She glanced up, ready with her order.

  Rafe stood in front of her table. He cocked a grin at her and slid into the booth directly across from her.

  "What are you doing here?" she whispered, looking panicked around the room to see if anyone had seen him sit down at her table. No one was paying them any attention. He must've slipped around from the side.

  "I came to buy us somethin' ta eat."

  "This was never part of the agreement."

  He leaned back, eyeing her. "You just said no penetration. Everything else is up to me, like it or not."

  Alana gritted her teeth, setting her menu down. "This is a very expensive restaurant. Times have changed since you've been here. The town's growing up."

  He narrowed his eyes at her, drawing his thick dark brows down in a frown and making her heart flip flop in her belly. "I hope you're not insinuating that I can't afford this."

  "I didn't say that. I'd prefer paying for my own meal. It's not like this is a date. And I was going to get it to go anyway."

  "No, you weren't. You're stayin' here and eatin' with me." He slid something from his pocket and laid it face down on the table.

  Alana felt faint when she saw it was the back of a Polaroid. He was going to ruin her. She swallowed, feeling slightly sick.

  The waiter chose that moment to reappear. "Oh, two for dinner then? I'll get you a place setting."

  "We'd like to go ahead and order, if you don't mind," Rafe said. "I'll have the T-bone, cooked medium, with the corn whipped mashed potatoes and a Caesar salad."

  Alana ordered the orange glazed duck breast, then kept silent until the waiter was done bringing their drinks and setting a place for Rafe.

  "We look like a couple," she said softly, keeping an eye on the courtyard and room. She wasn't sure what she'd do if someone came by that she knew. She hadn't chosen her seat with the idea of hiding, though being tucked in the corner with the shaggy fern planters edging the windows helped a little.

  "Nobody here cares. No one's watchin' you, keepin' track of your movements." He paused and looked up at her. "You're not in jail."

  No one except her daddy. "Are you going to throw that up to me every time we talk?" She glared at him, angry at the guilty reminder.

  "Maybe. I guess it depends on how much justice I can extract on my own."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "You know exactly what I mean."

  The waiter came and delivered their salads. Rafe left his untouched as he stared at her across the table.

  "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she asked, but it was a subtle hint to stop staring. He seemed to miss that, or ignore her entirely.

  He leaned forward, his face intense, his eyes almost … hungry as his gaze drifted down her throat and caught on the scoop of her neckline.

  Alana felt a blush creep over the top of her breasts and her forehead. She pushed her hair back away from her face, hoping to distract him from the effect he had on her.

  "I want you to touch yourself," he said quietly, laying his napkin on the table over the picture.

  She nearly choked on the bite of salad she'd placed in her mouth.

  "Take your left hand and put it in your lap and rub your clit through your skirt while you eat," he said, his voice a husky growl.

  She shuddered, closing her eyes briefly against the hot, hard look he gave her. Slowly, she moved her hand underneath the table cloth, resting her palm on her thigh.

  "Do it. Or I'll do it for you."

  Her eyes flew open with his sensual threat. She swallowed and breathed through her nose, pushing down through the fabric until she found her already swollen clit. It throbbed under her fingers, sore and needy for touch. She bit her lip, stifling a moan.

  There was something wrong with her. She shouldn't find something so lurid and public so thrilling. The fact that someone could walk up at any moment….

  "Look at me while you do it," he murmured.

  Her lids slowly raised, her gaze meeting his. Rage burned in his eyes, but also something else. He wasn't unaffected by their encounters. He might hate her, but he looked at her like he wanted to fuck her brains out.

  She felt moisture seep from her insides, making her nether lips slippery. The fabric covering her pussy from her fingers felt torturous and dulled sensation. She couldn't find any relief.

  Somehow, she'd forgotten she was in the restaurant until the waiter came up with their entrees.

  Alana jerked as if coming out of a trance.

  "You can stop now," Rafe said, smiling crookedly as he slid the picture across to her.

  She shakily took it off the table and tucked it into her purse without looking at it.

  Rafe looked his meal over then began eating, watching her as she ate. He ate hunched over his plate, as if expecting someone to try and take his food from him at any moment. She wondered when he'd break the habit of eating like he was still in prison.

  She swallowed, nearly overcome by guilt.

  It was hard for her to act like nothing had happened, but she managed to eat without spilling food all over herself.

  "What made you decide to come back here?" she asked. "It can't all just be for revenge."

  "I had to settle my grandmother's affairs. She left me some inheritance money, some land that ate up most of that in back taxes."

  "So you're not … broke?"

  "I can handle things a while longer," he said cryptically.

  They finished their meal in relative silence. Alana couldn't really think of anything to say, and she didn't feel up to having meaningless conversation about the weather and whatnot. Somehow, that seemed as inappropriate as masturbating under the table.

  She blushed just thinking about it, stealing a glance at his handsome face. Damn him for looking so good. He was right when he said no one paid any attention to her--all eyes had been on him. He was too startlingly handsome not to notice.

