IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN (3 page)

Laney knew it was unlike Raphael to be late for anything. Since she didn’t own a cell phone, she headed off toward the bank of telephones a few feet away. Her steps slowed and halted altogether when she heard the familiar baritone voice call out from behind. 

“Whatcha doing Red? Ignoring me,
again
?”

Laney gasped for air. Her heart pumped at a laborious rhythm and the sudden thud against her ribcage packed so much force it hurt.  

Speechless, Laney turned and allowed her gaze to roam over a neatly trimmed five o’clock shadow, café-au-lait skin and shoulder-length dreads. Gold hoops in each ear with layers of gold chains on one wrist would be too much on any other man. On Raphael, it was perfect. She never took her eyes off his lean carriage, which moved with graceful agility.

It wasn’t the tailored wool slacks, cashmere sweater or Italian leather slippers that took her breath away. It was the intense masculine expression, which assessed her from top to bottom. She stood still acutely aware of the appraisal, though it didn’t reveal appreciation or disproval. If she knew nothing else about Raphael, she knew one thing—he was a private man whose thoughts were very much his own. She tried to speak, but her words lodged somewhere between her larynx and throat. Her second attempt fared much better. “Hello, Raphael.”

Ray
tsked
. “You know, you’re the only woman who calls me Raphael.”

Laney had never been particularly fond of nicknames, but the one Raphael always referred to her by caused a smile to tug at the corner of her lips. “You’re the only man who calls me Red.”

“Oh my, God. It’s Ray LaSalle,” a female fan screamed. She ran up to Ray, nearly knocking Laney over and held out a piece of paper and a pen. “Can I have your autograph?”

As a crowd flocked around him, Ray flashed a mega-watt gleam and honored the request.  After the giddy fan skipped off, he turned to Laney with his arms folded over his chest. “See, most women call me Ray.”

“I’ve told you before, I’m not most women.”

Oh, you got that one right
, Ray thought. He’d seen her the moment she walked into the baggage claim area, and the sight of her slammed him in the gut from twenty feet away. She’d draped her jacket over one arm, and his intense observation was unobstructed. The silk wrap-around dress with a puffed collar stopped right above her knees. God, to be so petite she had the prettiest legs he’d ever seen.

Ray let his gaze trail upward to her eyes. From day one, those green pools reminded him of polished emeralds. Every time he stared into them, he felt as though he were drowning. They held an unusual calmness. At times, they appeared dreamy, but with acute alertness and enormous intelligence. Occasionally they twinkled with amusement, but there wasn’t a damn thing funny about the way she’d ignored him all these months. He stepped forward, seizing the chance to touch her when she swayed a bit, and curved his hand around her upper arm. “You been good?”

“Yes.” Laney shuddered from his touch. His closeness brought forth the scent of his aftershave, and she called on every ounce of reserve she could muster. Her eyes locked with his. The shade wasn’t an ordinary blue, just a slight hint of gray. Slate blue.  “How about you?”

Ray stepped closer. “Good.”  

They remained silent and faced each other like rival gang members about to square off over a territory dispute. From day one, she’d captivated him from the top of her red silky hair, which ended mid-way down her back to the bottom of her tiny, narrow feet. The slow closing and opening of her eyelids was mesmerizing. Thick, long lashes swept against high chiseled cheekbones speckled with freckles, which also were scattered along her collarbone. So far, the red hue of her hair was the loudest thing about her. Her raspy voice hugged him, and the few words she’d spoken were conveyed in a soft, genteel drawl.

“Let’s get your luggage,” Ray said, breaking the soundless confrontation. He nodded at the baggage carousel. “How many pieces did you check?”

Laney stared up at him, but couldn’t think clearly. “Luggage?”

Ray chuckled. “Yeah. You know the thing you put your clothes in.”

Slowly, sanity returned. There was no excuse for this type of behavior. Laney knew she should’ve been embarrassed for staring, but wasn’t. Then she noticed her garment bag on the black conveyor belt and headed over to get it.  

