A Guilty Affair (10 page)

“That reminds me,” Pamela said. “When we've finished eating, Riley can look at the wedding photos. And don't let me forget to send you home with a plate for your grandmother. She told me she couldn't make it this afternoon because she had rehearsal for an upcoming salsa tournament she's competing in.”

Janie stared across the table at Riley, her mouth agape. “Your grandmother's going to be competing in a
salsa
tournament?”

Riley nodded with a wry grin. “I know. I could hardly believe it myself when she told me.”

Janie gave a whoop of unabashed delight. “Way to go, Grandma! Be sure to let me know when the competition will be held. I'd love to be there.”

“She'd like that very much,” Riley said.

“
I'm
going to be performing in a ballet recital,” Lourdes announced, not to be outdone by a seventy-four-year-old woman who wasn't even present to bask in the others' admiration.

Everyone at the table offered their hearty congratulations—except for KJ, who merely rolled his eyes at his preening sister.

With the meal under way, the conversation segued from Lourdes's ballet recital and KJ's adventures at space camp—because it was only fair to let him share in the spotlight—to talk of politics. When Lionel Hubbard asked Riley, as an education reporter, to share her opinion of the No Child Left Behind initiative, she found herself launching into a passionate explanation of why she felt the federal program didn't benefit disadvantaged school children, as it purported. Her views resonated with everyone around the table and fueled a spirited discussion that lasted nearly an hour.

More than once throughout the meal, she'd glanced up to find Noah's subtly searching gaze on her. She didn't know how to interpret the expression on his face, other than to say he seemed mildly…fascinated. But she knew better. Despite the kiss they had shared, Noah Roarke was no more interested in her than she was in him. She'd consider it a feat if, by the end of the summer, they at least parted on speaking terms.

After devouring Pamela's scrumptious, award-winning peach cobbler for dessert, the group adjourned to the cozily furnished family room to pore over wedding albums. While Pamela had been understated elegance in a wine-colored sheath dress, Daniela Roarke had been a breathtakingly beautiful bride in a strapless mermaid gown of pure ivory silk that accentuated her lush curves. Her groom was equally arresting in a black Christian Dior tuxedo that made him look like he'd stepped off the cover of
GQ
. In every photo, the love and adulation each couple felt for their partner shone in their eyes and in the tender smiles they shared as they fed cake to each other or came together for the first dance.

As Riley sat and listened to the family's recollections of the two joyous occasions, she couldn't help but think of the ceremony she'd been deprived of.

She had never been the type of woman who'd dreamed of being swept off her feet by Prince Charming and whisked away to an ivory castle tucked deep in the forest. Because her parents had modeled a healthy, happy marriage, it was only natural that she'd grown up with the expectation of one day finding and settling down with her own soul mate. When she met Trevor at a law enforcement convention in Houston, it wasn't love at first sight. In fact, she'd been convinced that the cocky, good-looking cop who'd sauntered up to her during a session break wasn't her type. At six-two, light skinned with pale green eyes, dark wavy hair, and a square-jawed face made for police recruitment posters, Trevor Simmons was fine, and he knew it. But he'd also been sweet and charming, and persistent as hell. Before Riley knew it, she was having dinner with him at a local jazz club. When the conference ended a few days later and Trevor returned to San Antonio, he called her up and asked her out on another date—this time over the phone. It had been fun and surprisingly romantic to sit at a linen-covered table on the rooftop terrace of her downtown loft and sip imported wine while Trevor did the same miles away. By the time the call ended, they'd practically advanced to phone sex; when Trevor drove up to Houston the following weekend, they did the real thing. One year later, they were engaged.

Although Trevor could be moody and a little too possessive at times, she'd loved him unconditionally. She'd wanted to marry him, bear his children and give them the warm, nurturing home their father had never experienced in his own childhood.

But it wasn't meant to be.

And now, three years after the tragedy that had snatched Trevor from her life, she wondered if she'd ever allow herself to be that vulnerable again. Could she let down her guard and give herself permission to fall in love again?

