What He Didn't Say (18 page)

“Yes. I lived on the streets, avoided the drug dealers and made enough money to survive by hawking souvenirs. I also became very adept at picking pockets. I knew the name of the family that adopted Anne, so I went to see her on the sly. After I told her what happened, she wanted to beg her new family to take me in, too, but I wouldn't let her. O Diabo wanted to kill me. It made sense that he would do the same to anyone associated with me. I couldn't put Anne or her family at risk.”

“Where did Érico Braga come in?”

“I tried to pick his pocket and he caught me. He's the only person who ever did.” For an instant, Rafael's expression softened, then closed off again. “He clamped his hand around my wrist and said it was up to me what happened next. My first choice was to go to jail for attempted larceny.”

“What other choice did he give you?”

“Take a job at the go-kart track he owned. I could bunk there and work off the amount of money he had in his pocket. I needed to stay off the radar of all the police, so I took the job. After my first up-close look at the karts, I was hooked.”

“Mr. Braga told me the first time you climbed behind the
wheel of a go-kart, he knew you were a natural. That he'd never seen anyone with such an uncanny instinct for forming a winning strategy on a race track.” Caitlin couldn't help but smile at the memory of the pride that had glittered in the short, stocky man's eyes when he spoke of Rafael. Suddenly, she realized that bust-button pride had uncoiled the last nagging tendril of doubt she'd harbored about Rafael.

“He's very fond of you,” she managed to say.

“He is like a father to me. Anne is in all respects my sister,” he added fiercely, protectively. “And O Diabo is now the most powerful drug dealer in Brazil. If he were to learn my true identity and somehow unearth my connections to them, their lives would be worthless. So, out of necessity, I keep a low profile.”

“While quietly funneling money to them.”

“Yes.” He walked to the bed, looked down at Caitlin. She watched a muscle bunch underneath the olive skin of his jaw while the scent of his indescribably male aftershave made her belly go tight.

“I'd already decided to tell you about my past on the night of the California race,” he said. “I planned to ask you after we boarded the team plane if you would meet me when we got back to Charlotte. Go somewhere private where we could talk.” He shrugged. “But you weren't on the plane. I asked Emma-Lee why. She said she'd gotten a text message from you that said your editor had sent you on assignment, but you hadn't said where.”

Caitlin's weary brain honed in on only one thing. “What made you decide to suddenly tell me about your past?”

“I meant it when I told you that you changed things. I didn't accept that at first because so little time has passed since we met. I fought the feelings, refused to acknowledge them. But you'd somehow gotten inside me and what I feel for you has a long reach and a hard grip.”

Emotion thudded into her chest, flooded into her heart. “Rafael, I…”

The rest of the words slid back down her throat when he held up a hand. “Let me finish.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“You made me start thinking about the future, Caitlin. How I was pretty sure I wanted you in it. And that I couldn't ask you to be a part of my life when you didn't know the truth about my past.”

His words kicked her already racing pulse into high gear. It was then that she realized what she had refused to admit until now. What she had insisted was only a chemical reaction when he kissed her. She was teetering on the edge of falling in love.
So close.
Not just because of his woman-killer sexy accent or the hot-blooded kisses that heated her flesh. But for the man beneath. The man who had fashioned his professional life around protecting the people he loved. The man who freely gave so much of his earnings to help a doctor in a faraway clinic save lives and to provide kids free rides on go-karts.

The man who had opened his past to her so they might share a future.

Her head was spinning. She needed time to think. To adjust. “I…don't know what to say.”

“Don't say anything.” His eyes were unreadable, his face as hard as carved stone. “You wanted the whole story. You got it. Now you have to decide what to do with it. With
us.
”

“H
OW DOES IT FEEL TO
win at the New Hampshire track?”

“Great!” Standing in Victory Lane, Rafael grinned his answer into the microphones aimed his way by various reporters. “I never get tired of winning,” he added before scrubbing his hands with the towel someone had given him after he'd done the obligatory shaking of a magnum of champagne, then spewing its contents across his celebrating team members.

“Can we get a few more pictures of you with the trophy?”

He had to strain to hear the question over the blare of the PA system and cheers from thousands of race fans in the grandstands. Then there were the hoots and hollers from his champagne-dowsed team members, who were still grinning like fools and giving each other high fives.

“Happy to oblige.” Even as Rafael hoisted the trophy, his thoughts weren't totally on the race he'd just won in a breath-stopping finish. They also focused on Caitlin.

He hadn't seen or heard from her since the night he left her hotel room, and he had no expectation she would suddenly appear. Even so, that hadn't stopped him from trying to spot her in the grandstands during his prerace ride around the track in the back of a flag-draped pickup.

There'd been no sign of her in the garage or the pit area, either. Which pretty much told him she had decided to use all the dark, miserable details about his past in the magazine profile.

The repercussions that sole act would have on him and the lives of the two people closest to him had the anger that had brewed inside him for days resurfacing. And with that, the hurt. Dammit, before Caitlin he hadn't let any woman get close, and he hadn't had a problem. With her he'd lowered the walls and let his guard down.

