Mendoza's Return (8 page)

M
elina had just barely shut her living room door when she found herself up against it, her hands locked with his, arms pressed to the painted wood. The towel dropped to the floor. Her bathing suit didn't create a barrier but friction instead, exciting and welcome, as he moved his body along hers.

“I'll only ask once,” he said touching his forehead to hers, his face taut with desire. “Are you okay with this?”

She nodded, then his mouth was on hers, attacking at first, then slowing, lingering, indulging. Savoring. His fingers tightened and released around hers, again and again, mimicking what was to come. He let go, freeing his hands to touch her, to slide his palms down her back and over her rear, cupping her,
bringing her even closer as he dragged his mouth down her neck. Her wet hair dripped onto him and the floor. The scent of chlorine made her wish for a shower, but she didn't want to wait that long. Couldn't wait. This moment had been building, day by day. She needed him here and now.

Melina curved her fingers into his flesh as he sank slowly, exhaling hot air through her suit as he made a meandering trail down her welcoming body, stopping to nibble here and there, to run his hands along her breasts, her abdomen and beyond. She arched as his mouth settled between her legs, his fiery breath arousing, his teeth finding just the right places with just the right pressure. Then he rose, bringing along her towel to rub her hair, drawing audible breaths, deep and shaky.

She took him by the hand and led him upstairs and into her bedroom, wishing she knew what to say, wanting words from him, as well. And yet, what would they say?

He moved past her, flipped on two bedside lights, grabbed hold of her bedding and pulled it down, leaving only the bottom sheet. When he faced her he seemed like an entirely different person from her memories of him—a fully adult male instead of a young man, one who had life experience now. Other sexual experiences. She wondered—

“Take off your suit,” he said, low and harsh, standing two feet from her.

She hesitated only long enough for the order to
reach her brain, then peeled it off and tossed it toward her bathroom, where it landed with a splat.

Then he stripped, all the while watching her, revealing his perfectly toned body slowly, enticingly. She wanted to feel him inside her right now….

“I'm on the pill,” she said, reaching toward him, needing to touch, to feel, to taste. He would be familiar and yet new. The memory of this night would replace others from so long ago. Was that a good thing? She would know soon.

She started at his chest, teasing him with light touches, exploring the planes of his body, going lower and lower, until he sucked in an audible breath. She wrapped her hand around his bold heat, swirled a fingertip around and around, glorying in the sounds he made.

“Keep it up and I won't be of much use to you,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I fully intend to keep it up.”

His laugh was filled with frustration and arousal. He let her explore for a little longer, then he took charge, moving her onto the bed, landing on top of her, maneuvering his legs between hers to nestle heat to heat, capturing her mouth with his in a deep, hot kiss that shut out the world, encasing them in their own erotic cocoon. She wrapped her legs around him, felt the hard heat of him press against her, pressure building inside her from the contact alone….

Rafe felt her arch and clench, heard her breathless sounds, squeezed his eyes shut when her fingernails
dug into him and she moved rhythmically, powerfully. The moment she started to slow, he slid down her, took a hard nipple in his mouth and cherished it, then the other, arousing her again, ready to explode himself. His hands moved over her warm flesh, his mouth tasted her skin until he threaded his fingers through the soft curls between her legs—and then let his mouth go exploring.

He didn't have to wait for a response. She cupped his head, grabbed his hair, angled her hips higher. She was vocal and bold in her pleasure, then demanding as she pulled him up until he buried himself inside her, feeling her envelop him and tighten, finding paradise and satisfaction and a need for much, much more.

 

After a couple of minutes, Melina reached for the sheet to drag over them. Rafe had dropped onto his back, breathing hard, his arm across his eyes.

While she waited for him to say something, she looked around. Her bedroom was simple, the bed itself decorated with a white matelasse coverlet, a sage green dust ruffle and a few contrasting pillows—which had been tossed onto the floor in the heat of passion. Her pine furniture was bought at a yard sale and refinished. The real color came from family photos on the dresser and some of her mother's stunning art on the walls, single flowers in deep, rich tones, their bold colors at odds with her mother's calm, soothing personality.

What are you thinking? she asked Rafe silently. Maybe he'd fallen asleep. Or maybe he was avoiding talking to her. For all the heat between them, it had also been comfortable. No awkwardness of a first time, even though he had some moves that were new to her. Did he want to spend the night? Continue the relationship after this?

