Bound and Determined (43 page)

His father waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Everyone eventually leaves anyway. Why pretend otherwise?”

“They leave because you drive them away with your biting sarcasm and surly attitude. Mom actually loved you at one
point. You reminded her every day that she wasn’t good enough for you. She might be alive now if you hadn’t driven her to seek an annulment.”

“You think you’re any better than me, you little shit? Thirty years old, no wife, no kids, no girlfriend, I’ll bet. The only difference between us is that I accept the truth and don’t hide from it and pretend. You sit here and tell yourself that I’m just an asshole.” He shook his head, eyes narrowed in arrogant contempt. “You’re no different.”

Rafe opened his mouth to protest. Then he stopped. Damn, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

Last week had shown him glimpses of joy, possibilities of more to life. He’d enjoyed—no, loved—the connection, the closeness of being with a woman more than sexually. His father had never managed that in his entire cynical life.

Smiling, Rafe faced his father proudly . . . before he remembered that he’d walked away from the closeness, the woman who had shown him something more, because he’d thought he couldn’t really
be
with her, wouldn’t be good for her.

Because they’d be like his parents. On that subject, confusion, doubt, anger pounded at him. Could they be different? Could
he
?

When it came to his father, however, Rafe knew one thing: Nothing was going to change between them, not unless the old man wanted it to. Until that day, he could only put the pain and the past behind him and hope his father would someday do the same.

“Call me if you’re ever tired of fighting.” He strode for the door. “Goodbye, Dad.”

T
hree hours later, Rafe wandered out of his office, into Dawson Security Enterprises’ lobby. It was lunchtime—past actually. Not that he was hungry. “Unsettled” was a better word. When he wasn’t working, he wanted to be. When he was working, he wanted to be home. When he was with people, he wanted to be alone. But after being holed up in his office for the last hour in complete silence, staring sightlessly
out the floor-to-ceiling windows at his great view of Midtown, he wanted to climb the walls. All morning, his father’s snarling voice rang in his ears.

You’re no different
.

“Boss?” Regina prompted softly, dark hair brushing her jaw.

Rafe blinked and found himself staring at a glass and chrome table centered before a black leather sofa. How long had he been standing in the middle of the room and staring at the furniture like an idiot?

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Anything in particular? Something I need to do?”

He wished there was something she could do to help him. Hell, he didn’t know how to help himself. This out-of-sorts shit really annoyed him. It was stupid to let anything his father said crawl under his skin and yet . . .

No wife, no kids, no girlfriend. You’re no different than me
.

Rafe had never thought he wanted any of the above, really. He’d always told himself that relationships were nuisances, that he didn’t need anyone.

Yet, since leaving . . . Florida, he’d never felt so lonely and empty in his life.

Regina rose to her feet and walked around to the front of her desk. Her gaze of concern looked almost motherly. “Boss, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said automatically. Then he shook his head. “No. Hell, I don’t know.”

“Anything I can do?”

Voices swirled in his head: Regina’s quiet concern, his father’s sneer . . . then the soft, feminine voice he couldn’t get out of his head, telling him to reach out to his friends.

He swallowed, took a breath, and blurted out, “Have you had lunch?”

Regina smiled. “No. Actually, I was hoping you’d emerge from your office so I could take you to lunch for your birthday.”

“You remembered?”

“Not every day your boss turns thirty.”

“Do you . . . can you go now?”

Laughing, she told him to pick a place and lead the way.

Twenty minutes later, they sat in a corner booth at one of his favorite Italian holes in the wall. After giving the waiter
their drink order, Regina turned to him with a smile.

“Happy birthday, boss.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated, not sure where to start or what to say. Maybe he should just shut up and smile through lunch.

But a hundred thoughts assailed him. Different sensations streaked through his gut. He was a mess. It felt like shit. But after a week of it, Rafe knew it wasn’t going away on its own.

“Have I been a bastard to work for?”

The question clearly surprised her, as her brown eyes widened. “No. Demanding, sometimes. You want what you want and you want it done right. But that’s not unreasonable. It’s what you pay me for.”

