“Wow, this is amazing, Roberta.” He sounded suitably impressed as he walked around the shop, running a light hand over the tools before pausing in front of the Corvette where Craig was currently using the overhead hoist to remove the engine. The older man managed a distracted greeting before focusing his attention back on the car.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Kyle turned to her with a warm smile on his attractive face.
“So . . . I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime? Lunch or dinner, maybe?” She was on the verge of making up some lame excuse when she stopped herself. Why not? Gabe would never return her feelings and she couldn’t keep turning down perfectly nice guys in the hopes that he would someday come to the unlikely realization that she was the one for him. But then she thought about his bizarre reaction to the way she was dressed earlier and found herself indulging in a bout of entirely self-indulgent what if’s . . .
“Roberta?” Kyle’s quiet voice jerked her from her favorite fantasy of Gabe sweeping her up into his arms and she shook herself. It would do her good to go out with a man as something other than just a buddy—but with the way she felt about Gabe, it hardly seemed right to string along a perfectly lovely man like Kyle.
“I’d like that . . . very much actually,” she said uncertainly. His smile widened and his eyes crinkled appealingly at the corners. He wasn’t as gorgeous as Gabe but then few men were, and Bobbi resolved then and there to stop comparing every man she met to Gabe—it wasn’t fair. Kyle was tall, he had shaggy dirty-blond hair, and kind gray eyes and the masculine craggy features of an outdoorsman. He was a landscape architect and all the time he spent outside had darkened his skin attractively. He also seemed to like her—shorts, tank top, unstyled hair and all—and that soothed her ego after her lunchtime conversation with Gabe.
“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” he observed, watching her carefully.
“But . . .” But what exactly? But she was in love with her best friend? But she was longing for a guy who was oblivious to her charms? Every thought that popped into her mind seemed stupid and irrational. She was a fool. She wasn’t blind to that truth but she still couldn’t help . . . hoping. She sighed quietly. “But I’m kind of in a really weird place right now.”
He seemed to think that over before nodded thoughtfully.
“I won’t pressure you but I’d like to know if you’d be open to the idea of drinks some time in the future once you manage to find your way out of that weird place?”
“Yes,” she said with a relieved smile. “Definitely.”
“Here’s my card.” His hand brushed against hers when he handed the slip of paper over and Bobbi was disappointed when she felt nothing close to what she felt when Gabe’s skin accidentally touched hers. She really was a lost cause.
“Thank you,” she said, running her fingers over the raised lettering on the no-frills business card. She really didn’t know what else to say to him and he seemed to sense it and ended his visit soon after that.
“I really hope to see you again soon,” he said as she walked him to his car and smiled somewhat uncomfortably. Bobbi had been out of the dating game for more than a year, choosing to focus on her business instead, and even before that she had only dated sporadically because most of the guys she knew were the buddies she had grown up with. The few men who had shown a romantic interest in her had always been on the losing end of an inevitable comparison with Gabe.
So she stood in the parking lot and watched another perfectly fine man drive out of her life and felt like an idiot for yet again closing herself off to other possibilities. It was a cycle she couldn’t seem to break.
“Look at you,” Craig teased softly after Bobbi had changed back into her overalls and joined them on the floor again. “Leaving with one guy and coming back with another.”
“Gabe’s not a ‘guy’ he’s just . . . Gabe,” she muttered, keeping here eyes down and Craig snorted.
“Sure he is.” That sarcastic rejoinder had her head snapping up to meet his regard in alarm.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her face hot with embarrassment. Craig darted a quick glance around the room to ensure that Sean and Pieter weren’t listening to their conversation, but both of the other guys were focused on their own tasks.
“You know what I mean,” the older man said seriously. “You like him. I have two teenaged daughters and you’re about as transparent as they are when it comes to affairs of the heart.” How humiliating to be compared to adolescent girls.
“Fantastic,” she said beneath her breath. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“Didn’t mean to embarrass you, boss. I just liked that you came back with the other guy. Time for you to stop mooning over that Gabe with his fancy suits and shiny shoes. This new guy looks like he knows how to get his hands dirty.”
“He’s not the new guy,” she corrected, wondering miserably why she was still talking about this with him. Craig was the last person on earth she would ever consult on matters of the heart. For his anniversary last year he had forgotten to make reservations at the fancy Italian restaurant his wife had been hinting at for weeks before the big day and had made it up to her by microwaving a pizza and serving it with boxed wine. Needless to say he had slept on the couch that night—a fact that he had lamented over for days afterward. He still couldn’t understand his wife’s “unreasonable” reaction when he had gone all out to serve it with paper napkins and a couple of scented candles. He’d even used paper plates so that she wouldn’t have to worry about washing up.
“Anyway there’s no old or current guy either, so let’s just drop this ridiculous subject and get back to work.” He shrugged and did as he was told. Bobbi watched him leave and was tempted to call Kyle and take him up on that drinks date.
Gabe was restless . . .