Or would this be it?

Finally he stirred, letting his arm fall away from his face. He opened his eyes and met her gaze, his expression serious. “We haven't lost our touch,” he said.

Which told her nothing. “No.”

He watched her a while longer. “Do you want me to go?”

Her stomach clenched. Her throat burned, tears threatening. He didn't even want to hold her for a while? “It's up to you, Rafe.”

In truth she didn't know if she wanted him to go or stay. What could they talk about? To only discuss casual topics like Elliot or Beau or their families would dilute the intensity of their lovemaking, driven by a desire left unresolved for too long.

And yet, she felt good, too. He'd wanted her as much as she'd wanted him. Time and distance had only strengthened their physical compatibility.

She'd spent years keeping her relationships short and simple. If she could do that with Rafe, would it run its course by the end of baseball season, so that
they could go their separate ways, the past buried, the future brighter for both of them?

“I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more.” Rafe rolled to his side, facing her. “But I don't want to overstay my welcome.”

“Your decision.”

“No, it isn't. Yes or no, Melina? Go or stay?”

She decided she didn't want him to stay, that she didn't want to talk or hang out watching television or whatever other possibilities there were, since it was several hours until bedtime.

“If you leave, is that it for us?” she asked.

“Meaning what? You want to keep me as your stud?”

“Something like that.” Her heart pounded so loud she thought surely he would hear it. She'd intended to be friends with him, not lovers, but maybe answering the attraction would help seal their future relationship. “I'm not seeing anyone right now,” she said.

“Nor am I.” He tucked her hair—her still-damp, totally messed-up hair—behind her ear then rubbed her lobe. “I'm game. So. How does this work?”

“We meet every so often for sex, but we won't spend the night.” She didn't know why, but sleeping with him seemed more intimate than having sex with him.

“Well, now, that's a fascinating proposition, Mel. I'm to be your boy toy when the need arises, but that's all? We won't have dinner together or watch a movie? Sex only, no strings attached?”

She wanted strings. She wanted nights in his arms and waking up to watch the sunrise and a kiss good bye in the morning. She
didn't
want her parents finding out and the reproachful looks that would follow, or the pity when it ended. Because it
would
end—she had no doubt about that.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want,” she said, sure of her decision finally.

“And either of us can end it when we see fit, no recriminations, no blame? A no-fault affair, as it were?”

“We're adults. We can choose what kind of relationship we want.” But even as she said the words, she knew it wasn't true. She was already falling in love with him again. If she'd ever stopped loving him.

He didn't speak for at least thirty seconds. Feeling almost sick to her stomach, she waited and waited.

“Okay,” he said at last.

She wanted to weep. It was what she'd wanted to hear, and yet it wasn't enough.

“Have you been happy, Rafe?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Life is what you expected?” she asked, wanting more of an answer.

“More than I expected.”

“Yet you moved back here…”

“I've made a whole lot of money, and that's not going to stop because I live here now. I have a certain skill that people pay well for, and an above-average
tolerance for risk. I won't apologize for what I've achieved. It feels good.”

“Do you ever wish you'd taken a shot at the big leagues?”

“Now and then.”

They climbed out of bed. He took her hand and pulled her toward the bathroom.

They didn't have much to say after that, just let their shower-wet kisses and soapy hands do all the talking. By the time he left an hour later, her body ached contentedly and her heart discontentedly. She'd entered into an arrangement that could lead either to a purging of past blame and hurt or a whole new level of agony.

Either way, she had to give it a shot, once and for all. Her peace of mind depended on it.

 

Rafe hadn't been home for two minutes when someone knocked on his front door.

Melina's father stood in the doorway. Rafe didn't invite him in, nor did he address the man. He'd always called Melina's mother Patsy, but he had never called her father Jefferson—or even Mr. Lawrence. Just
Sir.

“I want you to leave my daughter alone. And before you say anything—I know you've been at her place for the past two hours.”

“You also know we're working together on Elliot Anderson's situation.”

Jefferson's gaze pierced him. His hands fisted.
“My girl went through hell after you walked away. She's been steady on her feet for a while now. She doesn't need tripping up by you again.”

Rafe clamped his mouth against the words that threatened to spill.
He'd
walked away? Like hell he had. The fact that Jefferson didn't know the truth made Rafe wonder if everyone thought the same—that Rafe had ended the relationship, when it wasn't true at all. He'd
acknowledged
the end, but
that
was it.