“I—I mean . . . personally.”

At that question, she hesitated. “Not a bastard, you just keep to yourself. I figured out pretty quickly that you’re not one for personal chitchat, and that’s okay.”

Her polite way of saying that he’d rebuffed her attempts at being friendly. Which he had.

He swallowed, faintly embarrassed. All this time, he’d been standoffish and vaguely rude, just by being himself. Why did he cut people off? Because he was too much like his father?

Was being such a loner just a piss-poor choice?

“I’m sorry if I was rude. I’ve never been good at . . . connecting with people. You know, on a personal level.”

She shrugged. “You’re a private man.”

“Maybe too private. But you always talked about your husband and your kids. I’m ashamed to say I smiled and nodded and didn’t really listen.”

“I know.” She sent him a crooked smile. “But I kept talking, hoping you’d open up. I’ve been pretty sure for a while that you didn’t have anyone in your life.”

“No. That was by choice.” Where to start? What to say? What did he even want from this conversation?

“Your folks live anywhere nearby?”

“My mom died when I was eleven. My dad still lives in the city.” He cleared his throat. “We hate each other.”

Regina recoiled in surprise. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Brothers? Sisters?”

“No. My parents loathed each other, so it’s a miracle I was
ever conceived.” He heard his voice coming out all hoarse and scratchy. He tried to talk normally but emotions clutched at his throat, closing it up.

“You need someone to talk to.” It wasn’t a question.

Rafe nodded, relieved that she’d brought it up. Even if he didn’t know her well, he knew after years together that he could trust her.

“Kind of. Yeah. Do you mind?”

She squeezed his hand in motherly encouragement. “For a long time, I’ve wanted to help you. I’ve sensed how lonely you are. But I knew you wouldn’t welcome my help, or anyone else’s. What changed that?”

Everything. His birthday, accomplishing his goal, his revealing altercation with his father today. But in the end, the cause boiled down to one person.

Suddenly, the woman whose name he’d avoided even thinking about for the past week whizzed through this brain, lighting him up.
Kerry
. The sound of her name warmed him deep inside.
Kerry
. The sting of tears was like a fire at the backs of his eyes, and he ground his teeth together to keep them from falling.

Kerry
.

“In Florida, I . . . um, I think I fell in love. I know I fucked it up.”

“Kerry Sullivan?

Hearing her name was like a blow to his gut. He gave a jerky nod. “She told me she loved me and I . . .” He shook his head. “I just left her.”

“Why?”

Back to the eternal question. The one he thought he knew the answer to when he’d boarded the plane to New York. Now, he didn’t know squat.

“I told myself—told her—that I just didn’t connect with people, that I couldn’t be the kind of man she’d need. She’s . . .” The damn tears were back, and Rafe lifted his face toward the ceiling, hoping they would stop. A deep breath later, he said, “She’s like sunshine. Warm. God, I’ve never known anyone who just gives with their whole heart. When I was with her, I felt everything. She made me mad, made me laugh. She made me want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from all
the crap in her life. I enjoyed just . . . being near her. I wanted to make all her days good, to fix her wrongs.” He laughed. “Hell, I even committed a federal offense to help her.”

Regina gasped.

“I won’t be arrested. It was part of a . . . never mind. It’s all good now. The Feds and I are cool again.”

Relief visibly relaxed her features. “But you still left her?”

“She never asked for my love, but I know she wanted it. I could shoot myself for hurting her, but I kept telling myself that I’d only hurt her more if I stayed because I’m such a bastard in relationships.”

“I think that’s crap.”

Rafe jerked his gaze to her in shock. Regina had never spoken a single four-letter word. Even a mild one.

“Did you ever try in a relationship?”

“Not really. That’s my point. I don’t know how!” He sighed. “My father told me this morning that I’m just like him, incapable of caring about anyone.”

“I hope you know that’s even worse crap.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, despite the emotions careening through him. “I’ve never heard that language from you.”

“And you never will in the office, and you really need to cut down on your use of the F-word, but I’ll let it slide today.”

With a tip of his head, he acknowledged her kindness.

