Dare (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Ariella kissed Layla’s forehead, touching her hair. A tinge of guilt pricked her at leaving her girl, even knowing Layla’d sleep soundly, especially after their long, exciting Christmas day. A joyful day.

She turned to Marcella, who was already settled in the chair near the bed. “Thanks, Marcella. You’re sure you don’t mind?”

Marcella made a clicking sound. “You go, take your time. I have your number, just in case. I knit. Rudy and
signore
watch
It’s a Wonderful Life
. I prefer to sit here, with your sweet girl.”

And her thoughts and memories, no doubt. Sometimes, Ariella did the same, sitting by Layla long into the night, her embroidery or a law text in hand. She kissed Marcella’s papery cheek. Marcella patted her hand gently.

Tears formed, but she blinked them away. She belonged here. This was her family. She walked out and into the hall. She hadn’t had a moment to check with Joe where he’d be, but he’d be near.

The house was warm, the comforting scents of orange, spice, and conifers pervading every space. She stopped at the window that overlooked the back yard and view to San Francisco Bay beyond. Lit boats bobbed on its dark surface and lights twinkled from houses and streets, the holiday revelry still in swing.

What she needed now, though, wasn’t the comfort of the view or the holidays or the scents, but that of Joey’s arms around her. She shook her head as she walked downstairs. If only she could get the comfort without complicating it with sex. Too late for that.

Not quite too late. Mamá and Papa had instilled in her, for all their strictness, a sense of the power of forgiveness. If only she could forgive herself for the mistakes of the past.

She’d worked on it all in therapy these last years, but most of that time was devoted to cleaning up the emotional mess left by her marriage and guilt about shorting Layla on so much because of her choices. Her choices still haunted her, the shadow sides of the spirits of her parents and sister who lived on in her and around her. Would they have forgiven her? She believed, maybe, but feeling it from others, the pat of Marcella’s hand, Grandpop’s brief touch on her shoulder, showed her she was okay, helped her feel forgiven. And Joey—his arms around her, their closeness, the intimacy of their touch, the tenderness in his eyes, opened her to a sense of forgiveness she hadn’t known. Yet she hadn’t been able to stay with it. A wave of fear had overtaken her and she’d run like the first time she’d been confronted with the waves of the Pacific Ocean, so huge and surging, nothing like the gentle lapping of the lake near where she’d grown up in Mexico.

She glanced around downstairs. Voices sounded from the kitchen. Joey sat at the long table with Becca and Pete. Joey stood, his gaze steady on her.

“Marcella’s sitting with Layla?” Becca asked. Pete grasped her hand.

That togetherness, that’s what she dreamed of, longed for. She rubbed her palm where Joey had thumbed it earlier.

“Yes. Maybe…” She darted her eyes at the others.

“Pete and I are here too. But she had a good nap, and a long day. Seems like she’ll sleep soundly.”

“She feels safe here.” Layla wasn’t the only one. But Ariella had felt safe here before, and she’d left. Guilt and fear had pulled her like the tornado that swirled Dorothy into its midst.

“She is safe.” Becca nodded. “Have fun, huh? Now I’m dragging Pete into the other room to watch
Love Actually
.”

Ariella glanced at Joe. She’d like to take his hand and join Becca and Pete, two couples relaxing, watching a sweet movie, snuggling and chatting. She liked loud fun too—dancing, parties, music, and laughter—but those kind of quiet times were special, made her feel normal again, safe, loved.

But, she and Joey needed to talk.

“You have fun too,” Ariella said.

Becca and Pete rose and ambled out.

“Mind if we go talk at my place?” Joey asked. “Or we can go to a café, if you’d be more comfortable.” Joey watched her.

She rubbed her hands on her hips. The privacy of his place would be better, but then she’d be tempted to touch him, to have more of what they’d enjoyed earlier. “Your place.”

He stepped to her and took her hand. She let out a breath. His warm, strong hand surrounding hers eased her discomfort. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a woman, and she knew what she wanted—a chance at a life with Joey. He didn’t respect her less because she’d fallen into bed with him…though it hadn’t been a bed. She half-smiled as the image of him gazing at her as she felt him slide into her flashed into her mind. Her skin warmed and her hips felt heavy, a delicious weight.

She squeezed his hand as they walked out through the garage.

“My car’s just down the street.”

She nodded. The night air prickled her skin, causing her to draw closer to his heat. She leaned into his shoulder, contentment easing her thoughts. He opened the passenger door for her. Sliding onto the seat, she breathed in. His scent embraced her. They drove downhill. She glanced around, the holiday wreaths and lights, the people walking close together, bundled in scarves and coats, Christmas music blending with the sounds of traffic and breezes all filling her senses, making her feel home.

He parked behind Sal’s restaurant. Another place she wanted to revisit. So many memories. She would have time now.

