Reunited

CHAPTER THREE

"YOU ARE SUCH a nitwit. A gorgeous hunk of man walks into your life and you just drive away. Have you forgotten that you haven't had sex in nearly a year? That you've been reduced to watching music videos and wondering which of five guys in some boy band would be the best in bed? If you don't take advantage of moments like those you're going to end up lonely and completely celibate and turning to your seventeen cats for companionship. Come on, Keely, get a grip!"

She stared out the windshield of her car, waiting for the light to change, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. His card was in her jacket pocket. At least she had his name and number. If, after the excitement of the evening had worn off, she decided she wanted to see him again, she'd just call. Or maybe she'd personally deliver a new pair of shoes to his office.

"That won't work," she murmured. "I don't know his size."

One thing she did know was that Rafe Kendrick had nice taste in shoes. In truth, everything about Rafe was pretty nice, from his dark, smoldering eyes to his nearly black hair to his devastating smile. But it wasn't just the way he looked. Rafe Kendrick was a true gentleman. After all, how many men would have been so kind and understanding?

She'd ruined a perfectly good pair of his shoes. And she knew they weren't department store knock-offs. Rafe Kendrick dressed like a man who didn't have to worry about maxing out his credit card on fine Italian footwear. From his leather jacket to his body-skimming sweater to his shoes, his appearance shouted sophistication and wealth.

She'd passed men like him every day on the streets of Manhattan, but she'd never considered those men her type. They were too handsome, too confident, too unattainable, the kinds of guys who made her feel naive and unschooled and clumsy.

There had been plenty of men in Keely's life. Maybe that was the problem, there'd been too many and not a single one worth remembering. Once she'd reached legal age, she'd decided to wrest control of her social life from her mother and she'd never looked back. Along the way, there'd been a few serious relationships, but Keely had always grown bored and restless, certain there was a prince out there ready to replace the frog she was sleeping with.

She always went into a relationship looking for true love but she never seemed to find it. Her most recent "frog" had simply stopped calling and when she had finally got hold of him, he'd told her he was being transferred to New Zealand. Keely didn't believe him and expected to see him any day now, shopping for fresh artichokes at D'Agostino or walking his dog in Central Park.

For some reason, the men in her life just never lived up to her fantasies…until now. Rafe Kendrick was pure fantasy material. A naughty, sweaty, erotic fantasy.

As she wove through downtown Boston, Keely replayed their encounter over and over again. He seemed to like her. In fact, he seemed to find her outrageous behavior charming. He'd been concerned for her safety and her health, and had teased her through one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. And when he'd touched her, her knees had gone all wobbly and her heart had begun to pound. Keely smiled to herself and began to hum a tune. When she realized it was "Someday My Prince Will Come," she forced herself to stop.

After everything she'd been through the last month, she should know better than to allow herself to slip into another silly fantasy. Rafe Kendrick was just a man with all the flaws that came with his sex. All his money and good looks would soon fall away and she'd come to know him as the jerk he probably was. No doubt he'd charmed hundreds of women, promised to call the next day, then never had. And Keely was willing to bet that he had a date with two or three underwear models this very weekend.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and tried to focus on her next move with the Quinns. But images of Rafe Kendrick kept creeping back into her mind until she was certain she'd made the biggest mistake in her life by driving away from him.

Keely pulled the car up to the front entrance to the Copley Plaza and stepped out. She handed her keys to the parking attendant, then gave him a generous tip. As she turned to walk inside, she noticed a dark Mercedes pull up right behind her car. For a moment, she hesitated. There were a lot of black luxury sedans in Boston. She slowly walked toward the car. The door opened and Rafe Kendrick stepped out.

A tiny thrill raced through her. He'd followed her here. He was even more handsome than she remembered. And that memory was only minutes old! "I thought I told you I could get back on my own," Keely said, unable to keep a smile from curling the corners of her mouth.

"I was just making sure you were all right," Rafe countered. He leaned against his car and sent her a rakish smile. "Are you all right?"

Keely felt her blood warm and a flush creep up her cheeks. Here was her chance. "Would you like to join me inside for a drink?"

"A drink?" His eyebrow arched up. "Only if it's a club soda."

She laughed and patted her stomach. "That sounds good to me."

"I'll just park my car and I'll meet you inside."

A parking attendant jogged up to him. "I can park your car for you, sir."

Rafe nodded, handed him the keys and then walked up to Keely. He placed his hand on the small of her back, the gesture oddly possessive. His touch sent another thrill coursing through Keely's body and she steadied herself. Though she was as nervous as she'd been all day long, she didn't feel sick now. She felt…exhilarated, full of anticipation. It felt good to have a man touch her again.

