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“You can’t blame me for being curious, Amelia. I haven’t seen you take a phone call from anyone who puts a smile in your eyes the way a woman in love should look when she’s talking to that special person. Not to mention ifIwere your fiancé or husband, I wouldn’t be thrilled to find out you’re sharing a suite, two bedrooms or not, with another man. I certainly would be calling the room to speak with him if I didn’t have his number or you wouldn’t give it to me to let my disapproval of it be known,” he tells me with a look that says he knows there’s something else going on here. Atop of that, I’m fightingto control the oddest sensation that washes through me hearing him even hypothetically put himself into the shoes of my fiancé or husband.
“Fine…you want the whole story? It is a wedding ring, just not mine,” I tell him unable to stop myself. At his confusion I held up my hand to keep him from interrupting. “It was my great-grandmothers. She died when I was sixteen and being the only granddaughter, she left it to me. I always kept it with me and when I started working at the club, I put it on thinking it would provide some protection from the more vocal admirers.”
“Did it?”
“No, but it did increase my tips epically. When I went to work at Lemans it kept my male co-workers away.”
“Are there issues like that at Lemans?” he asked, likely wanting to make sure there weren’t going to be a lot of harassment claims.
“Not really, but when you’re a newly graduated twenty-one-year-old girl who gets put into a situation where there are several available men you do whatever you can to make sure you get taken on your work not on your looks or likeability. I wasn’t interested in finding a relationship, and truthfully I’m still not. I didn’t want the hassle of being asked and then having to turn them down,” I tell him, not so sure about not wanting a relationship still but the only one that I seem to want is completely out of the question. His expression changes, his face masking over, and I can’t figure out what he’s thinking.
“You never said when you quit,” he states.
“I continued to work at Sam’s until I left for New York…and after I lost my position at Granter’s I eventually went to work at Vivian’s,” I say getting it all out into the open.
“Vivian’s?” he says the oddest expression crossing his face, it’s one I’ve never seen before, and I have no clue what it means.
“Yeah, it’s on…” I start explaining but he interrupts me.
“I know where it is. I just didn’t expect…wait you said you were working that first weekend. Are you still working there?”
“No—at least not unless this job’s no longer available.”
“Why wouldn’t this job…wait you thought if I found out you waitressed, you’d be out of a job?” Rafe demanded, his expression one of complete shock.
“There are a lot of people, my parents for one, who would be disgusted to find out I worked in a place ‘like that’.”
“I’m not one of them. I don’t find myself frequenting establishments ‘like that’,” Rafe says, and I interject.
“I know.”
“You do?” he says, his brow lifting his tone amused.
“Five years working as a cocktail waitress you gain a sixth sense about who does or does not, frequent those types of establishments, and the moment we met I knew you didn’t.”
“I guess I should be thankful for that,” he muses. “But it does put me in an awkward position now.”
“How’s that?” I ask confused. He seemed to genuinelynotcare so it was odd to hear him say that.
“Because now that I know that ring is nothing more than armor, I have the urge to do this,” he states, closing the distance between us in a single step. Taking my hands, he pulled me up out of my chair, and lowered his mouth over mine.
Shock, panic, and heat…that’s what coursed through my body at the connection. I was so unprepared for it but the feeling of his lips on mine is very welcome, so much so that a soft moan slipped out of them.
Rafe heard it and for just a moment the kiss deepened but then it was as though he’d gotten control of himself, and he separated his lips from mine and took a few steps back. His hands rest on my arms, his breathing as ragged as mine.
“Amelia,” he said looking at me with a mixture of tenderness, want, and apprehension. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I said it was as though I no longer knew the meaning of the word. “You’re sorry you kissed me?”
“Yes…no…hell I don’t know,” he said letting me go, turning his back on me, and running his hands through his dark wavy hair.
I found myself wanting to do the same thing.Easy girl, he’s your boss…oh hell, I think that’s why he’s sorry. “Rafe, it’s okay,” I say although ‘okay’ might not be the right word, fantastic seems more appropriate to me.
“It’s not okay. Hell, Amelia you just finished telling me you weren’t interested in an office romance, and I tend to avoid them like the plague, and what do I do? I practically mauled you,” he says berating himself as he turns to face me.
“Rafe,” I say taking a step towards him placing my hand on his arm to still his movement, “it’s okay, really.”
“I wish it were,” he said softly reaching his hand out and cupping the back of my head. My eyes flutter shut at the awareness of that simple touch, and he leans his head down to rest his forehead against mine. “The moment you walked into the conference room, I found myself wanting you…and then I saw that damn ring,” he added when I said nothing.
