by Jody Holford
Maybe she only thought she loved him. She spent so much time with him; they laughed at each other’s jokes and felt comfortable in each other’s space, so naturally she thought herself crazy about him. Though she did spend a fair amount of time with their mutual friend, Brady, and nothing like this had come up. She couldn’t imagine kissing him the way she often pictured with Owen. But if there were no sparks between them, it would make things easier. Not just what he was asking of her, but her life and their relationship. She could be his best friend without spending nights fearing the time he’d bring the next perfect woman home and finally say, “This is the one for me, Gabby.” And then he’d probably ask her to be his best man. Because, regardless of what he said, Owen sometimes forgot that he was best friends with a girl.
He pushed his adorable glasses up his straight nose. No curves or bends from sports for her Owen. He liked watching them but didn’t play anything without a controller as far as she knew.
Genuine regret tainted his voice, stabbing her in the heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how awkward this would be for you. I was thinking of how easy it would be, what with our friendship, to convince my parents that we’re together. I’m more comfortable with you than any woman I’ve ever known, so I didn’t think about the…more intimate aspects of a relationship.”
Of course he hadn’t. She was his teddy bear. Why would he?
Owen cleared his throat. “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea. I don’t want to wreck things between us and I can see asking you to…well, offer intimacy in any form…”
Oh no. He isn’t backing out before I find out if my attraction has any basis. What if she never got another shot? Feeling a surge of power and the familiar, always-present desire, Gabby stepped closer to Owen. His being so nervous leveled the playing field. “You can say kiss again, you know. I’m not scared of the word.”
She put her hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of him under her fingers. His heartbeat was racing, and the knowledge gave her another boost of confidence. “You’re such a prude sometimes. Just talking about making out or sex and you get flustered. You’re sure you’re not a virgin, right?” She laughed at the expression on his face.
Scowling at her, he gripped her wrists but didn’t move her hands. “I am not a prude. Or a virgin, thank you very much. Just because I have respect for you—just because I’m not some…some wild exhibitionist, like the last clown you dated, doesn’t mean I’m a prude.”
The flip-flopping of her stomach, combined with the scent of Owen’s aftershave and their conversation, was making Gabby’s head spin.
Be logical. He loves logic. “You’re right. If we’re going to convince your family, we have to seem natural. Obviously we can be in each other’s space.” She looked down to where he was still holding her wrists, then met his gaze through lowered lashes. “But a couple in love would kiss and touch without thought.” She hadn’t meant to lower her voice. The song had ended and the quiet before the next one echoed around them, making their combined breaths seem louder.
Owen looked at her lips, then licked his own. “So you’ll do it?” His voice was rough, like the words took effort to form.
Her fingers curled into the cotton of his dress shirt. “Well, I do really want your apartment.”
His breathing hitched, then grew louder, and she felt the rise and fall of his chest. She stepped closer until there was no space between them, only cloth. Goose bumps tickled her arms.
He cleared his throat. “Right. The apartment. It’s a good trade. And it’s only a week.”
Their noses were nearly touching. “A week is nothing. A week pretending to love you? I can do that.” If she could spend the last several months pretending she didn’t love him, the opposite would be a breeze.
His smile was too wide…too forced. Good. She didn’t want to be the only jittery one. He nodded. “Of course you can. We’d be spending all our time together anyway. So the only thing that’ll be different is—”
“The kissing,” Gabby said, finishing his sentence. “And the presence of your family during said kisses, of course.”
“Right. My family.” She went up on her tiptoes. His nose touched hers and his hands stilled, he released her wrists so his fingers could trail their way to her upper arms. Was he holding her steady or anchoring himself? She didn’t really care, as long as he didn’t let go.
“If you want this to work, you’ll need to feel comfortable kissing and touching me.” Gabby wasn’t sure which side of her brain was winning—the side that hoped he’d be a horrible enough kisser to finally squash the feelings she had for him or the side that wanted to smash her mouth against his and see if it was everything she’d dreamed it would be.
“Within reason,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Gabby swallowed her groan. Reason was Owen’s constant companion. Right up there with lists, spreadsheets, and his top ten organizational tips every bachelor should know. What she wouldn’t give to kiss the reason right out of him.
She licked her lips. “Absolutely. Only within reason.”
His lips hovered, and Gabby had to stop herself from yanking him closer. She could taste his breath and wanted more. She wanted to run her lips along his skin and inhale the scent of his soap, to consume him. She wanted to make him forget reason. Forget everything but her.
