The Best Bet (11 page)

She lifted her head and looked in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Releasing him, she scooted backward on the quilt, putting distance between them and picking up her plate. With her head bent, she stared at the food and pushed the rice around with her fork. “I’m sorry I broke down like that. It was silly of me.” Raising the fork to her mouth, she took some rice and chewed slowly.

She’d done it again, distanced herself from him physically as well as emotionally. And it stung, because it was as if she’d rejected his reassurances, the comfort he wanted to give her. He shouldn’t feel that way, though, because he doubted her rejection was personal. Accustomed to being self-contained and independent, she probably felt uncomfortable accepting his comfort.

He was facing an uphill battle, getting close to her.

“It must be nice to have a large family,” she said, adroitly turning the spotlight on him. “Tell me about them.”

“Only if you tell me more about your family.”

“Okay, fair enough. But you go first.”

“Well, as you know, I have a twin, Damian. At twenty-nine, we’re the second eldest of five children. I have another brother, Carlos, who’s a two years older. Then I have two sisters, a senior and a sophomore in high school, Rosa and Gina. Both my parents are living, and so are my grandparents. I’m lucky in that respect. I never realized how lucky until we spoke.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve always lived in San Antonio. I didn’t go away to college, not even for my doctorate, because there are plenty of good schools in my hometown. And I teach there, too.”

Shrugging, he said, “What’s the old saying—absence makes the heart grow fonder? I’ve never had to test that theory, because my family has always been around, and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve taken them for granted. Now I know better. You’ve taught me not to take the people who love me for granted.”

He tried to snag her gaze, wanting her to understand how she’d affected him and that he hadn’t just glossed over her pain. But her eyes didn’t quite meet his, sliding away, as if she didn’t want to acknowledge what he’d said and that she’d changed his perception. Instead, she popped half a tamale into her mouth.

“Your turn,” he prompted.

Holding up one hand in a silent request, she chewed and swallowed, following the food with a sip of beer.

He nodded. “Okay, now it’s your turn to talk while I eat.”

“I hate to tell you, but my life story doesn’t exactly make for scintillating conversation.” She took another swallow of beer and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Here goes.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of her luscious mouth. “Now don’t go to sleep on me.”

He laughed. “I’m all ears, please, continue.”

She took a deep breath. “My father was born in Spain, but he wanted to come to the United States to study to be a doctor. He decided to take his undergraduate classes in Puerto Rico because strange as it may sound, the professors there lecture in Spanish but the textbooks are printed in English. And of course, the culture is thoroughly Latino, so even though he was proficient in English, he decided that kind of setting would make it easier for him to adjust  before he came to the States to start medical school.”

“He’s a smart man.”

Rafael had spent his post graduate life studying cultures and their impact on people. Knowing what he did, he recognized the foresight of her father’s decision to tackle American culture one piece at a time.

“Yes, he’s very smart.” Her voice betrayed the faintest hint of sadness.

Why would her father being smart make her sad?

He wished he knew, but he doubted she would open herself enough to explain. She seemed ready to give him the outline of her background but not much more than that. He was learning that her comfort level demanded that she keep a certain emotional distance. It was something he needed to respect by going slowly, until he earned her trust.

“My father met my mother in Puerto Rico. They were married and came to Los Angeles so he could attend medical school. My brother, who’s a few years older than me, was born in L.A.” She paused. “But my father didn’t become a doctor.” She stopped and looked down. Her shoulders were hunched and she bit her lip.

Like her mother’s death, she seemed uncomfortable talking about her father’s failure. Granted, it wasn’t something she’d be likely to celebrate, but it had happened so long ago, and her father had recovered and became a hospitality executive. Why did his failure still bother her so much?

He wanted to ask what had happened. Had her father, despite all his careful planning, flunked out? It wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t make it. Medical school was very demanding and coming from a different background and native tongue had to have made it doubly difficult.

But he didn’t ask. He’d forced the issue earlier and made her cry. He didn’t want to do that again. With Adriana, he needed to go slowly, very slowly, drawing her out bit by bit. But that took time, lots of time—a luxury he didn’t have unless he got the job at UNLV and returned to live here.

“My parents moved to Las Vegas for my mother’s career, and I was born,” she continued. “My mother had met my father in undergraduate school and when she finished her degree and became a nurse, the University hospital offered her a job in Vegas. My father got a job in one of the casinos. And my brother is following in my parents’ footsteps, pursuing a medical career. He’s in the last few weeks of his residency.

That’s about it. As you know, I didn’t choose medicine.” She made a face and laughed, but the laughter was forced. “Must be a recessive gene because I can’t stand the sight of blood. Business management was a safer choice.”

Just as he’d thought, the bare outline and nothing more. She’d left out all the important parts: how hard it had been on her father to leave medicine, the impact on their family moving for her mother’s career, and why Adriana had picked business management when there were plenty of other subjects that didn’t involve blood?

He knew her mother’s death had affected her, but he sensed that wasn’t all of it. What could be so painful in her past that she wanted to distance herself from him and refuse to open up? There was one safe question he could ask. It had struck him when she’d mentioned business management.

“But you’re still following in your father’s footsteps in a way,” he said. “Didn’t you say he’s in management, too?”

“Yes, that’s true, though I never thought of it that way. My father’s been a great help to me,” she added. “He found the job for me at Xanadu and negotiated my hours so I would have time to go to class and study. He even hired a housekeeper, so I wouldn’t have to take care of the house.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You live at home with your father?”

“That’s not so strange, you know. It’s what a good Latina girl does until she marries.”

He shook his head. “We’re more progressive in Texas.”

“Oh, yeah? What about your two sisters? Do they live at home?”

