Bobbie’s heart squeezed at the pain on his face.
“Anyway, my business partner remained in Colorado, and I started up another branch here. We’re making it when a lot of companies aren’t, but it hasn’t been easy.”
The shivers that had been dancing down Bobbie’s spine suddenly felt like jagged little spears instead, as realization dawned. “Harrison Hunt might be a family friend, but I have no influence when it comes to HuntCom.”
Gabe’s brows yanked together. “What are you talking about?”
She sat up straighter in her chair. “It’s not like I don’t understand. Or…or sympathize. Even in this economy, HuntCom still has building projects going on all over the world.” If they weren’t building a new manufacturing facility for themselves, they were building something else. She knew, because she had to make an appearance at least once a year at the board of directors’ meeting, at which time she always gave her proxy to Gray, who’d been running the privately-held company since Harry’s health had forced him into retirement. “But the best I can do is get you a name.” She’d have to call Harry and find out who the chief architect was now. Since J.T.—one of Gray’s younger brothers—had vacated the position to hang out his own shingle in Portland, she couldn’t even hazard a guess who was responsible for the property development arm of the enormous company.
“I’m not looking to do business with HuntCom,” Gabe said slowly. “Is that what you expected?”
“It’s what most people expect once they realize I have a connection there.” Her chin lifted. “You’re hardly the first.” Lawrence had simply been the most recent.
Gabe was silent for a moment, his gaze measuring. “As it happens,” he finally said evenly, “I don’t give a flip about HuntCom. The only thing I’m trying to do is keep my ex-wife from moving my kids to another damn country again.”
She blinked.
He shoved to his feet and paced along the narrow aisle between the empty tables. “If the judge doesn’t approve my petition for joint custody, there’s not one thing I’ll be able to do to stop her.” He grimaced. “Short of kidnapping them.”
Bobbie reached for the wineglass he’d abandoned and took a long drink.
“I’m kidding.” His voice was dark. “The last thing I need is more trouble with the law.”
More trouble?
She took another sip of wine and then carefully set the glass down. “I’m sorry about your children, but what does that have to do with me?”
“I need a wife.”
Her hand twitched violently. She knocked the glass right over, sending deep-red liquid pouring across the perfect white linen tablecloth. She hastily flipped up the side of the cloth to keep it from running onto the floor. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not a real wife.” He shoved one hand through his hair. “The last thing I want is to get married again. Once was enough to last a lifetime.” He visibly shuddered. “But I need to make the impression that I’ll have a wife, soon. Ray—my attorney—wants me to have a real one, of course, though he swears he’ll deny it if the truth ever gets out.”
“I’m not even sure what the truth is.” She watched him cautiously. “You want me to pretend to be married to you?”
“I want everyone to think we’re getting married.” He pulled the chair out from behind the table to straddle it directly in front of her. “It won’t have to be for long. My custody hearing is scheduled for right after Thanksgiving. As long as the judge believes that I can provide Todd and Lissi with what Steph and Ethan provide—a stable family life—there’s no reason why he would deny my petition for joint custody.”
“And that’s going to prevent your ex-wife from moving again to Europe?”
He grimaced. “Nothing prevents Steph from doing what she wants. But she won’t be able to keep the kids with her for the entire time. Instead of the sixteen hours a week I’m allowed now—assuming it doesn’t inconvenience her—she’ll have to agree to new terms. Joint terms. Ray says that there’s a possibility that I could have them for the entire school year, even. That they’d only go to Europe for vacation and holiday breaks.” He grabbed her hands. “The only good thing to come out of my marriage were Lisette and Todd. And for too long, they barely even knew I was their father. I’m not going to lose them again.”
“But we’d be lying. You have no intention of marrying me.”
“Being married shouldn’t matter. Technically, it’s not even supposed to,” Gabe said. “I should have been awarded joint custody in the first place.”
“Why weren’t you?”
“Because I made the mistake of loving my wife.” His voice went flat. “And when I caught her in bed—our bed—with Ethan, I lost my temper.” His hands curled. “I decked him and got charged with assault as a result. Then I stupidly followed that up by crawling into a whiskey bottle for a while. The assault charge was dropped eventually, but the damage was done. The bastard ended up with my wife and my kids.” His lips twisted. “Proof that the lawyers in his family are better than the lawyers in mine.”
She let out a long breath. “No wonder you wanted some privacy to talk.” Buying time—and not exactly sure why—she gathered up the wet tablecloth and took it into the back, where she ran water and left it to soak. Then she returned to the front, where she found him pacing between the tables. But he stopped when he spotted her.
She had to remind herself that the intensity in his gaze had everything to do with his children and nothing to do with her personally. But she still had to concentrate on keeping her knees steady, though she pressed her back against the hard edge of the wine bar for extra support. “I can understand your position,” she began carefully, “but I don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”
“Why? You have some secret scandal in your past that’s worse than me being charged with assault?”
“No. No scandals.” Humiliation wasn’t scandal, was it? She tugged nervously at the silky red scarf that was holding her hair back in a low ponytail. “It’s just, well, I like you.”