All Rafe said to her father, however, was, “Message received, sir.”

The vague response obviously didn't please Jefferson. “You know, son, I did some checking on you. You were a real ladies man in Ann Arbor, weren't you? Cut a wide swath.”

“So?” He'd had no reason not to. To his knowledge he hadn't broken any hearts.

“Melina's a good girl. She deserves to find a man to marry and bear his children. She won't do that if you keep stringing her along.”

Rafe almost laughed. If only Jefferson knew the deal Melina had just presented Rafe with. Who was stringing whom along? Rafe did, on the other hand, understand a father's love.

“As I said, sir. Message received.” It was all he could promise, after all. It was Melina's choice as much as his.

“I'll be keeping an eye on you,” Jefferson said,
then he stalked silently down the front path to his big pickup truck and rumbled away.

Rafe shut the door but didn't move. He shouldn't feel guilty, but he did. He'd done nothing wrong, yet apparently he was the bad guy in the breakup scenario. If that were the case, why had Melina let him back into her life?
He
was the one who should be leery.

After all, she was the one who'd broken his heart.

R
ed hadn't yet hit its Friday-night stride when Rafe met up with Ross Fortune and orthopedic surgeon Jeremy Fortune for an early dinner. Marcos had given them a corner booth, announcing that Wendy Fortune would be their server, then winking at Rafe as he did so, as if to say, “You'll see what an experienced server she is.”

“Howdy cousins,” she said, eyeing the two Fortune men thoughtfully. “You all look like nachos and beer fans. A pitcher of light, and a big plate of extra-peppers nachos coming up.”

The men had looked at each other and smiled. “Summed us up pretty well, I think,” Rafe said, getting nods in return.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Rafe said to
Jeremy. “Seems you've gotten yourself engaged since we last spoke in my office a couple weeks ago.”

“Thanks. I'm feeling pretty lucky these days. Maybe you'd like to come to dinner one night and meet Kirsten? Are you seeing anyone these days, Rafe? Someone you'd like to bring along?”

“I'd like to meet your fiancée, and no, I'm not seeing anyone.”

“That's not what the word on the internet is,” Ross said.

“Huh?” was all Rafe could manage.

“You and Melina Lawrence have been linked.”

“On the
internet?
”

“June's ‘Around Town' column for the newspaper. It's on the paper's website as a daily column before it hits the stands in print.” The often-gruff, dark-haired P.I. seemed to be enjoying himself at Rafe's expense.

Rafe stopped talking as Wendy set down a pitcher and three frosty glasses.

“Nachos'll be up in a minute,” she said, walking away with purpose, hips twitching, which slowed the men's conversation for a few seconds.

“It's a rumor,” Rafe finally said to Ross, “based on nothing more than Melina's and my proximity on a couple of occasions. Purely speculation.”

“Speak of the devil,” Ross said as Marcos led Melina, her sister Stephanie and Q into the dining room, seating them in direct view of the men, although not within hearing distance.

Stephanie waved but didn't shout out a greeting the way her sister Angie would have. Still, it was enough for Melina to notice. She followed Stephanie's gaze then tentatively lifted a hand. Was she blushing? It was hard to tell from this distance, but Rafe thought her cheeks had gone rosy. Was she remembering the night before, especially what had happened in the shower? Or was she a little embarrassed, perhaps? Maybe she'd read June's rumors online and was being teased by her companions, just as he was.

“Is that the famous Melina?” Jeremy asked. “I haven't met her.”

“The blonde is Melina,” Rafe said. “The redhead is her sister Stephanie. The alpha male goes by Q. He's Melina's business partner.” Rafe looked at Jeremy, changing the subject. “Still no word on your father?”

“Nothing,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “He's been missing for three months now, but I can't shake the feeling that he's out there somewhere.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with Ross. “He could very well be right,” Ross said. “William's car was found, but not his body. He was supposed to get married the day he disappeared, and there was no reason for him to run away. I haven't turned up anything.”

“And the police have given up,” Jeremy added, frustration in his voice. “And now there's this baby, who mysteriously appears the same day that my father goes missing—at the same church, no less. We
can't find any connection to the two events, but it's an odd coincidence, don't you think?”

“Here's your nachos, gentlemen,” Wendy said. She was bright and perky without being obnoxious. “Y'all ready to order? Or do you want to hold off awhile?”