But before she could do that, Owen kissed her. His mouth touched hers tentatively, sweetly, his fingers flexing on her skin. Gabby’s lips parted when Owen tilted his head. One of her hands wandered up his chest, around the back of his neck, and any thought of reason or pretending vanished. This moment, the feel of his mouth on hers, finally, was more real than anything she’d ever felt. Straining against him, she pulled him closer and kissed him with all the longing she’d been swallowing down since she realized, months ago, that he owned her heart.
One of Owen’s hands moved to her hair, tangling in it as he returned her kiss without the restraint she’d expected. God. His lips. The way his mouth moved over hers was the opposite of comfortable. It was hot and seductive and made her feel like there was no way to get close enough. That didn’t stop her from trying. When his tongue touched hers, Gabby gave in completely, wrapping both arms around his neck and taking everything she wanted. Owen’s other hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her so close only air could fit between them. Every part of her lined up perfectly with every part of him.
She wondered if someone could go into shock from sensation overload.
When she could no longer breathe, Gabby leaned back. Had the room tilted, or was it just her? Owen’s forehead touched hers, his eyes fluttering open slowly. Her pulse sped as she tried to find some calm, grateful his breathing was uneven as well.
He tapped her nose with his index finger and winked. “I don’t think convincing them will be a problem,” Owen said, his voice light and fun. “Not such a prude after all, huh?”
Gabby’s heart cracked, splintering right up the middle. She could almost hear it tearing in two. Kissing him had been an epically bad idea. Now she knew exactly what she was missing. That spark and fire that curled in her stomach, the same feeling she got when she created something astounding on canvas, had spread through her entire body, claiming her heart, her soul, while they kissed.
And Owen’s thoughts had been on his plan. Because you aren’t his type. And she never would be. The next week might possibly kill her, or at least demolish her heart.
But at least she’d get the apartment.
When the week was over and the New Year came, she could lock herself inside it and look out, through-tear stained eyes, at the perfect view. She could use the natural lighting to create what would likely be the best work of her life. All great art came from heartache, right?
And Owen’s easy smile, so unaffected by what they’d just shared, was heartache personified.
Chapter Three
Owen loved working from home. There were times when he had two computer screens going, his
laptop open, and a phone pressed to his ear while he texted on his cell. It felt like running some sort of cool command station instead of being systems technician for a company that implemented and provided retail point of sales systems for a variety of stores. After the staff was trained on the systems and they launched to the public, he became the go-to guy for any issues. Well, he and his team.
And there were always issues. Because as much as the world relied on technology, the people creating it were not infallible.
He was finishing up the last of his emails before closing for the holiday. The day after Christmas was huge, with thousands of calls coming into the call center being routed to the various techs. Fortunately, he had time banked and a great rapport with his boss, so he’d been able to redirect his projects to accommodate his family’s spur-of-the-moment visit. Owen supervised over a dozen support techs, did trouble-shooting online and on the phone, helped launch new systems, and—best of all—never had to leave his house. Short of working next to Bill Gates, it was his dream job.
He popped the last bite of his ham sandwich in his mouth, then brushed the crumbs off his shirt and into his hand as much as he could. Gabby had given the shirt to him. In large, white letters, it read #Dork. He laughed, taking his plate to the sink and grabbing his handheld vacuum. As much as he’d like to deny it, thinking of Gabby made his skin feel too tight.
She’d agreed to his plan and eventually even seemed okay with it. In fact, she’d seemed more than okay with kissing him. He’d had to cover his shock and immediate arousal by backing away and making a joke. He had not seen that coming. But then again, she was a beautiful woman he cared for, and he hadn’t been in a relationship, physical or otherwise, in quite some time.
“Perfectly normal,” he told himself, closing down the laptop. Gabby was supposed to pop over with a few of her things before she left for work. She’d be on vacation after today, so they had plenty of time to get themselves organized. Owen had made a list of what he needed to do and what they needed to get done together to make this situation work. He’d already moved some of his clothes around in his closet and cleared out a drawer in his bathroom. He’d told his mother they were practically living together because they couldn’t get enough of each other. Owen hadn’t planned on having to prove it.
He checked his watch. Was Gabby even awake? He hoped so; she had to be at work soon. She was bringing over some books and movies, things that could be left around and provide proof of her presence. Not that there wasn’t already proof. He grinned and picked up her GAP sweater from the end of the couch and went to hang it in his closet.
