by Diana Duncan
Speaking of Mr. Adventure, he'd decided to attend the party as "Cousin Val," instead of Gabe Bond, hoping he could find out more information pretending to be her cousin than he could as an employee of the bank. She leaned forward to sweep another coat of dark brown mascara on her lashes. The man was acquiring so many aliases, she'd soon need a scorecard.
A knock sounded on the door. "Tessa? You ready?"
That was another thing. He'd called her by name for a full twenty-four hours. No honey, baby, sweetheart, Houdini, or even boss. This afternoon at the office in front of several employees, he'd respectfully addressed her as Miss Beaumont. The shock had rendered her speechless for sixty long seconds.
"Two minutes," she called out. After slicking on neutral lipstick, she stood back to examine her image. Her dress had been purchased at Mel's urging, mocha lace over satin with sheer lace sleeves and a straight, floor-length skirt that disguised her hips. She patted her upswept curls self-consciously. Though she'd never achieve beauty like Vivienne's, she looked good. Grabbing her cashmere shawl, she tossed it over one arm.
In the hall, she paused to watch Gabe prowl the living room. Gabe in a tuxedo was nothing short of magnificent. The jacket clung lovingly to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Those lean, muscled legs looked even longer in tailored slacks. The pristine shirt rivaled his gleaming smile and emphasized his bronzed tan. And the black suit brought out the dark sheen in his hair and deepened his incredible green eyes.
Tessa groaned inwardly. Obsessing over him again. Not good. She wrestled her wayward thoughts into submission and forced herself to stroll nonchalantly toward him.
His head snapped up at her entrance, his face expressionless.
"Dale will meet us there. I said you were nervous and wanted to arrive with me." The lie had stuck in her throat, but as usual, Dale had affably agreed.
Gabe draped her soft wool shawl over her shoulders with efficient, impersonal hands before escorting her outside. "Remember to stay in my sight at all times. I'll be watching Trask and his sons. Those three have main vault access."
He opened the car door and Tessa slid into the Jaguar. She pressed her hands to her abdomen. "I hate suspecting my coworkers of such horrible crimes. It makes my stomach hurt."
His mouth tightened. "Betrayal is ugly." Her throat constricted at the pain in his eyes. He looked like he had firsthand knowledge. She'd seen hints of the darkness that lurked under his lighthearted manner. Was he haunted by his life-or-death job? Or something more personal?
Either way, he wouldn't tell her. Whatever burdens he carried, he seemed determined to shoulder them alone. Her heart aching, she watched him stroll around the front of the Jag with his deceptively graceful walk. "Are you all right?" she asked as he started the engine.
His strangely flat gaze roved over her face before returning to the road. "I'm fine. Watch out for yourself."
His warning rang in her ears with double meaning. She was on the verge of starting a new life, the life she'd always wanted. She couldn't afford to ruin it by getting personally involved with him. "I'm learning."
He didn't respond. Instead, he slid a CD into the player. Mick Jagger serenaded them all the way to the Chantal Ballroom. You can't always get what you want. Profound words.
Gabe stopped the Jag in front of the valet parking sign. He climbed out and handed his valet key to the attendant. Squaring his shoulders, he consciously focused his thoughts. Showtime.
Behind them, Trask stepped out of a new Porsche, followed by a tall redhead who could pass for playmate of the month.
Gabe whistled. "A Porsche. Bank managers must make pretty good wages these days. Or—"
"Mr. Trask?" Tessa whispered? "Do you think he's the one?"
"We'll definitely keep an eye on him." At least until Gabe's boss faxed all the suspects' tax returns. Gabe's request had been delayed by an IRS computer glitch and the usual end of the fiscal-year jam. Even the highest government clearance couldn't force the IRS into efficiency.
He placed his hand on the small of Tessa's back and escorted her into the foyer. At the coat check, she handed over her wrap. As she bent her head the chandelier's muted glow caressed the velvety nape of her neck.
His heart pounded like a kid sneaking a peek at his first girlie magazine. Damn it, he should feel zilch when he looked at her. She was strictly business. The desire burning through his veins mocked his resolve. Confused, he shook his head. Why did his traitorous body continue to defy his brain?