Ray tried to tell her he was on it, but his brain refused to cooperate with his mouth the moment she sauntered off. He planted his feet in a firm stance and sucked in a deep breath. “Mary, mother of Jesus,” he whispered, making the sign of the cross. Laney was walking provocation. His gaze settled on her behind, which rode a tad bit high up her backside. He promised not to look too long, but couldn’t help himself. The slow, lazy roll of her hips was breathtaking. Lord, what he wouldn’t give… He crushed the thought and took another deep breath. 

Ray stepped forward and stood next to Laney. He’d had a few moments to get his thoughts together, but barely. Plus, it wasn’t everyday he was in the presence of a child prodigy who’d pioneered a medical breakthrough. The fact she’d accomplished in ten years what usually took researchers a lifetime to achieve came as no surprise. Hell, Laney had completed college by the time he’d even begun. Her research efforts had led to the discovery of a cure for amniotic band syndrome, the birth defect she’d been born with. And in less than two weeks, she’d be the youngest female physician ever to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine.

Ray allowed his gaze to roam over her profile. No, this sista definitely wasn’t Hollywood plastered with pounds of make-up. A shiny coat of lip-gloss was it. Nor was she weighted down with multi-karat bling-bling. A pair of pearl studs was the only jewelry she wore. Pretty was the only term to describe her face, which possessed an abundance of radiance and liveliness, and easily promoted her to the category of downright sexy. Not even the absence of her index and middle fingers on her right hand detracted from her beauty. And the tiny pierced diamond on the right side of her narrow nose wasn’t bad, either.

He’d been so captivated, he never noticed Laney trying to lift a second piece of luggage off the conveyor belt. He reached out and caught her by the waist when the heavy weight caused her to stumble backwards. He
heard her
startled cry at his abrupt movement
, which
made her grab his forearm. His mouth went dry and sweat beads surfaced on his forehead. A thick, fierce tension stretched between them, but he wouldn’t let go. “Red
…
”

Laney turned to face him. An open lust burned in his eyes. At that moment, a sharp realization hit her. He felt some of the same turmoil she’d felt for months. The fact they stood in the middle of the airport was the only reason she babbled an apology.  “I—I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

“It’s all right,” Ray lied. His tone was hoarse and barely audible. He stepped back, grabbed the handle on the roller luggage with one hand and placed the other at the small of her back to guide her toward the exit door.

Never in his life had any a woman messed him up so bad he couldn’t think straight. This wasn’t attraction. It was a gut-wrenching emotion so foreign to him, he was scared shitless. Laney wasn’t dangerous.

She was deadly.

Ray admitted a hardcore truth on the spot. If he wasn’t careful, he might very well do something really stupid—like kiss bachelorhood goodbye.

~ ~ ~

A couple of days later, Ray drove Laney back to her grandfather’s home in Blackhawk, a gated community in San Ramon, California after Thanksgiving dinner with his family. If he’d had any sense, he would’ve seen her safely inside the Georgian colonial, split-level estate nestled on four acres, then hit the road smoking. 

Ray knew the best way to survive the next seven days was to place some distance between him and Laney, and he’d promised to limit his interaction with her. Lunacy overruled lucidity when she held the door open, an unspoken invitation to enter.

Oh, hell, who was he fooling? He’d wanted to be alone with her all day. He followed as she led them through the grand foyer, past an array of original oil paintings and into the family room. The moment he glanced over at the sofa where she’d settled and saw that half-crocked smile, it was all she wrote. Before he knew it, he’d skidded across the pristine wide-plank hardwood floors and sat at her side.

Laney glanced over at Ray’s profile. “Raphael, you seemed distant at dinner. Is everything all right?” 

No, everything wasn’t all right, Ray mused. He’d been in pain most of the day, but there was no need to saddle Laney with his misery. If it were any other night, he would’ve suggested they go out to a club in San Francisco. Maybe being around other people would diffuse his focus on her, ease a little of the tension he’d felt being in her presence. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t. If he ran to the farthest end of the earth, it still wouldn’t be enough distance to concentrate on anything other than her.