He waited. “So?”
She should have just made up a scandal. It would have been simpler. And much less mortifying. “I mean, I—” she swallowed, feeling foolish. “I like you.”
“Ah.” Add a faint curve of his mobile lips to that laser-like gaze and she felt even more out of her depth. “Why would that be a problem?”
She grimaced. “Do I have to spell it out?”
“Apparently.”
“It’s one-sided,” she said baldly. “And nobody would believe you could be seriously engaged to me, anyway.”
He eyed her. “Because I’m old enough to be your father?”
She let out a half laugh. “You’re forty-one. Hardly old enough to be my father.” And the feelings he roused in her weren’t the least bit daughterly.
“How’d you know how old I was?”
“Fiona,” she admitted, realizing she’d given herself away much too easily.
“Thought you didn’t talk about your families much.”
Her face was getting hot. “All right. I asked. Is that a crime?”
“Not at all. And you’re twenty-seven.” That little smile was back. “I asked.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so for once in her life, she kept her mouth shut.
He walked up to her, not stopping until the toes of his shoes were practically bumping hers. He rested his hands on the wine bar to either side of her.
She swallowed, more aware than ever just how alone they were. And just how tall he was. And how broad his shoulders were. And…how incredible he smelled.
“For the record—” his head dropped and his whisper tickled at her ear, not helping her case one whit “—it’s not one-sided. I like you, too. Maybe you didn’t notice that when you were telling me to make it look good. It’s one of the reasons why I think a sudden engagement between us would be…convincing.” He shifted slightly until he was looking her right in the eyes. “So let’s get that c
leared up right now.” He closed his mouth over hers.
The taste of him went straight to her head. Her joints went soft. And instead of pushing against him, her palms slowly slid up his chest, over his shoulders. Colors splashed in her mind and her head fell back when the low sound he made filled her mouth as his kiss deepened. Lengthened.
And then he was tearing away, pulling in a whistling breath.
She was shaking. She realized his hand was in her hair, cradling her neck. Beyond that, she couldn’t seem to gather a functioning thought.
“Think about it.” His voice was a low caress, stirring a curl of hair at her temple. “I’ll give you whatever you want in return.”
Her addled brain might as well have been an old engine, coughing and stuttering, before it finally fired and she began to understand what he was saying. He meant think about pre tending to be his fiancée. Her bones felt liquefied and her muscles felt shaky, but she still managed to shake her head. “I don’t want anything. It’s not a good idea. One-sided or two-sided. It’s still not a good idea.” She couldn’t stand to find herself, once again, a hindrance to someone she cared about. “You should find someone else.”
“There is no one else.”
“Someone you’ve dated—”
“I don’t date.” He grimaced. “Not anymore. Look. Just give yourself a day or two to think about it,” he advised. “Think about Fiona. As young at heart as she is, she is not a young woman. How many chances will she have to enjoy her only great-grandchildren if they’re out of the country again for the better part of what’s left of their childhood?”
He couldn’t have found a more vulnerable button to push. Fiona was extremely dear to Bobbie.
“All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “I’ll think about it. But you—” she lifted her finger and jabbed it into the center of his hard chest “—would be wise to spend the next day or two thinking of someone more suitable to make your pretend fiancée.”
“Believe me, Bobbie. You’re very suitable.”
She managed a smile, but there was no humor in it. “You’ll change your mind,” she promised.
People always did.
Chapter Four
By Saturday afternoon, Bobbie felt certain that Gabe had done just what she’d expected. Changed his mind.
He hadn’t shown up that morning to finish the grout work on her newly tiled bathroom floor. Nor had he called to explain his absence. His silence didn’t seem to fit with the man she thought she was coming to know, but it definitely served as a reminder that just because he was Fiona’s grandson, didn’t mean that she really knew him at all.
So they’d shared a few kisses and a few confidences. What did that mean in the scheme of things? She’d shared a lot more than that with her ex-fiancé, thinking they would be spending a lifetime together.
Only now, Lawrence had a sleekly elegant blond woman with a stellar pedigree wearing his wedding ring on her finger. She’d been the one standing next to him at the podium after his re-election, smiling her perfectly aligned smile, waving her perfectly manicured hands and charming the press with her perfectly timed, perfectly worded comments. She’d been the one he’d loved all along, even when he’d been sweeping Bobbie off her feet.
“Ah, Bobbie, dear.” Fiona’s voice interrupted the gathering steam of her memories. “Ujjayi breathing is meant to be relaxing and energizing. Aim for the soothing sound of an ocean. Not the menacing sound of a freight train heading for derailment.”
Bobbie opened her eyes and looked across at Fiona’s wry expression.
They were sitting cross-legged on yoga mats on the floor in the middle of Fiona’s spacious sunroom. The lengthening sunlight gilded the plants surrounding the room and water dripped soothingly over the small rock fountain in the midst of them. It was a perfect place to practice yoga, and they’d done so at least once a week for months—well before Bobbie had moved into the carriage house.