They walked inside, the doorman holding the door open for them both, then headed for the bar. The lobby of the Copley Plaza was as opulent as the rest of the hotel and one of the most elegant in Boston. Keely had decided she could afford one night there, especially since she'd come to Boston for such an important reason. But maybe it was fate that she'd made such a choice, rather than followed her usual practical impulse to find the cheapest room available at the nearest motor lodge.

The Plaza Bar was an inviting spot, furnished with leather chairs and comfy sofas and intimate tables. A jazz pianist played softly from a corner and Rafe steered her toward a sofa, then motioned to a cocktail waitress. He whispered something in the waitress's ear and she nodded, then walked away.

Keely slowly sat down and he joined her, casually draping his arm over the back of the sofa. "This is a nice place," she said, leaning into him ever so slightly, just until her shoulder touched his arm. "Have you been here before?"

Rafe nodded. "For business meetings. Are the rooms nice?"

"They're very elegant."

The waitress reappeared with their drinks. She set two crystal champagne flutes on the coffee table in front of them, then poured sparkling water from a small bottle into the flutes. Then she set a silver dish of strawberries and whipped cream down next to the drinks.

Keely giggled as she picked up one of the glasses and took a sip. "A very fine vintage. French, is it?"

"I thought you'd like it," Rafe said. He leaned back and took a sip from his own glass. "So, I guess you should tell me something about yourself, Keely McClain. What do you do when you're not throwing up on men's shoes?"

"I bake cakes," Keely replied as she munched on a strawberry.

"Cakes? A person can make a living baking cakes?"

"Sure. There's no shortage of weddings and birthday parties and grand openings. And I have quite a reputation for designing unusual cakes. It's kind of a family business. We have a bakery in Brooklyn. And what do you do?"

"Nothing quite so interesting," he said. "I'm a businessman. I buy and sell buildings." His fingers toyed with a strand of her hair, and for a moment, Keely couldn't think. "You know, I'm a big fan of cake," he murmured.

"Then I'll have to bake you one." At first, she regretted the offer. She was acting as if they'd see each other again after tonight. But why hide her desire? She was attracted to Rafe Kendrick and she shouldn't be afraid to let him know. "What's your favorite flavor?" Keely held up her hand. "Wait, let me guess." She studied him for a long moment. "I'm usually very good at this. It's obvious that yellow cake would be too ordinary for you. Most people would automatically think that you're a chocolate man, bold and intense, but everyone loves chocolate and you're a guy who doesn't follow the crowd. You don't look like a coconut man-too trendy. I'd peg you as a banana man."

"A banana man?" Rafe asked with a laugh.

"A man who likes banana cake," Keely explained. "A bit exotic but still comforting. Am I right?"

"Actually, you are," Rafe admitted. "Right now, I have a couple of Sara Lee banana cakes in my freezer at home. And I do find them very…comforting."

Keely sent him a flirtatious glance. "After you taste my banana cake, you'll never eat another frozen cake again."

"I look forward to that," he murmured. He dipped a strawberry into the whipped cream and offered it to her. A long silence spun out between them. His gaze fell to her mouth and Keely held her breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak. All her silly talk about cake! How could a man like Rafe find her even remotely interesting?

She took a bite of the strawberry as she tried to think of a witty, sophisticated response, anything to break the silence. But it didn't matter. Rafe slowly leaned forward to touch his mouth to hers and all thought of conversation ceased.

The kiss was incredibly sensual, his lips brushing hers, tasting the strawberry and the whipped cream before he drew away. Keely swallowed hard. What was she supposed to do now? She fought an impulse to throw her arms around his neck and drag him down on the leather sofa. That would be way too aggressive, but it would certainly keep her from babbling on about cake. Maybe she could comment on the kiss, but Keely was afraid she'd start blithering.

In the end, she just smiled. And relaxed. And stopped thinking so hard about what she was doing. The conversation resumed and Keely was surprised at how easily Rafe moved between subjects. He asked personal questions yet never pressed for more details when she'd give him vague answers. Keely didn't mention anything about her new family. That conversation would have been too complicated and Keely wasn't even sure how she felt about it all.

As Keely had suspected, Rafe was quite well travelled. He'd spent time in Europe and the Orient and when she told him about her recent trip to London and Ireland, he remembered the exact stone circle she'd seen from a trip he'd made a few years ago. They moved from travel to books to art to music, and before Keely knew it, the pianist had stopped playing and the lights had gradually come up in the bar.

