Servicing Rafferty Read online

  Rafe opened the door and saw her, red-faced and attempting, without success, to lift one end of the sofa. The room was somehow different, but Heidi’s immediate situation took precedence over how the furniture had been rearranged.

  “What the hell—” he began, rushing across the living room. “I told you to wait for me. That kitten’s probably under there laughing at you. He would’ve come out when he was good and ready anyway.” Rafe took hold of Heidi’s narrow shoulders and moved her aside.

  “I’m telling you, Attila’s stuck. I put a dish of his food down, and he just kept meowing over and over again, like he’s jammed in and can’t get out.”

  Heidi wasn’t meeting his eyes as she spoke. She must really be upset, he thought, worrying that her kitten is trapped and helpless.

  “Well, he’s quiet enough now,” Rafe said.

  “Hurry up, Rafe. You lift, and I’ll crawl under and get him,” Heidi insisted, her hands windmilling in small circles to hurry him.

  Rafe bent, hooked his hands under the edge of the sofa and lifted. He hadn’t anticipated the floral monstrosity would weigh so much.

  “What’s the frame of this thing made of anyway? Solid lead?”

  “Ha, ha,” Heidi said, kneeling beside him. “It’s a queen sleeper sofa. I just got it. Nice, huh?”

  “Well, if you paid by the pound, you definitely got your money’s worth,” he said, straightening to his full height, a bead of sweat already forming at his temple.

  Rafe turned his head and looked down. Heidi’s cute little tush was sticking out from under the sofa, wiggling as she maneuvered underneath. Whoa, bad idea, he thought, shifting his gaze from her rounded backside to an ugly painting of galloping horses on the wall. Thanks to his late afternoon Heidi fantasies, he’d just finished one cool shower. There wasn’t time to go home for another before he had to meet Tony Junior and Barbara.

  “Have you got him?” he asked, wanting to get the hell out of Heidi’s house before he started thinking about how he’d like to break in the mattress of this new sleeper sofa.

  Too late. Images of Heidi, naked and willing on cool cotton sheets, made the blood drain from all four appendages and surge to his groin.

  No, don’t go there. He searched the recesses of his brain for a non-sex-related topic of conversation.

  “Good thing my health insurance is paid up. I think I’ve hurt something,” he teased. “Hope you can cover for me at the garage while I recover.”

  “Oh, quit your whining,” Heidi said. It was one of her pat responses to his smart remarks, but it didn’t have its usual joking tone, as if her mind was on something else.

  “Got it,” she said, just as Rafe heard a strange clicking sound and felt something cold encircling his right wrist.

  “Heidi, what the—” he began, twisting to look down at the silver cuff she’d affixed to his wrist.

  Heidi scooted out from under the sofa and backed away as Rafe lowered the monster sofa to the floor. He couldn’t straighten because she’d cuffed him to the sofa bed frame, so he squatted on the balls of his feet.

  “Rafe, I know you’re probably going to get a little irritated about this,” Heidi said, pressing her palms downward. Her voice was placating, but he also heard her ever-present ring of determination. “But you’ll look back at this someday and thank me.”

  “Thank you for handcuffing me to your sofa? How do you figure?” Rafe was starting getting a crick in his neck from looking up at her.

  “I’m talking about your date with the Black Widow. I can’t let you go through with it.”

  Then his cloud of confusion dissipated, and Rafe began to understand Heidi’s misconceived notion. So she was jealous of Barbara. His male pride swelled, but his protective nature needed to lead his words and actions. He thought of how sensitive his sisters had been about their past crushes.

  “You don’t understand, Heidi. I’m not dating Barbara Murillo. Now if you’ll just unlock this thing, I’ll explain.” Rafe remained calm and hid his irritation at her ridiculous stunt.

  “Sorry, Rafe.”

  “‘Sorry, Rafe,’ what?” he said, his composure slipping a notch. “Sorry I locked you up? I don’t know what in the world came over me to pull a stunt like this?”

  “No,” she said, eyeing him as if she was trying to predict what he would do next. “Sorry, but I can’t unlock you just yet.” Staying out of his reach, she made a wide arc and slipped past him into the kitchen.

