by Lisa Plumley
“I have an MBA, Shane,” Gabriella reminded him. “I graduated at the top of my class. I’m familiar with business strategies. I just don’t like to dwell on the dark side of them.”
“This time,” he said, “you’re already on the dark side.”
She scoffed. He was being melodramatic. “Even if someone was trying to scare me into quitting, they’re too late! My dad has all but signed on the dotted line of the deal he mentioned.” Gabriella nodded at the crumpled note again. “Whoever did this obviously did it before that happened. Or they didn’t know it had happened.”
“You’re still going to my place for the night.”
“You don’t have to protect me!”
“Have to?” Shane’s gaze darkened. “No. Going to? Yes.”
“Look,” Gabriella said as he grabbed her hand again, then started towing her toward the car, “I appreciate the macho routine here. You’re very impressively protective. But I—”
“Do I have to take you to bed to make you agree?”
At his mention of bed, all kinds of sensual memories tumbled through her. Despite the potential danger in her situation—or maybe partly because of it—Gabriella weakened.
Shane would do it. He would basically love her into going along with what he wanted. He would use his hands and his mouth and his big, hard cock to make sure she complied. Eagerly.
She flashed him a smile. “My bed is here, steps away.”
“Mine is more comfortable. And we’re leaving.”
Gabriella allowed him to haul her a few more steps. She kind of liked that Shane was being so protective about this. Not only had he charmed her parents, coaxed her into snapping out of her own worst impulses, eaten enough Sunday gravy to qualify as an honorary Grimani, and then washed all the dinner dishes, but he also looked ready to kill for her.
“I get to be on top,” Gabriella demanded.
Shane pretended reluctance. She knew he didn’t mean it.
He loved it when she took the lead. That was one of the many things that made them ideal for one another.
“I get to make you breakfast in the morning,” he bargained.
“The only thing you can cook is toast.”
“It’s very, very good toast.”
“What if I want waffles? Pancakes? An omelet?”
“Then you’re sleeping with the wrong guy.” Shane opened the passenger-side door. After a wary look around her neighborhood, he bundled her in. “I’m strictly a morning-after toast man.”
Gabriella sighed. She waited for Shane to get in, too.
“Pumpernickel?” she suggested.
He arched his eyebrows. “If that’s a sexual position—”
She gave him a teasing smack to the biceps.
“—then I’m all in.” He stuffed away that chill-inducing note, then managed a smile for her. “Buckle up. I don’t intend to get you hurt on my way to exact vengeance from that creep.”
“The note writer?” Gabriella blinked, surprised by the vehemence in Shane’s tone. Too late, she remembered his violent youth. Just then, he appeared fully capable of making someone pay for leaving her that threat. “You are not going after whoever did that. I don’t want you to. I don’t need you to.”
Shane started the car. “It’s no trouble.” He lowered his voice to a menacing level. “I’m good with my fists.”
“I’m sure you are! But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Blandly, Shane looked at her. “I’m telling you I’d win. That’s what I meant by ‘good with my fists.’ I’d win.”
“I know,” Gabriella told him. “You said you and your friend Casey got in a few scrapes when you were younger. But this is—”
“Casey’s gone straight. He might not win.”
“But you would? Because you … what? You haven’t gone straight?” Gabriella shook her head at him. “A little machismo is one thing, Shane. But if you’re telling me that you would—”
“I’d die for you,” Shane said simply. He pulled the car away from the curb in front of her house, then drove into the darkness. “But it’s not going to come to that.”
Standing in his silent bedroom that night, long after Gabby had fallen asleep in his bed, Shane gazed down at her and wondered what the hell to do next. Everything had been so perfect tonight … until Gabby had found that note in her door.
Just remembering it chilled him. Most of the time, fixing didn’t get deadly. It didn’t even get dangerous. Not in the physical sense, at least. There was always a lot of money at stake. Sometimes influence. Sometimes power. Sometimes secrets were revealed or hidden. Sometimes people lost their executive bonuses, their board positions, their patents or their research—but that was on the darker side of fixing that Shane worked in.
