Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin (13 page)

It wouldn’t compare to his condo on the beach—let alone the
house in Harleston Village, but somehow she had the feeling he wouldn’t mind. Ward was remarkably unfussy and unpretentious. Wealth didn’t seem to impress him much. And she knew from the dive he’d taken her to in Charleston that he valued good food over ambiance. And if there was one thing her big, extended family did well, it was good food.

He turned the Lexus onto her uncle’s street and she offered once more, “Last chance to ditch?”

His grin broadened. “No way. Anything that has you this nervous, I’ve got to see.”

Her grumble of indignation was cut short, because a moment later he pulled the car to the curb—nearly half a block away because of the cars lining the street. Even from the safety of Ward’s car, she could feel the energy and excitement buzzing around her uncle’s house. Some of the kids had started a game of soccer on the front lawn. A couple of the older teenagers were slouching grumpily on the front steps, all defiant bravado. Music could be heard blaring from the backyard. Someone had already fired up the grill and the air was laden with the pungent sent of charred oak.

On any other day, the sights, sounds and smells of a family cookout would fill her heart with pure joy. Today it only rattled her nerves. She didn’t expect Ward to turn up his nose at her relatives. He just wasn’t that kind of guy. She was less confident about all of her relatives being completely welcoming to him. She didn’t get along with everyone in her extended family and there was a chance some people would see toting a celebrity along to a family dinner as a way of showing off. But even deeper was her fear that this afternoon was going to shift their relationship in some subtle way. And that the change might be even more important than the one that had taken place last night.

Then, she’d merely taken him into her bed. Now, she was truly letting him into her life.

Ana didn’t seem to relax much once they reached the party. And Ward was too cued into her moods to enjoy himself if she wasn’t having a good time. Enjoy himself much, anyway.

Nilda, Ana’s mother, greeted him with barely repressed joy. If Ana hadn’t warned him that she’d never brought a guy home, he might have been surprised by Nilda’s speculative gaze and exuberant hug. Nilda squeezed him so affectionately, he nearly couldn’t breathe.

“I warned you,” Ana muttered under her breath once he was released.

Juan, Ana’s father, was more naturally reserved. A balding, gray-haired man, he carried himself with a sort of old-world dignity that belied his diminutive height and expansive girth. He shook Ward’s hand firmly in a way that told Ward he was being sized up.

Somehow he doubted that either his profession or his wealth were in his favor. “My Ana,” Juan said seriously in heavily accented English. He stood close enough to Ward not to be overheard. “She is like a rose, delicate, beautiful…” He waggled his hand in an iffy gesture. “But the stem of the rose is tough. You can’t easily separate it from its bush. If you are not careful, either you will get scratched, or you will crush the blossom and then it will wither and die—” he snapped his fingers “—very quickly. You understand?”

Ward nodded. “I do, sir.”

Juan gave him one last assessing look and then slapped him heartily on the arm. “Very good. Come and have a
cerveza
.”

After that, Ward didn’t talk to Ana for another hour or two. Her father guided him around, introducing him to friends and relatives. Most of the men had congregated in the backyard, whereas the women had holed up in the kitchen. This far inland, the temperature was warmer. The weather was unexpectedly warm for February and the ice-cold beer was all the more refreshing when sipped under the expansive shade of an avocado tree. There were kids playing on the lawn, and plenty of parents around to shoo them away from the barbecue pit where carne asada and
cabrito
were being grilled. Women streamed constantly in and out of the house carrying trays of food. Someone had set a radio out on the patio and a steady stream of Ozomatli tunes had been playing. With their unique combination of Latino hip-
hop and urban world beat, Ozomatli was one of his favorite Los Angeles bands. All in all, he couldn’t have picked a more festive setting.

Comparing this to the elegant party of the previous evening, he had a new appreciation for why Ana hadn’t wanted to go the Hudsons’ party. This was much more fun.

What worried him was that she didn’t seem to be enjoying it. Sure, she spent plenty of time talking to her relatives, but he could clearly read her posture. Stiff and unyielding. Awkward. Like she didn’t fit in and was waiting for someone else to notice. It was telling that she’d actually seemed more comfortable at the party the previous evening. Here she just seemed ill at ease.

There was only one person who seemed even less comfortable among the boisterous crowd: Ricky. Ward was surprised, but not shocked, when he spotted Ricky slouching among some of the older kids. He went over to say hello, exchanged a few words and even met Ricky’s mother. He’d seen Ricky once since he’d returned from Charleston. He could tell already that Ricky would be a tough nut to crack. But the kid liked music. And he wasn’t any tougher than Ward had been at that age.

As soon as Ricky’s mother, Lena, went off to check on something inside, Ricky leveled a serious stare at Ward.

Chest puffed out, full of protective belligerence, he said, “So you’re dating my cousin?”

