Love Me if You Dare (7 page)

“You said he wants to talk. Can you give him that?” Sara asked gently.

“And relive the whole thing again?” She shook her head. “No, thank you. Listen, I’ve been over this in my head a million times. I don’t want to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

The pain in the other woman’s eyes was obvious. The wounds were still fresh.

“Not at all. I understand.” Sara decided to change the subject to one closer to her own heart. “I bet Rafe’s need for a stable marriage is based on what he experienced as a child. How old were the boys when this happened?”

“Nick was eighteen, attending college. Rafe was
fifteen. Carol was twelve, still pretty young, but the boys knew exactly what was going on.”

“Which tells me Rafe understood everything that happened all too well.”

“Exactly,” Angel said. “He knows what it takes to make a relationship work.”

But not even he could work miracles, Sara thought.

Angel rose from her seat and looked around at the mini-piecrusts on the table waiting to be baked then filled. “Great job,” Angel said.

“Thanks!” Sara said, feeling proud of herself and her attempt at playing Betty Crocker.

“Maybe tomorrow morning you can help me with the filling? I like to make them fresh before the festival starts.”

Sara nodded. “I’d like that.”

A knock sounded at the side door.

“That’d better not be my father or Nick coming by to play handyman,” she muttered. “Excuse me a minute.” She turned and headed for the door, moving the curtain to see who was on the other side.

“Rafe, come on in!” she said, opening the door, giving Sara no warning or chance to prepare.

Rafe stepped inside, looking too sexy in a navy T-shirt and worn jeans. Her stomach curled in that funny flip she’d come to associate with being around him.

“Hi!” Sara waved at him.

“Hey.” He raised his hand back.

Angel leaned over, greeting him with a sisterly hug. “What brings you by?”

“I need to have a word with Sara,” Rafe said, his gaze never leaving her face.

“I’ll just go inside and clean myself up. Give you two some privacy,” Angel said.

“Thanks,” Sara murmured.

Rafe waited until Angel disappeared, her footsteps creaking the stairs. He pulled out a kitchen chair, turned it around and seated himself, straddling the back. “You have flour on your face.” He grinned and wiped her forehead with his hand.

Her skin burned at the mere touch.

Though his eyes flared deeper, he didn’t acknowledge the yearning that was so obvious between them. “I came as soon as I got your message. What’s wrong?” he asked instead.

“My bank sent me an alert. Someone attempted to access my account and track my purchases.”

He frowned. “That’s not good. Any idea who?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But I’ve only used cash since I left. There’s no way for them to find me that way.”

“But if they are determined, it’s only a matter of time.”

Sara exhaled a long, resigned breath while Rafe’s
gut was tied up in knots. She’d gone from appearing like sunshine in white shorts and a yellow flirty tank top to looking like she’d lost her best friend.

He reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. Her bare skin scorched his palm. “As far as we know, they haven’t found you yet. But I think you should stay with me now. Just to be safe.”

She nodded. “I thought the same thing. Your place is remote and hard to find. Angel’s is right in the center of things. It’s just that…” She wrinkled her nose.

“What?”

“I was looking forward to helping Angel with her pies tomorrow.” She glanced at the uncooked crusts on the table.

He burst out laughing. “Sara Rios, are you telling me you like being domesticated?”

An adorable flush stained her cheeks, and an amused grin tugged at her lips. “Let’s just say it has its moments.”

“Well, don’t worry. You can still help. You’ll just be stuck with me watching over you. This way if someone does track you here, they won’t get you alone.”

She nodded in agreement. “If you don’t mind babysitting?”

“Of course not. I’d be at the festival anyway.” Now he just had an excuse to be by her side, admiring her long legs, sexy ass, gorgeous face….

“Great! Thanks.” Her face lit up in relief. “I need to clean up, but then I’ll pack my bag and we can get going.”

“In the meantime, I’ll call the captain and see if he’s heard anything from the D.A.”

“I’d appreciate it. I’ve been afraid to check in. I know they sweep for bugs, but still.” She sighed. “Thanks, Rafe. I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

Maybe not, but he’d never walk away.

With Sara upstairs washing up and packing, Rafe tried the captain from Angel’s phone and left a message for the other man to call him back on his cell.

He was about to grab a can of soda from the fridge when he heard a noise outside the window over the sink. A loud banging sound that repeated itself again.

Cautious, Rafe headed out the side door—and nearly tripped on his brother, who was struggling to attach a garden hose to the spigot on the side of the house.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe asked. Luckily, he hadn’t pulled his gun on his sibling.

“Replacing the leaky hose with a new one. What are you doing here?”

“Picking up Sara. Does Angel know you’re here?”

