Reunited (11 page)

"I have one stop to make before we get dinner. I have to deliver a Christmas gift. But I should only be a few minutes."

They spent the rest of the drive chatting, Rafe hardly able to keep his eyes on the road with Keely in the car. He wasn't the kind of guy to believe in fate, but something had brought him to Quinn's that night. He had to believe he was meant to satisfy this craving he'd had for Keely over the past few months.

Now that he knew what she expected, he wasn't going to make the same mistakes twice. She wanted a physical relationship, wild and uninhibited, with no strings attached. Any expectations for a relationship beyond pure pleasure were to be checked at the bedroom door. Hell, that's all he'd ever really wanted from the opposite sex and now he'd found the perfect woman to provide it.

They chatted about her job as Rafe turned off the highway into Cambridge. A few minutes later, he swung the car into the Oak Terrace Convalescent Hospital and pulled into a parking spot near the front door.

"Why are we stopping here?" Keely asked.

"My mom lives here. I won't be long."

Keely gasped. "But it's Christmas. You should spend some time with her."

"Lately she hasn't even recognized me," Rafe said. "She has some problems and she kind of drifts in and out. Around the holidays, she always seems to be worse. I think she misses my dad."

"He's dead?"

Rafe nodded. "For almost thirty years. But to her it was just yesterday. Emotionally, she's been a little...fragile since he died." He reached into the back seat for an elaborately wrapped Christmas gift. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'd like to come with you," Keely said softly. "I'd like to meet your mother."

Stunned by her offer, Rafe wasn't sure what to say. His mother was hard enough for him to handle; he couldn't imagine a complete stranger taking that on. But then Keely continually surprised him with the depth of her character. "All right."

He hopped out of the car and circled to Keely's door to pull it open for her. She stepped out and gave him a smile. "I'll have to thank her for teaching you such good manners."

Though decorated festively, the home was quiet when they entered. Rafe nodded to the nurse at the front desk, then started down the long hall. Keely stayed at his side, unfazed by the residents who stared at her with vacant gazes and expressionless faces. When they reached Lila's room, Rafe turned to her. "Sometimes she gets a little upset, so feel free to leave if her behavior bothers you."

"I'll be fine," Keely assured him.

Rafe wasn't sure where the urge came from, but he leaned forward and kissed her gently, their lips barely touching before he drew away. He couldn't find the words to tell her how sweet she was, so he'd chosen to show his appreciation. He turned and knocked softly on the door.

Lila didn't look up as they entered. She sat in a chair near the window, staring out into the winter darkness with a strange smile on her face. Rafe crossed the room and kissed her on the top of her head. "Hi, Ma. Merry Christmas."

"He should be home by now," Lila said. "He's never so late."

"He will be home soon, Ma. Until he gets here, would you like to open this present?"

She finally glanced up at him, her gaze taking in the gift. But then it shifted to Keely and her smile faded slightly. "Are you my nurse?" she asked.

Keely slowly approached the chair, then bent down until she stood at Lila's level. "No, I'm not. I'm a friend of Rafe's. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Kendrick."

Lila stared at Keely for a long time, her expression melting into a frown. "I know you," she said.

"No, Ma, you don't."

"I know you. You have those eyes."

"You have very pretty eyes," Keely said, deftly changing the subject. "And beautiful hair. Would you like me to fix your hair for you?"

Rafe watched as Keely fussed with his mother's hair, all the while talking softly to her, chatting about fashions and perfume and all the things that ladies enjoyed. Lila seemed to relax in her presence and she even laughed once or twice. For the first time in many years, Rafe saw the mother he'd once known--the mother who had taught him to dance to old 45s playing on the console stereo in their living room, the mother who had been proclaimed "hot" by all his friends at school; the mother who told him he could be anyone, do anything, he set his mind to.

And now he'd set his mind to ruining the Quinns. "You did so much for me," Rafe murmured to himself. "And now I'm going to do this for you, Ma."

