Along for the Ride (8 page)

He held out the bills to Rafi, who made no move to take them.

“Lauren,” Rafi said quietly. “Come with me. Please.”

Philip looked from one to the other of them, incredulously. “What the hell? You’re way out of line here, buddy. Come on, take the money. The offer’s running out in a few seconds.”

“No thanks.” Rafi spat the words through clenched teeth.

There was a silence as the men regarded each other, hatred coming off Rafi in waves.

Finally, Philip shrugged, pocketed the money. “Suit yourself. Lauren, come on. Let’s not waste any more time on this guy. What do you say, I’ll get us a table at Nicoise—”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Lauren said, but her voice trembled, giving her away.

“Lauren.” Philip wheedled, allowing her half a smile. “Come on, honey. Be reasonable.”

She did not feel strong now. Being near Philip threatened something in her, nipped at the tender bud of courage that had begun to form in her, nourished by Rafi’s attention. She didn’t feel like a beautiful woman, not when Philip ordered her around, sure she’d never deny him.

She remembered how he had hurt her, how he’d belittled her so often. Some of her spirit returned. No man would ever do that to her again.

She glanced at Rafi—so strong, so determined—and her heart contracted. Rafi had made her believe in herself. He had opened up her life in ways she’d never imagined possible. Rafi was everything to her, everything she wanted in a man.

But he wasn’t going to be hers forever. Her appeal would wane when some gorgeous younger woman came into Rafi's life, a woman with everything ahead of her, with taut skin and glossy hair.

Philip, on the other hand, had come back. She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. Men like Philip strayed, but they returned to their reliable, proper mates, if only for appearances.

When she was with Rafi, she never doubted that he wanted to be there. But how long would it be until Rafi tired of her? Her lip trembled. She would trade all the rest of her days for a week of his love, if she could have him completely. But that’s not the way it was going to be. She was a novelty. Maybe even a project, an outlet for Rafi's generous heart. But she couldn’t ask him for any promises.

Lauren decided. She would dispense with Philip once and for all; then she would go to Rafi and accept whatever time he would give.

“All right,” she said to Philip. “Let’s get this over with.”

Turning to Rafi, she could barely hold his gaze, his face a stormy mask of disbelief.

“I’ll, um, contact you soon.”

#

Lauren slipped into a chair with her coffee and took out her phone. Rafi’s number glowed in the twilight of the coffee shop. She dialed nervously, waiting through the first ring.

He picked up. “Hello?”

“Rafi — it’s me. Lauren.”

There was a pause, painful to her, even over the wires she could sense his coldness.

“You went with him. How could you do that, Lauren? You were ashamed of me?”

“No!” Lauren’s heart skipped in astonishment. “Of course not! I went because I had to, not because I wanted to. I wanted to be with you.”

“If you wanted to be with me, you would be here.
Now
.”

Lauren was dismayed by the hardness of Rafi’s voice. His anger took her off guard. Of course it had been vile of her to leave him at the airport, but if he only understood the lengths she needed to go to rid herself of Philip, he would understand. “You don’t know Philip. He doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Evidently. So, you said yes.”

“No!” Lauren clutched her slim phone more tightly. “I had to make it plain to him that I never wanted to see him again.”

“If you allowed me, Lauren, I would have made it plain to him. That I was your lover. When he understood that, he would have left. A worm like him does not compete well.”

Lauren let his words sink in.
I was your lover.
It was not what she had expected of Rafi, and she couldn’t fashion an answer in time.

Rafi’s last hopes dissolved in the lengthening silence. “What would you have done, Lauren, if I had taken your hand? And what about next time, when your colleagues might pass by? Your family? How many times, Lauren, would your hunger for me outweigh your common sense?

“I have nothing for you, Lauren. I am not the man for you. I have just been stupid enough not to see it until now.”

“Rafi, don’t—” Lauren’s voice was edged with distress. It was a good thing that she wasn’t in his presence, or he might not have been able to stop himself from reaching for her, comforting her.

