“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” he asked, using his pristine white handkerchief to wipe down the chair opposite hers before seating himself and raising his eyes to hers expectantly. She merely stared back at him with a raised eyebrow and he smiled at her. The sincerity on his face nearly undid her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling back at him.
He glanced down at his handkerchief and his nose wrinkled fastidiously when he saw that it was covered in a layer of gray dust and grime from the chair. Nonetheless he folded it meticulously before dropping it into one of his jacket pockets. He was a classic fish out of water in this environment, and it saddened her to realize exactly how far removed his world was from hers.
“Well?” he prompted, and she looked at him blankly, forcing him to elaborate. “My phone calls? You’ve been ignoring them.”
“I haven’t, the line’s just been busy all morning.” She held up the receiver pointedly and he shook his head.
“I’ve been calling your cell,” he told her, and her brow furrowed as she patted herself down with one hand, before glancing around her cluttered desk.
“I must have forgotten it at home,” she said. “I’ve been having a bit of a Monday.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Not hungry.” She shrugged. The music in her ear paused and she perked up, only to slump back down when it resumed again. “Oh my God, maybe they figure if they keep me on hold long enough I’ll simply give up?”
“Want to have brunch with me?” he asked, and she glared at him irritably.
“What part of ‘I’m working’ did you not understand?” she asked sarcastically. “And why aren’t you at work for that matter? Does my dad know that you’re slacking off like this?”
“I am one of the bosses you know?” he pointed out levelly. “I can take some personal time.”
“Oooh, color me impressed,” she rejoined caustically, and he grinned at her sarcasm. One thing about Gabe, he always seemed to enjoy her sense of humor.
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said, the grin fading. “You know? After last night.”
“Really? You want to have this conversation now? Here?” she asked in disbelief, gesturing expansively toward the glass walls and the phone in her hand.
“No time like the present,” he stated, and she sighed long-sufferingly.
Gabe watched her struggle with whatever she wanted to say to him and waited with baited breath for her response. She looked gorgeous this morning, her skin glowed with good health and vitality and her lips were still swollen from his kisses. God, she was so damned exquisite he could spend hours just watching her. He was resentful of every second he had wasted in the past—all those moments when he had simply not seen her. Had he been completely blind?
“Look Gabe, I . . . ,” she began seriously, only to tilt her head toward the telephone receiver that she held pressed against her ear. “Hello? This is Roberta Richmond from Richmond’s Auto Repair Shop. You sent me the wrong shipment and I . . . no, wait! Don’t put me on hold again. Don’t put . . . damn it.” The last two words emerged in a frustrated whisper and her shoulders slumped in despair. Her eyes darted back up to meet his.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “No need to worry about me. We had some fun and today it’s business as usual right?”
“Right,” he concurred, feeling nauseated at the thought of returning to “business as usual.” It felt dishonest.
“Then why are you here?” she asked angrily, keeping her voice low. “This behavior is not the way we usually operate. You’ve never come to my shop on a Monday morning before to ask me if I’m okay. We don’t do brunch. Ever. I don’t go to your office and you don’t come to mine. At least you didn’t before last week. That’s not the way our friendship operates. So what the hell is going on? What do you want from me?” She had a point. Gabe was the one who had insisted that they behave normally, yet here he was, acting completely out of character.
“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “But if you had answered my calls, there wouldn’t have been any need for me to come over here to check if you were okay.”
“Come on, Gabe,” she derided. “Last week you would have tried to reach me, failed, and thought nothing of it.”
“Yeah, well, last week was before I’d had you pinned down and writhing beneath me in desire. Last week was before I’d had my tongue in your mouth, your breasts in my hands, and your breathless voice in my ear begging me for more.” His voice rose with every word until he was practically shouting and she frantically shushed him.
“Fine, okay.” She held up a placating hand. “But after today I’d appreciate it if you stopped contradicting yourself. It’s confusing the hell out of me.”
“Noted,” he murmured, feeling confused himself. He leaned forward, trying to catch her eye again. She was downright cagey this morning and still hadn’t told him if she was okay or not. Despite that magnificent glow she had about her, she still looked somewhat strained around the eyes and he wondered if she had managed to get any sleep the night before. He certainly hadn’t—he had been turned on and miserable because she had left him before he had had his fill of her.
“Will you come over tonight?” he asked softly, but she didn’t seem to hear him, keeping her eyes glued to the order form on her desk and her attention focused on the telephone receiver clamped to her ear. Gabe wasn’t used to being ignored by women, and he now discovered that he didn’t like it at all. But he swallowed down his anger as he reminded himself that Bobbi wasn’t just any woman and that she habitually ignored him when it suited her. She was just being . . . Bobbi. He had wanted things to remain the same between them but hadn’t counted on the status quo being frustrating as hell.
“Bobbi?” he prompted, and she lifted her eyes to his. They were so damned pretty they literally took his breath away and he struggled to form the words for a brief moment. “Will you come over tonight?”
