over Emily’s lips.
“Sorry.” He forced himself to sip his orange juice.
“Are you worried that the Taliban will catch you in the middle of breakfast?”
“Something like that. I’ve spent too many years treating food as nothing but fuel. The faster I finish eating, the quicker I can get back to the things that are important.”
“Rafa, are you beginning to get comfortable with me?”
His eyes narrowed. Had he upset her somehow? “No. Err... yes. Perhaps?”
Emily laughed. “It’s a good thing. If you want to wolf down breakfast and go run, feel free.”
“I feel more comfortable with you than with anyone in my life.”
“Even your army buddies?”
“Especially them. Comradery and comfort are not the same things. I could never feel truly comfortable with my men, not when I had to lead them in battle.” There were memories there he did not wish to relive, not with Emily. Men that fought and died. Men that fought and lived and wished they had died. He had been down that road himself, and was thankful every day that Emily had helped him find another path. That road led to a destination he did not want to reach.
“Well, I see that you don’t want to talk about it, but if you change your mind, I’m here for you. And I don’t just mean in my professional capacity, okay?”
Rafa clenched his teeth and nodded. He was beginning to accept that she saw him as a man and not a patient.
Emily finished her toast, but left half her bacon and a few bites of egg. She gathered her dishes and took to them to the kitchen. “I’ll clean up,” she offered.
“No,” Rafa said, slipping his arms around her waist, pulling her back from the sink. “It’s not your mess.”
Her lips were softer than rose petals. He held her and kissed her and felt the solidity of her. He had once thought he’d known what it meant to care for a woman, but he had never felt anything like what he felt for Emily. A fierce, all-consuming longing. Even the thought of her leaving for nine hours at the office was unpleasant.
Eventually, she pulled away. “You are a true gentleman, Rafael Carpenter. Are you going to cook my dinner, too?”
He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”
At the word pleasure, her lips quirked into a smile. She stepped away, her eyes straying down to the hardness in his shorts. “At ease, soldier.”
Rafa flushed, embarrassed. What did he have to be embarrassed about, though? It was only a shame that she needed to leave for work soon. “If you don’t mind being a little late to the office, I have an idea...”
“I can’t, Rafa. I have a client right at 8:00. But tonight...”
He escorted her to the front door, pausing as she collected her notebook. She stopped with a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll call my mom today and see when she and Dad are available for dinner. Are you sure you don’t mind meeting them?”
“Not at all.” The words gave lie to the sense of dread of he felt.
“Then I’ll let you know once I hear something.”
She left, and Rafa turned toward the sink. Another day of cooking, cleaning and working out. If he squeezed in the firing range, it would be an awful lot like his days in the Army. Only without anyone shooting back at him.
Chapter 18
T HE ice in Rafa’s glass shook as he took another drink. Emily watched, trying not to let her concern show on her face. She sat beside him at her parents’ dinner table in their house south of Denver. He had hardly touched his turkey, but she couldn’t blame him. It had that distinctive sandpaper texture that only her mother’s cooking could obtain. Her mother’s and every other person that left the bird in the oven for an hour too long.
“A wedding in Spain, huh?” her father asked. He had long since gone gray at the temples, but judicious use of dye left his hair just as brown at 64 as it had been at 40. Karl to his friends, Karlie to his wife, and just Daddy to Emily. He had introduced himself as “Mr. Hale” to
“Sorry.” He forced himself to sip his orange juice.
“Are you worried that the Taliban will catch you in the middle of breakfast?”
“Something like that. I’ve spent too many years treating food as nothing but fuel. The faster I finish eating, the quicker I can get back to the things that are important.”
“Rafa, are you beginning to get comfortable with me?”
His eyes narrowed. Had he upset her somehow? “No. Err... yes. Perhaps?”
Emily laughed. “It’s a good thing. If you want to wolf down breakfast and go run, feel free.”
“I feel more comfortable with you than with anyone in my life.”
“Even your army buddies?”
“Especially them. Comradery and comfort are not the same things. I could never feel truly comfortable with my men, not when I had to lead them in battle.” There were memories there he did not wish to relive, not with Emily. Men that fought and died. Men that fought and lived and wished they had died. He had been down that road himself, and was thankful every day that Emily had helped him find another path. That road led to a destination he did not want to reach.
“Well, I see that you don’t want to talk about it, but if you change your mind, I’m here for you. And I don’t just mean in my professional capacity, okay?”
Rafa clenched his teeth and nodded. He was beginning to accept that she saw him as a man and not a patient.
Emily finished her toast, but left half her bacon and a few bites of egg. She gathered her dishes and took to them to the kitchen. “I’ll clean up,” she offered.
“No,” Rafa said, slipping his arms around her waist, pulling her back from the sink. “It’s not your mess.”
Her lips were softer than rose petals. He held her and kissed her and felt the solidity of her. He had once thought he’d known what it meant to care for a woman, but he had never felt anything like what he felt for Emily. A fierce, all-consuming longing. Even the thought of her leaving for nine hours at the office was unpleasant.
Eventually, she pulled away. “You are a true gentleman, Rafael Carpenter. Are you going to cook my dinner, too?”
He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”
At the word pleasure, her lips quirked into a smile. She stepped away, her eyes straying down to the hardness in his shorts. “At ease, soldier.”
Rafa flushed, embarrassed. What did he have to be embarrassed about, though? It was only a shame that she needed to leave for work soon. “If you don’t mind being a little late to the office, I have an idea...”
“I can’t, Rafa. I have a client right at 8:00. But tonight...”
He escorted her to the front door, pausing as she collected her notebook. She stopped with a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll call my mom today and see when she and Dad are available for dinner. Are you sure you don’t mind meeting them?”
“Not at all.” The words gave lie to the sense of dread of he felt.
“Then I’ll let you know once I hear something.”
She left, and Rafa turned toward the sink. Another day of cooking, cleaning and working out. If he squeezed in the firing range, it would be an awful lot like his days in the Army. Only without anyone shooting back at him.
Chapter 18
T HE ice in Rafa’s glass shook as he took another drink. Emily watched, trying not to let her concern show on her face. She sat beside him at her parents’ dinner table in their house south of Denver. He had hardly touched his turkey, but she couldn’t blame him. It had that distinctive sandpaper texture that only her mother’s cooking could obtain. Her mother’s and every other person that left the bird in the oven for an hour too long.
“A wedding in Spain, huh?” her father asked. He had long since gone gray at the temples, but judicious use of dye left his hair just as brown at 64 as it had been at 40. Karl to his friends, Karlie to his wife, and just Daddy to Emily. He had introduced himself as “Mr. Hale” to
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