“But you wouldn’t be sitting here talking to me if you were truly like your dad. You wouldn’t be near tears over this girl if you didn’t care.”

He winced. “You noticed that? I’d hoped it was too dark to see.”

“I noticed. Just like I noticed that you’ve been very different since you returned from Florida. In the past, you always seemed vaguely lonely. This week, misery just bounced off you. You love this girl.”

“Yeah, I do,” he acknowledged. And deep down, admitting it felt right. He felt good.

“So why did you leave her?”

The waiter set their drinks and salads in front of them, then shuffled away. There went his excuse to stall for time so he could think.

Rafe grabbed his fork, his brain still churning. “I left her because . . . because I was scared.” He sighed. “I was scared by how much I wanted her, by how much she made me feel. I thought I’d hurt her. I pretended the feelings didn’t exist until she told me that she loved me. Then . . . I don’t know. I panicked.”

“Exactly. Because you haven’t cared that much about anyone . . . since when?”

He paused to ponder that. “My mother. Her death hurt bad. Being with Dad was no bed of roses, so I just shut everyone out. Clean, easy.”

“Empty.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged in a rough syllable, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“Still afraid?”

“Hell, yeah. But I’d rather be afraid with Kerry than without her.”

Smiling, Regina squeezed his hand. “I knew you were a smart man. All along, I suspected you were a good one, too.”

“Thanks.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Would you be offended if I left right this minute?”

A smile lit up her face. “No.”

“Thanks. Get me on the next flight to Tampa and clear my calendar. I need to pack a bag, make a stop. I’ll call you later.” He grinned. “Much later, if I’m lucky.”

“Go get her, boss.”

T
he Thursday night dinner rush mercifully ended—after she’d botched three orders, spilled iced tea on an elderly man, tripped over a child searching for her crayons on the floor, and neglected to shut the refrigerator door after cutting a cuddling couple a piece of key lime pie. No wonder tips had been lousy. All in all, not Kerry’s best night as a waitress.

Not her best night, period.

Her mind lingered on Rafe, now in New York. He’d made love to her, helped her free her brother, saved her life, and left as suddenly as he arrived. He’d wanted her, had fun with her. But he hadn’t loved her. All along, Rafe had warned her that he wasn’t into relationships. She had listened not with her ears but her fairy-tale dreams.

Now, she was back to being a pumpkin. Reality and cutting loneliness set in.

Across the room, Mark brooded in a corner booth, staring out the window, to the dimly lit parking lot. Her heart ached for him. If she’d been hurting this past week, he must feel utter torture. Kerry had known all along that falling for Rafe would only lead to heartbreak, but she’d done it anyway. Mark had married a woman, believing he’d spend the rest of his life
with her, have a family with her, only to find out she’d deceived him on every level.

Sidling over to his table with a piece of coconut crème pie, Mark’s favorite, she set the pastry in front of him. “Eat up. It’s on the house.”

He turned exhausted, red-rimmed hazel eyes on her. His expression was . . . nothing. Empty. Void. And she didn’t buy it for a minute. She’d been staying with him all week, since her house was still in cinders. She heard him up at two in the morning, knew he’d been working long hours at the bank now that he’d been reinstated and given Smikins’s job as branch manager.

“No thanks.”

“You have to eat. You barely touched your dinner.”

“Same for you.”

“I’m working.”

“Eat the pie.” He pushed it in her direction.

She pushed it back toward him. “Can’t. Still have tables to bus and a few customers to wrap up before closing.”

“It’ll wait until you get back.”

Sighing, Kerry grabbed Mark’s hand. “I know the last week has been a blur for you, and that you’re hurt and confused. But you have to eat. You have to sleep. You’ll be no good for work, for life, if you don’t.”

A grim smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “You might take your own advice, little sister. Granted, I’ve been gone for a while, but purple smudges under your eyes didn’t used to be part of your look, and I never recall you not eating for entire days in the past. Or being clumsy. Though I’m sure that old guy got a thrill when you tried to pat the iced tea from his crotch.”

Kerry stood and swatted her brother’s shoulder. “Stop. I didn’t mean to. I just . . .”