Dale detached himself from a group of conversing guests and strode up to them, bending toward Tessa's cheek.
"Dale!" Tessa threw her arms around his neck and turned so Dale's lips met hers, thwarting the innocuous peck on the cheek he'd been aiming for.
"Hello, pretty lady." The big man appeared puzzled, but gently returned her kiss. "Ready to dance the night away?"
Gabe barely held in a snarl. The putz didn't deserve her.
"Nice to see you again, Val." Dale's gaze bored into Gabe's a second too long for comfort. The giant's eyes narrowed.
Maybe the Jolly Green Giant wasn't as dense as he appeared. Gabe lowered his lids. How much had his expression given away? Double damn! He was screwing up a scenario a rookie could manage. Get to work. "Don't you look marvelous," he simpered, toying with his bow tie. Not far from the truth, he grudgingly admitted. Accounting must be more profitable than Gabe had been led to believe. Or maybe mamma had picked out Dale's designer tux. The snide thought cheered him slightly.
"Our table is in here." Dale took Tessa's elbow and led them through the foyer into a large dining and dancing area.
Just like in the country club, Gabe beat Dale by a second to hold Tessa's chair, earning another curious glance from the big man. To hell with it. He indulged in a nanosecond of satisfaction. "Tessa, do you want something from the bar?"
She patted Dale's hand. "Dale can get it. He knows what I like."
Gabe slanted her an intimate, knowing look. "I promise I can deliver something that will satisfy you."
Her cheeks pinkened, and he clenched his fists under the table. Two minutes and he'd broken his vow. First his body went AWOL, now his brain.
With agile grace, Dale rose to his feet. "I don't mind. Val, what can I get you?"
How about handing over your fiancée, Bubba? "I take care of myself," Gabe snapped, dropping into a chair. "Thanks anyway," he belatedly amended.
Dale melted into the crowd.
"What is your problem?" Tessa hissed. "I thought you were a pro at this cloak-and-dagger stuff."
"I have a headache," he lied. Unfortunately, the throbbing ache originated much farther south than his temples. He'd lost his freaking mind. Everything he knew, everything he stood for, had suddenly come into question. Never before had he had a problem maintaining detachment and control. Never before had his depend-on-himself-at-all-costs attitude seemed shallow and lonely. And he had never before allowed a woman to twist him into knots of self-doubt, and threaten his carefully guarded equilibrium.
"I'm sorry." Her sympathetic gaze caressed his face. "Do you need ibuprofen? I have some in my bag."
"Sure." He had a feeling he'd need serious pain meds before the night was over. He accepted two pills and chewed them dry, swallowing his self-doubt with the bitter powder.
Work, focus on work. Concentrating on the job had always been his salvation. His buffer against dangerous emotional involvement. "Is the senior Mr. Richards around?"
"Yes, he's over by the bandstand with his wife."
Relief coursed through him, and he forcibly snapped his focus into place. "Time to introduce him to cousin Val."
As they wove through the crowd, he mentally reviewed the dossier on Donald Richards. The fifty-eight-year-old bank president had a second wife half his age, and a baby son. His marriage had occurred at the same time the phony checks started showing up.
The short, bald man turned to greet them. "Miss Beaumont."
Tessa nervously cleared her throat. "He
llo, Mr. Richards. I'd like to introduce my cousin, Valentine Colton."
Donald shook his hand, then gestured to the woman beside him. "My wife, Kiki."
The bodacious blonde was poured into a clingy silver dress cut down to South America. A diamond necklace that would choke a boa constrictor glittered around her neck. Gabe offered her a smile as he took her hand.
She returned his smile with a scorching I'd like to eat you up look that would have normally inspired an automatic reaction.
His body didn't even stir.
Unfamiliar, suffocating panic jammed his throat. He enjoyed women, enjoyed sex, but he'd always kept things light and playful. He'd never succumbed to one woman and let her fill his mind so completely he couldn't respond to another. But he'd just subconsciously made a mental comparison, and Kiki didn't even come close to Tessa. Cold fear crawled up his spine.