Damn her pretty, freckled-faced soul.

Ray stared into the green, bottomless eyes and lost it. Before he knew it, he whispered, “
Je pourrais tomber dans l'amour avec vous.”
He’d never confessed those words to any woman. Ever.

His gaze was so intense, Laney had to look away. Her body temperature rose, responding to his voice and what he’d uttered. “Could you fall in love with me, Raphael?”

Irritation threaded down Ray’s spine so swift, he bolted to his feet in an instant, causing his feet to tangle together. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you spoke French before now?”

“You never asked,” she said, her eyes a bit dreamy. “Does it bother you that I do?”

“Ya damn skippy it bothers me!”

“Why?”

Whenever Ray wanted to verbalize his feelings without others knowing it, he’d shift to the language he spoke as fluently as English. Laney had innocently invaded his territory, his inner space, and he was caught off guard. “Why?” he cried out in mock indignation, plopping back on the sofa. “A man needs to know that kind of information in advance. You can’t just spring it on him.”

“Would you have said what you said if you knew I spoke French?”

Laney’s point-blank query staggered Ray. Plus, she’d just busted him out and did it with a smile so sweet it was sinful. He was about to put her on full blast until he glanced over and noticed her expression. It was the one he feared most. Whenever her face took on that calm, angelic appearance, she was either blistering mad or up to mischief. Most times, it was difficult for him to tell which was which, until it was too late. A faint alarm went off inside his head. This was no dummy he was dealing with. Laney’s I.Q. placed her at the genius level. “Are there any other languages you speak?”

A soft smile crinkled her eyes. “English and French are it, so you’re safe.” Laney tilted her head sideways. “You never answered my question, Raphael.”

Ray looked straight ahead and remained silent. Finally, he posed a question of his own. “For months, you’ve avoided me like I’ve got a contagious disease. Why?”

The crispness in Ray’s voice didn’t faze Laney a bit. She merely smiled at him. “I wouldn’t call it avoidance.”

Before he knew it, Ray made the mistake of inhaling her sweet baby-fresh scent. No doubt the sheets on her bed smelled the same way. His body responded strongly to the thought, and he muttered a string of oaths in French for the inability to do nothing more than wish. He gave her a measured look. “All right. What would you call it?”

Laney kept her head down and prayed her blush would subside. What was it about this man that caused endless nights of erotic fantasies? “Preserving my sanity.”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” he asked in a low, rough voice.

Because their relationship was tenuousness, with her grandfather serving as the only common link between them, Laney had promised never to reveal her true feelings. But his last question opened the gate of truth, and she walked in, closing it behind her. “You’ve proven that when it comes to women, the only thing you’re interested in is someone to warm your bed. Unfortunately, that’s not what I’m interested in.”

Ray clenched his fist. He wanted her so fiercely, his entire body ached. “So, you think all I want from you is sex?”

“Only you can answer that question, Raphael. However, regardless of what I think or what you want, I hope we’ll always be friends.”

Friends.
Ray snatched his head around, peering over a pair of yellow-tinted Dolce Gabbana frames with narrowed eyes. “Uuh, wanna roll what you just said by me, again.”

Laney lifted her chin as a militant gaze shone in her eyes and repeated her last statement.

Ray sucked his teeth. “Hmm-hmm. That’s what I thought you said.”  Before he knew it, he was on his feet. Reaching out, he plucked Laney off the sofa as though she weighed no more than a feather and hauled her next to him. “Girl, I can’t sleep at night. My nerves are shot. I haven’t been with a woman since the day you waltzed into my life, and you’re sitting here telling me you hope we can be friends?” He pulled her so close, the warmth of his breath brushed over her cheeks. “Damnit Red, I get hard just thinking about you. So, hell no! There’s no way we can ever be
friends
.”

Laney shivered as her body responded to his words, even though they’d been uttered in aggravation. The silence between them was awkward. Laney took a step back and headed toward the patio door. She turned and smiled at him, again. “You’re welcome to join me, if you like.”