“
Papá
, don’t get so upset, please,” Adriana coaxed, having returned from the kitchen to stand behind her father and place her hands on his shoulders. “You know it’s not good for your blood pressure.”
Once again, Rafael glanced at Adriana, silently begging for her support, but she didn’t look up and appeared intent upon massaging her father’s shoulders. Even worse, she didn’t ask her father to apologize. All she seemed to care about was placating him and worrying about his health.
Okay, he got it. Adriana had left him high and dry and sided with her father. Since that was the way things were, he didn’t have to take this kind of abuse—allowing her father to put down his chosen profession along with his family’s values.
He pulled out his cell phone. “I had better be going, Adriana. Thank you for dinner. I’ll just call a cab.”
“Oh, I can take you back to the hotel.”
“No.”
Normally, he would have jumped at the chance to get her alone, but not now. He was seeing Adriana clearly for the first time. And what he saw, he didn’t like.
“He can’t take the heat,” Miguel said. “He’s running back to the hotel.”
“
Papá
, please, don’t.”
He shrugged her hands off his shoulders and turned in his chair to face her. “Don’t
Papá
me! You know everything I’ve said is true. And you know how important it is to have a good- paying job.” He shook his index finger in his daughter’s face. “I’ve taught you to know better.”
Then suddenly, he clutched his chest and pitched forward, clinging to the back of the chair. His face blanched, going white as a ghost. From where he stood, Rafael could hear Miguel’s labored breathing. Adriana grabbed her father and held him, a look of panic straining her features.
Alarmed, Rafael started forward, his hands outstretched, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. “Adriana, what’s wrong? What happened?”
She lifted her head. Her indigo eyes were wide with terror. “It’s his heart. He has high blood pressure. Please, fill his water glass. I’ll get his medicine.”
Rafael grabbed the water glass and sprinted for the kitchen. In seconds, he and Adriana had returned to her father. He lay doubled over the table with his hands pressed against the left side of his chest. She coaxed him to sit up and take his pill.
“I think we’d better call an ambulance,” Rafael said. “And while we’re waiting, I can try to move him to a bed or sofa where he can stretch out.”
“Leave ... me ... be.” Her father’s words were as labored as his breathing. “Medicine ... now ... I’ll ... be ... fine. Just ... give me ... minute.”
Rafael wasn’t convinced, especially considering the obvious pain he was in. “Adriana, let’s call an ambulance, please. At least they can check him over. Or we can drive him to the emergency room.”
Miguel straightened in the chair. “No, I don’t want an ambulance.” His breathing had regulated, and two spots of color had returned to his face.
The medicine must be working.
Even so, Rafael didn’t think Miguel’s condition should be ignored. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to see a doctor.
Rafael ran his hand through his hair. “But I think—”
“Can’t you leave it alone?” Adriana demanded. “Do as he asks? He doesn’t want to go to the hospital. And he’s had extensive medical training. He should know if he needs to see a doctor.” Her eyes shot sparks at him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t argued with him, you know. You can’t always have your way, you know.”
He couldn’t believe what Adriana was laying on him; she’d just blamed him for her father’s condition. Her reasoning was as twisted as her old man’s.
“I’ll call a cab, and I’m sorry for any discomfort I’ve caused.” He nodded toward Miguel. “I hope you feel better,
señor.
” He moved to the front door and put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll just wait on the porch for my taxi.”
His gaze locked with Adriana’s. He could read the fury and the fear in her eyes. But she didn’t take back the nasty things she’d said to him—and she didn’t move to stop him from waiting outside.
#
The call came from the university in Las Vegas when Rafael was in his office grading finals. The Dean of Humanities personally offered him the job, making him the head of the new multi-cultural department. He thanked the Dean and accepted the position, promising to be there in time for the summer term.
He put his cell phone down and reared back in the ancient swivel chair, putting his feet up on the pitted desk.