Beside him, Tessa stiffened. "I see Dale returning with our drinks. It was nice to see you again."
Ruthlessly burying his dread, Gabe tucked his hand under her elbow to guide her through the crowd. He had a job to do, and it didn't matter one damn bit how off-balance he felt. He reached deep inside for the cool control that always sustained him. "What is it with these bankers and their hot babes? I thought only ballplayers scored such knockout chicks. There's got to be something to numbers crunching I'm missing."
"A sudden, miraculous cure for your headache?" Tessa muttered.
"Jealous?"
"Not in this lifetime, Super Ego."
Her scathing reply didn't ring true. She was jealous. In a small, idiotic corner of his brain, he couldn't help feeling pleased. Damn, he was losing it.
He lightly squeezed her elbow in reassurance. "I wasn't making comparisons. My point is, these are high-maintenance women. Designer clothes, diamonds, hundred-dollar hairdos and fancy cars add up. Let's face it, they aren't hanging around with Trask and Richards for their looks."
"Maybe they're compatible, did you take that into account?"
"Yeah, Trask has such a warm, fun personality. And Richards—I'm quivering with excitement after talking to him."
"You're impossible," she huffed. "Because a person doesn't bungee jump off the Empire State Building at high noon does not make them boring."
With that proclamation, they arrived at their table. Dale rose, but again didn't challenge him for the privilege of seating Tessa. She scooted closer to the hulk and covered his hand with her own where it rested on the tablecloth.
Gabe stalked to the bar for a Coke. He stayed on the wagon when he worked, but that didn't stop him from craving a shot of tequila. He ground his teeth. Couldn't Tessie see Dale was all wrong for her? The dolt didn't even recognize the spirit under her cool facade. She needed a man who would set her free, let her soar. Gabe had managed to do just that. Every time he touched her, they both went up in flames.
But she deserved better. He couldn't stay. Couldn't be that man.
The fact that he wanted to be sent his internal alarm hurtling to defcon one. He navigated the mobbed dance floor, gripping his icy Coke with white-knuckled fingers. Detach, Colton.
He and Peter Richards arrived at the table simultaneously. Clearly nervous, Tessa introduced Gabe to Peter as her cousin Val. She needn't have worried. Peter barely noticed Gabe as they shook hands, unaware that "Cousin Val" and his new employee "Gabe Bond" were one and the same.
Peter released Gabe's hand and smiled at Tessa, but the courtesy looked forced. "Tessa, would you care to dance?"
"Yes, thank you." She sighed softly, seemingly resigned to her fiancé's non-reaction to her dancing with another man.
And with good reason. His expression pleasant, Dale sipped his wine. Gabe watched the couple circling in time to the music. Peter's face appeared haggard as he bent stiffly toward Tessa, engaging her in intense conversation.
Gabe waited until the dance was nearly over to approach them. "Mind if I cut in?"
Tessa frowned, but Peter turned her over without a word.
Careful to hold her at a respectable distance, Gabe took her in his arms. A new song began, a slow ballad. He tried to ignore the tug in his heart at the scent of her familiar sweet cloud of warm vanilla. "What was that all about?"
"Peter's upset because Neil and Donald got into an another argument. Neil can't stand Kiki, and vice versa. He and Donald have been on the outs ever since the marriage."
The crowded dance floor made maneuvering difficult. He drew her close, lying to himself that it was only to avoid a collision. She felt like she belonged in his arms. He squelched his longing. "Did he say what caused the argument?"
She sighed. "They have huge differences about how to run the company. Donald is conservative, while Neil dreams big. Neil's willing to take risks to expand, no matter how costly."
"Sounds promising. I'm going to see what I can find out." Reluctantly, he returned her to Dale. "Stay put," he murmured in her ear. "And don't do anything I wouldn't."
"A short list, Mr. Bond."
Grinning at her retort, he exited the ballroom and sauntered down the plush burgundy carpeted corridor. He arrived in time to see a man he recognized from intel photos as Neil slam out of a private room. Neil furiously brushed past Gabe and stalked out the exit. So much for eavesdropping.
