Two Sides to Every Story (Love Spectrum Romance) (7 page)

Chapter 8

Angela leaned against the wall of the shower letting the hot water run over her body. What the heck was she doing? This was supposed to be about sex only, but it felt like so much more. It felt like friendship and comfort.

Everything about Rafe felt so right. She’d known the danger when she’d agreed to an entire day. She’d known her feelings for him were changing and she suspected that he knew it too. Scrubbing away at her body, she tried to ignore the fact that she wasn’t visiting her brother today because she’d chosen to spend the day with Rafe.

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” she said in a whisper. “I’ll go tomorrow. It doesn’t mean a thing,” she whispered again.

And later, when she was seated at her table across from him eating the fluffiest eggs she’d ever tasted, with a creamy cheese sauce, she felt the heat. And it scared her. His green gaze was hypnotic. He sat smiling at her, watching her eat, and with each forkful she saw things in his eyes she couldn’t have, not with him. Not with a Chicago cop.

When she was done eating, he grinned at her and took the plates away to the sink and ran water. And for some crazy reason, that did her in. She walked slowly to the phone and turned the ringer off. Then she found her cell and put it on vibrate. Maybe she couldn’t have Rafe Remeris forever, but for this one day she could pretend. Tomorrow she would return to her real life.

* * *

“Hey,” Angela said, kissing her brother’s cheek. He hugged her tight, then tighter, and for some strange reason she got a bad vibe.

“You stink,” he said, pushing her from him.

Because her brother’s voice was so vicious, Angela was stunned for a moment. She didn’t stink, she knew that. But still he had her sniffing her armpits, blowing her breath into her hand, and all the time her face flamed with embarrassment.

Her brother’s voice had been loud and she felt eyes on her. Everyone in the prison seemed to be looking at her, believing that she did stink.

But she waited until they were seated before turning to her brother. “What was that crack about? I don’t stink.”

“You do. I can smell him all over your body.”

She went from being embarrassed to being completely mortified. Her mind flashed on Rafe and she cringed, wondering for only a moment if her brother could possibly tell that they’d made love only a few hours before.

But she’d showered after.

And made love again, she remembered.

Angela blinked rapidly, trying to ignore the anger in her brother’s eyes. She was confused and was trying desperately to recap the entire morning. She focused on kissing Rafe at the door. She’d been in her robe. He’d left and she’d showered. She smiled triumphantly.

She’d showered.

“You don’t smell anything on me.”

“I smell sex. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.”

“So what are you doing, banging some Pilsen Romeo?”

“Why don’t you knock it off? I didn’t come here for you to grill me about my private business.”

“So you’re admitting I’m right? Don’t be stupid, Angie. Do you think I could bang a Hispanic chick without the entire neighborhood wanting to cut my throat?”

“That’s stereotyping.”

“Stereotyping exists because of some truths.”

“And all the stereotyping about Blacks, is that true too?”

“Look, if you want to screw some illegal, I want you to know it’s not okay. And if I wasn’t in here, you wouldn’t be doing it.”

“What is this? Why the third degree? What are you doing?” Angela demanded. “I didn’t come here for this.”

“You sound like you’re doing me a favor by coming. You don’t want to come,” Adrian glared at her, “don’t come. You didn’t come yesterday, so why did you come today?”

“I had things to do yesterday.”

“I’ll bet.”

“What are you getting at? Because there is no way in the world you smell anything on me besides soap.”

Angela glared at her brother. She was annoyed with him and was getting tired of making excuses for his rotten attitude for the past two years.

Yes, he might be the one sitting in a cell, but their entire family was doing time. They’d all become prisoners by proxy. When something befell one of them, it happened to the rest of them.

Now the very notion that he would begrudge her a boyfriend, even if she had one, angered her. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since he’d been locked up. She hadn’t had the time.

Brother and sister glared at each other for a few minutes until Adrian decided to end it by asking, “Have you found her?”

“No luck.”

Then he glared again. “If you’re not going to try you may as well leave the neighborhood.”