There was no other word to describe the way he felt. He couldn’t settle down. The house just seemed empty and huge. It was the first time he’d ever felt that way about his home. While he co-owned the house with Chase, his brother also owned an apartment in Camps Bay and often stayed there when he was in the country. Of course, he had a housecleaning staff, but none of them lived on the premises.
Gabe hadn’t shared the house with anybody in years and he was usually content with the peace and quiet. Tonight though, his excess energy was driving him crazy. He had contacted a couple of the women in his so-called “black” book (it was in fact just a folder on his phone) but in the end hadn’t been able to summon up the energy or inclination to arrange a date with any of them. He had ended the calls with vague promises to contact them again “sometime” and now found that he was unable to concentrate on anything.
He glanced at the clock—it was just after eight—and decided to head out to Manny’s for a couple of drinks. A few of games of darts, entertaining company, harmless flirting . . . just what the doctor ordered.
So he was more than a little confused when he found himself ringing the Richmond doorbell less than fifteen minutes later. There was no answer at first so he depressed the button again and listened to the deep bingbong echo through the house. He was about to ring it for a third time when the door was jerked open by a frazzled looking Mike Richmond. The tall man glared at Gabe over the rims of his glasses for a few moments before stepping aside and allowing him in. He didn’t say anything, merely led the way to the den. The room reeked of cigar smoke—it was the only room where he was allowed to indulge in his habit—and there was a movie paused on the big screen smart TV.
Eyeing the older man once more, he saw that Mike was wearing a handsome smoking jacket—a prank gift from Bobbi—and a pair of comfortable slacks. He appeared to be having a relaxing evening in his man cave. Mike Richmond rarely relaxed, so Gabe felt a bit guilty for disturbing him.
“Something wrong, Gabriel?” the older man asked, refilling a Waterford crystal whiskey glass and lifting the matching decanter questioningly. Gabe nodded and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
He usually changed into less-restrictive clothing after coming from the office but he was still wearing his crisp shirt and suit trousers—at least he’d lost the tie and jacket somewhere along the way.
He took the filled whiskey glass from Mike, unbuttoning his cuff at the same time and rolling the sleeve up to his elbow before switching the glass to the other hand and doing the same with the opposite cuff. Mike had dropped down into his easy chair again and was watching him with those astute amber eyes that rarely missed much. Gabe avoided his scrutiny and sat down opposite him, taking a sip of the Glenlivet and leaning back on the leather recliner with a slight sigh.
“Well?” Mike prompted after a long silence, taking a puff from his cigar.
“Can I have one of those?” Gabe asked, and Mike waved the blunt cigar at the table between their chairs to the mahogany humidor residing there.
“Help yourself . . .”
Gabe grunted a thanks and took his time picking one of the expensive Cubans. When he found one to his liking, he rolled it appreciatively between his thumb and index finger and took a deep whiff before reaching for the cutter and snipping off the end.
“What are you watching?” Gabe asked around the cigar that he now had clenched between his teeth. He rarely lit the cigars and he wasn’t sure if he’d indulge tonight either.
“Die Hard,” the older man answered.
“Aah. One of the good ones.” Gabe grinned.
“You’re not going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“It’ll keep,” Gabe responded, picking up the remote control that was resting beside the humidor. “I’d rather watch John McClane kick butt.”
It was another half an hour filled with witty one-liners and loud explosions before either of them spoke again.
“Bobbi not in?” Gabe asked casually, blowing on the end of the cigar that he’d lit ten minutes earlier. “She loves this movie.”
“I haven’t seen her but Faye told me that she’s gone out with some friends. About damned time, you ask me,” Mike muttered, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the girl seems to forget she’s female half of the time. It will do her a world of good to spend time with other women. And your buddy—De Lucci’s—wife is a damned fine lady.”
“So she’s not out with that guy?”
The older man’s gaze sharpened.
“What guy?”
“She met him at the pub this afternoon and left with him. I thought she might have gone out with him . . .” And the thought had made him feel close to murderous. Mike continued to inspect him with those shrewd eyes. “Uh . . . anyway, do you know what time she’ll be home?”
Mike shrugged, shifting that uncomfortable stare to the television screen and wincing as he watched Bruce Willis drag his bare feet through broken glass.
“Who knows? These things can go on for hours.”
“Is it safe for her to be out that late?” That pulled Mike’s attention from the on-screen action.
“It’s none of my business how late she stays out. I’m well aware that she’d be living on her own by now if not for the fact that she opened her shop. I can’t tell her what to do.”
“You’re not concerned?”
“She won’t drink and drive, she won’t take risks—she’s perfectly fine.”
“Anything could happen . . .”
“What’s this really about, Gabriel?” he asked astutely, and Gabe backed off immediately. How could he answer a question he didn’t know the answer to?
“Nothing, I was just a bit concerned. You’re a wealthy man, Mike. Have you even considered that Bobbi could be at risk because of that?”
“Of course I have. When my children were small I had security details on them, you know that. Now that they’re adults, my sons take care of their own security and Bobbi is well aware of the dangers. You know my daughter . . . stubborn to her core, that girl. So I compromised—I provide security at her shop but her personal life is just that. No big, bulky men trailing after her wherever she goes. Now do you mind? I’d like to enjoy my movie without this constant chatter.”