An hour later, she was still preoccupied with these questions as she left the Hubbard house and started home.

Deep in thought, it was several moments before she registered the telltale thumping noise of a flat tire. Swearing under her breath, she glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure no other motorists were behind her before she pulled off to the shoulder of the two-lane country road.

Of all the rotten luck
, she mentally groused, peeling off her suit jacket and tossing it across the passenger seat in disgust.

Since arriving in town last week, she'd been meaning to take her car in for servicing, which she should have done before leaving D.C. But, as had been the case when she fled San Antonio three years ago, she'd been too impatient to start on her journey to worry about anything else.

As she stepped from the Avalon to inspect the flat tire, a shiny black Yukon came barreling down the road. Riley felt a combination of relief and embarrassment when she recognized the driver.

Noah slowed the truck and pulled in behind her car, then climbed out.

“Hi,” Riley said, feeling awkward as he started toward her, slowly removing his mirrored sunglasses and tucking them into the front pocket of his shirt. “Bet you didn't expect to run into me again until tomorrow morning,” she said inanely, then pointed to the rear left tire. “I've got a flat.”

“So I see,” Noah murmured, dropping to his haunches to examine the tire. After a moment, he said, “Looks like you had a slow leak. There's a nail embedded inside.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He ran his hand up and down the smooth surface of the tire. “The tread's worn to nil. When was the last time you had your tires rotated?”

“Uh, it's been a while,” Riley evaded.

“How long is ‘a while'?”

She bit her lip. “A couple of years.”

He scowled. “You're supposed to rotate your tires every six-thousand to eight-thousand miles.”

She bristled. “I've been busy. Vehicle maintenance hasn't exactly been at the top of my list of priorities.”

“Obviously,” he growled. “You drove all the way from Washington, D.C. on bald tires. So not only were you sleep deprived, you could have gotten stranded out in the middle of nowhere. Do you have a spare?”

“In the trunk,” she snapped, incensed by his lecturing. “Look, I'm not some dumb, helpless female, Noah. I know how to change a tire, and I'm perfectly capable of doing so.”

Abruptly she knelt beside him, and had an instant flashback to the first time they'd met, when they'd found themselves huddled beside each other as they inspected the fender of his vehicle. At the time, she'd been too worried about the fact that she'd just rear-ended a cop to notice anything else…such as the heat from his body, or the clean, subtle scent of his cologne, or the pull of his black pants over his hard, muscular thighs…things she noticed now with intoxicating clarity.

When their eyes met, she realized Noah was remembering that long-ago encounter as well.

She swallowed with difficulty. “If you'd kindly step aside,” she said, her voice husky with awareness, “I can change the tire myself and be on my way.”

“Damn it, Riley,” Noah murmured without any real rancor. “I'll change the tire. Pop the trunk so I can get the spare.”

“I said I can do it myself.”

He eyed her form fitting skirt and heels. “You're not dressed for it.”

“Neither are you,” she shot back.

He arched a brow. “I played basketball in this, remember? Pop the trunk.”

“No, I'll—”

A warm, call used hand was clamped gently over her mouth. Noah leaned close, those magnificent onyx eyes boring into hers. “Pop the damn trunk,” he said, a low, silky command.

Nodding wordlessly, Riley stood on legs that trembled, opened the car door and pulled the lever to release the trunk hood.

Noah got to his feet, rolled up his shirt sleeves and lifted out the spare tire, jack and tire iron from the trunk of the car.

In no time at all he'd jacked up the Avalon, removed the flat tire, and gone to work installing the spare.

Riley propped a hip against the side of the car and forced herself to watch other passing vehicles instead of Noah. Because up until that moment, she'd never known just how incredibly sexy a man could look changing a tire. She'd seen it done on commercials and in movies, of course, but nothing compared to the reality. Or maybe what got her juices flowing was the sight of
this
particular man on his knees, his tie tugged loose, a smudge of grease on his rugged jaw, his powerful forearms flexing as he tightened the wheel lugs.

Either way, by the time he finished and was back on his feet, Riley was as hot and bothered as if
she
had done all the hard work.