With his hand on her lower back, he guided her to the top floor. Threads of heat formed a pattern toward her heart. He snapped on a light near the front door. A long hall opened to a living room, a smallish kitchen to one side, and another hall that probably led to bedrooms.

Joey flipped on another light in the living room. “Want some coffee or tea?”

“Do you have chamomile tea?” It had been the comfort drink of choice throughout her life.

“Think so.” He strode into the kitchen.

“Want help?” She walked in. The kitchen wasn’t so small after all. A banquette filled one corner, a fridge across from it. Ample counters surrounded the double sink and a stove gleamed from another shorter row of counters. The wood cabinets blended with the mellow tones of the granite counter tops.

“Are you this neat or do you not cook?”

“Both.” He shrugged. “I miss some kitchen clutter. It shows someone lives here. You’ve seen my parents’ house.”

She made an affirmative noise. His parents…Sophia had been almost unfriendly earlier, and during dinner had scrutinized her with a very critical look. Ariella had recalled Sophia’s distance after her family died, but she hadn’t expected it to still be present, a haze like the fog that sometimes wrapped the peaks of the nearby hills and buildings.

He filled a tea kettle and set it on a burner. “Want honey in it?” He took down a couple of mugs and a box of tea.

“If you have it.”

He glanced in the cabinet and placed a jar of honey on the counter.

“Guess you don’t need any help.”

“Need you here.” He stepped to her and caressed her cheek.

She leaned into his touch. Tilting her face up, he kissed her, his lips tender, a question in the gentle exploration. Placing her hands on his chest, she fingered his shirt, searched for his heartbeat. His breathing expanded his sculpted chest under her touch.

The tornado of desire, comfort, fear, excitement, giddiness, and shame kicked up dust in her heart and mind. She pushed gently at him, pulling away from their kiss.

The tea kettle whistled. His brow furrowed. He stepped to the stove. While he made the tea, she steadied her breathing, trying to pick up the debris of thoughts and reorder them into something coherent, and to find again the threads of heat she’d felt.

He handed her a mug. She blew on the surface as they walked into the living room. Joey set his mug on the coffee table and she did the same. They settled into the sofa, its blue fabric cushions cradling her. He turned to her, angling his body close.

“Was it something I did?” he asked.

She recognized his tone, one that wondered, not just about the present, but about the mistakes of the past. “No.” She shook her head to emphasize her words. “Not before, not now. You’re a good man. I … You’ve always been my friend.” She fingered his hand. “It was my fault. You were just there to comfort me, and I…I didn’t do it on purpose, but I feel like I seduced you.” Brent and Luis had both repeatedly accused her of enticing them into sex, until she hadn’t known what was true. Even Mamá and Papa had warned her she was too sexy, and to be more demure. Now, she knew she hadn’t done anything like that on purpose, but she also knew sometimes her actions were seductive, when she was in the freedom of the moment with a man—especially with Joe. With him, she wanted to own her sexuality, the pleasure of it, the closeness it provided. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for their past mistakes when she had wanted him too.

Joey raised his eyebrows, his expression somewhere between surprise and scoffing. “I see you’re not kidding. But that’s… Ariella, I wanted you from the moment you walked into school that first day, wanted you every moment more and more as I got to know you—your kindness, your smarts, your quiet strength.”

“I never knew.” He’d treated her like he treated all his friends, with concern, friendliness, and tolerance, minus the guy banter and ribbing.

“By the time I realized how much I liked you, you were dating Brent.” His shoulders tensed. “I thought he was a friend. I don’t make moves on friends’ girls.”

She nodded. “Still, it wasn’t only you that night we spent together. I wanted you too.” She still did. But he knew that. She’d said it earlier. But sex didn’t make a relationship. Even sex as great as it was with Joe. And, for her needs, and Layla’s, she wanted a relationship.

“Why did you run? We were all here to support you.” No more cop voice now. His tone was full of concern, gentle inquiry.

“I was ashamed. I was with Brent when my family died. They wouldn’t have approved. I knew I was making choices against what they’d taught me, but I thought I loved him, and somehow that made it okay. I was wrong in so many ways.”

“You were a teenager.” He fingered her hair. “We all make mistakes.”

“Not you, Joe. You’ve been yourself, always. Still are. I admire you.”

He dropped his hand. “I’ve made mistakes too. Like not finding you. Run now and I won’t make that mistake again.”

She grasped his hand and squeezed. “I’m done running. I’m home.”

He kissed her again, quick and soft.

She was home, and it was time to give Joey the answers he wanted.

Chapter Nine

Joey pulled back, his gaze on Ariella again. Her lips, still plump from their kiss, caused his head to tingle, and not just the one with his so-called brain.

“I want to tell you…” she said in a hushed voice. “Will you listen?”

“Have I ever not?” He tweaked her ear.

“Okay, silly question. You always were the guy people came to with their problems, if they wanted them to stay a secret.”