  Rafe was so stupefied he didn’t know what else to say. She’d handcuffed him to her iron maiden sofa and walked away. This was far and away more bizarre than any situation he’d ever encountered with his sisters. Seconds later Heidi returned with two glasses of wine, setting one on the old steamer chest that served as her coffee table.

  “Here you go,” she said.

  “Heidi,” he began, but she held up her index finger.

  “I almost forgot. Just a sec.” She crossed the room and stepped into the home’s miniscule hallway, opening the door to her bedroom. A tiny clump of black and white fur zipped through the doorway, circled her feet three times and then tore across the room toward Rafe. Attila scrambled up one denim-clad shin. Rafe rested his free hand on the floor, lowering himself to a seated position so he wouldn’t fall and squash the infamous kitten under his ass.

  “Hey, buddy. Nice to meet you, too.” The little guy was pretty cute. He almost made Rafe forget about the unusual circumstances he found himself in. Almost. Rafe picked Attila up by the scruff of his neck and looked the little fellow in the eye. “Did you know you’re living with a lunatic?”

  Attila hung there in his grip, surrendering to the giant who held him captive. Realizing the kitten probably wanted his freedom as much as he did, Rafe lowered Attila to the floor and watched him scramble into the kitchen.

  “I’m perfectly sane,” Heidi said. “As a matter of fact, I was starting to wonder about you, Rafe. I mean, Barbara Murillo? The woman must have a revolving door on her bedroom.”

  If he hadn’t been handcuffed to the frame of Heidi’s sofa, Rafe might have laughed.

  “I’m not going out with Barbara,” he said, a bit disappointed that Heidi thought he had such poor taste in women.

  “But I heard her say—” Heidi paused, as if replaying Barbara’s statements in her head. “Now wait. This afternoon I heard her say she’d see you at seven. The garage closes at six, and we both know there isn’t a thing wrong with her car, so it isn’t about that.”

  Rafe could see confusion churning in Heidi’s hazel eyes. Part of him, the big brother part of him, wanted to laugh at her wild assumption he was interested in the Black Widow—even though Barbara had encouraged the misunderstanding—and at her even wilder scheme of holding him prisoner.

  The other part of him, the part that thought about Heidi in very un-brotherly ways, was both pissed off and turned on at the same time. She did have him handcuffed to a bed, after all. But he wouldn’t do anything about it, no matter how appealing the idea was of pulling off her clothes and sliding…

  Shit. Do not go there.

  Frustration and irritation already had his blood close to boiling. Besides, if he wanted to play hide-the-salami with Barbara Murillo, it was his own damned business. Not that he wanted to—he’d never been attracted to women who flaunted their assets—but why the hell should he have to explain his personal plans? Heidi wasn’t his keeper.

  But he knew he had to remain cool if he wanted to convince her to unlock the cuffs.

  He reached for the wineglass and took a long drink, wanting nothing better than to drag Heidi over his knee and spank her for this stunt. The ensuing twitch of his cock made him choke down the liquid. He set the glass back down and swiped his hand down his face. The spanking image came back to him in full Technicolor. Rafe drew the pad of his thumb over his fingertips, the metal cuff clinking against the sofabed frame. He envisioned rubbing his hand over her smooth, round cheeks and then slipping his fingers further down into her warm
, wet folds.

  Shit. So much for staying cool.

  “Listen to me, Heidi,” he said, knowing he was losing his grip. He had to get out of there, and to do that he had to convince her there was nothing going on between him and Barbara. “I was going to see Barbara tonight. But it wasn’t a date. I was going to help her buy football gear for Tony Junior. The kid needs some activities that’ll keep him out of trouble, and I suggested football.” Rafe studied Heidi’s face. She looked as if someone had handed her a banana to pound a nail.

  Then her expression relaxed, and she took a sip of wine. “Were you going to meet her at the store or pick her up?”

  Not sure why that detail mattered, he answered, “I was picking them up. Why?”

  “Them?” Heidi said, shaking her head. “Rafe, do you really think Barbara was going to blow an opportunity like having you alone at her house?”

