The Best Bet (16 page)

“Then don’t. I’m ready. More than ready.”

He wanted to believe her because he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t wait any longer.

“Are you prepared to protect us?” she asked.

“Keep that thought,” he said, smiling at her. Leaning down, he scooped up his pants and found his wallet. Drawing out a foil package, he turned his back to her and readied himself.

When he joined her on the bed again, he positioned himself over her, capturing her mouth with his. He nudged at her thighs with his knee, and she opened to him. With one swift stroke, he entered her.

And she was ready. Hot and wet and sweet, so damnably sweet that he wanted to scream with mindless pleasure. The muscles of her vagina contracted around him, bringing him to the brink. He couldn’t stand much more, but he didn’t want to take and not give. He moved his right hand between their bodies and caressed the hardened nub of her clitoris.

She gasped and lifted her hips off the bed, bringing her legs up and crossing them over his back. He moaned deep in his throat and began the rhythm, the rocking sensuous movement, as old as time itself. She matched his rhythm, moving with him, thrust for thrust.

The room and bed receded, mere phantoms, wisps of smoke. There was no one else in the world, just the two of them, intimately joined together, their bodies giving and receiving pleasure. He drove deeper, harder into her, wanting them to be as one, one flesh.

A waterfall of pleasure spread through him, sending trails of molten fire pouring down his spine. White-hot bursts of ecstasy ricocheted through his body, bringing him to a shuddering release. At the same moment, he felt her climax, intensifying their shared bliss and making them one, as he’d desired.

He collapsed against her and she welcomed the awkward weight of him as he tenderly nuzzled her neck. Slick with perspiration, they lay twined together, skin pressed against skin, the musky scent of spent sex surrounding them, their bodies clinging, while they tenderly held each other.

For Rafael, this was the sweetest moment of all, with her curled in his arms, having shared what they’d shared. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment, wanting it to last forever.

#

He must have dozed off, Rafael realized, waking with a start. Adriana lay nestled in his arms, sound asleep. Carefully, so he wouldn’t disturb her, he bent backwards and glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. It was after three in the morning. She’d said tomorrow was a free day for her, and he wished she could stay with him.

They could rise late, he fantasized, take a shower together, soaping each other all over, and then make slow and sensual love. Thinking about it, he grew hard and stiff as a pole.

But he shook his head, knowing that Adriana lived at home with her father. It wasn’t meant to be. He had to think of her and her situation.

He brushed one silky, auburn curl from her cheek. She shifted slightly in his arms and murmured.

“Adriana,” he whispered. “Time to wake up,
bella durmiente
.”

She stiffened in his arms. Her eyes flew open, and he found himself staring into deep pools of violet-blue. Realization dawned on her, and she grasped the sheet, trying to pull it over her naked body.

He laid one hand on hers, wanting to calm her. Then he drew the sheet up. But she scooted backward on the bed, putting distance between them.

Was this how it was going to be?

Her gaze darted to the bedside clock. “It’s so late.”

“That’s why I woke you.”

He planted a kiss on her nose, but she brushed him away and leaped to her feet, dragging the sheet with her, covering herself, toga style.

“I’ve got to get dressed and get home. I hope
Papá
hasn’t called the police yet.”

“I certainly hope not.” He glanced up, noticing the widening of her eyes, the involuntary dilation of her pupils as her gaze swept his naked form. After all, she was the one who had pulled the sheet off the bed. Sensing her discomfort, he teased, “Though, I wouldn’t mind a shotgun wedding, if it came to that.”

Her head snapped up. “A what? What are you talking about?”

He held his hands out with the palms up. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything.  Just a joke.”

“I haven’t time for joking around.”

She’d wound the sheet around herself and was frantically searching the floor for discarded pieces of clothing. When she found them, she headed for the bathroom without another word.

Crossing his arms behind his head, he settled against a pillow with a sigh. So that was how it was. Nothing had changed between them.

