Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

She watched him as he walked away. He moved with the easy grace of a man entirely comfortable in his own body. He was beautiful, even more than she remembered. His hazel eyes came from his American mother, she knew. But the rest of him was the dark, tall physique of his Venezuelan father—the jet black hair he still wore long enough to nearly brush his shoulders, the golden brown skin, the flashing white teeth. His smile had always brought her to her knees.

Yes, on my knees before him, drinking in his skin, my lips closing around his flesh…

She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the lustful images that had taunted her all these years. That had become excruciating in the last weeks as she planned this trip. But she had to get a grip on her wandering imagination. They’d only just reconnected, and she knew nothing of his current situation, or even if he would still want her. She felt he did, felt that old chemistry sizzling between them. But she needed more time to assess if that were really true, or if it was simply a product of her own hopes.

She focused on Rafael once more, the man standing a few yards away from her, rather than the one who had inhabited her mind for twelve years. He was talking with the bartender while the man made their drinks. In the dim light of the bar she could see that his jaw line had widened, his high cheekbones looked even more finely sculpted. It was all even better now that he’d grown from a boy into a man.

He had more muscle than he used to—a lot more. His finely tuned body was clearly outlined beneath the cotton shirt he wore, the well-cut linen slacks. He’d been attractive as a teenager. At thirty he was devastating. But the same boy she’d known, had fallen madly in love with, was still there beneath all the muscle, the cool, leonine grace. The warmth of his smile said it all.

As he came back to the table his gaze rested on hers. She’d forgotten how stunning his eyes were, how that luminescent golden-green contrasted with the tone of his skin. She was melting inside already.

But how could she be sure it was really about him, rather than the years of longing and fantasy coming together now, the shock of seeing him? She had to admit she didn’t really know him anymore. He didn’t know her either. She had changed. She had to assume he had too. And she felt confused, overwhelmed.

Calm down. Give it some time.

He smiled as he placed their drinks on the table, took his seat once more. “Now,” he said, “you must tell me everything.”

“Everything?” Where to start? What to include, what to leave out? She sipped her drink, the alcohol warming her chest. “So much has happened. I know we promised each other to meet here on my thirtieth birthday, if we were both free. But we were so young. Neither of us doubted we would want to see each other again. We were so…innocent about life. Yet here we are.” She let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you.”

He reached across the table, took her hand in his, lifted it to his lips. Ah, he was all smooth, Latin charm, just as he’d always been. But more sophisticated. And it was working. When his lips brushed the back of her hand, her whole body turned to molten heat. Her sex went damp, those images of their naked bodies, pressed flesh to flesh, invading her mind once more.

And her heart pounding just as hard, emotion blossoming in the tight knot in her chest.

“Believe this, Isabella. I’m here. I’m real. This is real. We are together again. We’ll talk, then decide where we go from here. The fact that we both came must mean something. We need some time to figure out what.”

No one but Rafael had ever called her that. Isabella. Lovely, hearing her name that way on his lips.

“Rafael, tell me what’s happened with you. Did you ever marry?”

“Never.” His eyes remained locked on hers, the hazel rimmed in long, dark lashes. He paused, laid her hand gently on the table. “I assume since you’re here that you are also alone, unmarried?”

“I’m divorced.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m only sorry I married him. That I didn’t stay here…”

“No regrets, Isabella. Life happens the way it’s supposed to. Perhaps we had to grow up, experience life, before we could be together. There’s no telling what will become of this meeting. That is, perhaps, part of the beauty of it.”

She wanted that surety. She wanted to know that after coming all the way here their romance would pick up where it had left off, when her parents had taken her back home to the States after their long vacation on Isla de Margarita. She’d dreamed of this for so long.

But his words made sense. They would have to spend a little time together, see if the old connection was as strong as her hopes were. She was still too much in shock at seeing him to know what to do next, to figure out how it was supposed to go.

The one thing she was entirely certain of was that she wanted to be in his arms—and in his bed—as soon as possible.