Rebekah stroked her fingers down the strands of her ponytail, amazed she was on her way to California. She still didn’t know how she’d managed to pack for the summer and wrap up her personal life in four days.
She stretched her legs, enjoying the roominess of the first class seat. Across the aisle, Ricardo sat next to the window with Rafael seated beside him. Their dark heads were huddled together over the video game Ricardo had hardly put down since his father purchased it.
Rafael looked formidable in a black shirt and black jeans that hugged his muscular frame. His deep voice floated across the aisle to her as he whispered to his son, stirring her emotions.
Her eyes lowered to the words of the e-reader in her hand, but no matter how she tried not to think about what Rafael had done to her and made her feel, she couldn’t suppress the thoughts of their interlude in the kitchen. Every time he came to the house to see Ricardo, feelings of desire awoke and simmered beneath the surface.
She denied to herself that she looked forward to his visits with Ricardo, but each time the doorbell rang, her leaping heart betrayed the same excitement her son openly expressed. Fear she wouldn’t be able to resist him in California filled her. Yet oddly, he hadn’t done anything since that evening to make her feel he still wanted her.
He never again suggested they have what would amount to a sexual relationship to satisfy their mutual needs. In fact, he didn’t even appear interested anymore, which conversely increased her attraction to the idea, despite her reservations.
How could she even contemplate such a thing? To make love with Rafael meant she would be at the mercy of her feelings. She’d already reluctantly acknowledged she couldn’t become intimate with him without risking her heart in the process. Not when she knew at the end of a couple of months they would be divorced and living on opposite ends of the country.
The disturbing thoughts whorled around and around in her head like a circling bird of prey. She turned off the e-reader, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.
Not for the first time, she wished he’d never touched her.
When they landed at Los Angeles International Airport, as planned, Rafael walked ahead of Rebekah and Ricardo. She watched as he fielded questions from the photographers who encircled him as soon as they recognized him. With Ricardo’s hand tucked securely in hers, she walked swiftly past as if she didn’t know him. His personal assistant, Lydia, approached and hustled them into a waiting limo.
Ricardo’s eyes opened wide. “I’ve never been in a limo before,” he whispered in awe.
“Lucky you.” Lydia grinned. Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners behind black-framed glasses. “I didn’t ride in a limo until my high school prom at seventeen years old.” With her slender body and blue and black shoulder length hair, she barely looked more than seventeen at the moment, though Rebekah knew she was in her early thirties.
“Is it always so crazy for him?” she asked, referring to Rafael.
Her eyes drifted to Ricardo, who knelt on the leather seat and peered through the tinted windows at the passersby. Her unease grew tenfold when she thought about his safety and how the media exposure could affect him.
“Not always,” Lydia replied. “Sometimes one or two fans will approach him for an autograph, but if he’s lucky, no one will bother him and he can sail through.” She shrugged. “Then other times, you get the circus like today.”
A few minutes later, their luggage was in the trunk and Rafael slid onto the seat. Lydia tapped the glass partition separating them from the driver, and they pulled away from the curb.
Rafael rested his arm against the back of the seat and turned to Rebekah. His fingers lightly touched her ponytail. He hadn’t touched her since the night in the kitchen. The warmth in his gaze heated her blood and tripled her pulse.
“We’re on our way home,” he said.
“I can’t wait to see your house.”
He only smiled at her.
The intensity in Rafael’s eyes caused a thread of fear to run down her spine. On his turf now, the constant interaction would erode any emotional barriers she tried to erect against him. The battle of wills had begun.
She knew two things about her husband. He loved a good fight. And he never lost.
Instead of going straight to the house, they took a detour and went west on I-10 toward the Santa Monica Pier.
Ricardo’s eyes lit up when he saw the Pacific Ocean. Pointing through the window to the pier, he said, “Mom, look! There’s a Ferris wheel.”
“An entire amusement park is located there, and an aquarium,” Rafael added.
“Are we coming to this beach?” Ricardo asked.
Rafael nodded, giving his son an indulgent smile. “Yes. This is where we’ll build the sand castles.”
“Can we stay the whole day?”
“Sure can.”
“Yes!” When they pulled away, Ricardo craned his neck to keep the pier in sight. “I can’t wait.”
On Highway 10, they went north. Since she’d never been to California before, Rebekah felt some of her son’s excitement when she recognized the community names of Brentwood and Bel Air.
Before long, they arrived at Rafael’s residence in the affluent neighborhood of the Hollywood Hills. They pulled into the gated compound, and the closing gate shut out the rest of the world.
Though not a mansion, the house was a far cry from the motel room they used to rent on a weekly basis ten years ago. They stopped at the end of the driveway in front of the sprawling four-bedroom and four and a half bath ranch house. A lush, green lawn and pebble gardens gave the impression of having landed at an oasis.
“Wow,” Rebekah murmured under her breath when they entered the house. She stared up at the vaulted ceilings and open rafters of the living room. She recognized Mexican paintings and sculptures in the tastefully decorated room of large furniture and earth tones.
A signal from Lydia prompted Rafael to look at his watch. He grimaced. “Make yourselves at home and take a tour of the house. I need to make an important call in my office in the back. It shouldn’t take long.”
When he disappeared, Ricardo looked up at his mother. “You heard your dad,” she told him. “Let’s check this place out!”
With Ricardo leading the way, they walked into the media room where a lowered screen hung from the ceiling. A wet bar and plenty of seating for guests made Rebekah wonder if Rafael entertained often. Both rooms boasted large windows and offered breathtaking views of the Los Angeles area and the canyon below.
On the back side of the house was a small brick building, which Rebekah guessed was Rafael’s office. There was a hot tub, and blue-green water filled the oval swimming pool, which was afforded sufficient privacy by the trees and bushes around the perimeter of the yard. From the back yard, they stepped into the modern, black-and-white kitchen with charcoal tile. Dropped ceiling lights hung over the counters flanking the sink.
Rafael found them in the master bedroom.
“You were quick,” Rebekah remarked.
“Fortunately. I needed to discuss some changes in a contract we’re in the middle of negotiating.” His eyes found hers. “Well, what do you think?”
The master bedroom was just as tastefully decorated as the rest of the house. The oversized king bed in the middle of the room faced a large window that looked out onto another view of Los Angeles. Deep blue dominated the decor. Two small couches with blue and green pillows in the sitting area sat on opposite sides of a massive coffee table with magazines stacked on top of it. There was a spalike bathroom, a white fireplace, built-in bookshelves, a wet bar with several bottles of liquor, and a refrigerator in a corner gave the impression of a self-contained room.
“You have a beautiful home, Rafael. You’ve done very well for yourself.”
His body had taken beatings for years, but it had paid off. The young man from Mexico City had become a millionaire who lived among celebrities in the privacy of the Hollywood Hills. Although she never approved of his line of work, Rebekah was proud of him.
“I like it,” Ricardo piped up.
Rafael switched his attention to his son. “You do? Have you seen your room yet?”
Ricardo shook his head.
“Vamonos.”
Rebekah followed behind, her stomach twisting at the strong relationship already developed between them. The separation would be difficult when the end of the summer came and they returned to Georgia.