Gabe shut up but he was starting to feel restless again. How could Mike be so damned sanguine about Bobbi’s safety and security? It wasn’t anything Gabe had even considered until just now and he was suddenly petrified that Bobbi would be kidnapped at any moment. He had lost interest in the movie but kept his eyes pinned to the screen even while his mind raced. Why had he never considered the risks to Bobbi before now?
It was making him edgy.
He chewed the end of his cigar and glared at the screen without really seeing the action. As soon as he realized the credits were rolling, he glanced at his watch. Just after ten, too early for her to come home yet.
“What do you want to watch next?” he asked Mike, and the older man’s brows leapt to his hairline. “One of the sequels?”
“Since you were barely paying attention to the last movie, I doubt a second one could hold your interest. Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on in that head of yours now, Gabriel? Something at work?”
“Nothing’s going on . . . I’m fine. I just thought I’d come over and hang out for a bit.”
“Hang out?” Mike Richmond choked back a laugh. “With me? I’m sure you have friends closer to your own age to hang out with.”
“Well, I thought Bobbi would be around,” he lied. “If you don’t want to watch a movie, why don’t we play a game of billiards?”
“Gabriel, I’m a boring old fogie and I’m headed to bed. Stick around and watch another movie if you really feel inclined to—help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Faye’s staying with her daughter tonight, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. Set the alarm on your way out,” The older man pushed himself to his feet and ambled to the door. “Good night.”
“’Night.”
Gabe sighed as the door swung shut behind the man and got up to flip absently through the selection of disks beside the Blu-Ray player. Deciding to stick to another modern “classic,” he inserted Con Air into the machine and halfheartedly sat back to watch. Ten minutes into the movie he picked up his phone.
Bobbi glanced down at her vibrating phone and did a double take when she saw who was calling. She ignored the call before refocusing her attention on Bronwyn, who was sitting in the center of their circle, and then blushing furiously when she caught sight of the object in the woman’s hands.
“Oh my God, that thing’s a monster!” Alice squealed.
“It’s got nothing on Bryce.” Bronwyn waved the thing in her hand dismissively.
“Or Sandro,” Theresa added loyally.
“Please, Rick could give that thing a serious run for its money.” Lisa giggled.
“Hmmm . . . now that I look at it from this angle it’s defintely smaller than Pierre,” Alice said with a barely suppressed smile. “Why are we doing this again? None of us really need these things.”
“Does anybody ever really need one that big?” Bobbi asked, appalled. Bronwyn was hosting a sex-toy party, and all the goodies were samples from a well-known adult shop in the area. The other four women all swiveled their heads in Bobbi’s direction, varying degrees of pity on their faces.
“And that answers your question, Alice. God, Bobbi, we need to find you a boyfriend!” Lisa groaned.
“We-ell, I kind of met a guy today,” she informed them smugly, and they all squealed, the gargantuan vibrator instantly forgotten. Bobbi really enjoyed these girly sessions with her friends. She had never really had much feminine influence in her life before meeting Theresa a couple of years before. All of her friends growing up had been male, and while Gabe’s mother and Faye had done their utmost to steer her in a more feminine direction, Bobbi had been so determined to fit in with her all-male family that the two women had given up halfway through Bobbi’s teens. It was only after meeting Theresa and the rest of the
women that Bobbi had realized how very much she had missed out on in foregoing female friends for so many years.
“And you’re only telling us this now?” Bronwyn groused.
“It didn’t come up before now,” she shrugged, deliberately casual. She winced when her words caused even more squealing. One of the things she would never get used to was how high-pitched other women could be. She really couldn’t fathom why they screamed so much.
“Tell us everything,” Lisa demanded, and everybody else nodded encouragingly.
“There’s nothing much to tell . . . I was . . .” Her phone buzzed again and she glanced at the display. Gabe, again . . . what was his problem?
“Is that him now?” Theresa asked, her voice—like her personality—gentler and less demanding than the other women.
“No. It’s Gabe,” she said with grimace, ignoring the call again.
“Is that wise?” Theresa asked again. “What if it’s an emergency or something?”
Bobbi sighed, conceding Theresa’s point.
“Well if he calls back she’ll answer it, just in case,” Alice said reasonably. “So tell us about this guy in the meantime?”
“There’s nothing much to tell.” Bobbi smiled. “Jason introduced us and he asked me out.”
“What’s his name?” Alice wanted to know.
“Is he good looking?” Lisa interjected.
“What does he do?” That was from Bronwyn.
“Is he nice?” Trust Theresa to ask that question.
“His name’s Kyle, he’s good-looking; tall and blond . . . wonderful gray eyes.”
“Just my type,” Bron sighed. Her husband, Bryce, was tall and blond.
“Mine too,” Lisa agreed; she was married to Bryce’s equally blond brother.
“Let her finish,” Alice prompted.
“He’s a landscape architect.” They all swooned at that.
“Outdoorsy,” Alice sighed blissfully. “I love them outdoorsy.”
His Unlikely Lover Page 8