And allowed himself to get close to falling in love with a woman who had the means to blow his world apart.

He went still when he realized where his thoughts had veered. No, he countered, he
cared
for her. A lot. Otherwise he never would have confided in her. Caring was a long,
safe,
distance from the close-to-falling-in-love category. A person could move on from caring for another. He wasn't sure the same applied to loving someone.

“Rafael, how about raising the trophy a little higher?” one of the reporters shouted.

He obliged, keeping his smile in place. Inwardly, he resolved to somehow deal with the aftereffects of Caitlin Dempsey walking into his life…and out of it.

 

T
HE SUN-DAPPLED AFTERNOON
had slid into early evening by the time Rafael wrapped up his final interview and signed his last autograph for a fan. He grabbed one of the team's golf carts and wended his way back to the motor-home lot, nodding to a few acquaintances he passed.

Normally after a race he'd be in a hurry to change out of his uniform, then head for the airport. Not today. National Steel Buildings had scheduled a reception this evening for some of its franchisees in the area, and he was slated to attend.

Steering toward his motor home, he narrowed his eyes when he spotted someone sitting on the front steps. When he got close enough to confirm it was Caitlin, his chest went tight.

She was dressed in tan slacks and a cream-colored short-
sleeved blouse, her auburn hair plaited into a loose French braid. The long rays of the sun lent her skin a healthy glow.

Something much too akin to nerves moved into his stomach.

She stood as he climbed out of the golf cart. Her purse hung from a chain looped over her right shoulder. A manila envelope dangled from one of her hands.

As her gaze met his, he felt the sparks that had kindled between them from the moment they'd met. The memory of their kisses stirred his blood. And a mix of emotion he in no way wanted to acknowledge rolled through him.

 

T
HE INSTANT SHE SPOTTED
Rafael driving up in the golf cart, Caitlin's mouth went dry. Over the past days she'd ridden an emotional roller coaster that had her questioning her abilities as a reporter, not to mention her saneness as a woman who'd once sworn to protect her scarred heart at all costs.

The realizations she'd finally come to both professionally and personally since she'd last seen Rafael had left her feeling a little dazed.

“Hi,” she said, forcing her voice to remain level. “Emma-Lee said you've got a sponsor appearance here tonight. I thought this might be a good place to catch up with you.”

He gave her a curt nod. “Haven't seen you around in a while.”

“I've been holed up in my hotel room in Charlotte, then the one here. Working.” Her nervous fingers tapped against the manila envelope. She should just jump in and tell him it contained the profile. Explain her reasons for why she'd written it as she had. In truth, she knew no matter what she said today, she might have already blown any chance of his wanting to see her again. That thought shot a little arrow of panic straight to her heart.

To give her system time to settle, she said, “Congratulations on today's win.”

“Thanks.” He still wore his racing uniform that enhanced his wide shoulders and narrow waist. Rays from the setting sun reflected against his mirrored sunglasses as he shifted to rest a foot on the bottom step. “Did you catch the race, or just hear about the results?”

“Emma-Lee and I watched the whole thing from your sponsor's suite.” Caitlin glanced in the direction of the suites that towered over parts of the grandstands. “It's quite a different view up there from what you get in the pits.”

“Any comments on the race?”

She looked back at Rafael, pursing her lips in thought. “The way you passed the lead car on that restart after the fourth caution was a super-slick maneuver,” she said after a moment. “And it was a wise decision during those final laps to just cruise on what fuel you had instead of pitting.”

He raised a coal-black brow. “Sounds like you've learned a lot about NASCAR racing.”

“I had a good teacher.” She tilted her head to study him, but the dark sunglasses prevented her from reading what was in his eyes. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Is this visit business or pleasure?”

Squaring her shoulders, she held up the envelope. “I brought you an advance copy of the profile. It'll be in
Sports Scene
magazine's next issue. Other than my editor, you'll be the first to read it.”

Without comment, he stepped up the stairs, unlocked the door. He moved aside to allow her to enter first.

She caught a whiff of the rich scent of leather before she was fully inside and spotted the dark tufted sofa and matching chairs in the spacious living room. A thick area rug pooled beneath her feet. She shifted her gaze to the kitchen that
seemingly had every gadget money could buy, top-of-the-line stainless-steel appliances and granite counters.

He turned to face her. “Before that supersonic inquisitive reporter's mind of yours starts wondering if
this
is actually where my money goes, don't waste the effort. The motor home and all furnishings belong to my sponsor. It's available to me as long as I drive for NSB.”

“Before, I might have wondered if this all belonged to you. But not now.”

He pulled off his sunglasses, tossed them on the nearby counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Why not now?”

“Because I know without a doubt your personal comfort is not what's important to you.” Easing out a breath, she laid her purse and the envelope on one end of the leather couch. “Rafael, I didn't come here just to deliver your copy of the profile. There are some things I want to tell you in person.
Need
to tell you.”

Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he leaned against the counter. “I'm listening.”