So much for shared passion.

So much for hoping their intimacy might change her and make her realize how much they desired each other, how much they meant to each other.

He laughed—a harsh sound. Based on the way Adriana had acted, he didn’t mean much more to her than a good lay. But if he was any judge of women, which he probably wasn’t, considering his track record, he was certain she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.

Maybe his brother had been right. Maybe that was what this infatuation thing was all about, just a roll in the hay to dispel their mutual sexual tension.

Maybe for her.

Not for him.

Chapter Eight

Rafael lifted his head and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. Glancing outside, he was surprised night had fallen. It was spring, but the days were still short. And the nights were long.

Too long—endless without Adriana.

On the outside, nothing had changed. He’d slipped back into his world at home: going to class, giving lectures, and grading papers. Working was the only sure way that he could lose himself and forget how much he missed her. Today, after his regular office hours, he’d locked himself in his office and graded his students’ research papers. And he’d managed to forget for a time, oblivious to the hours slipping by.

But as soon as he stopped working, his thoughts inevitably turned to her. He wondered what she was doing, and how school was going for her. He worried that high rollers were making passes at her and being disrespectful. Shaking his head, he should know better, it was none of his concern.

He grabbed his cell phone off the desk and started to punch in her contact number. His finger hovered over the tiny keyboard. He put his cell back on the desk. He’d wanted to call her a million times during the past two weeks, but he hadn’t. He’d texted a couple of times, just to say “hi.” And she’d texted him back with a brief, impersonal reply. Those ‘non-contacts’ left him hungry for more, for the chance to talk with her. But he just couldn’t bring himself to call her. Maybe he was a coward.

Exasperated, he picked up his cell again and punched her contact name, but before the other end started ringing, he hung up, telling himself it was too late to call her at work, though it was two hours earlier in Vegas.

That was another bitter irony—all he had was her work number, not her personal cell. They’d been as intimate as any two human beings could be, and she hadn’t even bothered to give him her cell. Pretty pathetic.

Sighing, he put the phone in the pocket of his blazer and gathered the papers together, stuffing them into his briefcase. Maybe he’d stop by his parents’ house or Damian’s apartment.  He needed to see people and talk to them, but not just anyone, he needed to see people who cared about him.

#

Her cell phone rang, and Adriana snatched it up. For one split second, hope flared until she glimpsed the number on display. She sighed and answered. Mr. Bennett was on the other end, demanding that she find tickets for a whale and his wife to see The Blue Men, even though he knew the show was sold out.

She reassured her boss that she would find the tickets. Her fingers sought her computer keyboard while she cast about in her mind for favors owed to her by other hotel guest relations reps. Not knowing what she was even looking for on the computer and with the cell phone still at ear, she clicked it off and put it on the desk. She forgot what she was supposed to be doing and just stared at her phone, willing it to ring again.

I should get busy
,
not sit here like a zombie, staring at the phone.

She didn’t have much time, or much hope of finding the tickets at this late date, but her boss would expect a miracle. Like a diver moving underwater, she forced her arms up against the invisible weight pulling at them. Her fingers found the keyboard, but they stubbornly refused to move.

Her work was no longer a challenge. In fact, it was the worst kind of drudgery, and she avoided greeting high rollers, trading those assignments with her coworkers. She had no need to be reminded of meeting Rafael and knowing from the beginning that he was different from the others.

She was glad the school term was almost over. Then she could concentrate on finding a real job and leave this tinsel town behind. Through the university’s recruitment office, she’d already lined up several interviews with interesting firms, in places as far away as New York.  She should be excited, but she wasn’t. How strange was that?

All she felt was tired, exhausted. She’d probably just been working too hard.

She leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. That was it—she needed to get more rest. And then she’d feel better and ready to take on the Big Apple. She just wished she knew one thing, though.

Why doesn’t he call?