“Lauren, you are not thinking with your mind. We have shared something rare but it is not love that you feel for me. Other men can love you well. They are not all like Philip. A good man, one who has something to offer you—”

“I don’t want anyone to offer me anything!” The heat was returning to her voice. “Damn it, Rafi. I am a grown woman. Who are you to tell me what I want? I want you. I want to be with
you
.”

Rafi’s own anger flared. “Ah, which parts of me do you want? I can tell that you love my body, my hands on your skin. But do you want my heart? My life? Do you want to share my tiny dark apartment? Would you enjoy preparing meals that would wait in the oven until I returned from work, doing a job that none of your friends would ever lower themselves to do?

“Or perhaps you would marry me, is that it?” Rafi heard the contempt in his voice. He knew he was going too far, but he could not stop. He could not bear her rejection, and so he would get there first, even if it meant hurting her this way. “Would you settle for a courthouse wedding, no white gown, no champagne toasts? Would you enjoy the paperwork and the indignity of the officials scrutinizing our lives?”

Her silence was deafening. It held her answer—she did not need to say a word.

“I’ve learned, Lauren,” he said in a softer voice, finally mastering his anger. “I will not love another woman, not until I have something to offer.
Everything
to offer.”

“But Rafi—”

He could not bear to hear her voice breaking, the tears coming. “Good night, Lauren,” he whispered softly, and broke the connection.

#

Later—it seemed like hours—he left the apartment and walked. Horns blared when he ignored the signal; he barely glanced up.

He arrived at the lake and crossed the band of sand. Night had fallen, and only a few souls remained, some unfortunate ones with nowhere else to go, others troubled, like himself.

At the water’s edge he took the box from his pocket, and lifted out the tiny earrings. They were cold in his hand, but they caught the moonlight and sent their flashing beams as he moved his palm.

And so it is over
, he thought bitterly, flinging them as far as he could into the cold dark water.

CHAPTER SEVEN

On Monday Lauren called a new service.

By the third week with her new driver, she was growing accustomed to him. He called her Sweetie. He had thirteen grandchildren and, to be polite, she looked at the fan of photographs he updated each time.

He caught on and respected her need for silence. She passed it off as well as she could—“I’m just not a morning person”—and closed her eyes and shielded her temples with her hand on the way to the airport.

Her blouses were once again buttoned to the top. The garters had been relegated to the bottom of her bureau, and her hair, in the gaining heat of early summer, was twisted into a style that kept her neck cool but did little to set off her features.

Philip finally got the hint when she spoke the words “restraining order,” but it was not victory she felt when she hung up on him for the final time. It was defeat. Weariness.

And an overwhelming sense of loss.

#

Lauren slid her papers into the flap pocket of her computer bag and zipped it shut. It was late, and she was hungry. The building was nearly empty, which was good — she would not have to make pleasant conversation as she left.

“Lauren.” Jack Morgan stood in the door to her cubicle. Jack, with the confidence of a man who was sure he’d be CEO someday, with his tie loosened and his cuffs rolled up.

“Hi Jack. I was just getting ready to go.”

“Yeah. Me too. I was thinking, want to get something to eat? There’s a place back at the hotel, not bad. They do a mean crème caramel.” He smiled at her, but to Lauren it looked almost like a smirk. Self-consciously she put her hand to her throat, tugged at her skirt.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty tired.”

Jack ambled into the small space. Stood too close. His eyes followed her hand to the skin at her throat, then traveled down. “You know, Lauren, when you did the Karock Associates presentation last month, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I guess I never noticed before that you’re a really attractive woman. And I mean that in the best way.”

Lauren edged away from him, slipping behind her desk. “Really. And what way is that?”

“I mean, you’re hot. Lauren, you’re different. I never noticed it before, but you’re a sensual woman. I can tell.”

“Oh?” Anger surged from some unknown well inside her. Jack Morgan had never given her the time of day in all the years she’d worked with him. “How exactly can you tell?”