"What time is it?" she said, glancing around.

Rafe looked at his watch. "Past two," he said.

"In the morning?"

He nodded. "Maybe we should call it a night?" Rafe stood and held out his hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."

Keely forced a smile. It was now or never. If seduction was in the forecast, she'd have to decide to make it happen. Somewhere between the lobby and her room, she had to find a way to kiss him again, to make sure that the idea came to him before she'd have to make the suggestion herself. And twelve years of Catholic girls' school had made that possibility nearly impossible.

As they walked to the lobby, Rafe didn't rest his hand on her back. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers. Keely expected him to say goodbye at the elevators, but he followed her inside. She pushed the button for the eleventh floor, then fixed her attention on the numbers blinking as they went up.

When the elevator doors reopened, she stepped out, then paused, wondering if this would be the place to say good-night. Rafe looked both ways and Keely took that as a hint that he'd accompany her to her room. "I'm in 1135," she said. "Down this way."

As she walked, her heart slammed in her chest and she could barely breathe. Was he going to kiss her? Should she invite him in? What did he expect? By the time she reached her room, she felt light-headed with confusion. "This is it," Keely said. She leaned back against the door as Rafe slipped his hands around her waist.

"When are you leaving?" he asked, staring down at her with an intense gaze.

"Tomorrow," she said. "I have to get back to New York."

"Is there anything I could say to convince you to stay another night? I'd like to have dinner with you tomorrow evening. I have to fly to Detroit in the morning on business, but I'll be back by six."

Play it cool, she said to herself. Act pleased, but not too pleased. "I think I can stay. I haven't really finished everything I came here to do."

"Good," Rafe said. "Then I'll call you tomorrow after I get back and we'll go out."

His grip tightened on her waist and he gently pulled her toward him. Keely knew he was about to kiss her and kiss her thoroughly, but all she could think about was throwing up on his shoes. "Wait," she said, pressing her hands against his chest.

"Wait?"

"I-I just have to do something," Keely said. "I'll be right back. Just give me a few seconds." She turned and opened her hotel room, then closed it behind her, leaving him out in the hall. Then she raced to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet, the strawberries tumbling around in her stomach. Good grief, she was only going to kiss him!

She drew a deep breath and waited until the wave of nausea passed. Then she rinsed her mouth with water, splashed a bit of water on her face and looked into the mirror. "Loosen up and enjoy yourself," she murmured. "And for God's sake, don't throw up again. He may be sexy but I don't think he's kinky enough to find that attractive twice in one night."

RAFE STOOD in the hallway staring at the closed door of Keely's room. This wasn't exactly what he had planned. He leaned forward and peered through the peephole, but he couldn't see anything inside. Was she sick again? She'd seemed fine in the bar. Maybe a little edgy in the elevator, but, overall, he'd assumed the evening was headed in the right direction.

Rafe raked his fingers through his hair. This had really been a strange night. He'd never met a woman quite like Keely McClain. He wasn't sure what it was about her that made her so intriguing. Maybe it was because she was so…real, so unaffected. That probably had to do with the way they met. It would have been difficult for Keely to put on airs after what had happened in front of Quinn's.

He had to say, he liked that in a woman. She was honest and direct, sweet and funny. She was perfectly natural and, with her, Rafe could let down his guard. He could put aside all his responsibilities and his strategies and enjoy himself. Hell, he hadn't even thought about the Quinns since he'd met Keely on the sidewalk.

The door opened in front of him and Keely reappeared. She gave him a winsome smile. "I'm sorry. I just had to…well…never mind."

Rafe chuckled, then slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

"I think so," Keely said. She paused. "Yes. That would be nice."

Rafe didn't bother to ask twice. He hooked his finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. Her skin was flawless, like porcelain. And for the first time, he had a chance to really appreciate the color of her eyes-an odd mix of green and gold. "You really are beautiful," he murmured as he brought his mouth down on hers.

The contact was electric and intense, much more than the casual kiss they shared in the bar. Heat raced through his body, his heart pumping hard, the blood singing in his head. Usually when he kissed a woman, it was more of an obligation, something that had to be ticked off the list before he could take her to bed. But kissing Keely, deeply and completely, was the only thing he had on his mind right now. And he was going to enjoy it.

With a low groan, he cupped her face in his palms and teased at her lips with his tongue. She tasted sweet, like strawberries. And he wanted more. Just a little bit more. Her mouth opened and Rafe sighed deeply as he accepted her unspoken invitation, savoring her taste like he would a fine Bordeaux.