#

 Rafael paced in front of his parents’ picture window. He stopped and looked out at the at the festivities in the backyard. It was his niece’s, Carlos’ daughter’s,
cumpleaños
and the family had gone all out to make it a special occasion.

There were mounds of spicy food and a huge birthday cake on the redwood table in the yard. Several coolers dotted the outside deck, filled with soft drinks and
cervezas
. Paper lanterns and streamers hung from the awning overhead. And dangling from the trees were two colorful
piñatas.

The kids, including the birthday girl, squirmed and squealed, forming two wavering lines, impatiently waiting to hit the
piñatas
with a stick so the candy inside would come raining down.

Watching the kids’ attempts to hit the swinging papier-máché creations, he couldn’t help but smile. He was glad he’d come
,
glad he’d sought out his family. He’d kept to himself too much lately, thinking about Adriana. And thinking and wishing wouldn’t change anything.

In two days he would return to Las Vegas for his interview, and he still hadn’t called her. He lifted a Corona to his lips and swallowed the yeasty brew. With the Corona label staring at him, he wished he’d gotten a Carta Blanca instead, because the Corona reminded him of their picnic in the mountains. Now he couldn’t even drink his favorite brand of beer without thinking of her.

One of the
piñatas
broke, spewing candy and bits of papier-máché over the grass. The kids dived for the spilled candy, falling together into a heap of flailing arms and legs. Severral of the mothers waded into the melee and tried to separate the children and restore some order so that everyone would get a fair share, but it was hopeless. The kids moved faster, and there were more of them.

Damian and his latest girlfriend, a leggy blond with the unlikely name of Chartres, emerged from behind one of the trees, having been discovered by the screaming, scrambling children. One glance was all Rafael needed to confirm what they’d been doing. Half of Chartres’ lipstick was smeared across her chin while the other half of it coated Damian’s mouth.

They laughed at the swarming children and joined hands. His twin pulled out his shirttail and wiped his mouth. Then he wetted the cloth with his tongue and cleaned Chartres’ face, too. Watching them, Rafael remembered the time he’d tried to clean chocolate from Adriana’s face.

Remembering how happy they’d been then, Rafael felt like someone had just punched him in the guts. The physical pain took his breath away and tied his stomach in knots. The blood at his temples pounded and he clenched his teeth, fighting back the anguish.

Okay, this is it. I’ve had enough of hurting like this. I’ll take my chances and hope for the best. Even if she does reject me, it’s better than doing nothing and not knowing. And having everything remind me of her.

#

When she saw Rafael’s name pop up on her IPhone, Adriana almost dropped the phone. She’d almost given up, believing he wasn’t going to call.

“Adriana, are you there?”

“Sure, I’m here, Rafael. It’s good to hear from you.” And she meant it, really meant it.

“How’s the weather?”

“Getting hot already.”

She was trembling with barely suppressed excitement. That couldn’t be good, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. And why were they talking about the weather? They weren’t exactly strangers.

He cleared his throat, the sound reminding her of her father. “I’ll be there in two days for my interview.”

“Great. I wish you all the luck.”

“I’d like to see you, Adriana. Do you have any free time?”

Here it was: the question she’d both craved and dreaded. After their last night together, she’d felt ashamed and frightened to see him again. Ashamed because she knew that if she saw him, she’d want to jump his bones—and frightened that her feelings for him were so intense.

She’d thought that his departure would take care of the situation and that she’d focus her energies on getting to New York and having her own interviews to start the next, exciting phase of her life.

But his leaving hadn’t helped. Like an orphaned puppy with her nose pressed against the windowpane, she’d practically slept with her cell phone, waiting for him to call her. Her work had suffered and so had school. She’d even had trouble sleeping and eating.

Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t see him again—that she just needed time to get over him. But when he asked to see her, she melted inside and couldn’t bring herself to say no.

“Yes, I’d like to get together,” she said. “I’m free Thursday night. How’s that?”