She hadn’t come to him. He closed his eyes, trying to close out the past. He looked at her again. “I’m here.”

She nodded and turned her hand in his. “I’m guessing you figured out what kind of guy Brent was?”

“Yeah, and I…I’m not proud of this, but I showed him what happens to men who disrespect women the way he did you.” His neck flamed and his hands tensed at the memory of pounding on Brent, rage clouding his vision. He was lucky they’d been in the alley behind D’Angelo’s Market. It had taken Uncle Max, Uncle Frank, and Dad to pull him off Brent. And Uncle Max to pull some strings so Joey didn’t get arrested. And then, later, he’d told a few of Brent’s secrets to people who would exact a different price than Joey had. It had been a dark time, a time he’d prayed over, something he’d had to dig his way out of. Ariella, or his feelings for her, could make him a man he didn’t want to be.

She caressed his hands. “You?” She shook her head. “I never meant to cause you pain.”

“You didn’t cause it. It was my choice. He bragged about… Well, I couldn’t stomach what he’d done.” He knew part of what Ariella might tell him, but he wanted her to say the words.

“I feel that way about some of my choices,” she said, her voice choked with tears. She let out a shaky breath.

“You’d just lost your family. Losing people we love can lead us to make bad choices.”

“I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after they’d died. I got an abortion.” She scanned his face. He rubbed her hand. “You knew?”

“Brent told me. He laughed about it.” He wouldn’t tell her the names Brent had called her, the crap that’d spewed out of that asshole’s mouth. He wasn’t laughing after Joey’d finished with him. He clenched his jaw.

“I know your family’s beliefs—”

“And yours too. I don’t blame you. You made the best choice you could then, right?”

She nodded. “It’s been hard to live with. Still is. Soon after, I worked at Vincenzo Calabra’s strip club. Less than a month, but it was enough time to make me feel even worse about myself.”

Joey ground his teeth together. “Did Lorenzo know?”

“No. He and Lee had gone on vacation that summer, remember?”

He looked down for a moment, to refocus, to cool his temper so he could remember the details that anger had smoked out of focus. “Right.” Glancing at her again, her stricken expression dampened his smoldering feelings.

“I realized I was making so many wrong choices. I had to get away, start new. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t face everyone.”

“No one would have blamed you.” He touched her knee.

“Wouldn’t they? I’ve blamed myself. And I was fooled again. My ex, Luis, was another Brent, except he was a better liar—and he wanted to marry me. I didn’t see fully who he really was until after Layla was born. Then I had to start again.”

“You’re a brave woman. You faced everything and made a great life for you and Layla.”

“I didn’t do it alone. Kind strangers, friends, my faith, the memories of my family, and my dreams, and Layla, of course, all kept me going.”

“No one does things alone. Don’t downplay yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. He caressed it away.

She took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you. I needed to hear that, to see you mean it.”

“I mean it. Your ex is lucky he’s dead.” His jaw ached he’d tightened it so much. Anyone who hurt Ariella—he didn’t like the rage that gripped him when he thought of what those men had put her through.

“Joey, that’s not you. I don’t want the past to come between us, or interfere with the present.”

“Agreed. That’s all?”

She glanced away. “Yes.”

“How’d Grandpop know so much about you, when no one seemed to know… Seemed like you’d disappeared.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did. You know Grandpop.”

“Yes. He’s a good man. Like you are.” She smiled briefly and met his gaze. “If he kept my secrets, it’s because I asked him to. Please don’t blame him. I don’t want any more hurt.”

“So he knew why you left?”

“Part of it. I asked him not to tell anyone. He disagreed, but he respected my decision. You’re like him that way.” She held his hands. “Let’s leave it now.”

He wasn’t done with this, not when Grandpop had held back information, maybe given him false information. But Ariella was right, now wasn’t the time.

“I’m glad you told me.” He slid closer.

“Me too. Another new step?”

“A whole new dance.” He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled into him. Her scent, tropical and light, rumba’d through him, leaving him energized and excited. What would it be like to have her here every day… Way too soon, for both of them. It’d taken him years to pursue his career as a cop… Just like he’d known for years Ariella was the woman he wanted. But things—family duty, doubt—got in his way. He got in his own way.

He shifted. With a caress of his leg, she moved with him. He was ready to hit the floor. Her hair brushed his hand. He twined the long, wavy strands around his fingers. She tilted her face toward his, her lips parted, waiting for him to lead.

Bending to her, he touched his lips to hers, the first move. Then he progressed their kiss, tilting, pushing, bringing close and easing back, the ever-increasing steps of a Latin dance.

This needed a new venue. He lifted her with him. Wrapping her legs around him, she followed his lead. He supported her, cupping her ass with his hands. He quick-stepped to the bedroom, dizzy from the dance, from her. He only wanted one partner—Ariella.