“I suppose I am.”

“We don’t see Ana much, but we take care of our own. Don’t mess with her.”

For a second, Ward could only stare at Ricky in surprise. Ricky was all of about five feet four inches. And maybe just barely a hundred pounds. Yet here he was, ready to defend Ana’s honor.

Ward quirked an eyebrow and tried to keep his tone serious. “You’re warning me off?”

Ricky bumped his chin up, like he suspected Ward was making fun of him. “We take care of our own,” he repeated.

Yeah, Ward recognized that stubborn expression. It was more than mere family resemblance.

Nodding his understanding, Ward said, “She’s lucky to have you. I hope she knows just how lucky. I hope you do, too.”

He didn’t have any trouble with the sincerity of those words. No wonder Ricky was such a great kid—his inclination toward truancy aside. Whatever Ana’s family lacked in financial resources or social standing, they more than made up for with their open affection. He’d never been a part of a large family. After only a few hours in their company, he could feel himself getting drawn in by the comfort of their companionship.

He could easily imagine quickly becoming as attached to them as he now was to Ana herself.

Just then, he noticed Ana up on her toes, peering over the heads of others to catch his eye. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, the question written clearly on her face: Was he okay? Did he need rescuing?

He smiled and waved her away. She frowned and shuffled off. Instantly, he was sorry that he hadn’t called her over. He missed having her by his side. Just missed her.

And in that instant, he knew how completely he’d been fooling himself about his ability to maintain his emotional distance from her. He should have known that evening he’d caught her watching the television special on him. She’d pegged his crap so effectively. In that moment, she’d seen him more clearly than he’d ever seen himself. It had taken this long for him to even admit that she was right.

Hell, if that hadn’t clued him in to the fact that he was in serious trouble, last night at her house should have done the job. After they’d had sex, she’d calmly gotten up to get dressed and he’d damn near been in tears. If that wasn’t a sign of how deeply in over his head he was, he didn’t know what was. Add to that the fact that he was just about ready to start exchanging Christmas cards with her family, and he was completely screwed.

No. Forget that. He was just in love.

And it just sucked. Because she was so obviously not in love with him. Even if she thought she was now, she sure wouldn’t be for long. She’d pegged him on the crap about the Alvarez. She’d see through the rest of it soon enough.

If he was a stronger man, he might wait around for her to walk away on her own. But he didn’t think he’d survive her leaving him. Which meant it was time to quietly extract himself from her life.

O
nce people started serving food, Ana gave up all pretense of maintaining a conversation with her aunt and went searching for Ward. She found him sitting on the cement block border that edged a flower bed. He sat with a plate carefully balanced on one knee, the dark waves of his hair shining in the dappled sun that filtered through the lemon tree. She sat down beside him with her own plate loaded with
cabrito
and charro beans.

She finished chewing her bite, then asked, “Has it been awful?”

“Not so bad.” He took another sip of his Dos Equis. “Humbling.”

“How so?” she asked, raising a glass of iced tea to sip.

“None of them know my music,” he explained with mock indignation. “Not one of them.”

She laughed, holding her hand to her mouth to keep from spewing her drink. Swallowing, she added, “Oh, you poor little famous boy.”

“Actually, it’s kind of nice. First time in decades I’ve gone to a party where no one knew who I was.”

“Oh, the women all know. Trust me. It’s been like a Senate hearing in there.” She stabbed her guacamole with a chip. “However, it is better than the last family get-together when I had to field thinly veiled questions about my sexuality from Aunt Celica, who just started watching
Ellen
and was convinced I was a lesbian.” She expected him to laugh at that. When he didn’t, she searched his face and found his expression oddly distant. “They’ve been okay, though? No one’s too pushy?”

“Not at all. I was surprised to see Ricky here.”

Now the boy stood in front of the food-laden picnic table. He was dressed much as he had been every other time she’d seen him. Like ninety-five percent of all American teenage boys, Ricky’s pants were too baggy and barely held on his hips by a belt. He wore a white tank top under an unbuttoned long-sleeve shirt. If he wasn’t in a gang already, he was trying very hard to look like he was.

Ana followed Ward’s gaze and frowned. “You know Ricky?”

“He’s the kid I’ve been mentoring.”

“My Ricky is
that
Ricky?”

He chewed for a minute and then explained, “I didn’t know you were related until just now.”

Ana stared at him, obviously surprised. “I had no idea Ricky had been to Hannah’s Hope.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out. You must think I’m a horrible aunt.”

“I think you’ve been pretty busy.” He nodded in Lena’s direction. “If she’s your cousin, why wouldn’t she come in herself? Why did her son have to manipulate her into coming?”

Ana’s gaze wandered over to where Lena stood by the back door. Despite the fact that she was only a few years older than Ana, age and weariness already lined her face.