“Thanks,” she murmured, passing him a small clean towel from the trunk. “I couldn't have done it that fast or easily. I appreciate your help.”

Noah inclined his head, wiping his soiled hands. “The pressure in the spare is low,” he told her, “which means you can't ride on it very long. I'm going to follow you to the nearest auto center to get new tires.”

Riley panicked. “Oh, that won't be necessary,” she said quickly. Another minute around him and she'd be jumping his damn bones. “I'll take care of it sometime this week.”

He scowled darkly. “Did you hear what I just said? You can't ride on the doughnut for very long—the air pressure's too low.”

“I heard you. I just—I can't—” Flustered, she blurted out, “I can't do this today.”

“Yes, you can,” Noah said in a low voice that brooked no argument. “And you will.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel, strode back to his truck and climbed inside, leaving Riley no choice but to follow suit.

She cursed his high-handedness all the way to the Sears automotive center. Pulling into an empty parking space beside him, she buzzed down the automatic window and called out, “For all you know, Noah Roarke, I might be on a very tight budget right now. Maybe I can't afford to buy
four
new tires at this time!”

He was already climbing out of his truck and striding purposefully toward the building. By the time Riley realized what he was doing and had struggled out of her seat belt and hurried after him, he'd already paid for the tires and arranged for them to be installed.

She glared at him as he walked away from the service counter. “I
had
money,” she said through gritted teeth, not caring that she sounded like an ingrate or that other customers were staring at her. “I don't need your charity, and I
don't
appreciate being man-handled.”

“You can thank me later,” Noah drawled, holding the door open for her as they stepped back outside. “In the meantime, let's pull your car around so they can get started on it.”

N
oah
liked it when Riley was angry.

He hadn't realized it until that very moment, as she sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat of his Yukon, her arms folded tightly across her chest and her long legs crossed, and stared straight ahead. If it were biologically possible, he would have sworn he saw steam pouring from her pretty little ears.

Oh, yeah, he definitely liked it when she was angry.

He could deal with her anger, however volatile it might be. What he
couldn't
deal with was Riley's sorrow, the tears she'd bravely tried to hold back at Trevor's funeral because she'd wanted to be strong for his mother. And for Noah.

On that awful January day, as he stood before a chapel filled to overflowing with Trevor's friends, relatives and comrades who'd come to pay their last respects, Noah was immobile with grief. He couldn't think, couldn't drag enough air into his lungs. Everything was a blur, and he'd watched himself deliver the eulogy as if he were having an out-of-body experience. In the middle of speaking, he'd looked out into the sea of mourners and seen Riley. She'd been staring at him with rapt absorption, hanging on to his every word as if each utterance about Trevor was a lifeline. When their eyes met, her chin went up a proud notch, but there was a faint tremble to her lips that betrayed her effort to hold it all together. And then, a single tear had escaped and rolled down her face. The sight of that one teardrop had cut through him like shards of jagged glass. He felt as if his soul had been ripped from his body. Trevor was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he could do to ease Riley's pain or lessen the crushing despair she felt.

It had taken a monumental act of willpower to remain standing at the podium, to continue addressing the mourners when all he wanted to do was go to Riley, hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, even if he didn't really believe it. He'd wanted to comfort her, protect her, be her Rock of Gibraltar.

But when the moment of truth arrived, he'd failed her.

At a time when she needed him most, he'd failed her. Because he was weak, and selfish. Because even in those dark days leading up to the funeral, he'd realized he still wanted her. His grief had done nothing to diminish his feelings for her. His breath still caught in his throat whenever she walked into a room, his body still tightened when she brushed past him, and his heart still ached from the pain of unrequited love.

He despised himself for coveting his best friend's fiancée, even as Trevor's cold, lifeless body lay on a steel gurney in the morgue. What kind of person was he he'd wondered in self-loathing, calling himself everything but a child of God.

Not only could he
not
handle a friendship with Riley, he didn't
deserve
one. So his punishment had been to stay away from her—even more than he already did.