More often, fixers worked on more banal problems. They sorted out scandals for star athletes, covered up problems for politicians, made sure things ran smoothly for celebrities on the sets of troubled TV shows or big-budget movies. Basically, fixers solved other people’s problems. If they were really good, like Shane’s friend Casey Jackson, they made people like being “fixed” in the process. Most of the time, fixers were nothing more than modern-day alchemists. They turned gossip into gold.
But they weren’t bullies. They weren’t blackmailers (not usually, at least). They weren’t killers. Fixing was supposed to be clean. Effective. Invisible.
That threatening note had been none of those things.
Shane felt certain his rival fixer was responsible for it, though. Who else could it be? Pinkie? She had a reason to want the pizzerias—for her cupcake shops—but Shane didn’t think Gabby’s cousin was the type of person to use intimidation to get what she wanted. On the other hand, Pinkie had meddled with the thermostat on the day of the pizza dough fiasco. He’d seen her doing it before she’d ducked out of Campania. But Shane hadn’t wanted to say anything to Gabby before he’d found out more.
As far as the rest of the crew went—people who knew where Gabby lived and how to scare her—Shane could rule out almost everyone else. Bowser was huge and taciturn, but he loved Gabby. Shane knew Bowser would sooner take a bullet for Gabby than shoot one. Emeril? Too obsessed with Food Network to put down the remote and write a threatening note. He also didn’t have the know-how to accomplish the rest of the sabotage. Hypo wouldn’t have wanted to risk a potential splinter from shoving the note in the doorjamb.
Frosty was a possibility. Shane was keeping an eye on him. But Shane had spoken with Jennifer a few days ago—ostensibly about some pizzeria business—and she’d verified that Frosty was with her most of the time. Besides, Shane recalled, Frosty believed that Gabby was under Shane’s protection. He’d told him so after Frosty had overheard the end of his phone call with his dad.
He doubted Frosty would risk crossing paths with him. That night, in the alley, Shane had made his feelings about Gabby plain. No one was touching her. Not without retaliation.
He hadn’t been kidding about what he’d told Gabby on the way home tonight. It might have been true that his work didn’t usually require violence—but when it came to Gabby, Shane felt 100 percent capable of being violent to ensure her safety.
That left Scooter—who was like a grouchy old uncle to Gabby and had been since she was a little girl—and Jeremy. He was more problematic, Shane knew, because he was desperate. The money problems that he’d alluded to that day in Campania’s kitchen were real. Jeremy had a gambling problem—one Shane had easily unearthed with a little research—and Jeremy had no love lost on Gabby. That made him potentially dangerous … and susceptible to being coerced into sabotaging the pizzeria for a hefty payday. Shane didn’t think Jeremy had the nerve to follow through with a threat, but he was keeping an eye on him, all the same.
Pacing now, with midnight pressing down on him, Shane felt no closer to knowing who the other fixer was than he had earlier. It might be someone utterly unfamiliar. It might be the fixer who’d been axed by his father in favor of Shane—which would cert
ainly have provided motivation for a payback. It might, Shane didn’t want to admit, even be Lizzy.
There was so much about his assistant he still didn’t know. About her past. About her association with his father. About what she was really capable of, if properly motivated. Shane knew that Lizzy had more … flexible … morals than some people did.
Would she be willing to betray Shane for a payday?
He didn’t know. He did know that Lizzy had always been loyal to him, through some tough spots and during difficult times. But he also recognized that Lizzy had had access to all the same information he had. She’d had access to the same pizzeria keys he’d filched, to the same intel that disclosed Gabby’s address, to the same big payout if she brought in the Grimanis’ pizzerias for Waltham Industries.
Lizzy also had a secret. That much was obvious.
Feeling overwrought and unwilling to consider the matter any further, Shane glanced over at Gabby again. She slept in his bed like a tanked-up Teamster, all heavy breathing, splayed arms and legs, and unwitting blanket hogging. He loved her anyway.