“Lena and I aren’t exactly what you’d call close.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“You know all those stereotypes I told you my parents wanted me to avoid? Lena followed every damn one of them. Her father is my dad’s older brother. Her parents helped bring my parents over. Lena’s three years older than me. We lived two blocks away when we lived in L.A. She got pregnant at fifteen. That’s when
my parents moved us to Vista del Mar. She never finished high school. She works hard, but barely scrapes by.” Not for the first time, she tried to imagine herself in Lena’s shoes. Tried and failed miserably. “And now, she’s worried about Ricky staying in school.”

“I thought you said you weren’t close?”

Ana smiled wryly. “We aren’t. That hasn’t kept the family grapevine quiet.”

“Do you think that’s why she didn’t come into Hannah’s Hope herself?” he prodded.

Ana shot him a surprised look. “I don’t know. Maybe. She doesn’t like me.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “But she also has a butt-load of pride. That could be it, too.” And then she laughed, looking around the yard. “She’s not the only one. Half the people here work for Worth Industries in one way or the other. They’re all scared about the future. No one knows what it means that so many of the uppity-ups from Worth Industries are leaving. But none of them want to admit that they need help.”

Abruptly, she set her plate aside, leaving much of her food untouched, and turned to face him more fully. “This is why what we’re doing at Hannah’s Hope is so important. You see that, don’t you?”

“I saw that before,” he countered, annoyance creeping into his voice. “I just wonder if you see it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m talking about your job at Hannah’s Hope.” His tone was serious. Harsher than his normal gravelly charm. “You’re burying yourself under paperwork because you’re afraid of getting out in the community and actually dealing with people.”

“That is ridiculous,” she protested. Standing abruptly, she crossed to the trash can by the back door and dumped her plate in.

He followed a few steps behind, dumped his own plate and then followed her in to the now deserted kitchen. Everyone else was out in the back, enjoying the food, which left them alone in the tiny, homey kitchen.

“So ridiculous that you storm off in response?” he prodded.

She stopped and spun to face him, then poked a finger in the direction of his chest. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m not doing my job.”

“The administrative crap is only half of running Hannah’s Hope. That’s the easy part. The hard part is getting volunteers to commit their time and energy to making it work. And the really hard part is reaching out to people and getting them to accept help.”

His words stung and she turned away from him, busying herself collecting the many bowls and utensils that had been left scattered over the counter once the food was prepared. “You think I don’t know how hard that’s going to be?” She dropped the biggest of the bowls in the sink basin and turned on the water to fill it. “You think I don’t know a thing or two about the stubborn pride that goes along with poverty and lack of education?” She grabbed the bottle of dish soap and gave it a vicious squirt. “Because I do. I know all about that. I grew up among these people. I know precisely how hard it’s going to be to get them to accept help.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking up Hannah’s Hope to the people here today?”

“I—” Her mouth gaped open as she struggled to find a fitting response. Finally, she snapped her mouth closed, then said through clenched teeth, “You’re right.” She grabbed a deadly looking butcher knife and dropped it into the bowl of sudsy water. “I haven’t been talking about Hannah’s Hope. But this is my family. And it’s difficult and—”

“And that’s why you haven’t gone over to talk to Lena? Even though you know she’s a perfect candidate for Hannah’s Hope? Because it’s difficult?”

She added more dishes—a few more bowls and some spatulas—to the growing tower of dirty dishes. “That’s not fair.”

“But somehow it is fair that you’re ignoring her needs because they make you uncomfortable?”

Even though she didn’t so much as glance in his direction, she was painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze.

“But maybe you think she really isn’t a good candidate,” he
added, his tone glib as he turned away from her to prop his hips against the counter perpendicular to the sink.

Ana snatched up a cutting board and wedged it behind the tower of bowls, but she didn’t leap to Lena’s defense.

“Maybe you think she’s screwed up everything in her life so far,” he continued. “How could she possibly handle all the extra work it would take to actually commit to getting her GED?”

She slammed down the final bowl. The tower of dirty dishes crashed into the sink, splattering water, bubbles and bits of food across the counter and her shirt. “Don’t you judge her! You have no idea what it’s like being a poor Latina woman in this country.”

Ward gave a humorless laugh, finally turning to face her again. “Yeah, well, I suspect you have no idea what that’s like, either.”

She gasped, shock at his words making her light-headed. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Instantly, his gaze softened. “It’s what you believe, isn’t it? That you’re different. That you can’t relate to their struggles.” For a long moment he just looked at her as if taking in every emotion flickering across her face. As if he saw everything she desperately wanted to hide, but somehow couldn’t. Finally, he shook his head. His eyes were sad, his tone gentle. “I don’t believe it,” he said slowly. “But it’s pretty obvious to me that you do. Otherwise, you would have laughed it off. Or more likely, you would have socked me in the jaw.”