  Now it was his turn to be confused. “Say what?”

  “Rafe, I’d bet a month’s pay Tony Junior has been shipped off to a friend’s and is nowhere near Mommy Dearest tonight. Barbara tricks you into showing up at her house, offers some lame excuse for his being gone and then convinces you to come in for a drink. Next thing you know, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”

  Rafe inhaled through his nose, doing everything he could not to lose his temper. She must not have much confidence in him, to think he’d succumb to such an obvious ploy. What in the hell had he done to make her think he was such a gullible wimp? For Heidi to have such a low opinion of him hurt more than he wanted to admit.

  “Heidi, give me the key to the handcuffs,” he said through clenched teeth. He glared at her with a searing look, part genuine anger and part theatrics.

  “No,” she said, glaring right back.

  Damn it, that look had always gotten his younger sisters’ quick cooperation.

  “Heidi, if you value your job, you’ll give me the key right now.” That ought to do it. He knew she loved working at the garage. She’d have the keys out in half a second.

  “No,” she said again, acting stubborn as a spoiled toddler. Before he could form a response, she continued, “Don’t blow this out of proportion, Rafe. I’m just keeping you here long enough to make Barbara think you’ve stood her up. She’ll be good and mad. It won’t keep her away from you forever, but hopefully it will be long enough.”

  Heidi got up from her straight-back chair and headed toward the kitchen, looking perfectly calm. She must have recognized his threat for the empty one it was. He was unable to prevent his eyes from following the sway of her slender hips, and she was almost gone before her comment registered.

  “Long enough for what?” he asked.

  “For pizza.”

  —

  Heidi rested her forehead against the refrigerator door. She hoped her exit hadn’t looked like the mad dash it was. Rafe had threatened to fire her. He’d never done that before. But then again, he’d never been so angry with her before. He had used that forceful tone with pushy salesmen, and she’d once seen him use a similar look to make an out-of-line customer back down, but she’d never been on the receiving end of one. It had taken everything in her not to follow his orders and unlock the handcuffs.

  She looked enviously at Attila, sleeping in the open windowsill, and then glanced over at the plastic songbird clock hanging above the stove. Seven-ten. Rafe was late for his date. So far, so good. Heidi figured Barbara was already attempting to reach him. Since Rafe had dropped his cell phone yesterday on the concrete floor of the garage and broken it, she knew no one could get him at that number. By seven-thirty, the witch would probably put a raincoat over her black leather bustier and drive over to his place. But he wouldn’t be there. According to Heidi’s calculations, the Black Widow would be spitting venom by eight o’clock.

  “Heidi!” Rafe yelled. “If you don’t unlock these things, I’m going to drag this ugly couch right out your front door.”

  Rafe sounded mad enough to try, but she knew he couldn’t do it. The two ape-like deliverymen it had taken to carry the thing in had been forced to take the front door off its hinges. Heidi heard dragging sounds muffled by the living room carpet, followed by various thuds and curses. It would take a few minutes before he gave up, and she’d just as soon stay out of sight while Rafe made his attempts. His only other recourse would be her telephone, so before he arrived she’d hidden the handset in the linen closet.

  Taking a deep breath and opening the oven door, Heidi removed Rafe’s favorite carryout pizza, which had been warming on low. He might consider himself a prisoner, but she was determined to give or do anything to ensure his comfort, short of handing over the key to the cuffs. She just needed to keep her nerve and follow the plan.

  Heidi carried a stack of napkins, two plates and the pizza into the living room. Rafe, still affixed to her floral sleeper sofa, was seated against the wall near the front door. Upon hearing her enter, he raised his head away from the wall and opened his eyes.

  “The door has to come off the hinges for it to fit, doesn’t it?” he asked, sounding resigned.

  “Afraid so.” She set the pizza box on the floor within his reach.

  “I’m already late, Heidi,” he said, pointing to the cuffed wrist where he wore his watch. “Don’t you think it’s time to unlock me?”

  “Not yet.” No need to explain her theory about Barbara and the leather underwear. “Have some pizza,” she said, changing the subject. “It’s Romano’s, Italian sausage and extra cheese.”

