For the next couple of days, Rafael remained preoccupied filming new commercials for the chain of gyms that had licensed his name. During the interim, he dispatched his assistant to help Rebekah and Ricardo get acclimated to their new environs. She drove them around, showing Rebekah places where she could go shopping, the best restaurants, and pointed out some of the tourist attractions she could return to on her own.
On Saturday afternoon, after the final taping, Rafael pulled his late model Range Rover into the garage and parked next to the Lexus sedan he’d left for Rebekah’s use. She had told him the night before she and Ricardo would venture out alone and go to the Santa Monica Pier, so he was surprised to see the car in the garage.
He entered the house and walked into the kitchen, and he stood for a moment at the French doors. Through the glass, he could see Rebekah and Ricardo in the pool. He eased open the door and stepped out.
She wore a purple, one-piece bathing suit tied around her neck, but because of the immediate tightening in his loins at her appearance, it might as well have been a string bikini. The water glimmered on her dark skin, and the suit lifted her breasts and showed off the curve in her waist and the flair of her hips. Her long, dark hair was plastered to her back, and he watched as she brushed a loose tendril from her face.
She frolicked and played with their son, splashing water on him, and tossing around a brightly colored inflated ball. Her throaty laughter and his squeals of delight filled the back yard.
“Okay, sweetie, I’m tired. Let me take a break.”
“Dad!”
Rafael smiled. “Looks like you two are having fun.”
“Mom’s tired. Are you coming in, Dad?”
Rafael’s gaze traveled behind his son to Rebekah. “Yes, I will,” he said.
When Rafael returned, Rebekah was seated in one of the chairs around the pool. The sight of his long, well-muscled legs in a pair of dark swim trunks made her abdominal muscles clench in reaction. Her eyes remained riveted to his masculine form until she realized he had spoken.
He gave her a questioning look. “I said, I thought you were going to the Santa Monica Pier today.”
Rebekah blinked, clearing her throat before she answered. “He didn’t want to go without you,” she explained.
“Are you going back into the pool?”
“I’m tired. It’s your turn. Have fun.”
Rafael nodded. Then he took off running alongside the pool. “Incoming!” he yelled, and did a cannonball into the deep end.
Ricardo clapped and held up his arms in the sign of a touchdown. “I wanna try!”
Rebekah sat forward in her chair. “Ricky, I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetie.”
“He’ll be fine. I’m right here. Go ahead, mijo. Let me see what you’ve got.”
Rebekah remained perched on the edge of her chair until Ricardo was safely lifted into his father’s arms after landing in the pool with a much smaller splash.
“Bien hecho!”
She watched father and son laugh together, Ricardo’s little arms wrapped around Rafael’s wide neck.
“I wanna go again,” she heard her son say in a loud whisper.
Rafael boosted him out of the water, and Ricardo repeated his actions. Two more times he got a running start and jumped into the water near Rafael. Convinced she had overreacted, Rebekah sat back to watch their interaction. On the fourth try, though, Ricardo missed his footing and went crashing down on his hands and knees on the hard concrete.
Rebekah shot out of the chair not one second after he hit the ground. Without looking at her, Rafael lifted his hand to forestall her rush to Ricardo. He waded over to where Ricardo remained on the ground.
“Get up, let me see,” he said. His voice held none of the cooing warmth she would have used with Ricardo after such a nasty spill.
She stood there, with her hands on her hips, longing to rush over to him. It was difficult to watch him stand gingerly and edge over to his father, his brown face furrowed in a frown as he tried not to let the tears spill from his eyes.
Rafael lightly tapped Ricardo’s skinned knee. “Looks fine to me. How do you feel?”
“Okay.” His voice was soft and wobbly.
“Try it again, and this time, watch your step, understand?”
Ricardo nodded. “Yes, Dad.”
His voice sounded stronger, but Rebekah felt as if her heart would explode in her chest. She watched, holding her breath as Ricardo took off running again. After two more successful cannonballs, he seemed back to normal, and both he and his father turned their attention to playing with the ball.
In order to survive the rest of the afternoon without having a heart attack as she watched them roughhousing in the water, Rebekah went into the house to shower and change clothes. By the time she finished and started dinner, they had left the pool.
She finished cooking while Rafael and Ricardo showered and dressed. Rafael cleaned Ricardo’s scrapes with hydrogen peroxide, much to the boy’s dismay, and placed an adhesive bandage on his skinned knee. Over dinner, they made plans to go to the beach on Sunday.
After the meal, Ricardo went to his room, and Rafael helped Rebekah clean up and put away the leftovers.
“Dinner was delicious. Thank you.”
Rafael had a housekeeper who came only during the week and cleaned, cooked meals, and did laundry.
“You’re welcome.”
Rebekah turned the water on in the sink to wash the few dishes.
“I know you didn’t approve of what I did with Ricardo today, but I’m glad you didn’t interfere.”
Rebekah took a deep breath filled with the clean, male scent of Rafael from his not too long ago shower. “It was difficult.” She turned off the water and turned to face him. “Rafe, I know you’re trying to make him tougher, but he’s only eight years old. He’s not a grown man.”
“Not yet, but he will be, and the sooner his training starts, the better.”
“Training?”
