Private Acts (15 page)

They’d long ago stopped using protection—their passion too wild and spontaneous to be curtailed by its limitations. They made love in the sand, with her on top of him. Her body conformed to his as if it were tailor made to drape across him.

Desperation edged their lovemaking. He filled her with pleasure so sublime she could only cling to him in the aftermath. Tears filled her eyes, and she squeezed them shut to prevent the tears from falling.

He hadn’t asked her to stay yet, but she was certain he would. How could he not, when they’d been so close for weeks and now had spent five wonderful days together? Surely it had been as special for him as it had been for her.

He
would
ask. And she already knew what her answer would be.

She would say yes.

Chapter Thirteen

Back in
Cuenca
, the taxi ride from the airport was a quiet one. Samirah tried not to think about the coming weekend, but it remained at the top of her mind. In just days she would be on a plane back to
Miami
. Unless the man seated beside her made an offer she couldn’t refuse.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. He looked tired, or stressed, or both. Since last night, lines had formed at the corners of his mouth. She wondered if he had similar thoughts to hers. Maybe she should say something—hint she would like to remain in
Cuenca
for a longer period.

How strange she lacked the nerve to speak her mind, since most of her life she’d never been shy or reserved. But now, when it mattered the most, she couldn’t say the words in her heart.

Miguel helped her take her one piece of luggage inside the house when they arrived. After he left, she listened to
Geneva
gush about her Delgado original and watched her smile and express how lucky Samirah was to be in a relationship with such a talented man.

Funny, she didn’t feel lucky at the moment.

She spent the rest of the day catching up on her household duties. She also went into town to purchase items at the market and took the opportunity to mail the souvenirs she’d purchased while in the Galapagos.

She didn’t eat much at dinner. Both
Geneva
and Thomas expressed their concern, but she assured them she wasn’t sick, just tired.

She wouldn’t be able to see Miguel again until the next day when
Geneva
went to her therapy appointment. Tomorrow was Thursday, which meant only two more days before her departure. Surely he would say something then.

* * * *

The following day, to keep her mind off her melancholy thoughts, Samirah pulled out her notebook with her restaurant ideas and flipped through the pages, reviewing the sketches, color schemes, and the sample menus. She did some doodling but didn’t accomplish much because her thoughts ran constantly to Miguel.

When she heard her employers call out a goodbye on their way to the appointment, she slammed the notebook closed and hopped off the bed. The taxi disappeared from sight before she slipped on a pair of sandals and went over to Miguel’s. She’d made up her mind she would bring up the topic of her staying.

Why should she be afraid to mention it? She loved him, and even if he didn’t love her, she knew he cared about her. He enjoyed her company and had taken her on a lovely trip where they’d spent their days and nights like a couple in love.

“There’s nothing to fear but fear itself,” she whispered as she entered Miguel’s house. He always kept the door open for her on the days she came over so she could come in while he worked in the studio. Except he wasn’t in the studio today.

Frowning, she made her way upstairs to his bedroom. Once there, the sight that greeted her eyes made her heart jump. A suitcase was opened on his bed, and he stood over an open dresser drawer, removing clothes.

“What’s going on?”

He straightened suddenly, surprised to see her, even though she always came by around this time.

The tension lines around his mouth were even more pronounced than the day before. “Aarón called,” he said by way of explanation. “I have to go.”

Miguel loved his younger brother and wanted to protect him, but she didn’t quite understand what from. It had to do with his own past and his strained relationship with his mother, but she’d never fully understood the gist of it, and he never seemed to want to confide in her.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened to him?”

His fingers brushed the hair back from his face. The muscles of his arm flexed with the movement, but she remained focused on the man and what seemed to be a difficult time for him.

He rested the edge of his butt against the dresser. “My mother has decided to take him with her to
Germany
, even though she promised we would discuss it. Aarón wants to come live with me. He doesn’t want to be dragged to
Europe
to yet another house with another man who…” He expelled a heavy breath. “Who doesn’t really want him around anyway.”

Samirah’s gaze landed on the open suitcase again. “When do you leave?”

“Tonight. I’m catching the next flight out to
Miami
.”

A feeling of dread crept over her. “Were you going to tell me?”

“Of course. I had no intention of leaving without saying goodbye. I wanted to get my things together first because there isn’t much time if I want to catch the flight.”