When her fingers skimmed up beneath his leather jacket and smoothed over his chest, Rafe realized he'd been fooling himself. He wasn't going to be satisfied with just kissing. He already wanted to touch her, to explore her body, to learn more about this impossibly intriguing woman. It was as if he'd discovered a hidden treasure and he wanted to possess her before anyone else realized what he'd found.

Reluctantly, Rafe reached up and took her hands in his, then held them up on either side of her head. He looked down at her flushed face. "I should go," he said before he stole one more quick kiss.

"Yes, you should," Keely teased, pushing up on her tiptoes and capturing his mouth again.

Her hands fell to his nape, her fingers furrowing through his hair. Rafe took some satisfaction in the fact that Keely wanted him as much as he wanted her. He pressed her back against her room door until he could feel her body against his, her thighs, her hips, her breasts, warm flesh and inviting curves. This was crazy! Why not just seduce her? He'd never been one to deny his desires. Why the hell should he start now? Rafe Kendrick took what he wanted and didn't look back.

He couldn't help himself. Rafe reached down and grabbed her thigh, then pulled it up along his hip. Her skirt slipped up to her hips and he slid his hand beneath, grasping her backside and pulling her even closer. His hard-on was hot against her lacy panties and when she moved against him, he felt the heat build. If they weren't standing in a public place, her panties would be history by now and he'd be deep inside her. But Rafe was going to let this seduction play out at her pace, not his. And if she made any move to call an end to it, he'd do his best to walk away.

His fingers twisted in the lace at her hip and he tugged her panties, aching to touch the skin beneath, fully prepared to make love to her in the hallway. A tiny sigh slipped from her lips beneath his kiss and she tipped her head back. Rafe dragged his mouth along her jaw, his teeth raking her silken skin, then found a spot at the base of her neck. He gently sucked, as if the taste of her could somehow satisfy this hunger inside him.

Suddenly, she stiffened and the sound of the elevator bell registered in his muddled brain. He quickly shoved her skirt down and took a step back, but he didn't bother to remove his arm from around her waist. Keely pressed her forehead against his chest and he watched as a couple walked past them in the hall. He smiled and nodded, but they continued walking. And when they disappeared inside a room, she laughed softly.

Rafe figured it was over. Like cold water on a raging fire, the interruption had brought them both back to reality. Keely turned her back to him. She reached into her jacket pocket and removed her key card, then opened the door. When she stepped inside, Rafe waited. If he went inside with her, he knew what would happen.

She turned around and he expected her to bid him good-night. But instead, Keely grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked him into the room. Then she slammed the door closed behind him. The force of the door echoed in the silence, marking the exact moment when the risk of interruption was eliminated. And as if it were some signal to begin, they did.

His fumbling fingers worked at buttons and zippers. There was no method to his seduction, but he didn't care. This wasn't some game; this was lust, pure and simple. As soon as tempting skin was revealed, Rafe stopped to explore, first her shoulder, then her hip, then her belly. And she did the same. They didn't bother to remove clothes fully, only pushed them aside.

"God, you are beautiful," he murmured, his mouth finding the swell of her breast. "And you taste good, too." Rafe was surprised he was even able to put together a complete sentence. His brain was no longer running the show. Instead, he was driven by instinct and impulse and experience, and the anticipation of moving inside her, slowly, patiently. He knew how to make a woman ache with need and he wanted like hell to make Keely need him. Need him so much that she'd have no choice but to surrender.

Rafe gently steered her toward the huge bed and when they reached it, they tumbled onto it in a tangle of limbs and half-discarded clothing. Only then did he slow down and enjoy the process of removing her blouse. At first, she seemed uncertain. In truth, Rafe knew she was. Unlike other women he'd known, she wasn't playing coy. She was simply being Keely McClain.

"Tell me something," he murmured, bracing his head in his hand as he toyed with the strap of her bra.

"Yes," she replied firmly, answering his question before it was asked.

"'Yes'?"

"Yes, I want to do this. That's what you were going to ask, isn't it?"

Rafe nuzzled her breast, his fingers slipping beneath the satin-and-lace scrap that hid her from his gaze. "No."

"All right, no."

"No," Rafe repeated. "No what?"

"No, I've never done this before," Keely said.

Rafe froze, his fingers still twisted in her bra strap. He bit back a groan. "Never?" he asked.

"Never," Keely replied.