Ricardo rested his hands on the counter and stared out the window at the fading light. “He needs toughening up, Rebekah.” He looked at her again. “He can’t run and cry to his mommy every time he takes a fall. And you shouldn’t be there to hold him every time he does.”
“I’ve been taking care of him all this time, and he’s turned out just fine. He’s also had other male influences in his life—my brother Adam, and he spends a lot of time with my father.”
“Your father?” He sounded skeptical. “Has your father ever run through a few punches with him?”
“You don’t live in the streets of Mexico City. You live in the Hollywood Hills, for heaven’s sake! I live in a suburb of Atlanta.”
His gaze pinned her. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen when other kids find out who his father is? They’re going to test him, challenge him, and make him prove he’s strong and able to fight like me.”
Rebekah had never thought about it before, but she realized Rafael may be right. Kids could be cruel. As a middle school teacher, she saw how the boys behaved, full of testosterone and the need to prove their manhood long before they entered it.
“He’s only eight.” Would they gang up on her baby?
“That’s why we start now.” His look softened. “I know you’re worried, but he’ll be fine. He needs to toughen up. If he doesn’t, the other children will eat him alive. When he falls, he needs to get right back up and act as if nothing happened.”
That’s what Rafael had done. She’d been to very few of his underground fighting matches, unable to stomach the brutality of the sport. She’d seen it all—bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder, fractures—nothing could keep him down. No matter how many kicks and punches were leveled at him, he kept on fighting.
In the ring, the adrenaline had kept him going, and she sensed he couldn’t really feel the blows. Only later, once he was at home and she had to clean his cuts and bruises, and he soaked his sore muscles in a warm bath, did he show any indication the fighting took a toll.
“I’ll teach him how to fall and how to tense his muscles to deflect the power of a punch. He won’t start a fight, but he’ll know how to stop one. There’s a difference.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a good fighter,” Rebekah joked with a weak smile.
“He would have to learn these things anyway, but I admit, having a pro wrestler as a father could be a negative.”
“I guess it could be positive too,” Rebekah said. “He could threaten to have you beat up the other kids. Or he could even throw out the ‘my dad can beat up your dad’ card.”
Rafael chuckled and leaned against the marble counter. His eyes lit up as his handsome face transformed into lighthearted merriment. “I need to remember that and remind him he can use me to threaten the other kids whenever he needs to.”
Rebekah laughed too, and she could feel herself falling, tumbling into long-buried feelings. What was she doing here living under the same roof with the man who should be her ex-husband, talking about how to raise Ricardo and…enjoying it?
Secretly, she’d missed seeing him the past few days while he shot the commercials. Would he spend more time with them now?
Rafael looked thoughtfully down at her. “Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Where did you have in mind? Ricky mentioned—”
“Without Ricardo. Just you and me.” His gaze didn’t waver, and his voice was different. The lowered bass rippled through her, heating her skin.
Her breath stalled for a moment. “Just the two of us?” She followed up her breathless question with another. “What will we do with Ricky?”
“I’ll hire someone to watch him. My housekeeper may even be willing to babysit for the night. I’ll hire a car, and we’ll get dressed up and go somewhere nice.”
Trying to appear nonchalant, although she was excited by the prospect of an evening out, Rebekah said, “Sounds like a good idea. It’ll be nice to get out and see the city at night.”
“Do you remember our first date?”
The change of subject surprised her. She nodded.
A wry smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “What a mess. I had left my wallet at my apartment, and I didn’t have any money to cover the meal. You had to put it on the credit card your father gave you for emergencies.”
She remembered it well. He’d been so embarrassed and upset. “You paid me back.”
“My car broke down, and we had to walk part of the way until we could get to a phone, and I could call one of my friends to pick us up.”
She had left her cell phone at home so her father couldn’t reach her. She remembered the night in vivid detail. It was the night of their first kiss—and the night she had fallen in love with him.
She had felt safe with him as they walked the dark streets. He’d been a big man even then, though now he was more muscular after years of conditioning.
“It gave us time to talk, and you held my hand the entire way,” she said.
He laughed dryly and shook his head.
Rebekah realized what she recollected as fond memories were not the same for him. His macho pride had taken a beating that night.
“None of that mattered to me,” she said softly. “All I cared about was being with you.”
“I know.” He smiled down at her. “But now, I can afford the things I couldn’t before. I can take care of you and Ricardo the way you deserve.”
Rebekah shook her head. “I don’t want a dime from you. My attorney understands how I feel. You don’t owe me anything because you did this on your own. Just take care of Ricky.”
“Not many women would feel that way, Rebekah. You do know I’m rich now, don’t you?” He grinned, and the reappearance of his dimples made her heart race.
“I know.”
He shifted and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
“Tomorrow night, I’m going to spoil you.”
“Rafe—”
“I want to.”
She smiled. “Well…it just so happens I love to be spoiled.”
“Good. I’ll make the reservations.”
Then, as if he didn’t want to give her time to change her mind, he made his way out of the kitchen.
Rebekah slowly released her breath. Dinner with Rafael, alone. It would be the first time they would spend an extended period alone together since their arrival in California. Under normal circumstances, Ricardo was always nearby, and she and Rafael usually went their separate ways early in the evening.
Tomorrow night, for the first time, it would be just the two of them.