the parking lot behind Once Bitten, and she and Rafe were climbing out of the car and shaking hands goodbye.

Then Rafe turned to her. Claire stared at him. It was the middle of the night. It was cold and all he had on was his jacket draped over one shoulder. He should be freezing. But she could feel the heat radiating from him.

Julia cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll...wait for the cab over there.” She pointed vaguely toward the street and then tossed Rafe his keys.

He caught them without looking her way.

Claire swallowed. Her chest felt as if it’d been invaded by flesh-eating microorganisms. She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and extended her right hand, then withdrew it. She remembered how he’d mockingly kissed the back of it last time she’d done that.

“Well,
cher.
” A corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s been...interesting.” He stepped close, crooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “You have a safe flight back to Boston, now, you hear?” He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

She opened her mouth and leaned into him, but he lifted his head and stepped back. His gray eyes were the color of the ocean during a crackling storm, and just as turbulent.

She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Hard to believe she’d never see him again. Hard to believe that thought could hurt so much after knowing him less than a week. She wanted to say something important. Something profound.
Something.
At the very least she could tell him how grateful she was for all he’d done for her.

She drew in a deep breath. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

As she got in the cab and it pulled away, she turned to stare out the back windshield.

He was still there, watching her.

* * *

A
FTER
THE
CAB
PULLED
AWAY
Rafe clenched his fists and finally let himself into the bar.

Usually at this time of night—or rather, early morning, the bar would be hitting its stride. The music would be blaring, the crowd would be calling for more beers and he’d be making a date with some hot chick for later.

Tonight it was silent. Empty. Dead.

And he was alone.

He’d feel better tomorrow night. Once the bar was open, and the music was blaring and the lights were on and people were lined up to get in. This bar was his dream. His life. He didn’t need anything else.

Except a new assistant manager.

And maybe a quirky brunette to seduce every night.

Whoa. Every night?

Claire had mentioned she wouldn’t be pressing charges against Ro. She still could, he supposed. He wouldn’t blame her. Even now when he thought about how upset and vulnerable she’d been after he let her out of that tomb he wanted to smash something. She’d felt so good in his arms. He’d liked being the good guy for once. Liked the glow of admiration in her eyes after he stopped Banks from making off with all that cash. He’d felt more alive in that moment, hell, in the past week with Claire, than he’d ever felt. More a part of something bigger, more...important.

He wandered behind the bar, gazed out at the only thing he’d ever thought he wanted. And it seemed...not enough anymore.

And what did he think he could do about it? If he called Claire up right now and asked her to stay, she’d think he’d lost his mind. Her life was back in Boston. She barely knew him.

And what would they do, even if she lived here? Did he really think he could sustain a relationship for longer than twelve hours?

Damn it. He grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey and a tumbler and splashed the amber liquid up to the brim.