“I’m not going to be your next conquest,” she said.
He raised a hand. “Whoa! I said dinner.”
After checking the hall again, she decided her brother must be in the bathroom. “I heard you, but let’s be honest. No man wants to make an investment without some kind of return.”
When he realized she was serious, his playfulness evaporated. “I wasn’t asking for a commitment to sleep with me, for God’s sake. Dinner’s...dinner. How else am I supposed to get to know you?”
He’d lost that rangy, lone wolf aura that had made him seem so unpredictable and dangerous when he was a younger man. It’d been replaced with a strong sense of purpose but, in some ways, that made him more of a threat. There weren’t many men who had the confidence to go after a woman so directly, and that scared the hell out of her. “Trust me, we wouldn’t be well-suited. I’m doing you a favor.”
“I can look out for myself.”
“There’s no need to waste any time or money. Like I said, I’d be a bad investment.”
He hesitated for a second. Then he said, “Are you afraid I can’t afford it? I don’t come from money so I’m not good enough for you?”
“Stop it! No. Of course not.”
“Because we never really got to know each other,” he said. “And, for the record, I’m embarrassed about that night, too. If I’m remembering correctly, it wasn’t my best performance.”
Sex with Rafe had lasted all of about thirty seconds. There’d been a brief flash of pain as he’d pushed inside her, some frantic movement while she’d stared at the water stain on the ceiling and a moan as he’d climaxed. Then he’d rolled off her and passed out. She’d had no idea why the other girls talked as if he was so good in bed. She hadn’t been impressed. But she could hardly blame him for the disappointment she’d experienced. She’d offered herself up to be used; it wasn’t as though he’d come on to her.
“It has nothing to do with your...performance. I deserved what I got.”
He winced.
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had any clue about sex,” she clarified, “but you know how the movies romanticize everything. My expectations were too high, that’s all.”
“Wait a second.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Are you serious?” he whispered. “That was your first time?”
“We’re talking about the distant past,” she said. “None of it matters anymore.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I honestly don’t remember you telling me you were a virgin.”
Why were they even discussing this? “Because I didn’t,” she said, her voice as hushed as his. “I was too busy trying to act experienced—like I was eighteen. Anyway, you were so drunk I’m surprised you remembered me at all. I was actually hoping you wouldn’t.”
“Well, shit,” he said. “Now I wish you didn’t remember me, either. I don’t want to be the guy who ruined your first time. No wonder you won’t go out with me.”
“I ruined my first time. I was hoping for too much.”
“Somehow that only makes it worse,” he said dryly.
The toilet flushed, and she sent him a warning look. “Keith’s coming back.”
“Am I doing something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want him badgering me about getting out and dating again. I’m not interested in...in a relationship,” she said, and went back to inspecting the kitchen.
After that, Rafe seemed pensive, but he waited patiently for her to finish roaming through the house.
“This isn’t too bad,” she told Keith when she returned to the living room where he’d been chatting with Rafe. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” There’d be real peace here and not the memories she’d experience in her mother’s home. She needed a “cave” to crawl into, a neutral place to call her own. Even better if that place had the positive associations of Smuggler’s Cove.
“Maisey, come on,” Keith said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m absolutely serious. I could throw a few rugs on the floor, use the bar near the kitchen window to eat and put a mattress and a chest of drawers in the bedroom. I won’t need much to get by.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Just come home and get it over with. You won’t last two weeks here. Why would you want to be by yourself, anyway, after everything you’ve been through? You were by yourself in New York. If that’s what you wanted, you could’ve stayed there.”
She preferred not to include Rafe in anything too personal, but Keith didn’t seem to have the same reservations. “This is different from the city. I can hear the sea, which reminds me of all the times I played here as a child. And, despite the hurricane damage, Smuggler’s Cove seems...safe in a way no other place does.” She turned to Rafe. “Mr. Romero, would you mind if I moved in? I could fix it up to the best of my ability until you’re ready to start on it. And then I could relocate to a different unit.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” he said, but his words were clipped and he was no longer smiling.
“See?” She looked at Keith. “Mr....”
“At least call me Rafe,” he broke in.
“Okay.” Thanks to the humidity, she was beginning to perspire. She pulled her hair up to get it off her neck. “Rafe here says he can work around me. So...Mom won’t be able to launch that argument.”
“She can launch any argument,” Keith grumbled. “Watch her.”
When her brother walked out onto the porch and leaned on the railing, Maisey glanced at Rafe. “I really won’t be any trouble,” she murmured.
“I’m sure you won’t,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if he was being facetious.
“As soon as you tell me you need to be in here, I’ll get out.”
“Right. If we’re careful, we can avoid each other indefinitely.”
She wanted to tell him that wouldn’t be necessary. She saw no reason they couldn’t continue to be civil if they happened to bump into each other. But she was afraid to start another conversation along those lines with Keith in such close proximity. “I’ll grab my bags from the car. I might as well leave them here while we go over to the house.”
Keith watched from his spot on the porch as she wrestled her heaviest suitcase out of the trunk and dragged it over to the porch steps. He wasn’t happy she was staying, so he didn’t offer to help. Instead, Rafe came down and insisted on carrying her luggage into the cottage. She kept trying to tell him she could manage. It didn’t seem polite to let him do her a favor on the heels of her refusal to go out with him. But he acted as if he didn’t hear her.
“That’s