But she'd needed his friendship and support, and he'd let her down. For weeks after the funeral, he could see the confusion in her eyes, the disappointment, the sense of betrayal.

No doubt about it. He definitely preferred Riley's anger over her sorrow.

So he couldn't understand or explain, for the life of him, what came out of his mouth next.

“You would have been a beautiful bride,” he said softly, the words escaping before he knew they'd even formed.

Riley turned her head slowly to look at him. For several long moments she just stared at him in stunned silence. And then, to his horror, tears welled up in those deep, chocolate eyes.

Damn! Now why had he gone and said something like that?

Noah opened his mouth, only to be silenced when she lifted a trembling hand. “That was so unfair,” she whispered huskily.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm already upset,” she grumbled.

“I know. I didn't mean to upset you more. I was just thinking about my mother and sister's weddings, and how that must have been difficult for you to look at all those pictures. But you were genuinely happy for them, I could see it in your eyes.” He paused, his throat constricting as he glanced out the window for a moment. “I just wanted you to know that I think you would've made a beautiful bride, Riley,” he finished gruffly. “A damned beautiful bride.”

When he ventured another glance at her, her face was averted to the passenger window. Her eyes were closed, but he could see silent, mournful tears slipping down her face.

His heart wrenched in half, and he immediately felt like an ogre. The one thing he'd been trying to avoid for years—watching her cry—he'd made happen with one careless slip of the tongue.

That's why you should always think before you speak, Roarke
.

And therein lies the problem
, he mused grimly. He
had
been having those thoughts about Riley ever since leaving his mother's house, which was why the remark had tumbled so freely from his mouth in an unguarded moment.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured a second time.

“Don't be,” Riley surprised him by saying. She turned her head to look at him, a soft, winsome smile trembling on her full lips. “I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Noah.”

The combination of her words, the shining gratitude in her eyes, and that bewitching smile hit him squarely in the chest. In that moment, he would have done anything she asked him to.
Anything
.

He reached behind him and fumbled for a clean handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, which was draped across the back of his seat. Wordlessly, he passed the handkerchief to her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, dabbing at her eyes and cheeks.

He didn't say anything else, just stared out the window at the steady flow of customers coming to and leaving the automotive center. The late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the windshield, heating the leather interior of the truck. He reached over and adjusted the air conditioner to make it a little cooler.

After a few more moments, Riley drew in a deep, shuddering breath and quietly exhaled, stirring the silky fringe of her bangs. “I'm sorry I was so peevish about the whole tire thing,” she said sheepishly. “If you hadn't come along when you did, I probably would've been stranded there for a long time, either waiting for roadside assistance or trying to fix the flat myself. I appreciate all of your help, even if I didn't act like it.”

“You're welcome,” Noah said simply.

She focused thoughtfully on his face. “I don't think I ever realized what a bully you can be,” she said with a trace of lingering reproach. “You
did
manhandle me, Noah.”

He chuckled ruefully. “Sorry. Force of habit. Just ask my sister, Daniela.”

Riley's lips curved in a sardonic grin. “Well, then, I guess it's lucky for her that she's finally out from under your thumb.”

“Maybe, but Caleb's just as bad.”

Riley gave a mock shudder. “God save us all from chivalrous, over protective men.”

As they exchanged teasing smiles, it occurred to Noah that this was probably the first pleasant conversation they'd had in years. It felt good. Too good.

“I had a really wonderful time this afternoon,” Riley said softly. “Your family is so warm and accepting. Trevor always spoke of that, of how comfortable and at home they made him feel. That's how I felt today.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Noah allowed his eyes to roam across her features, lingering on classically thick eyebrows, dark, almond-shaped eyes that tilted exotically at the corners, high cheekbones, and an exquisitely lush mouth. It was a face that had haunted his dreams and too many waking thoughts for the past five years. A face he'd never forget for as long as he lived.