"Then, you're a-"

"Oh, no!" she cried. "I thought you meant had I ever-done this. Brought a man to my hotel room. A strange man. Not that you're strange. You're a stranger. Although you're not really that, either, because I feel like I've known you for a long time." Keely took a ragged breath and reached for the front clasp of her bra. "Can we please stop talking now?"

His gaze drifted down to the necklace she wore. The pendant hung at a spot between her breasts and he picked it up and distractedly slid it back and forth on the chain. "I think that might be best," Rafe said. And when her bra fell away, he couldn't help himself. He knew he had to taste her again, and this time, he found the sweet tip of her breast. With his tongue, he slowly brought her nipple to a peak. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, determined to keep the pace slow.

But Keely wasn't quite so patient. She pushed her hands up beneath his sweater, insistently, until he was forced to tug it off over his head. Her fingers splayed over his naked chest and he watched her, each movement, each caress driving him closer to the brink. But when she dipped lower, to his belly, then to his belt, and to the button on his trousers, he brushed her fingers aside and stripped off his clothes himself, stopping at his boxers. And then he finished undressing her.

When nothing stood between them but lacy underwear and silk boxers, Rafe paused. This was no longer about him and his needs, this was a chance to finally share something intensely intimate with a woman. He was almost afraid to go any further, afraid that he might screw it all up, afraid that he might fall back on old habits.

But the moment she touched him, ran her hand along his erection, Rafe's past became just that-past. Every ounce of his need was focused in the present, in the feel of her fingers closing around him, the warm dampness between her legs, the delicate weight of her on top of him. When she was finally ready and when he could wait no longer, Rafe grabbed the lone condom from his wallet and she slipped it over him. Her touch as she put it on nearly pushed him over the edge and he groaned inwardly, willing himself to hold back.

The sensation of entering her was a revelation, a moment that he wanted to savor. Yet, again, his instincts took over. He thrust hard, and then once more, testing her, needing to know how she wanted it. She wrapped her legs around his hips and shifted until he touched her so deeply that a tiny gasp slipped from her lips. "Yes," she murmured breathlessly. "Yes."

Rafe pushed back until he was on his knees, yet still buried inside her. He watched her every reaction as he moved. But when he touched her sensitive nub, her eyes flew open in surprise. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and her gaze clouded with passion, but she met his gaze as he rubbed his thumb against her. Every pleasure, every sensation was reflected in those golden-green eyes and Rafe knew when she was near.

He let her reach her peak slowly, thrusting hard, then withdrawing far enough so that the tip of his erection rubbed against her, before sinking deep again. He was so close and when he felt her swell around him, when she closed her eyes and arched against him, he gave up the last shred of his self-control.

Rafe held his breath and froze, letting himself enjoy the full effect of his explosion. A groan slipped from his throat and he tumbled down on top of her, yanking her legs up around him. And as the spasms racked his body, she was there with him, losing herself in her own orgasm.

As his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal, an instant of crystal-clear thought struck him. Rafe realized that this was a new experience for him. He never wanted to leave this room. Hell, he didn't care about work or the Quinns or anything that was once important to him. This was all he needed, sweet, soft, beautiful Keely.

Rafe rolled over onto his side and drew Keely close, burying his face in the curve of her neck. He felt the need to say something, to tell her how incredible it had been between them. But then, she'd been right there with him and he was certain she knew. He closed his eyes and sighed. Rafe had always considered obsession with sexual pleasure to be a weakness in a man.

But now he understood that it wasn't a weakness at all, especially when the pleasure had been shared with the right woman.

KEELY SLOWLY opened her eyes. At first, she wasn't sure where she was. Then, as her head cleared, she realized that she was in Boston…in her hotel room…with-

Keely cursed softly. She slowly slid her hand out to her side, searching for the warmth of a body next to her. But the sheets were cold. She turned her head, holding her breath, to find the bed empty. Resting on the pillow was a folded sheet of hotel stationery. She sat up and snatched the paper from the pillow, then quickly skimmed the note from Rafe. He had to leave before daybreak to catch his flight to Detroit and didn't want to wake her. He'd see her that evening when he got back.

Keely ran her fingers through her hair and groaned. "What was I thinking? As if I didn't have enough crap going on in my life already." She'd never-not once-done anything quite so impulsive and reckless as she had last night. She usually waited until she got to know someone before she jumped into bed. After all, she was a good Catholic girl!

A shiver skittered down her spine at the thought of what had happened last night. The passion, the need, was so undeniable, so powerful, that she'd been unable to resist. The moment Rafe had kissed her, she'd lost all capacity to deny him-or to deny herself. Keely had always enjoyed sex, but never as much as she had last night.