Nick shook his head. “And don’t tell her. Pirro
mentioned the hose leaked and Sara was having trouble watering the yard.”

“If she finds you here, she’ll kill you.”

“That’s why you aren’t going to tell her.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think she won’t notice a new hose?”

Angel didn’t want help. But the fact that his brother was helping instead of complaining was a good sign. Still, the fireworks when Angel discovered he’d meddled in her life would be heard around town.

“By the time she realizes, it’ll be fixed and I’ll be gone. At least she won’t have to struggle with the old one.”

“That’s awfully generous of you.” Rafe paused, debating on offering advice. But this was his brother, and he wanted to see him happy. “Maybe Angel would appreciate the fact that you’re taking an interest in her…project. Instead of you sneaking around like you think she can’t handle it herself, maybe you could tell her you’re coming to accept this venture of hers. I bet it would go a long way toward helping you reconcile.”

“Maybe Angel can speak for herself!”

Rafe groaned and, without meeting his brother’s gaze, turned to face his sister-in-law.

“Hey there.” Rafe greeted Angel with a smile.

His sister-in-law scowled, her gaze reaching beyond Rafe to her husband.

Rafe wouldn’t want to be in Nick’s shoes right now. “I’m going to leave you two alone to talk,” Rafe said, backing away and heading for the house before he could get any more involved in family drama.

Once inside, he found Sara waiting for him in the kitchen, her large rolling suitcase packed and waiting beside her—a blatant reminder he was about to bring her
home.

R
AFE MIGHT NOT BE
ready for the intimacy sure to follow from moving in with Sara, but he appreciated a woman who could pull herself together quickly.

“That was fast.” He gestured to the suitcase.

She shrugged. “I knew I’d have to leave in a couple of days, so I didn’t unpack completely.”

“What do you say we—” The ringing doorbell interrupted him. “This place really is like Grand Central Station,” he muttered.

For the first time, he could understand his brother’s issues with his wife running the place alone, always distracted by one thing or another. Then again, if it came down to a distracted wife he loved or no wife…

No question, Rafe thought.

The doorbell rang again.

“Where’s Angel?” Sara asked when she didn’t come to answer.

“Outside with Nick. I’ll get it for her.” He headed to the door, Sara behind him.

Two strangers stood on the other side. The festival
crowd had already begun milling around town. Strangers Rafe didn’t recognize browsed the local shops and eateries. Good news for the struggling economy. Bad news for his ability to spot potential danger.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest and assessed the men on the other side of the screen door. One dark-haired, the other blond-haired, both blue-eyed and clean-cut. The preppy type who’d stand out in a town that lacked pretension. The blond guy even wore argyle.

“Can I help you?” Sara asked, stepping around Rafe and taking over.

“We have reservations,” the lighter-haired guy said.

“Why don’t you come in?” She pushed open the storm door, and the men stepped inside.

“Ms. Mancuso?” The dark-haired guy obviously assumed Sara was Angel, the owner. “You’re as lovely as the name of your establishment.” He oozed slick city charm.

Rafe set his jaw. “She’s not Ms. Mancuso,” he said in an annoyed tone. Because he didn’t want this guy hitting on Sara or his sister-in-law.

Sara cast him a curious glance before refocusing on the men.

“Ms. Mancuso is seeing to something in the backyard, but why don’t you come in and have a seat.” Sara
gestured to the small sitting area with a couch and a desk that Angel used to check in guests. “
Mrs.
Mancuso is out back,” Rafe stated bluntly.

“Are you a guest here, too?” blond guy asked hopefully. Ignoring Rafe, he checked out Sara’s obvious assets, staring without shame at the exposed cleavage in the vee of her thin cotton top.

“No, she’s not,” Rafe said through gritted teeth.

Thank God he’d already convinced Sara it was time to move out. These two
gentlemen
irritated the hell out of him, and he reassessed his earlier thought about his brother accepting a distracted wife. Especially if she was distracted catering to other men. Paying guests or not, Rafe now knew why his brother was uncomfortable with his wife’s new occupation.

Suddenly Sara nudged Rafe with her elbow. “I asked if you were going to get Angel or whether I should?”

Rafe wasn’t about to pull Angel away from Nick. Hopefully they could use the time outside alone to communicate in a positive manner.

“She’s busy right now.” Rafe turned to the two guests. “Why don’t you do as the lady said and wait in the foyer until she comes back inside.”

They shot each other a wary glance and stepped into the small waiting area. Good. Rafe wanted them on guard around
his women.

