Restless Harmony

by Kylie Gilmore

  He opened the door. “Hello.”

  “Hi.” She stepped inside, and he helped her off with her coat. She turned. “I, um, feel underdressed.” She wore the same clingy sweater with jeans and boots she’d had on earlier. He loved it.

  “Not at all,” he said.

  She slipped off her boots and left them by the front door, losing a few inches in height. He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her into the kitchen.

  “Smells wonderful. Wait, I thought you didn’t cook.”

  “Only simple things,” he said quickly.

  She glanced into the dining room and stopped short. “Gabe? This is all very nice. I mean, you look so nice and the candles.” She waved a hand in the air. “The soft music. The food. But is this a date? I thought it was just a friendly invitation?”

  Gabe debated whether he needed to plow forward or cover up a massive error in judgment. He’d thought she’d seemed interested before, or maybe that was just her way of being friendly, the way she was with everyone. He turned to her, looking extremely uncomfortable, and went with the cover-up.

  “Definitely a friendly invitation,” he said.

  He crossed to the dining room and blew out the candles. He shut off the music too. “I saw a dinner party in a movie once with candles. But we don’t need them. Whatever. This could not be a more friendly invitation.” And if she believed that—

  “Oh.” She bit her lip, and he restrained himself mightily from doing the same. She had beautiful lips—full and pink.

  He headed to the kitchen and gestured to all the pots and pans. “This is just takeout warming up on the stove. Very casual.”

  She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “You sure?”

  “Yup.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “I guess you’re used to entertaining?” she ventured.

  He never entertained. “All the time,” he said. “Wine?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll eat in the living room on the coffee table. We don’t need something so formal as the dining room.”

  “No, it’s nice. We can eat in the dining room. You have the table set so nicely with…” She peered in there. “Is that crystal? And china and silver.”

  He shrugged.

  She gave him a funny look. “We’ll eat there, thanks.”

  He poured her a glass of merlot, poured himself a glass, and raised his glass to her. “To friendly dinners,” he said.

  She looked at him like he was crazy. He felt a little crazy. Still, she toasted. “To friendly dinners,” she said.

  He took a long swallow of wine and turned to serve up dinner.

  ~ ~ ~

  Zoe sipped her wine and stared at Gabe’s broad back as he piled angel hair pasta, sauce, meatballs, broccoli rabe, and garlic bread onto two plates. She wasn’t sure what she’d wanted tonight to be. On the one hand, he’d invited her to dinner at his home, which was very intimate and romantic. On the other hand, Daze’s warning about Gabe’s powers of persuasion made her leery. And the whole deal with his ex. She’d been on the fence over date or no date, so she went for casual. No makeup and no fussing over her clothes, just the same outfit he’d seen her in earlier today. Gabe had dressed up, and he smelled wonderful, some spicy cologne that made her want to breathe deep whenever he got close. She kinda wanted the music and candlelight back, it had looked so romantic, but she was afraid her uncertainty had squashed any romantic notions he’d had. Not many guys made that kind of effort, and it made her like him even more.

  Gabe set dinner on the table and pulled out a cherry-wood chair for her to take a seat. He was such a gentleman. Maybe her worries were unfounded. “Thank you,” she said as he scooted in the chair for her.

  He took the seat at the head of the table, which was next to where she sat. They could hold hands if they wanted. Did she want that?

  “The food is from Emilio’s,” he said. “Everything is made fresh from scratch. Homemade sauce, meatballs, even the bread.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” she said, setting a cloth napkin in her lap. It almost felt like she was at a nice restaurant. “Gabe?” she ventured.

  He set his fork down. “Yes?”

  “I kinda liked the candlelight and music. I mean, if you don’t mind, could we have that back?”

  He gave her a slow, sexy smile revealing the dimple that she found so appealing. Now that he’d shaved, he looked more boy next door. “Sure.”

  He left for a moment, and the music returned. She relaxed a bit as the familiar voice of Billie Holiday filled the room. She looked up. There were speakers in the ceiling. Cool. He returned with a long lighter and lit the candles on the table.

  “Dim the lights too,” she said.

  He did and returned to the table. “Does this mean you…”

  She suddenly felt shy. “I don’t know. I just liked it.”

  He raised his glass to her, and she clinked hers against his. “To just liking it,” he said in a husky voice.

  Damn if she wasn’t throbbing at the words. Unsure what to say in return, she took a long drink of wine. He took a sip, watching her over the rim of his glass. She felt herself flush. Thank goodness he couldn’t see that in the dim candlelight.

  She dug into the pasta. “This is wonderful,” she told him after she chewed. “I love Italian.”

  “Yeah? Me too. What’s your favorite Italian food?”

  “Homemade ravioli. There’s this place in the city I used to go to all the time just for the ravioli. I guess you need one of those pasta-maker machines if you want to do it yourself.”

  “My stepdad makes homemade pasta and sauce. Nothing like it.”

  “I can make a mean takeout,” she joked.

  “Me too.”

  They smiled at each other.