  By the time she was finished, she almost wished she didn't have to go home alone. It felt good to have envious eyes on her, even if it was all a sham. She wondered if it made her pathetic to fantasize about the way things might have been. It was hard getting over being made a laughing stock of the school, the town. She was dying to ask him why he did it, but he'd probably think it disgraceful that she still let something that happened that many years ago affect her to this day.

  "Alana?" a familiar female voice asked from behind her.

  She turned to see Nancy, her father's personal assistant, walking up to the table. "I thought it was you. I haven't seen you come here before." The tiny brunette looked Rafe over thoroughly as she chatted with her.

  Alana feigned a smile. "I haven't been out to a nice restaurant in a while. I've been so busy with designing graphics for daddy's campaign."

  Nancy nodded. "Who's this? I don't believe we've met."

  Alana shifted uncomfortably in the booth. She'd dreaded just this kind of situation. "He's an old friend from high school. He happened to come in right after me."

  "I saw her sittin' alone, and I couldn' allow that to happen." Rafe laid the southern accent on thick. Nancy was from up North and had a thing for southern men, especially those with a Cajun drawl. As if Rafe needed any help to appeal to women--the way he talked, he could be deadly with his charm.

  "I'm Nancy Bradford. I work for Alana's father. And you are…?"

  Rafe smiled. "Cade Sinclair."

  Alana stared at him then returned her attention to Nancy. "It was nice bumping into you tonight. I'll see you bright and early on Monday."

  Nancy nodded then left.

  Alana breathed a sigh of relief, wondering how long it would take Nancy to report to her father. Maybe she wouldn't say anything at all. One could hope.

  "I can't believe this," she muttered, pushing her plate aside and rubbing her temples. "This was just what I was hoping to avoid."

  The waiter came by and discreetly left the bill, picking up their plates before leaving again.

  "Nice thinking on the name, but I doubt it will do any good. Where'd it come from?"

  "My middle name and my mother's maiden name," Rafe said as he worked his wallet loose from his back pocket. The old leather strained with what was inside. He pulled out three twenties and laid them on the table.

  "You have to figure out a better way to contact me. You can't just keep showing up like this. People will talk."

  His brows drew down over his eyes. "And I give a damn?"

  "There's no point in me going through any of this if I'm ruined in the process."

  He shrugged and stood, slipping his wallet back in his pocket.

  "Look, at least take my cell phone number. Then you can call me directly."

  Rafe looked at her a long moment. "I don't have a phone."

  She gaped at him. "How'd you call me before?"

  "Pay phone."

  "You have that wad of money and you can't afford to get someone to put a phone out at your place?"

  He frowned. "Always assumin' I'm broke. Maybe I don' want nobody comin' out to my place."

  "Maybe you should've planned this out better." Alana stood, gathering up her purse and straightening her clothes.

  He grabbed her around the waist while she was distracted, pulling her close to his body. His head dipped down, his lips close to her ear. His hot breath fanned across the sensitive shell, stirring the fine hairs that had slipped from her bun. "Maybe I have you right where I want you," he murmured, brushing his lips across her ear lobe.

  Alana shuddered, feeling weak inside. "Uh. Umm….." She couldn't think straight with his mouth against her.

  He chuckled and released her. She leaned on the back of the booth, getting her bearings. Why did he make her feel so dizzy and weak all the time? When she'd managed to collect herself, she saw he'd already left. And without her cell phone number. Which meant he'd pop up unexpectedly again.

  She assumed that was part of the game--keeping her on her toes. He probably hadn't made one move without thinking it over first. He'd never been an idiot, and she couldn't imagine that he'd start being one now. No, he'd known exactly what he was doing the entire time. Bastard.

  Alana left the restaurant and walked down the sidewalk towards the extra parking in the rear of the building.

  She shouldn't have let herself be so easily manipulated. Then again, she supposed that's how she'd spent her entire life--giving in to other people's demands. She'd never liked conflict, and she hated to have someone mad at her, which was why she was such a pushover.

  She gritted her teeth, finding her car and sliding inside. Enough was enough. She'd just go out to his place and try to settle this her way.

  Chapter Four

  "Alana!" Alan Laroche bellowed from down the hall.

  Alana cringed, saving her open project before getting to her feet. She swore the window behind her had rattled with the sound of his voice.

  Nancy must've gotten to work and let the cat out of the bag. She wished now she'd made friends with the woman a long time ago. It would've been nice having someone on her side instead of another person working against her.

  She wished she hadn't gone into work today. Shaking her head and gathering her composure, she walked down to her father's office, passing Nancy's desk where she sat. She looked up as Alana passed and pasted a sly smile on her face.

  Alana ignored her and knocked quietly on her father's office door.

  "Come in." His loud voice was clearly audible on the other side. They had intercom units in every office, but he'd never managed to get the hang of them. He just yelled or sent Nancy for whatever he wanted.

  "Hi daddy," she said, poking her head around the door--half in and half out.

  "Close the door. Sit down," he said without looking up from his morning newspaper. It ruffled as he changed the page and set it down when she came in.

  "Yes, sir." She nodded and moved inside, closing the door quietly, and reluctantly, behind her before sitting down in front of his desk. If his hollering wasn't enough, she could tell by the look on his face that he was pissed. A vein had popped out on one side of his forehead, pulsing to his heartbeat. His big square jaw was clenched tight while he looked her over, disappointment evident in his pale blue eyes.