The sudden thought unsettled him. Being protective
of Angel made sense. He was looking out for his brother’s wife and their fragile marriage. Being possessive of Sara was another story. She wasn’t part of his family. Nor was he involved with her personally. Hell, he’d deliberately taken a step back from that ledge. Besides, she didn’t need his protection. Rafe and everyone in the NYPD knew Sara could take care of herself. In fact, she wouldn’t be here now but for her injury. He knew as well as anyone that even at less than one hundred percent, Sara was a force to be reckoned with. It was one of the things he admired about her. One of the things he didn’t want any other men admiring, too.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sara whispered her question so the men couldn’t hear.

Before he could answer, the back door slammed shut with way too much force, rattling the pictures on the walls. Obviously there’d been no real communication between Nick and Angel after all.

“Angel, you have guests!” Sara called out before whip ping around back to Rafe. “Well? What’s wrong?” Hands on her hips, she tapped one foot impatiently.

Jealousy, that’s what was wrong with him. He was jealous of perfect strangers who’d looked at her with interest.

Something he wasn’t about to admit.

“Let’s just get going,” he suggested. Before he did or said something to embarrass himself further.

S
ARA LEFT HER CAR PARKED
at Angel’s
.
She’d pick it up another time, and went home with Rafe. He was silent on the drive back to his house. He’d been grumpy and moody since Angel’s guests had arrived. Rude and obnoxious had been more like it. Maybe he was just being protective of his brother’s marriage? But would that keep him in a bad mood now?

As they approached his long driveway, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, glancing at the number before answering the call.

“Hi, Aunt Vi.” He listened, shook his head. “Wait. Slow down. And speak louder. I can barely hear you over the crackling.” He cast a glance at Sara. “Told you service was bad here.”

She nodded and settled in to wait.

Rafe stopped the Jeep at the end of the driveway as he obviously struggled to hear his aunt yet keep her calm at the same time.

“I’ll be right over, okay? See you in two minutes. Bye.” He disconnected the call, then turned to Sara. “Sorry, but Aunt Vi is having some kind of crisis. I couldn’t understand her through her hysteria, so I need to drop by for a few minutes.”

“That’s fine.” Sara didn’t mind.

He backed out of the driveway, and, not one minute
later, they pulled onto a street directly off Main. He parked the car in front of a small Cape-styled house and cut the engine.

“I can wait in the car,” Sara offered. She didn’t want to intrude if his aunt was upset.

To her surprise, Rafe shook his head. “Come on in. I should warn you that Aunt Vi is prone to hysterics. Maybe seeing company will calm her down faster.”

Sara shrugged. She hopped out of the Jeep and followed him up the path to the house. He rang once and let himself inside.

Another interesting part of small-town living: the unlocked doors and the easy entry and access everyone had into each other’s homes and lives. So different from the city. The neighborliness and comfort had to lead to more intimate friendships. The kind Sara lacked in the big city. Once she entered her apartment, she could lock the door and not see anyone for hours, days or weeks, depending on her mood.

“Aunt Vi?” Rafe called out.

“I’m in the living room!”

Rafe led Sara to a small foyer that opened into a cozy family room. An older woman with salt-and-pepper-colored hair sat on a couch covered by a hand-knit afghan blanket, a box of tissues by her side.

“Oh, Rafe, you’re such a good boy to come over.” She sniffled and forced a smile at Rafe before her
stare settled on Sara. “Oh! I didn’t realize you’d be bringing company!”

The woman jumped up from her seat and began to fuss with her already perfectly coiffed hair. Hair that could only be done in a salon and finished off by a ton of Aqua Net hair spray.

“Aunt Vi, I want you to meet Sara Rios, my friend from New York. Sara, this is my aunt Vi.”

Sara shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asked, walking up to her and placing a strong, comforting hand on her shoulder.

Aunt Vi gripped a tissue tighter in her hand. She’d obviously been crying.

“I’ll just wait in the car.” Feeling like an intruder, Sara turned to leave.

“No, no. You’re the woman who stayed by Rafe’s side when he was critically injured, right? My brother told me you were in town. That makes you like family, so please stay.”

Sara raised an eyebrow at how quickly Rafe’s aunt had welcomed her. Her own father would still be shooting questions at Rafe in order to discover whether he liked him or not.

“Thank you,” Sara said. She chose a chair and settled in, remaining unobtrusively quiet while Rafe spoke to his aunt.

“Sit.” Rafe guided the middle-aged woman back
to the couch. “What’s going on? And why didn’t you call Janice or Judy?”

“Those are my daughters,” Aunt Vi helpfully explained to Sara. Then she turned back to Rafe. “I called you because you’re a cop. You know how to find things out about people.”

Rafe narrowed his gaze. “What things? What people?”

“It’s Pirro.” The other woman sniffled. “He…he…he’s having an affair!” she wailed, pulling tissues from the box and blowing her nose loudly.