Nearly an hour had passed before Rafe decided it was time to leave. His mother was getting tired and when she grew tired, she became even more irrational. He motioned to Keely and she took the responsibility of announcing their departure. But she assured Lila that she'd enjoyed their chat and hoped to visit her again soon.

As she walked out to the hall, Rafe sat down across from his mother. "It was nice to see you again, Ma."

She reached out and held on to his hand, so tightly that his fingers hurt. "Christmas is coming soon," Lila said. "You will come to see me at Christmas-time, won't you?"

"I will. I love you, Ma." Rafe bent forward to kiss her goodbye, but she suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him closer, her gaze turning wild.

"Tell her I'm sorry," she pleaded. "Tell her I didn't mean it. She doesn't have those eyes.
He
has those eyes. Seamus Quinn does. Evil eyes. I made a mistake. Be sure you tell her. Promise me."

He gently untwisted her fingers from his shirt. "I will, Ma."

When he joined Keely in the hall, he gave her a hesitant smile. Then he took her hand and drew it to his lips, pressing a kiss just above her wrist. "Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For giving me my mother. She doesn't wander back to reality very often. It was the best Christmas gift I've gotten in many years."

Keely stared at him, her expression tinged with confusion. Then she gave him a small smile and started down the hall. Rafe watched her, struck dumb by the flood of emotion that raced through him. What bit of luck had brought Keely McClain into his life? And what would he have to do to keep her there?

"I
DIDN'T EXPECT
all my favorite restaurants to be closed on Christmas Eve," Rafe said.

"That's all right," Keely replied. "We can have dinner another time."

"I promised you dinner and I'm going to deliver," Rafe said. "There's one more place we can try. And it's just a few blocks away."

Keely snuggled down in the heated front seat of Rafe's Mercedes. She was glad they'd have a dinner table between them because, right now, all she could think about was kissing him again. The brief kiss in the hallway outside his mother's room had done nothing to satisfy the need building inside her. She felt as if every nerve in her body crackled with electricity. And if he touched her in just the right way, she might spontaneously burst into flames.

If she didn't want to get herself into trouble tonight, she might do best to make her dinner selection on the basis of the quantity of garlic in it. Keely frowned as Rafe reached up to his visor and pressed the control for the door of an underground garage. "What kind of food does this restaurant serve?" Keely asked.

"It's not exactly a restaurant. It's a kitchen with a great view."

"You live here, don't you?" Keely said.

Rafe smiled and shrugged. "I make a mean omelette."

Keely groaned inwardly. She knew exactly where this would lead. When it came to Rafe she had absolutely no control over her desires. There must be something in the air here in Boston, she mused. Something that turned a nice Catholic girl into a raging sexaholic. Or maybe it was her Quinn genes asserting themselves. Her brothers weren't known for self-control when it came to the opposite sex, so why should she?

They rode up the elevator, Keely keeping her gaze fixed on the numbers as they flashed higher and higher. They finally stopped at the top floor and Keely stepped out. "How did you get the top floor?"

Rafe slipped his key into the door of his apartment. "I built the building."

He lived in understated luxury, the imprint of an interior designer evident in every perfect accessory, in the colors and the textures of the European-style furniture. Compared to her little bohemian loft in the East Village, Keely felt as if she'd stepped into a spread in
Architectural Digest.

She fought the urge to turn around and leave. There were times when she felt completely out of her league with Rafe. He was wealthy and sophisticated, and he held an undeniable power over her desire that she couldn't explain. But, at the same time, Keely trusted Rafe.

The apartment was dimly lit and Keely was immediately drawn to the wall of wide windows on the far side of the living room. She stood in front of them and looked down on the harbor, the shape of the shore outlined by the lights of the city. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?"

"That would be nice," Keely said.

Rafe disappeared into the kitchen. Keely wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm a shiver. The first time they'd been together had been so spontaneous, she hadn't had time to think. Now, she had all the time in the world to consider her actions. There would be no chance for impulsive decisions this time.