She chewed on her lower lip, plumping it up invitingly, and he coughed to cover up a groan. God, this was torturous—he wanted to kiss her so badly he had to curl his hands into fists to prevent himself from dragging her across the damned desk and into his lap.
“I don’t know,” she responded at last and he nearly swore in frustration. She was clearly trying to drive him insane. “Maybe.”
He had to content himself with that vague response and pushed out of the chair.
“Call me if you change your mind about getting something to eat.”
“I won’t,” she said, with a brief shake of her head. He was about to respond to that when her body language changed and she looked away from him again. Effectively dismissing him. “Yes? I’m Roberta Richmond from Richmond’s Auto Repair Shop and I received the wrong goods . . .”
He gave her one last glance but it was as if she had forgotten he was there. Feeling rather despondent, Gabe left.
Bobbi watched as he gracefully made his way back out of the shop, exchanging a few laughing comments with Craig as he left. She listened to the dial tone in her ear—her call had been dropped about three minutes ago but she had clung to the handset like it was a shield, knowing that if she put it down she would have to give him her undivided attention and she hadn’t been quite ready for that. She replaced the handset carefully. She would have to call them back but she didn’t have the energy just yet.
Suddenly the weight of problems the day had dumped onto her shoulders felt unbearably heavy and she slumped in her chair, wanting to do nothing more than bury her face in her hands and weep.
The day had seemed interminable; after several more frustrating phone calls, Bobbi had finally managed to sort out the shipment error but the setback had cost her valuable time. Pieter’s measles would put him out of commission for at least a week and the loss of manpower would result in a forfeiture of revenue that she really couldn’t afford.
The only good thing about the seemingly insurmountable heap of complications was that it had pushed the situatio
n with Gabe firmly to the back of her mind. But by the time she closed shop after seven that night, thoughts of him came creeping insidiously back into her head.
By the time she made her way home, all she could think of was heading over to his place. God, she was so tempted. So what if she felt awful afterward? She could work around that . . . what he made her feel during was pretty damned spectacular. If she rationed her time with him wisely—maybe she could keep her already broken heart shielded from further harm?
She bargained with herself all through the late dinner that Faye had left in the microwave for her. She had had a stressful day and needed something to help her relax . . . just a couple of hours to help her take the edge off. They had already had sex after all; so one more time wouldn’t make that much difference, would it?
God, she sounded like an addict! She laughed bitterly when she recognized that that was exactly what she was and that Gabe was her drug of choice.
She barely tasted her dinner and trudged upstairs afterward to grab a shower. She took extra care with shampooing her hair and shaving her legs and armpits, telling herself that she was just doing it because she needed to pamper herself a bit. She brushed her teeth and used the expensive body lotion that Theresa had given her for Christmas. She hadn’t even opened the bottle before now but she applied it generously, relishing how smooth her skin felt afterward. Why hadn’t she ever used the stuff before? It felt and smelled amazing.
She dragged on her usual sleepwear of boy shorts and a tank top and went back downstairs to the library for a book. She was surprised to find her father asleep on one of the comfortable leather sofas, an open book lying facedown on his chest. The sound of the door opening startled him out of his light snooze and he smiled at her sleepily.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” he said warmly, and she returned his smile, curling up on the sofa next to him.
“You haven’t,” she replied, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yes, you’ve had quite the active social life lately,” he said, and she flushed guiltily.
“What do you mean?” He looked surprised by her reaction and question and his gaze sharpened.
“What do you think I mean?” he asked pointedly.
“Nothing.” She tried not to look too uncomfortable with his line of questioning.
“Roberta, do you have a male friend you’re not telling me about? Gabe mentioned something about a guy yesterday? Someone you met at the pub?” The sound of Gabe’s name startled her, but her father misinterpreted her reaction and grinned gleefully. “You do have a male friend! I’d like to meet him.”
“It’s uh . . . it’s not that serious yet,” she whispered, aghast by the awful turn the conversation had taken.
“What’s his name?”
“K-Kyle Foster, he’s a landscape architect.” Oh God, what the hell was she doing?
“And you like him? He’s a good man?”
“He’s very nice.” Stop talking, Bobbi! her conscience was shrieking at her. Just shut the hell up!
“You should consider bringing him to the Valentine’s Day Ball,” her father said, and her mind went completely blank as she thought about that horrible annual event. She usually managed to avoid it but her father, who so rarely made any demands on his children, had insisted that Bobbi and her brothers attend this year. Since he planned to announce his retirement, Bobbi knew that she had no option other than to show her support. But she had forgotten that she would probably have to bring a date to the event. That thought was followed by an even worse one . . .
Would Gabe be bringing a date? God, she wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not with everything that had happened—was still happening—between them.
“I’ll consider it,” she said absently—her mind on Gabe and the gorgeous woman he would probably bring to the formal event.
“Good,” her father said. “And bring him to dinner sometime, I’d like to meet him.”