  Rafe surprised her by ignoring the bribe. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall.

  “Come on, Rafe. You might not have any choice about being here, but there’s no need to go on a hunger strike.”

  He remained quiet, and the silence filled her with dread.

  “I rented Bladerunner for us to watch,” she tried to cajole. “You know how much you love that movie.”

  No response.

  Damn. Romano’s and Harrison Ford got her nothing? Uh-oh. Heidi checked her watch, nervous at the rate things were progressing. She’d counted on the pizza and DVD buying her more time. Heidi figured the fat content and special effects would at least soften him up a little, but Rafe wasn’t falling for it. Time to move on to Plan B. She took a long drink from her wineglass, summoning both her courage and a much needed poker face.

  “Well, since you’re not hungry,” she said, setting down her glass, “and you have nothing better to do, you might as well help me out with something.”

  Still no response. No problem, Heidi tried to reassure herself. She’d get his attention. She moved his wineglass from the steamer trunk to the floor where he could reach it, all the while careful to position herself out of his reach.

  “You just sit there and relax. When you’re done pouting, help yourself to pizza.”

  Heidi lifted her glass, finished her wine in one gulp and then crossed to her bedroom door. Going inside, she left the door open. Rafe couldn’t see her from where he sat along the front wall.

  “I need some help deciding which outfit to wear to Gigi’s brother’s wedding,” she called.

  In truth, she’d planned on wearing the same blue dress she always wore to such occasions, but Plan B involved borrowing a few outfits from her free-spirited friend. Already barefoot, Heidi stepped out of her fatigues, pulled her shirt over her head and stood before the clothes-covered bed in her pale pink bikini panties and matching bra.

  “I’m not sure which dress I like better,” she said, slipping into Gigi’s crepe black sheath. She pulled up the zipper and stepped into a pair of black strappy heels. The classic black dress had seemed out of place in Gigi’s closet, but Heidi understood its presence once she saw how it conformed to every bump and curve like a coat of onyx paint. Something a high-priced callgirl might wear to a funeral parlor.

  Heidi glanced at herself in the mirror. She’d never been into wearing feminine clothes, but tonight she liked the sexy way the dress made her feel. She wanted Rafe to
like it, too. She had even put on a little makeup before he arrived.

  Heidi wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her before today—maybe if she dressed more like a woman, he might see her as one. Ninety-nine percent of the time, Rafe saw her in dirty coveralls and steel-toed boots. How sexy was that?

  “Well, Rafe’s about to see a whole lot more of me,” she whispered to her reflection. She’d managed to scrub her nails clean, although they were still short and masculine-looking. Oh well, some things couldn’t be helped. Mechanics and manicures just didn’t go together. Heidi applied a quick layer of gloss to her lips, scrunched her short curls for good measure and took a deep breath to try and calm the nervous jitters.

  “Action,” she whispered and headed out into the hallway toward the most important performance of her life.

  Chapter Three

  “What do you think?” Heidi asked, taking the three small steps to reach the edge of the living room.

  Rafe didn’t move or even lift an eyelash. Ah, so he thought he could refuse to play the game. Not this time. She had gone too far out on a limb for this to go anywhere but forward. Heidi crossed to stand in front of him, just out of reach.

  “Rafe, is this what you want?”

  He opened his eyes as she reached inside the scooped neck of her dress and pulled a tiny silver key out of her bra. Rafe’s eyes darkened with the intensity of a tornado. His predatory gaze scrolled down her body, singeing a hot trail in its wake that almost had Heidi melting into a puddle right there on the carpet. If Rafe wasn’t at least a little bit turned on, Heidi gave up the hope of understanding human nature. And if she was right, if it was excitement in those obsidian eyes, she hoped it was out of a desire to get his hands on her, not the key. Heidi slipped it back into the right cup of her bra, the metal cool on her radiating skin. Although Rafe’s pupils followed her smallest movement like a stalking jaguar’s, his steady expression seemed to be carved out of granite.

  Breathe. Breathe and focus. This won’t work if you turn into jelly just because he stares at you.