Rafe couldn't figure why Marcos thought Wendy wasn't a good waitress. So far, she was great, letting them enjoy their drinks and appetizer before ordering dinner, if that was their choice. She was cute, friendly without being over-the-top. The job suited her well.

The three men ordered their meals then returned to their discussion. Baby Anthony's fate was up in the air, except that Jeremy and Kirsten were prepared to give him up to the child's natural parents, if and when they were found.

“We thought Kirsten's brother, Max, was the baby's father, because that was what this girl, Courtney, told him,” Jeremy said. “But that was apparently a lie. Then Courtney changed her story and said that a guy named Charlie is the baby's father, not Max, and that Charlie is bad news. So, Kirsten and I are acting as court-appointed guardians for the moment, because another big revelation followed—Courtney admitted she's not the mother. And then she gave Max the medallion the baby was wearing—”

“What medallion?” Ross interrupted, just as Rafe was going to ask for replay of the complicated story. “What are you talking about?”

“Baby Anthony apparently had on a small gold
medallion when he was found in the car seat at the church. Or so the story goes.”

“This is the first I'm hearing about it,” Ross said.

“Because Courtney just turned it over, but she's also lied so much that no one knew—or knows—what to believe. Is she just trying to confuse everyone? Is she playing a game? If so, why?”

“Where is the medallion?” Ross asked.

“At home.”

“I need to see it.”

“It's just a trinket, Ross, but I can call Kirsten and have her bring it by. She and the baby are meeting a friend of Kirsten's shortly since I wasn't going to be home for dinner.”

“If it's not too much trouble. Or I can go home with you after dinner.”

“Not at all. I'll have her text me when she gets here so she doesn't have to get Anthony out of the car.” He pulled out his phone.

Rafe had been half listening, his thoughts drifting elsewhere, like to last night in Melina's bed…and shower.

“I'd say June's ‘Around Town' rumors are fact,” Ross said, leaning close. “Or you want them to be true, at least.”

“We have a past.”

“A legendary one.” Ross stood. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Rafe winced. He wondered if Melina was hearing
the same rumors and taking a lot of teasing. He pulled out his phone and sent a text message to her: “Free later?”

He watched her pick up her phone and look at it, then over at him. She could've nodded or shaken her head but instead texted back an answer: “Not free, but reasonable.”

He smiled at her, then wrote, “Eight? Your place?”

“Don't be late,” she wrote back.

“Kirsten's on her way,” Jeremy said. “I'm going out front to wait for her. Don't eat all the nachos.”

Which left Rafe alone at the table. He made his way across the dining room to say hello.

“We're celebrating my last day at the office,” Stephanie said. “Angie will be back to work on Monday.”

“We're celebrating a
successful
week,” Q added.

“Stephanie filled in admirably.”

“And I didn't reorganize the file cabinets or anything.” She grinned. “I did change Angie's desk around a little, just to mess with her.”

“You wouldn't be a good sister otherwise,” Rafe said.

“Have you been abandoned?” Melina asked.

“No. They'll be back. I just wanted to say hi.” He started to walk away, then turned back. “Apparently we are the subject of public gossip,” he said to Melina.

“You are the hundredth person to tell me that—or thereabouts.”

He couldn't read her expression. Did it bother her? “I'd contact June and demand a retraction, except I think it might add fuel to the fire.”

“It'll die on its own without that fuel,” Melina said casually.

“Or not,” Stephanie said with a smirk. Her eyes sparkled as she sipped her margarita.

Rafe excused himself, happy to get away from the curiosity in Stephanie's eyes as Ross and Jeremy returned to the booth.

Wendy brought their dinners just as they all took their seats. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked.

“We're good,” Rafe said.

As soon as she left the dining room, the three men traded plates. She hadn't gotten one right. They all smiled and shrugged. So, she got their orders mixed up. She'd still get a great tip, Rafe thought. What she lacked in skill, she more than made up for in amiability.

Jeremy passed a plastic baggie to Ross. Inside was a small gold medallion on a chain. Ross stared at it, then set down his fork, opened the bag and dumped the item into his palm. The chain was delicate but the medallion itself looked like an old coin of some sort.

“Something wrong?” Rafe asked when Ross remained silent.

“I don't know. There's something about it. It's ringing a bell, but I don't know why. Obviously it has significance if it came with the baby. Can I hold on to this, Jeremy? I need to research it, if I can.”