Gabby looked cute with her face peaceful and her hair a mess. She looked trusting. Shane had to protect her. He just did. There weren’t any reservations in his mind or in his heart.
He’d gambled big-time by giving Lizzy that secondary assignment to complete. He hoped he wouldn’t live to regret it.
He hoped it would come through in time.
Shane had been trying to reach Lizzy all night, hoping to find out. Even now, he checked his phone for the umpteenth time, looking for a message. He found nothing. Either his assistant was purposely ducking him, or she was still keeping secrets.
You’ve been preoccupied lately, Shane remembered Lizzy telling him the other day. And I’ve been taking advantage.
He hoped she hadn’t meant what he feared she’d meant.
Considering it intently, Shane paced some more. He needed more information. He needed to do … something. He wasn’t a man who waited around for the fight to come to him. He was the man who started the fight. He was also the man who finished it.
Decisively, Shane shot another glance at Gabby. For now, she was fine. But eventually, she’d be apart from him. He couldn’t keep her under lock and key in his apartment. When Gabby woke up, she’d want to leave. He could stall her only so long with sex—no matter how lusty and fulfilling it was.
Leaving her sleeping, Shane strode barefoot across his apartment. He slipped into the next room. He took his lock-picking tools from their hiding place. Wearing drawstring pants and a fierce expression, he noiselessly left his apartment.
Within seconds, he was inside Lizzy’s place next door.
It was exactly as he remembered it—complete with Lizzy and her unknown paramour huddled beneath the bedclothes in her darkened bedroom, sleeping obliviously. Hastily but silently, Shane searched the rest of her apartment. If he knew Lizzy …
Bingo. Ten minutes later, Shane turned up a fat accordion file full of paperwork. A quick glance told him it contained information about Campania and the other Grimani pizzerias—things even he hadn’t uncovered in his reconnaissance. Tax returns. Old menus. Electrical diagrams. Blueprints. One of Robert Grimani’s customer notebooks. A recipe for caramel budino. Feeling his heart sink, Shane riffled through it all.
Maybe Lizzy was hiding more than he wanted to admit.
Stone-faced, Shane ducked out of her apartment. Holding the overstuffed file against his chest, he went back to his place.
Everything was quiet. With relief, Shane headed for the living room. There, he could have a closer look at these things. He could turn on a light without disturbing Gabby. He could—
The sound of a cough came from the back of the apartment. The toilet flushing. Water running. Another cough. Then, footsteps.
Gabby was awake. With steely determination, Shane stopped where he stood, in the middle of his kitchen. He looked around.
He had no time to waste. She could be there in seconds.
He bundled up the file and stashed it nearby.
The cupboard was still closing when Gabby wandered in.
“There you are.” In the smoky glow cast by the moonlight outside his floor-to-ceiling windows, she brightened. Wearing one of Shane’s too big shirts and a pair of panties—and nothing else—Gabby came to him. She wrapped her arms around him. “Wow. Your heart is pounding.” She glanced up. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. You surprised me, that’s all.”
“Mmm.” She nuzzled his neck, then held him more tightly. “You’re easily spooked. That’s what happens when you stay up too late plotting your nefarious revenge on my unknown note writer.” Gabby kissed him. “You don’t have to worry about him,” she promised drowsily. “If he’s too clueless to stay on top of the latest developments in his own sabotage scheme—such as my dad agreeing to that offer, basically making the point moot—then he’s too clueless to be a real threat. Right?”
Silently, Shane nodded. But he didn’t agree.
Threats had to be taken seriously. Especially in his world. With millions of deal-making dollars at stake, people got desperate. Desperate people did desperate things.
But not to the woman he loved, Shane vowed as he hugged Gabby closer. Not to the woman who’d saved him from himself.
“Right. I just got up to double-check that the door’s locked.” Purposely, Shane strode to it. “Yup. All locked.”
When he returned, Gabby took him in her arms. “My hero.”
“Damn straight. Nobody’s hurting you on my watch.”