Gabe reentered the ballroom. Looking for Tessa, he homed in on their empty table, then scanned the couples on the dance floor without success. His jaw clenched on a rush of emotion he refused to acknowledge as anxiety. She was supposed to stay in sight. Finally, he caught a glimpse of her and Dale walking out a pair of double doors, onto the brick terrace.
He discreetly followed. For her own safety, he needed to keep her in sight. Dale wouldn't be able to deal with an aggressive magazine salesman, much less a real threat. To afford them privacy, yet still keep an eye on Tessa, he ducked behind a large potted plant.
The couple strolled to a bench in the corner. They sat facing the fountain in the center of the deserted patio. Tessa scooted closer to Dale and rested her hand on his thigh. "I'm glad no one is out here. We don't get much time alone."
"No, we don't. But after the wedding that will change." Her fiancé picked up her hand and cradled her fingers tenderly in his, but edged his body away slightly.
Gabe drew his brows together. Hmm. Interesting reaction.
Tessa reached up and stroked her fingertips along Dale's wide jaw. Her hand slid behind his neck. Then she urged his head down and kissed him full on the mouth.
Sucker-punched, Gabe's guts cramped. The air slammed out of his lungs, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His fists convulsed around the plant, the rough bark cutting into his palms. He sucked in a painful breath, wrestling with the urge to rush over and yank her out of the other man's arms.
It wasn't his concern.
Not his problem.
None of his business at all.
Then why did it hurt so damn much?
He repeated the mantra ten times before he dared open his eyes.
Dale was kissing her back, but his posture was ramrod-straight. He didn't appear at all comfortable with the intimacy.
Very interesting reaction.
Tessa pulled back and stared up at her fiancé. Even from where he crouched, Gabe could see her pain and confusion. Though he didn't want the other man to desire her, at the same time he wanted to smash Dale's face in for hurting her. Torn by his battling emotions, he gripped the plant harder, struggling to regain his equilibrium.
"Dale, do you," Tessa asked in a shaky voice. "Find me … desirable?"
Gabe held his breath, waiting for the answer.
Dale's Adam's apple jerked convulsively. "Of course I do, but this really isn't a good time or place—"
"It's never the time or place." Tessa jumped up and paced in front of the fountain. "I know I'm not exactly a femme fatale, but you did ask me to be your wife. You must be attracted to me, and yet you've never—we've never—"
Dale stood. Gently, he turned her to face him. "When the time come
s, I promise I'll be everything you need in a husband. You'll never want for anything." He enveloped her in a chaste hug. "We should get back inside and join your co-workers."
She huffed out a sigh and nodded. Dale led her back into the ballroom.
So, they weren't lovers. That was the most interesting of all. What was wrong with the Gomer? If Tessa were his woman, Gabe would never let her out of his arms.
His heart thundered painfully against his ribs. She wasn't his, and never would be. His temples echoed the pounding of his heart as they throbbed in a clamoring duet. Good thing he'd taken those aspirin. Too bad they didn't do anything to ease the empty, burning ache in his chest.
Tessa rolled over in bed, hugging the pillow. A bleary glance at the clock showed nearly 3:00 a.m. Her second sleepless night in a row. Both times over men. Last night, she'd worried about her passionate response to Gabe. Now she lay here fretting about Dale's lack of response to her. And hers to him. She'd felt nothing when she'd kissed him. Maybe she was one of those people who didn't feel strong emotions. She never had.
But that wasn't entirely true. Because lately, she'd experienced plenty of incredible feelings.
With Gabe.
Since they'd met, she'd run the gamut from terror to exhilaration. She'd never felt more vital and alive.
She sat up, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. This useless train of thought had to be derailed. Now. Dale was a good man. She cared about him, and he cared about her. They'd be happy together. And she would have the stability she'd always dreamed of. Tessa swallowed, her dry tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She desperately needed a drink of water.
She belted her sapphire blue robe over her matching silk nightshirt. In the dark, she tiptoed to the bathroom and fumbled for the stack of paper cups beside the sink. The first cool sip slid down her parched throat, bringing instant relief, and she gulped the rest.
A moan caught her attention. She cocked her head, listening in the blackness. Gabe? She sprinted down the hall.
"No!" he cried out.