“Adrian, I’m out there almost every day talking to people, asking questions. We knew this wasn’t going to be easy going in, but I’m doing my best.”

“Did you go out yesterday?”

“No, I didn’t go out yesterday.” she almost screamed. “I didn’t feel like it. I took the day for myself. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he answered in a quiet voice. “But then again, if you’re not going out every day you really can’t say you’re doing your best, now can you?”

It went like that for most of the visit and by the time Angela was on the expressway heading back toward her new home, she was exhausted. This was hard on all of them. She wanted her brother out more than ever. He was changing, becoming hard and mean. And she wanted him out before he changed any more. He was right; she’d have to work that much harder. Rafe’s smiling face came into her mind and she pushed it away. She couldn’t think about him now; he was distracting her.

* * *

“Hi,” Angela said later that night as she opened the door to Rafe. She glanced at the shopping bags in his arms. “What’s all of this?”

“Can I come in?” he asked, surprised that she was blocking his entry. He shifted the bags around to keep them from falling.

“What’s in them?” she asked, moving aside to let him in.

“Food.”

“Food?”

“Yes, food,” he answered, puzzled.

She pulled back. He’d just ruined another moment. “Why are you bringing me food? I didn’t ask you to. I have money; I can buy my own groceries.”

“Calm down, Angel, this isn’t a form of payment or a bribe. I know it’s not a relationship with us.” He carried the bags into the kitchen, set them down and turned back to face her. “But if you don’t mind, when we’re done making love, I’m done, poof, nothing left. I need food, not protein bars, so I brought some. Don’t worry. The food even knows it’s not permanent. When the carton of eggs is finished it knows it will be tossed in the trash and replaced. Everything in the bags will remain here for only a short time. Is that good enough?”

He glared at her before he turned and began unloading the bags. He would rather have told her the truth, that he was going to make dinner for her, but he knew she would not like it. He was falling for her hard, and wished like hell that he knew a way to stop it.

Falling in love was supposed to be fun, but this, it was brutal torture. She fought him over everything. The only leeway she allowed was when he made love to her. Then he could whisper words of endearments, but only in Spanish. He knew she could figure out what he meant but at least she didn’t call him on it.

His
madrina
was right. He was definitely having to fight with her, and damn if he wasn’t losing.

“I haven’t had anything to eat in twelve hours,” Raphael continued. “I’m hungry. Do you mind if I cook? As usual, I’ll clean up my mess,” he said between gritted teeth, hating that this woman was turning him into an
aseminado
. He had better hurry and decide what he was going to do before he completely lost his stones.

Angela didn’t answer him. She bit her lip, wishing she could accept the little things he attempted to do for her without making such a big deal of it. She knew why she was being such a witch to him. She was becoming too involved, happy when he came, sad when he left, and that wasn’t their deal.

“You want some help?” she offered by way of apology.

“Can you cook?”

“When I want to.”

He stopped what he was doing and glanced in her direction. “Have you ever wanted to?”

Angela wasn’t falling for that. She knew what he wanted was for her to cook for him, or to at least want to cook for him. Big macho Rafe was so transparent. He couldn’t help it. He wore his feelings on his sleeve.

In the beginning he’d said he didn’t think cops should become involved with anyone, that it made it too dangerous. Yet from the first night they’d made love he’d cared. Angela didn’t believe he could make love to a woman without caring.

She shivered just thinking about his lovemaking. He put such passion into it, making her feel beautiful and worthy. She glanced upward and blushed, catching him staring at her.

“What are you looking at?” she joked.

“Te ves buena para comar.”

She blinked. His heated gaze washed over her, making her hot, making her want him. Making her want
them
. “What did you say?” she asked.

“I’ve taught you enough Spanish that you should be able to figure that out.”

He was right, she could. But for once she wanted to hear him say the words to her that he whispered in her ear in bed. “Tell me.”

“I said you look good enough to eat.”

Her breathing slowed and she waited for him to touch her, to return normal function to her organs. “Rafe,” she whispered as his hand touched her face and his lips caressed her hair. “What about dinner?”

