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“Bonnie.” She crossed her fingers beneath the bar, hoping her dearest friend would forgive her for pulling her name out of the hat.
Rafe took another sip, regarding her with inscrutable eyes. “You don’t look like a Bonnie.”
“No?” She swallowed hard. “What do I look like?”
“Like a beautiful woman who just got out of a painful relationship.”
Shock wheeled through her system. “Excuse me?”
How could he have known that? Or was it just some kind of pickup line?
His fingers moved to her left hand, which was lying flat on the bar, and slid up her ring finger, rubbing across the base of it. “The ring just came off. I saw you drop it in your purse right before you came over here. Unless you’re just looking for a good time. And you don’t seem like that kind of girl.”
This time she wasn’t going to lie. “I’m not. So what are you in here for?” She motioned toward the empty glasses. “Or do you simply get hammered every night?”
“Oh.” His thumb rubbed across her finger again, sending more heat shooting through her veins. “I am not hammered. Not by a long shot.”
The bartender knew his name, though, so he was a regular. She came in with friends from time to time, but not often enough for Ron to actually know her by name. Thank goodness. Otherwise he might just tell this man what it was. And she didn’t want that.
“Four whiskeys is a lot to drink at one time.”
“Maybe. But I’ve celebrated this day at Ron’s for the last eighteen years or so. I think I know my limit.”
Okay, she had no idea how to respond to that, since his voice hinted that the date didn’t hold good memories. Especially not if he spent the night getting drunk every year.
Death of a spouse? A child? Divorce?
Each option went through her head, but there was no way she could voice any of them aloud. The doctor in her came to the surface, however, and she couldn’t help but ask. “You don’t normally drive yourself home, do you?”
“No. I spend the night at a hotel just around the corner.”
She blinked. There was something about the way he said those words...
Oh.
“You’re not alone when you go there.”
“No.”
She glanced at the coffee mug in front of him. Why had he suddenly stopped drinking?
Maybe for the same reason she’d found her way to this particular barstool and engaged a handsome man in conversation. Was it just to get back at her ex?
Yes. And why not? Darrin would never know. But she would. And she could show the universe that she too knew how to play the game.
She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t planning on leaving here alone either.”
His thumb paused its stroking for just a second. “Did you have your sights on anyone in particular?”
“I’m talking to him.”
Cassie couldn’t believe she’d just said that. But why the hell shouldn’t she have a little bit of fun? If he was celebrating something dark and disturbing, then that made two of them.
Unless he was a serial killer or something. Maybe she should check just to make sure. She blurted out, “So, how do you know Ron?”
“My family has known him for years. Including mi hermanos.”
He’d lapsed into Spanish with such ease that he must speak it regularly. He didn’t mention his mother or father, however. Just his brothers. Regardless, it was doubtful he was a Jack the Ripper type if his family and Ron’s were friends. Ron was a great judge of character, from what she’d seen and heard.
Speaking of the devil, the bartender appeared back in front of them. “How are things?”
“I think we’re about ready to get out of here.” Rafe pulled out his wallet and dropped some serious-looking cash on the counter.
“I can pay for my own drink,” she said to cover the disappointment caused by the loss of his touch.
“You can get them the next time.”
There wouldn’t be a next time, and they both knew it. But it was either sit there and argue, and possibly ruin the delicious awareness that had been slowly building in her, or let it go.
She let it go. This lie was one she could overlook. Unlike her fiancé’s declarations that “It wasn’t what it looked like.” Things were normally exactly how they seemed. No longer want a child? Transfer them to another home. Tired of your fiancée? Move on to the next woman.
Want a temporary fling? Head to Mad Ron’s Bar.
Yep, she definitely knew how to play.
“Next time,” she murmured.
He stood, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans.
For a second she thought he was planning on leaving. Alone. Until he held out his hand.
There was still time to chicken out. To sit there like she didn’t have a clue what he meant. Except she’d basically told him she wanted to hook up with him.
So she slid her fingers into his, relishing the way they enfolded hers in a strong grip. Her stomach somersaulted as she allowed her legs to swing to the floor. They shook, but somehow she braced her high-heeled sandals beneath her and remained standing. He said he normally went to a hotel a short distance away, but in little Heliconia there were several places that would fit that description. Some more respectable than others.
Who needed respectable for what they were about to do?
Not her, that was for sure.
Rafe towed her through the crowd and out the door. Twin pots of gardenias flanked the entrance, the breeze lifting the heavy fragrance of the blooms and sending it out into the night. She could hardly believe she was leaving a bar with a total stranger.
How long had it been since she’d done something so...dangerous?
And there was no mistaking that the man gripping her hand was dangerous, no matter how well he knew Ron. He was far removed from the world of her financier ex, who was busy building his empire—and amassing women as easily as he did money, evidently. Well, he was now down one percentage point. Or maybe since she’d been his fiancée, she was worth a little bit more, maybe a point and a half.
What had she learned through this experience? A stable career didn’t always translate into a stable life.
Ha! Who needed stable when there were men like Rafe in the world?