Jack shrugged, and licked his lips. He wasn’t catching on; maybe most women bought his lines, despite the wedding ring he wore. “I don’t know. The way you move. Your hair. Or something. Come on, Lauren, what do you say, we can have a good time together.”

“You’re
married
.” Lauren injected as much ice as she could into her voice.

Jack Morgan actually had the gall to laugh. “Yeah. Look, I’m not proposing here, see? Let’s just have a little fun.”

Lauren’s eyes narrowed in contempt. It was what she had wanted, back when her affair with Rafi had begun. A little fun, a band-aid for her broken heart. But coming from Jack, the notion repulsed her.

And Lauren realized something.

It had never been about a quick joy ride. Not for her. From the moment Rafi had taken her hand in his the first time, she had been falling for him, falling in love with him, and there was no way out. No other man would erase the mark Rafi had left on her; no casual liaisons would ease her hunger for him even for a moment.

“Get out, Jack,” Lauren muttered.

Surprise crossed his face, but he held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey. Whatever. Sorry I read you wrong.” He backed out of the office, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.

As Lauren watched him go, her anger lifted. She wouldn’t waste the emotion on a man like Morgan.

She was going to need all her energy to figure out how to get Rafi back.

#

He picked up on the second ring.

“Rafi.” Her voice trembled. “It’s me. Lauren.”

There was a pause, and then he spoke her name. “Hello, Lauren.” He didn’t seem surprised. Wary, perhaps. But at least he didn’t hang up.

First hurdle.

“I…would like to meet for a drink. Would that be possible? To talk,” she added. There was silence. She could barely make out the sound of his breathing, steady, even.

“Do you think we have something to talk about?” His tone was not unkind.

“Please.” It was all she had; she willed him to hear in her request how badly she needed him to say yes.

“All right.”

#

Lauren had lied. It was not a talk that she planned. It was a seduction. She was taking a chance, she knew, that Rafi would reject her, that he might even be angry that she’d manipulated him into meeting her.

But somehow Lauren knew that she could best convey what was in her heart by
showing
him, rather than by putting it into words. After all, why should he believe that she had changed, unless she offered him irrefutable proof? How could she explain that no other man could provide her the love that she needed as plants need sun? How would he know she was ready to move from being his lover to being his partner, his equal?

“Forgive me,” she murmured, as she dialed the Tate Monroe.

#

It was hot.

Over the weeks, spring had vanished, giving way to the long humid days of summer. Heat rose off the sizzling sidewalks in dizzying waves; workers on their lunch hour flocked to the lake for the breezes that sometimes blew inland. Even now, with evening on its way, the people leaving the office buildings tugged at collars, fanned at themselves with their hands.

Rafi didn’t mind the heat as he approached the address he’d memorized. He’d chosen with care: a linen shirt, Italian sandals. It had been difficult, because he wasn’t certain what effect he was attempting to create.

He’d agreed to meet her. How could he refuse? Her voice, in his thoughts each day since he last talked to her, was like balm to the wounds he still carried. Seeing her might leave them more jagged than before, but he didn’t care.

“Fool,” he muttered beneath his breath, and pushed open the door.

It was a cozy little place, a diner with specials chalked along a board that ran the length of the counter, but it took only a moment for Rafi to see that it was completely empty except for the bored-looking woman who dabbed at the counter with a white cloth.

“Are you Rafi?” she asked without preamble. “This is for you.”

She handed him a cinnamon-colored envelope. Rafi turned it over in his hand, saw his name written in careful script. Rafi looked up and saw that the woman was gazing at him with open curiosity.

Let her wonder.

“I—may I have a glass of water?” he asked, sitting down at the counter. He took out a bill and tucked it next to the napkin holder to reassure the waitress. She brought the water, then eased down and busied herself stacking a rack of coffee cups.

Dear Rafi,

You asked me if I would still want you when I was back among my colleagues, my family. I have had time to think your question through.

The answer is yes.

You asked me if I would marry you. I know you didn’t mean it as a proposal, but I want to give you my answer anyway. Today or ten years from now, it wouldn’t matter.