“Later,” he murmured. “I’m hungry for you now.”

Her arms slid around his neck and she moaned as his tongue did an up and down dance over her carotid artery. She could swear his kisses were making her blood pump faster. “Rafe,” she moaned again. “Do you have a sister?”

He halted in his caresses. “Yes.”

“How would you feel if your sister were sleeping with a Black man?”

Angela forced her body away from his to peer into his eyes, trying to detect the slightest hint of a lie.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I want to know. We both know there is as much hatred between Blacks and Latinos as there is between with Blacks and whites.”

“When did this become about race?”

From the moment we began to care,
she wanted to answer. “Everything boils down to it sooner or later. I didn’t want to make it an issue. But then again, you seem to be having a problem answering the question.”

“I’m not having a problem answering it. I was just wondering why now. I have four sisters. I’ve never asked them who they sleep with. I’ve never thought much about it.”

“Think about it.”

“Right now?” He leered. “I have other things on my mind.”

“Right now,” she answered, not letting it go. “Tell me the truth. When you see a Latino woman with a Black man, does it make you angry? Do you curse at them or stare at them? Do you call the woman dirty names?” She glanced away. “Or have you never seen a Black man with a Latino woman?”

Raphael shook his head and smiled sadly. “I never saw this coming. Angel, you’ve blindsided me here. Now I know why you don’t want to go out in public with me.”

“This isn’t about us. Can’t you just answer the question?”

Raphael moved his hands away and pulled out his wallet. “This is my family.” He began flipping through the pictures, stopping at a picture of two beautiful women with long dark hair and brown eyes, both with husbands that looked to be Black. But Angela was aware that as with African Americans, Latinos also sported many hues and variations. “Are they Hispanic?” she asked, pointing to the men in the pictures.

“No, they’re not.”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes. Does that answer your question?”

“Did your parents object?”

“What does that matter? My sisters married the men that they loved and they’re happy. Their husbands are a part of the family now.”

Angela closed her eyes, thinking of the visit with her brother. She’d just spoiled a very nice moment and for what? “I had to know,” she said.

“What about you, Angel, and your family? Are you worried about sleeping with a…what names do you call me, Angel?”

“I call you Rafe.”

“You don’t have any dirty little names that you whisper in the dark when you think no one is looking? I’ve heard the racial slurs people have not even bothered to whisper. It’s always ‘the Mexicans this,’ or ‘the Mexicans that.’ Never mind that I’m not Mexican. And even if I were, why would that be someone’s reason to sum up my worth? Since you’re asking me about my feelings, Angel, tell me yours. Are you like that? What words did you use for me when we were fighting? Was I ‘
the dirty Mexican’
?”

“You’re not Mexican.”

“So what?”

“If you’re asking me if I’ve ever used racial slurs, I guess I would have to say yes, that I have. Haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you mean them?”

“At the time. Did you?”

“At the time.”

“Where the hell did all of this come from?” Raphael asked, obviously puzzled.

“Someone pointed out to me that while Latino men have a problem with their women sleeping with men from other races, they will screw anything, anywhere, anytime.”

Rafe’s face scrunched up into a frown. “Is that what you’ve been wondering about me?”

“I hadn’t.”

“And now?”

“Now I wish I’d never asked you the question. There was no need. I never wanted this to be about race, Rafe. I was hoping that until it’s over…I mean, when we’re done we could just be us, no one having to make a statement, no declarations.”

“What are you going to do with me when you’re done,
mi amor
? Are you going to just toss me out in the trash with the egg cartons?”

She wanted to tell him never, to reassure him, but he was kissing her lips, cutting off her words. Then the time for words ceased as he began to make love to her while she stood in the middle of the room. His hunger was intense and the green of his eyes smoky and dangerous. Angela watched as they turned from jade to crystal and back again.

“Do you have any idea what I feel when I touch you, when I kiss you?” he asked. “Do you think it makes a damn bit of difference to me what race you are?”