“Sorry.” She rolled her head around her shoulders and drew in a long breath. Usually, practicing yoga was one of the few times that she could count on to get out of her own head. To let go of whatever nonsense plagued her thoughts during the day, to thoroughly de-stress.
Why hadn’t Gabe at least called?
“You know,” Fiona said, unwinding her legs and pushing to her bare feet, “there are times that call for yoga, and there are times that call for cocktails.” She grinned. “I’m thinking…cocktail.”
Bobbie laughed and straightened her legs. “A true yogi wouldn’t even consider consuming alcohol.”
“Fortunately, I have no aspirations in that direction,” Fiona assured dryly. “And what does that song say? It’s five o’clock somewhere?” She gestured. “Come with me.”
Bobbie pushed to her feet and followed her friend out of the sunroom. She tightened the band holding her hair on the top of her head and tried not to look out the windows for some sign of Gabe’s truck as they walked through the house. When she did sneak a peek, all she saw was the gardening crew working on the lush landscape and the catering truck, there to set up the outdoor tent that would house the dance floor for the party tomorrow night that Fiona didn’t even want.
When they reached Fiona’s office, which overlooked the half-acre sweep of lawn leading to the carriage house, Fiona waved at the massive leather wing chairs angled in front of the fireplace. “Sit.” She moved to the ornate cabinet standing against the wall.
Bobbie sat, watching her elderly friend pull open the cabinet to reveal an extremely well-stocked bar. Fiona had once told her that she hadn’t changed a single thing in the office after her husband had died. It was the only room she had left untouched in the entire house, because it felt like he was still with her whenever she worked in there.
“I meant to thank you again for helping out at the office yesterday. It took months to get an appointment with the community affairs rep from Cragmin, and I’d have hated to reschedule.”
Bobbie shrugged, though she still was a little surprised that Fiona had managed to double-book her schedule the way she had. She’d been across town making another funding request when the manufacturing company’s community affairs manager had shown up at Golden’s office and Fiona had called Bobbie in a rush to fill in for her. “I’m always willing. You know that, though I’m a poor substitute for you.”
Fiona waved the cocktail shaker as she pulled it off the shelf. “You did wonderfully well, as I knew you would. I got an email last night from the CEO that we were on the short list for the grant.” She added ice from a small, cleverly hidden freezer to the shaker. “But enough of that. How are your mother and sisters?”
“All fine. I’ve been helping Tommi at the bistro this past week. One of her servers has been on vacation.”
Fiona was nodding as she added a shot of this and a dash of that. “I wish my daughter-in-law would have thought to ask your sister to cater this thing tomorrow.” She capped the shaker and shook it so vigorously that Bobbie wondered if she was mentally wringing Astrid Gannon’s neck. “Then at least the food would have been wonderful.”
“I’m sure the food will be fine,” Bobbie soothed. “And I think Tommi has enough on her plate with the bistro being as busy as it is.” She’d thought her sister had seemed particularly stressed the past week, but of course, Tommi had simply dismissed the very idea when Bobbie had tried to broach the subject. And since Bobbie hadn’t wanted to answer Tommi’s questions about Gabe’s presence at the bistro the other night either, she’d kept most of her thoughts to herself. “You’ve said before that your daughter-in-law hosts some magnificent parties.”
“Trust you to remember that,” Fiona muttered darkly. She poured the pale yellow contents of the shaker into two martini glasses and handed one to Bobbie. “Cheers.”
Bobbie lifted her glass in salute and sipped gingerly, well used to Fiona’s less-than-delicate hand when it came to mixing a cocktail. Predictably, the drink was light on lemon and heavy on vodka. “I think it’s nice that your fa
mily wants to celebrate your birthday with you.”
Fiona waved her hand. “It would be nice if it were just family and a few friends.” She sank down into a corner of the opposite chair. “Instead, I believe Astrid has invited half of the world. She never even asked who I would like to invite. I suppose she was afraid I’d invite someone unsuitable.” She made a face. “Like my own employees and volunteers.”
“Well, it’ll be over soon enough.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate a phrase like that at my age,” Fiona replied dryly.
Bobbie couldn’t help but laugh, even though she was immediately reminded of Gabe’s words about his grandmother. “You’re one of the youngest people I know. And it has nothing to do with the calendar.”
Fiona leaned forward and patted Bobbie’s knee. “You’re a dear. Now tell me what you think of Gabriel.”
Bobbie nearly choked on her cocktail. She swallowed, trying not to gasp a little at the strong alcohol. “He’s very…handy.” She lifted her shoulder and hoped Fiona would blame the color in her cheeks on the drink. “The work he’s doing around the carriage house has been great.”
Fiona’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. But what do you think of him?”
For a moment, Bobbie wondered if Gabe had told his grandmother about their unconventional meeting. Or about what had happened since.
But then she dismissed it as unlikely.
“I think he’s—” sexy, handsome, unreasonably attractive “—nice,” she managed weakly. “He certainly loves his children.”
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