Rafe was right when he’d said Aunt Vi was prone to hysterics. Her dramatics were enough to make Sara cautious about believing her claim.

But Rafe stiffened at the words. Leaning in close, he placed his hand over hers. “What happened?” he asked gently.

Suddenly Sara remembered Angel’s description of Rafe’s father’s affair. Obviously Aunt Vi’s claim hit a nerve. As much as Rafe complained about his family, he clearly loved them, too.

“Pirro disappears out at night.” Aunt Vi sniffled.

“Where does he go?” Rafe asked.

She shrugged. “Each time it’s a different story. Tonight he said poker, but I called the other wives, and their husbands are home!”

Rafe patted her hand in reassurance. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Maybe he went for a walk.
Maybe he wants to have a cigar, and he knows you get upset when he smokes.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone too long for it to be one of those things. It’s another woman. I just know it!”

“Maybe he’s out on the boat. Just last night he drove it past my house, hoping I’d be around for a game of chess.” As he spoke, Rafe raised his gaze and locked eyes with Sara.

They both remembered what they were doing at that same moment last night.

What she wanted to repeat again.

Her heart pounded harder in her chest.

From his deep, steady gaze, Sara had the distinct sense he wanted the same thing. Despite his protestation to the contrary.

“He’s not out playing chess.” Aunt Vi recaptured his attention.

The woman’s breathing became rapid again, and Sara feared she was gearing up for another wail.

“Listen, I know things are strained with Angel and Nick separated, but that has nothing to do with you and Uncle Pirro.”

Aunt Vi shook her head. “I drove him to leave me, and now he’s sleeping with another woman!”

She wailed, convincing Sara that some things were inevitable.

“Impossible. Pirro would never cheat on you with another woman.”

Aunt Vi sat up in her seat. “I know that! He wouldn’t cheat, cheat. Not in the way you mean.”

“What other way is there?” Rafe asked.

Sara wondered the same thing.

“Didn’t you hear? I said he’s
sleeping
with another woman!”

Rafe narrowed his gaze. “I’m sorry, but I’m still confused.”

His aunt glanced down, not meeting his gaze. “This isn’t easy for me to say out loud, but if you’re going to help me you need to know.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m a nymphomaniac,” she said in a stage whisper.

Rafe choked and began coughing uncontrollably.

Was he laughing? Or beside himself, Sara wondered. She bit the inside of her cheek and somehow remained silent.

“Do you need water?” Aunt Vi asked, patting him on the back.

“I’m fine,” he managed.

“Then pull yourself together and help me. I said I’m a nympho!” She pressed a tissue to the inside of her eyes, blotting tears. “I’ve been reading all about it on the computer, and I think I might be a sex addict like David Duchovny. I should be put away in one of those rehab places. Oh, poor Pirro!”

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. Why couldn’t
she have called one of her own kids for this? Because he was a cop, he reminded himself, reinforcing the notion that no good deed went unpunished.

He kept his gaze on his lap, afraid that if he looked at Sara, he’d burst out laughing. His aunt didn’t find this amusing. For some crazy reason, she believed the things she was saying. “I think you’re watching too much Dr. Phil,” Rafe told her.

She twisted a tissue between her hands, shredding it to pieces. “Your uncle Ralph, my first husband, bless his soul, he was insatiable. It was a little tough at first, but that’s what I’m used to! Pirro and I have so much in common, and I know he tries to keep up with me, but he doesn’t have the stamina my Ralph had. So I think he goes looking for downtime elsewhere.”

You having trouble with your pecker? Because there are pills you can take for that. Pirro here can hook you up!
Ernie’s words from this morning repeated themselves in his mind. If Pirro didn’t have the stamina to keep up with his wife, it made sense that he’d turn to Viagra or something like it. Again, more information than Rafe wanted or needed to know about his relatives. And if Pirro needed a pill just to keep up with one woman, why in the world would he go looking for another?

God help him, Rafe still wasn’t following his aunt’s logic. “Keep explaining,” he said to her.

“I saw that Agnes Parker coveting him in church last Sunday. Church of all places!”

Rafe resigned himself to her rambling until he could make sense of what she needed from him.

“You see, my Ralph was friends with her first husband and I know she’s frigid, so he wouldn’t have to worry about her wanting sex from him, too! He’s going to her instead of being home in bed with me!” She started to wail again.

Sara cleared her throat, and Rafe met her gaze. Amusement and pity flickered across her face. “May be Rafe could follow him next time he leaves, see where he’s going?” Sara offered, speaking for the first time.

Rafe swallowed hard. Following Pirro. His head was so filled with unmentionable images, he’d never have thought of it himself.