Really? She was going to confront him with that? But he should have seen it coming, though it didn’t make any sense. He’d told her that his sisters were still in high school. Adriana was long past high school, and she was definitely old enough to have her own place.

“Of course they both live at home. But it’s not the same. They’re still in high school.”

“Will your parents allow them to go away to school?”

“If they want to.”

“If they go away, they’ll stay in supervised dormitories, won’t they?”

She’d turned the tables on him again. Gazing at her perfect heart-shaped face, he couldn’t help but admire her. She was quick.

“Probably, for the first couple of years. After that, I’m sure my parents will let them get apartments.”

“Is that what you and your twin did in college?”

“Yes.”

She wagged one slender finger at him. “Don’t be so certain it will be the same for your sisters. It’s different for men in our culture. Women are protected and kept at home. You’re a professor in sociology, with an emphasis on Mexican-American culture. You know I’m right.”

He sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. My parents are very protective of my sisters. But I’ve known other Mexican-American women who . . .” He faltered, seeing the warning look in her eyes.

She scowled at him. “I don’t want to know about your conquests, Rafael. It’s indiscreet and not what a gentleman would talk about.
¿Entiéndes?”

There she went again, climbing up on her soapbox to preach, blowing the situation all out of proportion. He didn’t want to be paranoid, but it felt like she waited for him to say the wrong thing so she could pounce on it.

“I wasn’t going to tell you about my ‘conquests.’ I was going to give you some examples of friends who—”

“Friends, is it? That’s rich. More like lovers, I would guess.” She arched one eyebrow and licked her lips.

He jumped to his feet
. “¡Basta!
That’s enough. That wasn’t what I was going to talk about. What do you take me for?”

He thrust his hands in his pockets and paced across the grassy hill, wanting to walk off his anger. After taking several deep breaths, he turned and faced her. “What gives you the right, Adriana?” His voice shook, but he didn’t care. “What makes you the moral voice of mankind?”

He pushed his hand through his hair and gazed at her, wondering what made her tick. She dressed provocatively and her kisses were anything but innocent. But it was like a push-pull kind of thing with her. She seemed to invite him closer, only to withdraw it at the last moment. Or was he crazy and imagining all of this?

As hard as he tried, he just couldn’t get a reading on her. And she’d hurt him again, wounded him with her moralizing, making him feel as if he were on trial and trying to prove himself once more.

She opened her mouth to speak, shook her head, and closed it again. Lowering her head, she purposely ignored him, while concentrating on pushing the tamales around on her plate.

“I would like to meet your father,” he said.

She lifted her head. “Why?”

“Did he make you this way? Accusing and moralizing and thinking the worst of people and—”

“Stop!” she shouted.

She was in his face before he could finish the sentence. Her hands came up, her bright red fingernails raised in warning, like a wildcat’s claws poised to strike. He grabbed her wrists and held her talons away from his face.

“What did I say? Is it too close to the truth?” This wasn’t like him, pressing his point home, purposely antagonizing her. Somehow, she managed to bring out the worst in him, along with the best.

“Don’t you talk about my father,” she hissed.

“Why not? You’ve put me down since I met you. Someone made you this way, Adriana.” Having said that, he just kept going. “And who made you shrink from life? Who made you put a barrier between yourself and everyone else?”

Her head came up, and her indigo eyes spit fire. “You’re wrong, so wrong about me, Rafael. And now it’s you who’s moralizing, telling me how to live my life. It’s none of your business where I live. You don’t even know me.” She twisted her wrists in his grasp, and he let her go.

So much for going slow and easy
,
for winning her trust, bit by bit
.

“But it
is
my business. I might not know much about you but I want to. You’re right that we haven’t known each other for very long but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you. The way I’ve felt since I first met you.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I
care
about you.”

“You don’t care about me, Rafael, because you couldn’t. You don’t know me, so how could you really care about me? Oh, you’re drawn to the package—I get that.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “But if you really cared about me as you say you do, you wouldn’t probe my personal life and tell me what’s wrong with me, as if I had some kind of sickness.”

He rocked back on his heels, surprised by her vehemence. She’d just made him feel like a scumbag. And maybe she was right. Maybe he was just drawn to her beauty, and her aloofness posed a challenge to him. Or maybe he was rushing things because he knew they didn’t have much time.

He was trying to see it from her perspective, but
por Dios
, it was hard. After all was said and done, she could only give him what she was willing to give. If he couldn’t get to know the internal Adriana, if he couldn’t learn what made her tick, like he’d wanted to, then he’d accept what she was willing to offer.

And even though he might have led a fairly sheltered life, but he wasn’t completely naive. From the way Adriana had kissed him to the sexy way she dressed, both last night and today, and the sweet way that she’d nestled against him earlier, the tell-tale signs were all there. She wanted an affair, nothing more.

And he could do that. Couldn’t he?

Por Dios
, he’d be happy to accommodate her. More than happy. Just the thought of it aroused him, turning him hard as the concrete wall of Hoover Dam.

Okay, so he’d play it by her rules. But deep inside, he knew he’d never quit trying to understand her; never quit trying to convince her of how much he cared. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his.

Chapter Six

Adriana welcomed Rafael’s kiss, surrendering to his strong arms encircling her and to the wondrous sensation of his mouth covering hers. Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of his lips against hers, tenderly molding and gently exploring.

It had been a long time, too long, since she’d given herself to the touch of a man. Suppressed needs rushed through her, making her dizzy. Her arms came up and twined about his neck, pulling him closer, relishing his masculine strength and his hard muscled body pressed against hers.

This was how it was to feel like a woman. And it had been such a long time since she felt like a woman—an eternity of time.

Too soon, he broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes. His brow was furrowed, and uncertainty lurked in the depths of his decadent chocolate-colored eyes.