He should run out now and grab Damian and go celebrate his new job—his new elevated status as head of a department. An embryonic department, but still, it would be all his. He should be jumping up and down with joy: this was quite a jump start for his career. But he didn’t feel like rejoicing. Not after what had happened between him and Adriana.
He loved, or rather, hated the irony of the situation—now that he was moving to Vegas, their relationship was over. And he was no longer excited to be moving just to get away from his family. He’d done a great deal of soul-searching since that night at Adriana’s home, and he’d come to some rather ugly conclusions.
Margarita, his fiancé, hadn’t really hurt him when she left, because he’d never loved her in the first place. He knew how he felt about Adriana, and his feelings for Margarita had been a pale imitation.
Margarita had been his first and only long-term relationship. After they’d gone together for a few years, he’d thought he should take the next step and propose. But he’d only been going through the motions. And Margarita had obviously seen through him because when she fell for his buddy, she hadn’t hesitated to leave him at the altar and go with the man she loved.
No, Margarita hadn’t hurt him, not deep inside where it counted, as Adriana had. What had been hurt was his pride. And he hadn’t wanted to share that particular humiliation with his family. So he’d decided to slink away and leave their well-meaning concern behind. Now he understood his true motivation for looking to leave San Antonio.
But understanding his past wasn’t enough. What about now, what about today and the way he still felt about Adriana? Despite the way she’d treated him, he hadn’t stopped loving her. And, if he took a page from Margarita’s book, he wouldn’t give up so easily.
Before, when he’d been afraid to call her, he’d feared another rejection, another wound to his precious pride. Now he didn’t care if she shredded his pride into tiny pieces. To win her love, he would take the risk.
He’d also worried that she didn’t really care for him—that he’d been a mere diversion—an infatuation, as his brother had thought. But the real question was: did Adriana even know if she cared for him or not?
Having met her father and experienced his forceful personality, Rafael realized how Adriana had been brainwashed. Did she really want to put her career first? Or was she merely following her father’s dictates? Those questions left them with some unfinished business to attend to. He wanted to know exactly how she felt about her future, not what her father thought.
He swung his feet off the desk and retrieved his phone, punching in her contact name. When she answered, he identified himself.
“Rafael,” she said and then hesitated. “How nice of you to call.”
“I got the job, Adriana. I’ll be moving to Vegas in a few weeks.”
This time it wasn’t just hesitation—it was a long pause. “Congratulations, Rafael. I knew you would get it.”
“Really? I wasn’t so sure myself.”
“Well, I was. You should feel proud.”
“I wonder if you’d help me, Adriana.”
“I will if I can.” He heard the wary tone in her voice.
“I need to fly there this weekend and look for an apartment. Since it’s your hometown, I thought you might help me. I don’t even know where to start, and I have so little time. If you could point me in the right direction, I’d be grateful.”
He paused, wanting to see what she would say. If she had any guilty feelings from that night at her home, she’d be hard-pressed to turn him down. It was just this side of manipulative, and he didn’t like to be that way, but he had to see her again and explain his feelings. He couldn’t risk having her refuse to see him.
“That is,” he added, “if you have some free time this weekend.”
“I do have to work, Rafael.”
“All weekend?” he asked.
“I have Saturday off, but not Sunday.”
“That’s perfect. You can give me a general overview on Saturday. Then on Sunday, I can go back to the places I like and make a decision.”
“Well, okay, I guess I can show you around.” She didn’t sound pleased.
“By the way, how’s your father doing?”
“He’s fine, doing just fine. Thank you for asking.”
There it was again, that starchy politeness, that cool demeanor—barriers against the world, barriers against her feelings. Barriers he meant to breach, once and for all, this weekend.
Or go down in flames, trying.
Chapter Nine
Rafael gazed out the window of Adriana’s Taurus. It had been a miserable weekend, in more ways than one. In Vegas, the rain had fallen both days, all day long. How could that happen in a desert? The unusual rainfall had made looking for an apartment a messy and miserable experience.
