Reunited

“I’m perfectly able to—”

Rafe held out his hand to silence her. “Come on. It’s cold out here. We can wait in my car for the cab.” He reached down, grabbed her hand, and tucked it in the crook of his arm. Then he slowly walked with her down the block. When they reached his Mercedes sedan, he turned off the alarm and opened the passenger side door. She hesitated for a moment.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “If you want to, we can stand out here. Or we can go back inside the bar.”

“No!” she said. “No, I don’t want to go back to the bar.” She shivered, then rubbed her arms. Suddenly, she looked like she was going to throw up again. “Put your head down,” he suggested. He gently pressed his hand against her back until she bent over at the waist. Then he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number for his security office at Kencor.

“This is Rafe. I want you to send a car around to Quinn’s Pub in Southie. Have the driver look for my Mercedes. I’m parked about a block away.” Rafe flipped the phone off, then slipped it back into his pocket. “It’ll just be a few minutes.” He leaned into the car and grabbed a bottle of water, then handed it to the woman. “Here,” he said. “To settle your stomach.”

“Thanks,” she said, still bent over.

“What’s your name?”

She straightened and took a tiny sip of the water. “Keely. McClain.” She swallowed hard. “Keely McClain. What’s yours?”

“Raphael Kendrick,” he replied. “Rafe.”

“Raphael. Like the artist.” She took another sip, then drew a deep breath. “Well, thank you, Raphael. But I feel much better now. I think I can drive back to my hotel on my own.”

“I’ve sent for a car.”

“But how will I get my car back?” Keely asked.

“I’ll take care of that. Where are you staying?”

“Downtown. At the Copley Plaza.”

“And what were you doing in this part of town? Southie is a long way from the Copley Plaza.”

She looked away, staring off down the street. “I was here to meet someone.” She glanced back at him. “How about you?”

“I was just having a drink at Quinn’s Pub.”

“Really? Do you drink there often?”

Rafe chuckled and shook his head. “No, not often.” He stared down at her for a long moment. Christ, she was beautiful. The more he looked at her, the more he was struck by that fact. He usually wasn’t attracted to her type, a quirky bohemian. But for some reason, he found himself fascinated by the color of her eyes, her upturned nose and her Cupid’s bow mouth, the way her short-cropped hair curled against her face.

She was small, no taller than five-five, and he was certain he could have spanned her waist with his hands. Her hair was tousled by the wind and damp, making it appear as if she’d just stepped out of the shower and arranged it with her fingers. And her features were nearly perfect, delicate and refined, from the tip of her nose to her impish smile. Though she looked young, he guessed she was about twenty-three or twenty-four, tops.

“So, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here in Boston, Keely McClain?”

“I’m here on personal business,” she said. “Family business.”

“That sounds a bit mysterious.”

“It really isn’t,” she replied. She held out the handkerchief. “I can get back on my own. Really, I’m not drunk and I’m feeling much better now.”

Rafe was loath to let her go. But he had to admit that she didn’t appear to be drunk at all, just a little bit queasy. His mind scrambled for a logical reason to make her stay, but at some point in the last few minutes, he’d lost his ability to think clearly. “All right,” he said. “But you have to promise that if you start to feel sick again, you’ll pull over.”

“I don’t think I’ll have much choice on that,” Keely said.

Rafe took her hand. “Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there.”

Keely pointed down the block. They walked slowly and when he sent her a sideways glance, he caught her looking up at him.

“What is it?” Rafe asked.

“I don’t know. It’s just that you’re…nice. I didn’t think there were men like you left in the world. You know, chivalrous?”

“You puked on my shoes,” Rafe said. “What was I supposed to do? Keep walking?”

Keely winced, and in the meager light he saw a slight blush color her already rosy cheeks. “Your shoes. Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new pair. Tell me, how much did they cost and where did you get them?”

Rafe shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“But it is,” Keely insisted. “You can’t wear them after I threw up on them.”

“I have plenty of other shoes at home that I can wear,” Rafe countered.

“But I insist,” Keely said.

God, she could be exasperating! But she was so damn beautiful when she was, her eyes bright, her color high. He was almost tempted to yank her into his arms and kiss her just to get her to shut up and accept his refusal. “All right,” Rafe said. “They’re handmade Italian. I think I paid a couple of thousand for them in Milan.”

Keely stopped short and her jaw dropped. “What? I threw up on two-thousand-dollar shoes? Oh, shit.” She clutched her stomach and bent over. “Two thousand dollars? I’m going to be sick again.” While she was bent over, she tried to wipe at the shoes with his handkerchief.

Rafe pulled her upright. “I was teasing,” he lied. “I think I got them downtown. And I never pay more than a couple of hundred for shoes.”

“And handkerchiefs?” she asked.

“I’ll toss that one in for free.”

They reached her car much sooner than he wanted to. He took the keys from her fingers, unlocked the driver’s side door, and pulled it open. She stepped around the door, then turned to him, her fingers clutching the top. “So, where should I send the money for the shoes?” she asked.

Rafe reached in his pocket for his wallet and withdrew one of his business cards. She stared at it for a long moment then smiled. “All right then, Rafe Kendrick. I guess I should thank you for your kindness.”

“No problem,” Rafe said.

“Good. Well…goodbye.” She quickly slipped into the car before he had a chance to consider kissing her. Reluctantly, he closed the driver’s side door and stepped away from the car. She started the Toyota, gave him a little wave, then pulled away from the curve.

Rafe stood in the street and watched as the taillights of her car disappeared down the street. He’d met a lot of women in his life in a lot of different places, but he’d never met a woman quite like Keely McClain. There had been no seductive flirtation, no coy glances and come-hither stares. She’d humiliated herself in front of him, yet he somehow found it charming. With her defenses down, he’d dropped his own. He’d been completely at ease with Keely McClain and he’d never really felt that way with a woman in his life.

“Then why the hell did you let her go?” Rafe asked himself. He started toward his car, and by the time he reached the Mercedes, he’d already decided. He wasn’t going to let her go. Nor was he going to trust her to contact him again. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was certain that he’d see her again.

He pulled a U-turn in front of Quinn’s, then floored the accelerator, racing down the street after her. He’d just make sure she got back to her hotel safely and wish her good-night. And then, he’d casually ask her out to dinner. He’d never worried much about a woman accepting a date with him. If they did, he was usually pleased, and if they didn’t, he moved on to someone else.

But as Rafe drove toward the lights of downtown Boston, his thoughts weren’t on the Quinns or his need for revenge. Instead, he went over in his mind how best to ask Keely McClain out, the exact words he’d use to get her to say yes. Because, for the first time in his life, the answer would matter.

CHAPTER THREE