“Sure,” she said, still on autopilot. Her father dropped an arm around her shoulder and planted a swift kiss on the top of her head. The show of affection was so rare that it startled Bobbi out of her reverie.
“I’m off to bed,” he told her. “Good night, baby.”
“Good night, Daddy,” she replied, warmed by the endearment. He left the room in his usual brisk manner. Bobbi sat immersed in her chaotic thoughts for a long time. She had lied to her father, dragged poor Kyle into this mess, and now had to find a date to the damned Valentine’s Day Ball.
Maybe Gabe would ask her. Once the wistful thought had entered her mind it continued to float around in there like a hopeful sprite. She tried to bat it away, knowing that it was ridiculous to even consider the possibility, but the part of her that liked to wish for impossible things couldn’t help but hope.
“Gabe won’t ask you,” she said out loud, and flinched at the inescapable truth in the words.
Gabe stared blankly at the television screen, not really absorbing what he was seeing as he tried to swallow past the lump of bitter disappointment that had lodged in his throat. She wasn’t coming.
It was nearly one in the morning and he had held out hope until about an hour ago when the huge grandfather clock in the foyer had struck twelve. After that he had simply gone numb and continued to sit here unable to summon up the energy to head up to bed. So maybe the night before hadn’t had quite the same impact on her as it had on him? The thought was humbling and hard to accept, but there wasn’t much else he could take away from this resounding rejection.
He buried his face in his hands. This was probably for the best; he already felt like he was in too deep. They would simply forget that it had ever happened and go back to normal.
He winced at that thought. As if it would be that easy. He could never unsee the perfection of her naked body, or untaste the honey of her mouth, or unfeel her clenching heat around him. He was so screwed . . .
He reached for the remote and switched off the television and the sudden echoing silence unsettled him. He sat there for a moment longer, willing himself to get up and go to bed. He had just pushed himself out of the chair when he heard the quiet knock on the front door. His breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered to a stop before resuming its rhythm erratically.
The knock came again, louder this time, and he leapt into action running to the front door, skidding on the foyer’s polished floor and nearly falling on his butt, in a bid to get there before she changed her mind and left. He was breathless by the time he wrest open the heavy door and barely took in the fact that she was in her nightclothes before dragging her into his arms and planting a hungry kiss on her lips.
She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He staggered back and kicked the front door shut before pinning her to the heavy wooden door and taking his fill of her mouth.
He lifted his head and cupped her face with his hands.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he gasped, fighting for breath. She grinned at him, her legs tightening around his waist.
“Really? I was kind of hoping that I’d be coming.” It was a silly play on words that barely made sense but it delighted him.
“I’ll work on that for you,” he promised, thrusting his hardness against her core and she moaned, burying her face in the hollow of his neck as she pushed herself against him, establishing a quick rhythm that nearly had them both spending in seconds. Luckily reason reasserted itself and Gabe groaned before dropping his hands to her hips to stop her sensual grinding.
“Stop that, damn it! I want to get you to a bed this time,” he growled.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked impatiently, and he wrapped one hand around her back and cupped the other beneath her butt to support her as he clumsily made his way upstairs with her still clinging to him tightly.
When he reached his room, he stumbled his way to the bed, dropped her down on the soft mattress and climbed up with her in the same mo
tion. He studied her appreciatively as she lay spread out beneath him and growled ferally before hunching down and unceremoniously dragging down her top and sucking one tight nipple into his mouth with a rough finesse that had her arching her back off the bed.
“Oh God,” she cried out, clamping her thighs against his hips and curling her fingers into his hair.
“This isn’t going to last long,” he muttered against her breast.
“I don’t care,” she sobbed, reaching down between them to fumble with his belt and fly. He hissed when she managed to get everything undone and finally wrapped her hands around his length. She stroked him with both hands and he shuddered in response.
He didn’t bother removing her shorts; he merely pushed them aside and positioned himself at her entrance before shoving his way in. The contrasting sensations of the cotton of her underwear and the wet silk of her intimate flesh against his responsive shaft nearly made him come before he’d gotten more than the head in and he swore gutturally when he realized that the reason he was feeling so damned much was because he wasn’t wearing a condom. He never forgot to put on a condom and he was momentarily disconcerted by the lapse.
“Shit, shit, shit. No condom. I’m sorry.” It nearly killed him to withdraw and Bobbi wailed when he left her but he took care of the protection as quickly as he could under the circumstances and was back with her seconds later.
“Don’t do that to me again,” she rebuked, and he apologized with a kiss before thrusting his way back in. They didn’t last long. It was rough and fast and over in less than four minutes.
Gabe watched her come in that erotic way of hers, so quiet with just a gasp and a moan and then a long release of breath. He couldn’t imagine ever tiring of that or of feeling her orgasm around his shaft. The way she pulsed around him pulled his own climax from him.
“Bobbi,” he groaned as he poured himself into her. Just that. Just her name. It was all that needed saying.
His Unlikely Lover (Unwanted #3) Page 12