“Kirsten and I have tried, believe me, and came up empty. Have at it, Ross. I take it you didn't come up with any clues from the baby's car seat?”

He shook his head. “The brand is sold in every Walmart in the country.”

“May I see the necklace?” Rafe asked.

Ross set it in Rafe's palm. “Did you have it appraised?” he asked Jeremy. “Is it gold? If it's a trinket it may be hard to track down its origins, but if it's gold…”

He passed it back to Ross, who frowned thoughtfully at it, then dropped it back into the baggie then into his pocket.

“No, we didn't have it appraised,” Jeremy said. “We tried to find a match on the internet, but that's all. We haven't had possession of it for very long.”

“I know some dealers,” Ross said, picking up his fork. “The image is really resonating with me, though, so maybe it won't be that hard to track down. I must've seen it at some point.”

The men spoke of other things then, including how much Red Rock had changed since they were kids. Although Ross was forty-two and Jeremy thirty-seven, Rafe had heard about them all his life—all the Fortunes, actually. They were like royalty in this
area. Rafe felt on an equal footing with them, all of them professional and successful.

Marcos came up to ask how their meal was, and then the all-important question about how their service was. Gentlemen to the end, none of them mentioned Wendy's error. Rafe figured she'd get it worked out on her own when less polite customers pointed out her mistakes.

Ross and Jeremy took off after dinner. Q left, as well, leaving Melina and Stephanie alone. Rafe stood, figuring he'd join them, but another young woman came along and slid into the booth with them. Stephanie introduced her to Melina, then they called Wendy over and ordered something.

Rafe was at a loss. He couldn't go to Melina's house for another hour. He didn't want to go home. Just then Marcos came back to the table, their father behind him.

“I know you've already eaten,” Luis said. “But maybe you have time to keep me company while I have dinner?”

“Of course, Dad. I've got about an hour before I meet someone. Plenty of time.”

His father had just gotten settled when Beau Bandero showed up—with June Adams. Rafe didn't think there were two people in town he wanted to see less. He knew, however, he needed to be polite to both of them.

“Evening, June. Beau,” Rafe said as Marcos started to walk past Rafe's table.

“Where're you putting us?” Beau asked Marcos, who gestured toward a corner booth. “Okay, we'll seat ourselves in a minute. Mr. Mendoza, how're you?” he said to Rafe's father.

Rafe saw an entirely different Beau at that moment, respectful and genuinely happy to see Luis, shaking his hand and smiling, engaging him in conversation.

Rafe glanced at June. “I was sorry to hear about you and Wade.”

She shrugged. “Been coming awhile.”

“Still, it's hard. Especially on the kids.” Rafe shot Beau a look, but he seemed immersed in his conversation. “You going out with him?”

Her brows lifted high. “I'm interviewing him, as you suggested. He offered to buy dinner. I don't turn down free dinners. Money's a little scarce these days.”

“So it won't show up in your column, I guess. Who's in charge of writing speculation about
you,
June?”

She cocked her head. “You mad about that, Rafe?”

“I'm part of a dying breed, I think, of people who believe in an expectation of having a certain amount of privacy in our lives. And truth.”

“I write what I see. If I don't see it myself, I verify what information I'm given.”

“You ready?” Beau asked June, who nodded a goodbye then preceded him to their booth.

Rafe's back was to them, which was just as well. He eyed Melina, saw her watching them.

Something to talk about later.

“You and Beau get all caught up?” Rafe asked his father, not doing a good job of hiding his irritation. Beau had always admired Luis, had come to him for advice when Beau and Rafe were teenagers. Rafe had always felt it was a betrayal of some kind that his father had counseled Rafe's rival.

Taquitos and guacamole had been delivered to the table without Rafe seeing it happen. Even though he wasn't hungry, he snatched one up, dipped it in the guac, took a bite as his father sat back and eyed his son casually.

“Yes, thank you. We did. And you have no reason to be jealous.”

“Jealous? I'm not—” He clamped his mouth shut. “Yes, I am. You always seemed so much more patient with him than me.”

“I was responsible for how
you
turned out, son. Beau needed a strong male influence. He found it in me. Being ranch foreman, I was usually around.”

“His father is about the strongest man out there.”

“Hard's a better word for him. And he was too hard on Beau. Don't you remember at your games how he'd chew Beau out from the stands? Embarrass him?”