  "Who's this boy you had dinner with this weekend?"

  Alana froze. Was there any point in lying to him? How much truth did he know, and how much would she give away to him? She'd never been good at dealing with her father, and he knew it. Damn, she was so sick of being on the edge of complete disaster. Her nerves were shot. She wished she could snatch Nancy's pretty hair out by its highlighted roots.

  Better to go with what Rafe had established. She was damned either way, and if she lied now, maybe she could get by--her father might not know what was really going on. "It was Cade. He just came in to sit at my table when he passed by the restaurant. We were just catching up."

  Alan narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not datin' this boy?"

  She faked a chuckle. "Lord no! He's not really my type."

  "Not your type? From what I heard, he has all the markings of a riff-raff womanizer."

  "Well, it doesn't really matter. He's just an old friend."

  "Men aren't friends with women. He wanted something from you. That's what you've never understood--you're a woman. You're easily used and discarded. I've always tried to protect you from that sort of thing."

  Maybe he had. Maybe that's what he'd been doing all these years--not running her life, but protecting her. She was getting old enough that his practiced way of putting things to her weren't affecting her like they used to. When she was younger, she'd have believed anything out of his mouth. Was it Rafe's subtle influence? She doubted that. "I probably won't see him again. He didn't even get my number." She hoped that was enough to get him off her back. At least he hadn't figured out that it was Rafe yet. He might not ever figure that one out, and she had no plans of helping him.

  Her father leaned back in his chair and picked up his paper, flipping through it a few more times before dropping it in the trash. "Good. You know we neither one can afford any backfires this late in the game. They've got their eye on you as much as me. They could spin some bad publicity from your screw-ups, but I'd rather not deal with that if we don't have to. You keep your legs closed and your ass at home from now on."

  Alana gaped at him in shock. He couldn't be serious, could he? Telling her not to date anyone until after the election? Even if it wasn't Rafe, she had a right to a life of her own. She swallowed back her anger, forcing herself to calm down and be reasonable. "Daddy, you know it's my business who and when I date."

  He barked a laugh and took off his glasses to clean them. "When was the last time some man took you somewhere?"

  "I don't know--"

  "Exactly. We can find someone for you after the election. Go on now. I've got serious work to do."

  His condescension made Alana grit her teeth, biting back what he'd consider a full-blown temper tantrum. She stood and went back to her desk where she obviously belonged. Nancy said nothing when she came out. She was certain the woman had heard the entire, mostly one-sided, exchange.

  She seated herself in her office chair, staring at the blank computer screen. It was almost lunchtime, but she had no inclination to eat alone again. She hadn't realized until recently, just how alone she was all the time. Why hadn't she caught it before? Maybe she'd been happy before, and it was Rafe's fault for making her dissatisfied with her lot in life.

  She'd done so much worse to him, though. Her father and the district attorney had used her to convict Rafe for statutory rape. She'd loved him so much then. Why had she allowed them to use her like that? He didn't deserve to go to jail for being with her, but her father had hated him as soon as he'd discovered they were dating. He was convinced Rafe was a low life piece of trash, only interested in fucking her over and leaving her behind when he moved on to the next little whore that flounced in his way. Or worse-only interested in her for her money. Those were her father's words at the time.

  Alana rubbed her tired eyes. She'd believed him. She'd especially believed him when one of Rafe's pictures ended up at the school, passed around by all the boys, and then the picture had eventually made it to one of the football coaches who'd promptly brought it to the principal. From there, her world had descended into a nightmare. Everyone made fun of her, how fat she was, what a whore she was--her reputation in the town was shattered, and she'd been made to look like an idiot.

  She was never entirely certain how they'd managed to convict Rafe on the charges. It should've mattered to her at the time, but the betrayal of the photo was enough to crush the tenuous connection she'd felt for him. She hadn't cared what happened to him. Her life had been ruined and his was, too. Years had passed before everyone finally stopped talking about the scandal. These days, she swore she still got looks from old classmates she'd run into in town. But perhaps that was her own insecurities she'd read on their faces. They probably didn't remember anything from those days.

  Meanwhile, Rafe had suffered for years in prison.

  Alana swallowed. Her own misery couldn't compare to what he'd gone through. He'd never even gone to trial--just straight to jail after a plea bargain. He must've had a hell of a shitty lawyer to be gone for that length of time, unless something had happened to him inside to add to his sentence.

  She had no way of knowing without asking him directly.

  Sorry as she felt for him and what had happened, she couldn't let something like this get out, especially not in an election year. Her father would crucify her. Never mind the fact that it mortified her to think of what kind of pictures they'd taken. She'd never let herself go like that before or after. Rafe had a way about him that could convince a saint to sin.

  No, she had to get one up on him and his little game. She couldn't stand letting something like this carry on. There was no telling how hurt she'd be in the end. She couldn't risk the damage to her heart.

  Alana made plans to visit his house later on, when he'd least likely be there. Not that she knew when that would be. Maybe a stakeout would work best ….

 

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