She nodded her understanding, even though the word “goodbye” held a finality that couldn’t be missed. “Do you need me to do anything while you’re gone? Stock the fridge with groceries, get his room ready?”

“No.” He raked his fingers through his hair again and stared at the suitcase instead of her.

“You sure?” Her voice sounded the way she felt—small and insignificant. Because she understood what was taking place, and she didn’t want to face it. When he didn’t reply, she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“I hope only a few days, but it could be longer.”

This was it. The dump. He no longer needed her.

“Should—should I—”

“Samirah.”

Her teeth sank into the tender flesh of the inside of her bottom lip. Over the past twenty-four hours, she’d agonized over what would happen and how she would feel if he didn’t ask her to stay as she’d hoped he would, but nothing could prepare her for the excruciating pain she experienced at this moment.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to go,” he said. “I wanted us to spend as much time together as possible over these next couple of days, but—but these are circumstances out of my control. I want you to know I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together. It was fun.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “Fun? I’ve been
fun
? Is that supposed to be some kind of
compliment?”

He looked exasperated. “Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Tell you the truth about yourself?”

“Don’t make this into something ugly.”

“Don’t worry, Miguel. You’ve already done a really good job of that on your own.”

He pushed off the dresser. “What do you want me to say?”

“I thought you…cared about me. I came here to tell you…”

The pain of rejection clogged her throat, and her voice kept breaking. She couldn’t stand the look of pity in his eyes so she stared down at the carpet, finding it hard to believe it would end this way. She covered her face with her hands so she could hide behind them. She was falling apart. For the first time in her life, she wanted to hide and didn’t want to be seen.

He came silently over to her and grasped her wrists. “Samirah,
querida
.”

“Stop,” she whispered. “I told you not to call me that.”

“I’ve been calling you that for a long time now.”

“But you don’t mean it.”

“Of course I mean it. Look at me.” She allowed him to lower her hands, and he tilted up her face with a finger under her chin. “We both knew from the beginning our time together would be short. You have your life in
Miami
, and your family in the States. I knew you would be leaving. So instead of saying our goodbyes on Saturday, we’re saying them a couple of days early. It has always been inevitable.”

For you, but not for me.

Her throat seized up. She should have known it wouldn’t last, but she’d gotten caught up in the dream, and now reality had taken hold. The pain of her last sordid relationship paled in comparison to the gutting she experienced now.

How could he truly care about her if he was willing to walk away so easily?

“So you care, you just don’t care enough to see where this relationship can go?” Was that her voice, sounding so raw and thick with hopelessness?

“This is exciting to you now, but in a few months you’ll be bored and ready to move on.”

“Don’t tell me what I think and what I feel!”

“I don’t have to, you already said it!” He became very still, the bones in his face sharpening in direct proportion to the tension mounting in the room. “‘
Why would you want to stay in the same place when you can go anywhere you want?’”

Samirah stepped back. “You’re using my words against me.”

“I’m not using them against you. I’m simply repeating what you said.”

“That’s not fair,” she said with a vigorous shake of her head.

“And then there’s always your restaurant on
South
Beach
, ‘where all the action is.’”

Her brow line creased. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you want something that’s unrealistic,” he replied in a fierce voice. “You would never be happy here. You could never be happy in a place where the most excitement that takes place is our national holidays and a fundraiser for the arts. You expect me to believe you could live like this, in a modest house in a quiet neighborhood?”

“You don’t even know me. Yes, I said those things, but that’s not what I meant.”

“How else could you mean it? Why would you say those things and not mean them?”

“The conversation took place weeks ago. I’ve been in this neighborhood for over two months and I do love it.”

“For now,” he said. “Relationships take work.”

“I know.”

“You have to start out on some kind of compatible foundation. What do we have? Great sex and a trip to the Galapagos?”

The blunt words jarred her. “That’s all it was to you?”

Pain blossomed in her body. She could feel it everywhere—in her eyes, in her heart, in her soul. Was that all she was good for? A roll in the hay? A screw, an affair, and then on to the next woman? This relationship was much more than a mere fling to her.

“Dammit, Samirah. This wasn’t supposed to be—”

“No!” She covered his mouth with her hand. “Don’t say it.”

She knew how the sentence ended. This wasn’t supposed to be…serious, long term, permanent, forever, a real relationship.

She removed her hand and stepped back, frightened by the fact that despite everything he said, she still wanted him. His touch blistered her skin, the softness of his mouth against her palm made her tingle and want to feel those same lips against hers again.