She pressed her lips in a compact line, blinking back tears that she refused to let him see. “So what was that? Some kind of test?”

“No. I was making a point.”

“Why would you say that to me? What kind of point would be so important you’d have to—”

But she broke off. If she wasn’t going to cry in front of him, then she damn well wasn’t going to tell him point-blank that he’d just skewered her emotionally.

Just when she least expected his tenderness—when she least
wanted it—he gently cupped her chin and tilted it up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I said those things because I had to.” His tone was gentle. As sincere as she’d ever heard it. “You have it in you to be an incredible nonprofit director. But you have to get over your fear that the community will reject you if you reach out to them. You can do amazing things for Hannah’s Hope, but I won’t always be here to push you.”

His words sucked the air right out of her lungs. Actually, suffocating couldn’t have hurt more.

There it was. He’d all but announced his intention of leaving her. Now that they’d had sex, he was no longer interested in her. He was being as polite as he could about it, but it still hurt.

She’d known their relationship wouldn’t last forever. Known she’d never live up to Cara’s memory. But she’d never dreamed him leaving her would feel like this.

She pulled her gaze away from his. Focused her eyes on an obscenely cheerful blue-and-yellow tile behind him.

“Well, then,” she said. “I guess you have me all figured out. It’s good to know that your duties as a board member extend to psychoanalyzing the employees.”

“I didn’t say that as a board member.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” She forced herself to look him in the eye again. She wanted him to know that she’d gotten the message. He hadn’t said it as a board member, but as her boyfriend.

Or rather, not her boyfriend. But the guy she’d slept with the previous night. What was it he’d said a moment ago? He wanted to say this now because he wasn’t always going to be around to push her. Yeah. She got that. Good thing she hadn’t expected him to be around forever.

She just hadn’t expected the breakup to hurt this badly.

It was obvious from Ana’s expression that she didn’t want him touching her at all. Probably ever again.

“Okay, then,” she announced roughly. “As long as we’re putting it all out on the table and being completely honest, as long as we’re talking about what would be best for Hannah’s
Hope, I don’t really think you’re stepping up and doing your part, either.”

He had not seen that coming. He’d heard the pain in her voice, but he still hadn’t expected her to lash out. “How’s that?”

“What about Rafe?” she asked sternly.

Her words were so unexpected, it took a second for them to register. “What about Rafe?”

She gave a shrug that was part false confidence, and part pure, ballsy anger. “You’re his friend. You can talk to him. Influence him.”

“Whatever influence you think I have over him,” he said slowly, “it doesn’t extend to business decisions. If he’s thinking of closing the factory, there’s not much I can do about that.”

“I’m not talking about the factory.” The water she’d been running in the sink had nearly reached the edge and she reached over to turn it off with a jerk of the handle. “I’m talking about his involvement with Hannah’s Hope. Or rather his complete lack of involvement.”

He stepped away from her, once again propping his hips against the counter. He kept his tone carefully blank. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”

She picked up one of those long-handled scrubbers that people used to wash their dishes. But instead of using it, she gestured with it. “For starters you can talk him into coming to the street fair on Saturday. No matter how many times I’ve called him, I can’t get him to commit to being there. But the people of this town need reassurances that only he can give them. They need to know that even if he dismantles Worth Industries and sells it off bit by bit, he’s still committed to Hannah’s Hope.”

“And you think him showing up at the festival will do that? You think it will magically convince everyone he’s a great guy?”

“I’m not suggesting he come to make balloon animals and eat cotton candy. He should say a few words.”

“About what?”

“Hannah’s Hope is in honor of his mother. Surely that means something to him.”

“In other words, you want him to trot out his grief and parade it around to reassure the citizens of Vista del Mar.”

“That’s not what I said.” She poked the scrubber in his direction, wielding it like a sword. “You’re being obtuse.”

“Excuse me if I don’t think Rafe talking about his mother is going to make anyone feel any better at all.”

“How can you not have sympathy for these people? They need someone to stand up for them. They need an advocate. They feel helpless in the face of Rafe’s power. And if you could just imagine what that feels like—”

Tired of waiting to be swatted with that damn scrubber, he snatched it out of her hand and tossed it on the counter, out of her reach. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know what it feels like to be helpless and scared. I know all about that.” His tone was harsh. His voice foreign to his own ears. “If you think the threat of losing your job is scary, well, I gotta tell you, it’s nothing compared to the fear of losing your wife. So I know all too well what fear is like and the kinds of things it does to you.”

Ana looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with anguish. For a second, he thought she might even cry. Or maybe apologize. He didn’t think he’d be able to stomach either of those reactions.

But instead, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were unbearably cold. When she spoke, her tone was brittle and bruised. “It always comes back to her, doesn’t it?”