  “So what made you move back into the house you grew up in?” she asked. “I mean, I thought you lived on this street.”

  “Yeah, this is it. I wanted to move back, and my mom and stepdad wanted to downsize. The timing just worked out.”

  She looked around. “So was it like this when you lived here?”

  “Their furniture went with them or to charity. Just the dining room set stayed. And I made some changes. Updated the kitchen. Redid the basement.”

  She grinned. “Did you make the basement into a man cave?”

  “If by man cave, you mean a pool table, bar, and home theater—”

  “That’s a man cave, all right.”

  “Then yes, I did.”

  They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. If this was a date, it was the most relaxed first date she’d ever had. Usually she’d be babbling a mile a minute just to make sure there weren’t any awkward silences. And she hardly ever ate much of the food. She took another bite of garlic bread. Everything was so good.

  “So what’s the latest with your music?” Gabe asked.

  She held up a finger and finished chewing. “Not much. Jordan says he’s working on getting us something, but who knows if that’ll pan out. He’s always working on something.”

  “You should try the indie route. The world’s much more connected now. Anyone can post their music online and get a following. That might even be better than that show. Although, if you do go on the show and win, as I’m sure you would, you do know a lawyer who could take that boiler-plate contract and negotiate a better one.”

  “It’s pretty iron-clad.”

  “Nothing is iron-clad.” His tone, so hard and confident, gave her a glimpse of the corporate lawyer he’d once been. He would be good to have on her side, that was for sure.

  She took a sip of wine. “I’ve been thinking about my options. It’s so hard, you know? I want to make it big with my band, but Jordan doesn’t want to go indie. Besides, it’s expensive if you do it right. You need to rent a recording studio and get someone who knows what they’re doing to produce.”

  “I’d invest in you,” he said.

  “Gabe.”

  “What?�
�

  “First you want to let me stay rent free, which I’m not doing; then you want to pay for my band’s indie album?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re much too generous with someone you just met.”

  “We haven’t just met.” He paused, his eyes trailing from her hair to her eyes and finally lingering on her lips. “I’ve had my eye on you for a month.”

  Her breathing hitched. “Oh.”

  “Forget I said that.” He took a long swallow of wine.

  A beat passed.

  “Why didn’t you ask me out?” she asked.

  “I didn’t want to strike out with my waitress and have you spit in my food.”

  She laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Why?”

  “I think you go after what you want.”

  He studied her in that unnerving way of his. She had a feeling if he studied her long enough, all the answers he sought would be right there for him to see. All her lusty impulsive thoughts. Oh, this was not good. One day. She lasted one freaking day before temptation lured her in.

  “Zoe, would you like—”

  “I won’t be persuaded to sleep with you!” she blurted.

  He flashed a smile, looking darned pleased with himself. “I was going to ask you out,” he said. “But if you want to jump ahead…”

  Her face flamed. See what happened when big-sister types got in your head? Don’t sleep with your landlord, don’t sleep with your landlord, until all she could think about was sleeping with her landlord!

  She finished her wine in one long swallow. “Maybe I’ll go out with you,” she replied, trying for cool.

  “Maybe? How do you maybe go out?”

  She put her glass down. “Can I be honest?”

  “Please do.”

  “I have a long pathetic history of losers. My landlord, for one. Every guy that thought it was cool to pick up the singer after a gig, and not so cool to actually have a relationship with them.” She blew out a breath. “And the truth is, maybe it’s not just the guys I date, maybe I’m a bad bet. I want that music career so bad I can taste it. I fly off for every opportunity and things always seem to fall apart relationship-wise when I’m away.”

  His gaze was heated. “So you only want something temporary?”

  A fling was not what she needed. That roller coaster was draining. She needed to focus on her career.

  “Now’s not a good time for me,” she said. “For anything.”

  He studied her for a moment, and she worried he could see straight through to the walls around her battered heart. How she didn’t want to risk another heartbreak, yet still deep down, beyond all reason, longed for a love that lasted. It was so Cinderella fantasy. If it hadn’t happened for her by now, it just wasn’t going to happen. She’d already been in love three times. The problem must be her. Something that made guys—

  “What’s the deal with Jordan?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he looks at you like he’s in love with you.”

  “He does not!”

  Gabe shrugged.

  “He’s a friend. We grew up together. His dad and my dad were in The Davis Trio. I thought I told you that.”

  “So you never…” He waited for her to fill in the blank. A flush crept up her neck. “Never mind,” he said.

  “We realized we were better off as friends,” Zoe said.

  He studied her again, making her feel positively jumpy. Like he could see right into her soul.

  “Did you both realize that, or just you?” he asked.

  “Both!”

  He held up his palms. “Okay, okay.”

  He resumed eating, so she did the same. Gabe smoothly turned the conversation to favorite movies and TV shows, and she relaxed again. Gabe liked to watch classic car renovation shows (very guy of him), and she liked watching anything with vampires, especially if they fell in love.