She'd actually experienced what all the magazines talked about. Multiple orgasms-shattering, breathtaking, the kind that made her dizzy just remembering them. And she hadn't had to do anything to make it happen except close her eyes and enjoy the ride. She wondered exactly how she'd handle that little revelation in confession.

Keely covered her face with her hands, feeling her cheeks warm. The things she'd done last night were so wonderfully sinful. Yet she couldn't feel an ounce of guilt. For once, she'd followed her impulses and gotten exactly what she wanted-pure unadulterated pleasure.

But this wasn't the time to throw herself into a passionate affair. Ever since returning from Ireland, her life had been turned upside down. She wasn't even sure who she was or where she belonged. Maybe last night had been a reaction to that-the ultimate rebellion.

Or maybe hopping into bed with a stranger was something that came from the Quinn side, those wild, unpredictable strains of DNA lurking in her body. Maybe they didn't go to church every Sunday, maybe they hadn't been to confession in years. And maybe they followed their own wanton desires. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, did it?

She flopped back on the bed and covered her eyes with her arm. She didn't really care what other people thought of her. The only real horror was thinking about what Rafe Kendrick thought of her! No doubt, he'd experienced a number of one-night stands with a number of promiscuous women-maybe even two at a time. He was a sophisticated and worldly man. She must have appeared so…eager.

But that wasn't the worst. She was, in her mother's words, a- "Slut," she muttered. "My mother was right. A man won't value what you give away for free." It was the old cow and milk story, but the original was too crude for Fiona McClain to pass along to her innocent daughter.

Keely sat up and tossed aside the covers. She wasn't going to wait all day long for the inevitable. Men didn't call back after one-night stands. They didn't take their one-night stands to dinner and they certainly didn't date them. As for love and marriage, that was one fantasy she knew would never follow a one-night stand. After all, what were you supposed to say to the wedding guests when they asked how the happy couple met? "Oh, we ran into each other on the street and hopped into the sack a few hours later," Keely murmured. "What a sweet story."

"Be practical," she muttered. "We'll have dinner tonight and come back here and do it all over and then there'll be that uncomfortable moment when neither one of us will know what to say." And then she'd never see him again.

She crawled out of bed and began to gather up her clothes. Three hours' sleep was not enough, but it would have to be. She was going to leave Boston and this fantasy that she'd stumbled into, and return to reality in the Big Apple.

"It was a wonderful little detour," Keely assured herself. "But I have more important things to think about right now."

She'd go home, regroup, and try to put Rafe Kendrick out of her head. And then, when she was ready, she'd come back to Boston and introduce herself to her family. She anticipated a big "I told you so" from her mother. But why did she have to tell her mother anything? Fiona had kept her share of secrets. And as far as her parish priest went, what happened between her and Rafe was exactly that-between her and Rafe!

A knock sounded at the door and Keely froze, her underwear clutched in her hand. She tiptoed over to the door and peered out the peephole, thinking that perhaps Rafe had returned. But a uniformed bellboy was standing outside with a small white box. Keely hurried back to the bed, grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around her. Then she opened the door.

"Miss McClain? This was delivered for you."

Keely took the box, then glanced over her shoulder. "Wait, I'll get you a-"

"No need," the bellboy said. "It's been taken care of."

Keely shrugged, then closed the door. She walked slowly back to the bed, then sat on the edge as she opened the box. Her breath caught as a glorious scent drifted into the air. A perfect bouquet of sweet peas in pretty pastel colors was nestled in the box. Last night, she'd mentioned that sweet peas were her favorite flower, but she'd never expected him to remember that. She pulled the bouquet out, only to find a lacy handkerchief folded beneath with a card resting on top.

Keely pulled the card from the envelope. "Until tonight," she read. "Rafe." She fingered the fine handkerchief and smiled. It was a perfect memory of their meeting.

She flopped back on the bed and groaned. Just when she thought she had this all figured out, Rafe had to do something romantic. Why couldn't he act like all the other one-night stands out there-scared, guilty, and ready to move on to the next woman? Grabbing the bouquet, she held it to her nose and inhaled. As the scent filled the air, her thoughts drifted back to Rafe. She wondered what he was doing at exactly that moment. Was he staring out a plane window, reliving last night in his mind? Or was he already trying to figure out a way to gracefully cancel their dinner date?

"You're not making this easy, Rafe Kendrick," she murmured. "Not easy at all."