“The first draft of the profile I wrote included the information about your early life. The orphanage, the fire, your narrow escape from the drug lord, O Diabo. It was all in there.”

She thrust her hands into her pockets, pulled them out again. “After I wrote the draft, I turned off my computer, climbed into bed and tried to shut off my mind. But something hollow had settled inside me and I couldn't sleep. Every journalistic fiber of my being screamed that I was right to include all the facts about your past in the profile. That your telling me the truth had basically given me permission to use the information. That's what any reporter worth her salt would do. Use it.”

“So, did you?”

She shook her head, thinking of the long and restless nights
behind her. And the lonely ones she might be facing. “No matter what spin I tried to put on it, I always came back to the fact that it wouldn't be
right
to publish that information. Or fair.”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can't say I'm sorry to hear that.”

She moved toward him. “I kept telling myself that it was just a fluke I saw Sister Anne's e-mail to you. I hadn't purposely dug through your files to find out information the way my ex-lover had done. Even so, I realized if I revealed your past it would be no different than his broadcasting a suspect's name on the air. His doing that put innocent people at risk. The same would go for me. You, Sister Anne and Érico Braga are good, honest people. Selfless. You do wonderful things for others. The three of you make a huge difference. I wouldn't be able to sleep nights knowing that I sacrificed your safety and put Sister Anne and Érico Braga in danger all for a story.”

“So, how did you make the profile acceptable to your editor?”

“The magazine wanted me to show your fans what kind of person you are. I told my editor I found nothing in Brazil, but I already had enough to make everyone happy. One example of that is what you did for Hector Jonas's baby niece in Ecuador. Paying for her open-heart surgery, then flying Hector, his wife and children there to be with the family will give your fans a new insight into you. Another example is what the crew chief on the first team you drove for when you arrived in the States told me when I interviewed him.”

“Which was?”

“You treated his son's grade-school class to a Saturday at a local go-kart track. You didn't just foot the bill—you spent hours there, giving each kid personal instruction on his or her driving.” As she spoke, Caitlin flicked a wrist. “Your fans—and your sponsor—are also going to love the part of
the profile that gives them an inside look at you while at home and seeing Chef Rafael cooking, serving wine.”

Studying her, Rafael angled his head. “You don't exactly sound happy about the decision you made to keep the truth about my past buried.”

“It was illuminating, let's put it that way,” she replied as she paced in front of him. “I'm an
investigative
reporter, I'm not supposed to let personal feelings interfere with the stories I write. But that's exactly what I did.”

Reaching out, he snagged her arm, forcing her to stand still. “Exactly what personal feelings are you talking about?”

“Ones that I still have a hard time believing are there.” She closed her eyes, shook her head. “When we first met, you were so shut off. Distant. If I'd never seen the kindness beneath that tough exterior of yours, I could have resisted you. But I did see it.”

His killer blue eyes narrowed on her face. “Are you saying you can't resist me?”

“That seems to be one of my major problems.”

“What's another?”

“Only the fact that you've had me off balance since we collided in the doorway at Double S Racing. I'm not sure I'll ever find my footing with you.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “There's something else I'm not sure of.”

“What?”

“That how I feel about you matters now.”

“Why?”

“You said I changed things. Made you start thinking about a future with me in it.” She lifted her shoulders. “Things were tense the other night at the hotel when I got back from Brazil. I have no idea what you're feeling now. About us. Me.”

“I thought I knew,” he said, his expression intense. “Thought I had everything figured out. Then I drove up a few minutes ago and saw you sitting on the front steps.”

He looked past her shoulder and fell silent, as if he was gathering his thoughts.

Anticipation had Caitlin's pulse thudding hard and thick at the base of her throat. “And?” she prodded after a moment.

He looked back at her, his eyes somber. “Seeing you, sitting there, waiting on me, it hit me how empty I'd felt over the past days with you gone.”

His words started her hands trembling. “I missed you, too, Rafael.”

Reaching out, he stroked her cheekbone with his thumb, his expression pensive. “I want you in my life, Caitlin Dempsey. That hasn't changed.”

Her lips parted. Her heart began to beat in a quick, almost painful rhythm she recognized as joy. “You mean your crazy life where you're on the road nine months out of the year?” Incredibly moved, she laid her palms on his chest. She felt his rock-hard muscles and beyond them, the steady beating of his heart. “This life where you have to go on dates during the week because your Saturday nights are usually spent at a race track? The life where your major sponsor forces you to allow Ace Reporter Girl to shadow you for a month?”

“That's one part of my life.” He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close.

For Caitlin, the feel of his lean body and strong muscles was both thrill and comfort. “There's another part?”

“The part where I want a family. Children. I've been on my own a long time. Alone. When you were at my condo for the photo shoot, it seemed so natural to have you there. To share a meal and good wine with a woman I love.”

The weight on Caitlin's chest released in a flood, poured out of her…until tears stung her eyes.

“Don't cry.” Rafael used a thumb to brush away the single tear that rolled down one of her cheeks. “Please don't cry.”