  When they finished eating, she thanked him for the meal and made an excuse that she had to get back to Fred. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with this…chemistry between her and Gabe, but she knew she shouldn’t act on it. The timing was bad, plain and simple. She was leaving soon for the next big thing.

  Gabe walked her to the door and watched her put her boots on. “So we’ve established that you’re single, and I’m single, so will you have dinner with me? I mean, out of the house, you know, like a date.”

  The shark lawyer didn’t give up that easily, for sure.

  She bit her lip. “This kinda felt like a date.”

  He inclined his head with a smile. “So how about another date? Next weekend?”

  “I’m working Friday and Saturday nights.”

  “Sunday, then.”

  She should really nip this in the bud. Be strong, she told herself. She mentally rehearsed a nice rejection that a lawyer would understand. Gabe, you are not my lima bean; therefore, this will remain a friendly relationship until such time as I’m no longer your tenant. With the additional provision that I have achieved some measure of success with my music and that you have some reasonable explanation for dumping the woman you were supposed to marry when you found out she was terminally ill. Quid pro quo latin, etc.

  “Okay,” she said.

  He helped her on with her coat, and then he lifted her hair from the back of the coat, his warm fingers brushing the back of her neck. He leaned down to her ear. “It’s a date.”

  She turned. “Or just a friendly invitation?”

  She jolted as his warm hand pushed a lock of hair back over her ear. “Zoe, I think we both know there’s more here than friendliness.”

  She blew out a breath and started babbling. “I’ve got such baggage. This could get really messy with me living next door and—”

  “I like messy.”

  She stopped. “You do?”

  “I’ve got baggage too.”

  She stood very still. Was he going to give her the real story about his ex? “What kind of baggage?”

  “My fiancée and I got in a fight when I said I was quitting my high-paying lawyer job. She wanted to keep up her shopping sprees on my credit card. I told her to go to hell, and she got hit by a truck the next day.” He looked at the floor and said quietly, “How’s that for baggage?”

  She put her hand on his arm. “Did you lash out because of your grief over your dad?”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I was in a bad place.”

  “I heard she was sick.”

  His expression was grim. “Yup.”

  “So…why exactly did you break up with her?”

  His brows drew down. “She dumped me.”

  “Oh. So the breakup wasn’t because of the brain tumor?”

  He shoved both hands in his hair and blinked rapidly. “I didn’t even know about the damn brain tumor until her mom mentioned it at the funeral.”

  Oh, oh, oh. Her instincts had been right. He was a good guy. He really was. And now he was upset. She’d brought up this horrible memory after he’d been so nice with the candlelit dinner.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabe,” she said before impulsively hugging him, trying to make up for her stupid completely unnecessary prodding at what was obviously a painful subject.

  He pulled away. “It’s okay. Now it feels like a pity date, so forget I said anything.”

  “I don’t pity you. I’m relieved to hear the real story.”

  “Heard some nasty stuff, huh?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know people like to talk around here.”

  Her heart squeezed. “We’ll go out. Something casual and fun, okay?”

  He studied her again for a long moment. “I’m not so sure. I think I need another hug.”

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  She hugged him again and this time he hugged her back. She pulled away, looking up at him to make sure he was okay. It was so sad about—

  His mouth crashed down over hers. H
er knees went weak, but she was in no danger of falling because he’d hauled her up against him, his arm banded around her waist, his other hand speared through her hair, cupping the back of her neck. Her mind shut down as his tongue invaded for a long, hot kiss that consumed her, causing a deep, throbbing ache. He finally let her up for air and gazed down at her with a hot look that told her he wanted more, a lot more.

  He seemed to have forgiven her misstep.

  “Gabe,” she said shakily, “you said you wouldn’t make a move unless I asked you to.” She was still pressed against him, still clutching his shirt. She loosened her grip.

  “Sue me.”

  “Aargh! You faked me out with that hug, you shark.” She wiggled to get away, but that just made her rub against him because he still wasn’t letting her go. “Gabe!”

  He kissed her again, stealing the thunder right out of her outrage. She nearly stumbled when he suddenly pulled away. “See you Sunday.”

  She pursed her lips, torn between lust and aggravation. “I want to not like you right now.”

  He grinned, looking like an arrogant, sexy, shark lawyer who took what he wanted.

  She pointed at him. “I don’t want you.”

  “Zoe, Zoe, Zoe, do I need to show you what a liar you are?” His gaze ate her up, and she wondered how they’d moved so quickly from friendly neighbors to carnal friends. Just one short kiss away from lover land.

  “I, you, gah!” She hightailed it out of there before she jumped in bed with the shark dressed in boy-next-door clothing.

  She was halfway up the stairs to her apartment when she burst into song, so happy to know that Gabe was very much the good guy she’d wanted him to be. That didn’t mean she was going to boink him. She giggled. But it was nice to know.

  Really, really…nice.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe woke with a start Wednesday night as Fred barked his intruder bark. She sat up in the dark and squinted at her radio alarm clock, three a.m. It was usually some noise he heard outside—a car nearby, a helicopter overhead. He quieted.