“My family really likes you,” he heard himself telling her. “Especially my mother.” It was true. Almost from the moment Trevor had introduced the two women to each other, his mother had taken an instant liking to Riley, responding to her in a way she'd never done with any girlfriend Noah had ever brought home. Even Janie had had to work hard to earn a place in Pamela's heart. But with Riley it was different. It was like she'd been given free admission.

Riley smiled warmly. “Your mother is an absolute angel. And I really like Mr. Hubbard. I can tell how much they love each other.”

“Yeah, it's pretty special,” Noah agreed. “They'd attended the same church for several years, but didn't really become friends until sometime last year.” He chuckled. “Daniela thinks Mom always had a secret crush on Deacon Hubbard but was too shy to do anything about it. And then one day he offered to drive her to Houston to visit her sister, and she found out
he'd
been interested in her for years.”

Riley sighed, laying one hand over her heart. “How incredibly romantic.”

Noah slanted her a look. “You think so?”

She nodded vigorously. “Are you kidding? I love hearing stories like that. Secret longing, unrequited love. Gets me every time.” She issued another long, deep sigh, then grinned playfully at him. “It's a woman thing. You wouldn't understand.”

Noah swallowed hard, his heart knocking against his rib cage.
If only she knew
.

Riley leaned her head back on the headrest, a gentle, reminiscent smile on her face. “Trevor understood that about me, the fact that beneath my tough-girl, hard-nosed-reporter facade, I'm a sucker for romance. He may have understood a little too well. Whenever we got into an argument, he'd let me cool off for a day or two, and then he'd call me. There was this little thing we used to do over the phone—we called it our ‘virtual date. 'Anyway,” she said with a soft laugh, “it always worked like a charm for him. Smart man, silly me.”

Noah forced himself to concentrate on the Herculean task of breathing, not on what Riley was telling him. He already knew all about the so-called virtual dates she and Trevor had shared. Trevor had bragged about them on several occasions, going into vivid detail about the naughty things Riley would whisper in his ear, until Noah couldn't take it anymore and abruptly changed the subject. Just like then, he didn't want to imagine Riley in the arms of another man, being held, caressed and made love to. He was tortured by the thought of her giving herself to anyone, even Trevor, with the same passion and abandon she gave to him almost every night in his dreams. He knew it was crazy to feel so possessive over a woman he would never have, but he couldn't help himself.

Riley turned her head slightly, studying him with a sidelong look. He kept his expression carefully neutral. “Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“If I ask you a personal question, would you give me an honest answer?”

His gut clenched, and his mouth went dry. “Depends,” he said evenly.

“On what?”

“On what the question is.”

“So your honesty is conditional?”

He shot her a look. “What do you want to know, Riley?”

She hesitated, searching his impassive face. “How much did Trevor tell you…about our relationship?”

“What do you mean?” he asked warily.

“I mean,” she said, lifting her head from the back of the seat, “did he tell you the things we argued about? Did he ever ask you to take sides?”

Choosing his words carefully, Noah replied, “I'm not sure I understand how having that kind of information would be of any use to you at this point. But I will tell you that Trevor loved you and worshipped the ground you walked on. After you turned down his first marriage proposal, he started worrying that you were having second thoughts about him, and it made him miserable. For a while he was impossible to be around, because all he wanted to talk about was you, and his fear that you were falling out of love with him. On the day you finally said yes, he was dancing on cloud nine. I'd known Trevor twenty-three years, Riley, and I can honestly tell you I'd never seen him happier than when you agreed to marry him.” He paused, then added somberly, “I hope that answers your question.”

“It does,” Riley whispered as she blinked back a fresh sheen of tears. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their memories, not all of them painful.

After a while, Riley glanced out the window in time to see the Avalon emerge from the service center garage. “My car's ready,” she murmured. “That was fast.”

Noah wondered if he'd only imagined the hint of regret in her voice, then decided it was just another example of wishful thinking on his part.

He started the truck and pulled around to let her out by her car, where the auto technician was patiently waiting with her receipt.

“Thanks again for everything, Noah,” Riley said, as she reached for the door handle. “I'll pay you back for the new tires.”

He shook his head. “I'm not taking your money.”

“Noah—”