They were halfway down the block before the man in question stopped to face her. His hands slid up her arms as he gazed into her face. “Are you sure about this?”
No, but she was not about to admit that. Hadn’t she just said it had been ages since she’d let herself be picked up by a man in a bar? Actually, she’d never done that before. Well, she could now cross “Pick up stranger” off her bucket list.
Not that it had even been on there in the first place.
She took a deep breath and then nodded. “Yes. I’m sure. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“About your name not being Bonnie? Or about this?”
Then his lips found hers and every other thought she’d had vanished.
* * *
The second they hit the room at the hotel, his fingers smoothed across her hair, quickly finding the elastic at the back of her head and sliding it over her locks, freeing the messy knot she’d formed before she’d gone out. The whole mass tumbled free, spilling halfway down her back.
Before she could even cringe over how crazy her waves probably were from the humidity of the day, his voice rumbled above her.
“Hermosa. Me encanta su cabello.” Even as he murmured it, he wound her hair around his hand, tipping her head back. “Tu novio es un idiota.”
The flood of Spanish whisked up her spine, her brain scooping up the words and translating them with ease.
Wow. The man was as hot as they came.
The fact that he’d called her fiancé an idiot made him even hotter. It also gave her a shot of courage. Winding her arms around his neck, she went up on tiptoe, surprised at how far she had to stretch to get to his lips. Too far. She couldn’t reach, unless he bent down. “No more talking.”
“Agreed.”
His fingers went to the back of her fitted blouse and found the zipper, sliding it down with ease.
Okay. That was more like it. Sweet heat fizzed through her tummy and bubbled up her chest, making her shudder.
He stopped. “Okay?”
Far too okay. “Hurry.”
Up went that sexy smile.
The zipper finished its journey, and the back of her blouse parted. His palm skimmed down her skin, seeking something but not finding it.
“Dios mío.”
This time it was Cassie who smiled. She was small enough that she didn’t always wear a bra, and from his reaction she was glad today was one of those days. Coming here with him was the right thing to do. She was sure of it.
Her top fluttered over her shoulders and down her arms, landing on the floor at her feet. Rafe’s fingertips trailed over her collarbone, but didn’t venture any lower. Instead, he moved behind her, twisting her hair and dropping it over her left shoulder. It whispered over her nipple, sending a ripple of sensation through it that jetted straight to the region due south of her breasts. His lips went to the side of her neck, kissing softly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin he found there.
“Bonnie, open your eyes.”
The name jarred her, threatening to send her libido plummeting through the floor. Then she did as he asked, not even realizing she’d closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he knew they were closed since he was behind her, and she couldn’t see...
Her gaze found his.
That’s how. There was a mirror over the dresser in front of her. She swallowed as she took in the two of them standing there. Rafe’s head was still tilted, his lips less than an inch away from the skin he’d been kissing. All thoughts of the fake name skittered out of reach as his hands slowly skimmed up her abdomen, over her ribcage, his left palm dipping under her length of hair. When he reached her breasts he covered them. The sight was heady. And unsettling. And when his fingers parted, catching her nipples between them and pinching, her lids slammed shut again as a wave of need crashed over her.
He could take her right now, and she’d come.
That’s what she wanted.
“Open.”
She blinked again, although her eyes didn’t seem to want to co-operate.
His teeth caught her neck, mimicking what his fingers were doing to her breasts. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release.
“Open.” His words were softer this time. Almost a growl.
Her eyes were already open, so what did he...
A knee nudged the back of hers.
Oh, lordy. Her lips parted, her lungs dragging in air that suddenly seemed still and heavy, while the spot between her legs pulsed with heat.
Somehow she made her feet shuffle apart, the heels of her shoes giving a warning wobble.
“Encantadora.” His hips nudged forward, a ridge of hard flesh finding the groove between her buttocks. His hands left her breasts and traveled down to her hips, holding her in place while he slowly pressed against her again and again. All the while his gaze held hers in the mirror.
She was going to explode, very, very soon, if he didn’t...
He stopped moving, and all her fears about things ending too soon screamed at her for being an idiot. His hands found hers and lifted them, placing them flat on the smooth wood of the dresser. “Mantenerlos allí.”
Keep them right there.
Gulping, she somehow managed a nod, then felt an air-conditioned breeze slide over her calves, up the backs of her knees...her thighs.
Having her hands on the dresser had tipped her forward at the waist, and Rafe was gathering the fabric of her maxi-skirt in his hands, bunching it time and time again, until the whole length of it was up over her behind, baring her legs and exposing her underwear. Not a thong, but small enough that she started to shift.
“Don’t move.”
Heaving in breath after breath, she watched as he removed his wallet, opening it and removing a small packet. Here it came. The moment of truth. If she was going to tell him no, now was the time to do it.
Are you kidding me?
Her body evidently had a mind of its own, because it was screaming all sorts of protests at her.
He set the packet on top of one of her hands, sending another shiver through her. Did he want her to take it?
No. He’d told her to leave her hands where they were.
She heard the snick of another zipper. His, this time.