He’d stayed at the Xanadu for convenience, but rented his own car. Adriana had shown him around Vegas on Saturday, pointing out the virtues and drawbacks of various neighborhoods and even certain apartment complexes. He’d offered to take her to dinner to repay her; an invitation she’d politely and firmly refused. Disappointed but not surprised, he’d dined alone but was determined to speak with her before he flew home.
After seeing what was available, he’d returned to the eastern side of town, a new suburb sprawling toward Hoover Dam, which contained quaint stucco homes with tile roofs. He hadn’t liked any of the apartment complexes, so he’d settled on a townhouse with a lease/purchase option.
He’d signed the lease and returned to the Xanadu. He collected his one bag, and purposely turned his rental car in early. He’d called her office and asked if she could take him to the airport when she got off work. She’d agreed.
They turned into the airport, and Adriana found a parking place. Cutting off the engine, she said, “You don’t mind if I don’t go in, do you? It’s been a long day, and I need to get home.”
“My plane doesn’t leave for two hours. It’s the late flight.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry. There are lounges and restaurants inside.”
He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Adriana, we need to talk.”
She shrugged off his hand and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “There’s nothing to talk about. I thought your visit to my home made that clear.”
“You don’t believe that junk your father spouts, about a career being the most important thing—”
“My father doesn’t spout
junk
. My father is a very smart man. And he hasn’t had an easy life. All he’s been able to depend upon is his job.”
“But you’re not your father, Adriana.” He ran his hand through his hair. “He’s a man, after all, and it’s still different for men.”
Her head came up. “What a sexist remark!”
“I knew you would say that. Okay, maybe I’ve taken the wrong approach.” He paused and asked, “Was it as easy for your mother to balance her job and family as you father says it was?”
“Let’s leave my mother out of this, shall we?”
“Adriana, why do you evade my questions? What are you afraid of?”
Her jaw clenched, and she shot him a look that should have made him an immediate candidate for the morgue. “No, it wasn’t easy for my mother. When my brother or I were sick and she needed to stay home ...” She didn’t finish, heaving a deep sigh and twisting away, huddling in the far corner of the driver’s seat, like a refugee in her own car.
“It was tough, I remember,” she said. “And I think my father does, too, though, he doesn’t want to admit it. He didn’t have a good job then, and we needed the money. I think he blames himself, deep down, and believes that the stress eventually took its toll on my mother. And that’s why he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to me. He wants me to concentrate on my career.”
“A career isn’t everything,” Rafael said. “Having money is nice, but having a family is important, too. And to do that, especially if you want children, one of the partners has to make sacrifices, like your mother did. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be the woman. It could be the man.”
“How high-minded of you. But why are we talking about having children?” She shook her head. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
He took a deep breath. Here goes. “I love you, Adriana. I think I’ve loved you since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I know it sounds crazy and corny, but there it is. And I want to have a relationship with you, to court you, and hope that you’ll grow to love me, too. I want to marry you.”
She gasped. But she didn’t look at him; she just kept staring out the windshield. “How can you be sure, Rafael? You’ve only known me for a few days.” She finally turned her gaze on him, confusion and doubt in the depths of her eyes. “How can you know?”
He sighed. “Believe me, I’ve asked myself the same question a thousand times. But I do know. I know how I feel about you.”
“I’m not ready, Rafael. I’m just now graduating, and then I need time to work on my career. I’ve told you that. I’ve tried to be honest with you.”
“Is that your father talking, or you?”
“That’s not a fair question. You don’t know ...”
“I know one thing. I know how we feel together. How we fit together.” Having said it, he leaned across the seat and gently took her face in his hands.
Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. Feeling her lips beneath his, felt like going home again. How long had it been since he’d kissed her? A few days? A few weeks?
She opened like a late-blooming flower coaxed by the sun. Her mouth and body welcomed him, even as her words had rejected him.
Kissing her was like playing the melody of a beloved song, evoking a feeling that was both glorious and sweet, both haunting and tender. Her lips molded to his, taking and giving, warm and wet and delicious. He delved into the sweet recesses of her mouth, plundering her and mating with her tongue.