And the one-night stand excuse wouldn't work tonight. If she fell into bed with him, she'd have to deal with the consequences in the morning. Keely closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She couldn't deny her attraction to Rafe. Images of him constantly invaded her waking thoughts and plagued her dreams.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps and forced a smile. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. "I thought maybe this time we'd have the real thing." He poured Keely a glass, then handed it to her. Their hands touched for a moment and it was as if she'd touched lightning, a dangerous current racing through her body. She clutched the glass, afraid she might drop it. Even after all this time she remembered the exact feel of his hands on her body, the way his mouth trailed after, searching and exploring.

He filled his own flute, then held it out. "Merry Christmas, Keely McClain."

"Merry Christmas," she said, touching her glass to his.

Rafe watched as she took a sip of her champagne. He reached out and drew his finger along her jawline, a caress that was both tantalizing and overwhelming. "Are you hungry?"

Somehow, she didn't think he was talking about food. But she was willing to play along. "I am. Can I help?"

Rafe nodded and she followed him through the dining area and into the kitchen. He flipped on the lights and the room came alive, all smooth granite and stainless steel and halogen lighting. Keely looked around at all the high-tech gadgetry. She pointed to a professional-grade mixer, the kind she used to make icing at the bakery. "Have you ever used that?"

Rafe chuckled. "No. But I guess the decorator thought it was important." He grabbed a saute pan from the rack above the cooktop. "I'll need eggs and bacon," he said. "And there should be a green pepper in the fridge. And some cheese."

Keely pulled open the refrigerator door, expecting to find it thinly stocked, but it was full of both staples and snack food. "Wow. You must do a lot of cooking at home."

"Not much. My housekeeper does the shopping. And since omelettes are the extent of my cooking skills, the shopping list isn't very long."

She set the ingredients next to him on the counter, then leaned back and watched. But when he reached for the eggs, he had to reach around her. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he bent closer and brushed his mouth over hers. This time he lingered, teasing and tasting before moving away.

As he cracked the eggs into a bowl, Rafe smiled. "I needed to do that."

"I wanted you to do that," Keely said. "Maybe you could do it again sometime?"

She stared at him, already resigning herself to complete and unconditional surrender. Good Lord, how long had it taken her to capitulate--five or ten minutes?

Rafe dropped the fork into the bowl of half-scrambled eggs. "Maybe I could."

With exquisite care, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up to sit on the edge of the counter. Then he pushed her knees apart and stepped between them, all the time looking deep into her eyes. Keely felt every nerve in her body ready itself for the sensation of his touch. And when he ran his hands along her thighs and brought her legs up around his waist, she slowly released a breath.

"I like these boots," he said, running his hands from her knees to her ankles.

His hands shifted in the other direction, all the way up her legs as he bunched up her short skirt around her hips. He hooked a finger around her panties and tugged at the lace. "And I like these, too."

His exploration moved on to her waist and he grabbed the hem of her sweater and slowly tugged it over her head. After tossing it aside, he smoothed his palms over her shoulders. A flood of desire coursed through her body, making her heart pound with the effort.

Rafe toyed with her bra straps, but he couldn't seem to settle in one place. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice deep and raw. He ran his tongue along the crease of her lips, then drew away. "I love the way you taste. Better than champagne."

With a slow and deliberate pace, he moved from spot to spot, the base of her neck, the skin beneath her ear, the swell of her breast and then her nipple. And each time his tongue touched her, she shuddered with pleasure. But then he moved lower to her belly and then to the inside of her thigh. "Let me taste you," Rafe murmured. "All of you."

Keely leaned back onto the counter, closing her eyes and bracing her arms behind her, anticipating his assault. He moved up her thigh and she moaned, knowing the next stop on his tour of her body. When he slipped his hands beneath her skirt and tugged at her panties, Keely sighed. He stepped away for a moment as the lace made its way over her boots and then to the floor.

The lights of the kitchen blazed. Rafe parted her legs and Keely turned her head toward the windows. This corner of his apartment looked out on another high-rise directly across the street, so close that she could see people in their apartments. Rafe glanced over at the windows. "Are we going to have an audience? Or would you like me to shut the blinds?"