“My big, tough-talking, sleep-deprived hero.” Tenderly, Gabby smiled at him. She ruffled his hair, then slid her hand into his. She squeezed. “You probably haven’t slept a wink all night. Come on. I know how to put you out.”
Her suggestive tone couldn’t be mistaken. Despite everything, Gabby’s nearness enlivened him. Shane felt better.
He also felt hard.
“I know how to take you down,” he replied roughly, studying her beloved face, her sexy disheveled hair, her warm, welcoming body in his shirt. Beneath its hem, her legs were long and sleek. In the gap made by its haphazardly fastened buttons, her modest cleavage lured him nearer. He inhaled. “But first …”
Still holding her hand, Shane slid down her body. He tugged loose one of her shirt buttons with his teeth. He nuzzled her exposed breast, then sank to his knees in front of her. He nosed aside the hem of her shirt, drawn nearer by the faint musky scent of her, then pressed his mouth between her thighs.
“Ooh!” Breathlessly, Gabby wobbled backward. She bumped against the kitchen counter, then grabbed his head for balance. Standing right beside Shane’s hiding place, she moaned. “Well, if that’s your idea of a soothing bedtime routine—”
“It is now,” Shane murmured, his previous subterfuge forgotten. He brushed his lips over her silky panties, loving the warmth and feel of Gabby beneath. “Let’s get these off.”
They slipped away like a fleeting dream. Shane smiled as he dropped them, anticipating the pleasure that was coming next.
“Be sure to hang on,” he advised Gabby. Helpfully, he took her hands, then arranged them on the counter behind her for support. “You’re going to need help standing up.”
She laughed. “That’s pretty big talk.”
“It’s coming from a pretty big man.”
“This isn’t my first time, you know. I’ve been—”
Shane kissed her. Intimately. Gabby gasped.
Satisfyingly, her next utterance was an incoherent moan.
Shane smiled all over again. Damn, but he loved her.
“Don’t collapse yet,” he teased. “Wait till the end.”
Shuddering, Gabby groaned. She gave him a suspicious glance. “That sounds familiar. Did I say that to you once?”
“Under similar circumstances,” he confirmed. “But this time, no one’s interrupting. We have all the time in the world.”
Just for that moment, with Gabby safe
in his grasp, it felt that way to him. Shane wanted it to stay that way forever.
“Oh, God.” Eyes closed, Gabby arched her hips. She dug her fingers into his hair, holding him near. “Not all the time in the world! I can’t stand it. Please, Shane.” She moaned as he went on loving her, expertly and passionately. “Not slowly, this time. Not slowly. I can’t stand it.”
“I think you can stand it.” The next swirl of his tongue proved that not only could Gabby stand it, she could … “Did you hear that?” he asked huskily. “You can beg for it, too.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Straining toward him, Gabby tensed her thighs. “Stop talking. I’m almost—”
Shane went right on talking. Explicitly.
Gabby liked that, and he knew it. So did he. After all, it couldn’t all be mushy “I love yous” between them. In fact, it occurred to him vaguely, it hadn’t been “I love you” for a while now—not since that night at Gabby’s house. What did that mean?
“Oh, yes,” Gabby cried, shuddering. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Shane took everything in, loving the feel of her climaxing against him. Loving her. “Mmm-hmm. Now, more.”
Shaky-legged, Gabby beamed down at him. In the moonlight, she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. She was his.
How in the world had he gotten so lucky?
Shane didn’t know. He wasn’t the type to question too much, either. So he just smiled back, swept up Gabby in his arms, and then carried her back to his bedroom … intent on showing her, with everything he did next, that he loved her beyond reason.
And that he always would. No matter what happened.
Chapter Seventeen
She had to quit waking up this way, Gabriella realized the next morning. Replete, vaguely sore in intimate places, and still sleepy from dreaming of sexual liaisons with Shane—that was no way to kick off a productive day. All feeling this way did was make her yearn to loll around in bed, reliving the magic of the night before and anticipating the next time she and Shane would come together, heart to heart and skin on skin, sharing the same breath and the same need and the same desire.