Guilt gnawed at his stomach, knowing he was lying to his family, but for the time being, it was better than adding more bad news to his aunt’s worries and troubles. His family was great. He loved them and enjoyed visiting with them…for limited timeframes. They were just so damn pushy. And loud. And theatrical. How he’d come from a family of risk-taking, over-enthusiastic performers had always stumped him.
His father and mother were college sweethearts who both graduated from the theater department at a small college just outside Boston. Now, they taught side by side at a theater school in New Jersey. His older sister, Ophelia—as if that name didn’t say everything—was a struggling actress who paid her rent with voice-overs and small extra roles. He spent most of his childhood wondering where he fit in.
His mother hounded him about finding the right woman to settle down with and thought he was “uptight” and “too damn picky,” but Owen figured the person he spent the rest of his life with should meet the right criteria. It wasn’t his fault that, so far, no woman had. Having particular tastes and expectations did not make him difficult. It made him discerning, and it grated on his nerves when they said differently. Ophelia hadn’t settled down and found her other half, so why were they always hounding him?
Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t date. He just didn’t tell his mother about every woman who caught his interest. Owen got stuck for a moment trying to remember the last time he’d wanted to go on a date. “Doesn’t matter,” he said aloud. He was her youngest and she worried. If it had been just his parents and his sister, he would have gone home, maybe even brought Gabby so she wouldn’t be alone. But if he’d gone, he knew it would have been a festive circus like it had been last year. This was about the only way he’d get a small family Christmas.
The washing-machine timer buzzed and Owen transferred his clothes before deciding that Gabby was operating in her own time zone and needed a nudge. Time to go get his pretend girlfriend settled before his family showed up. He chuckled to himself. Maybe this would be fun. His family liked drama, and now he was finally going to give them a show.
When he swung the door open, he froze. Jake, the building superintendent, leaned against Gabby’s open doorframe. He’d been their building manager for the two years they’d both lived here. When Owen had shown up to put a deposit on a place with Vanessa in tow, Jake had just been telling Gabby there were two people and two apartments. He’d been obvious about checking out both Gabby and Vanessa and even then, Owen had wanted to deck him. Once Jake brought up the difference in the apartments, he’d waited, like he expected the women to wrestle for it or something. When no one offered a solution, Jake had tossed a coin to make the decision. Owen always tried to avoid him, since punching someone wasn’t his style, but Jake tempted him to give it a shot.
Now, Jake was eyeing Gabby in her thin tank top and checkered pajama bottoms. It turned Owen’s stomach more than it usually did, and his fists clenched. The guy hit on anything that moved and did a terrible job of managing the place. When the tenants needed something, they just called the right professional and billed the owner.
“Hey, O. I was just heading over,” Gabby said. Her voice and eyes were still sleepy, her hair escaping the haphazard bun she had it in. He’d seen her like this dozens of times. They’d once gotten up at four a.m. to watch an Olympic hockey game. Why, this morning, did the sight of her grip his heart like it was in Iron Man’s fist? His vision clouded slightly, and then he was stalking across the hall, like he wasn’t even in charge of his own body, stepping between them, making Jake back up.
Gabby’s eyes widened, becoming more awake. He was doing her a favor, getting Jake out of her personal space. That was all. She seemed surprised at how much of her space Owen was taking up. Better him than Jake, though.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jake laughed and said, “You two are totally banging. Guys and girls are never just friends. Not when the chick looks like you.” He gave her a once-over and Owen had to work at pressing down his anger.
Gabby’s body tensed, and Owen gripped her arm to stop her from launching herself at their super. She froze and just glared at him. “It’s called dating or being in a relationship, you pig.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Owen said to Gabby, his voice purposefully light. He refused to let this idiot goad them. Gabby shifted, angling herself toward Owen in a way that pressed her front to his side, and a jolt of surprise rushed him. Since when did her body feel so good next to his? Since you took notice of it and this jackass pointed it out. Owen scowled at Jake. “What are you doing here?”
Jake held his hands up in an “I surrender” gesture. Owen’s fist curled again and he reminded himself that it wasn’t worth the effort of getting riled up. But just one punch would feel so good. He took pride in his even-keeled emotions, which definitely did not run in his family. Even his sister had engaged in a scuffle once when a girl had said some less than pleasant things about her. But not Owen. He didn’t think violence was necessary. Usually.
“I had a box in storage. About this big,” he said. He gestured to show an object about six inches by six inches. “Cardboard, pretty plain. I can’t find it. I saw Gabby’s boxes weren’t down there so I wondered if maybe she grabbed it by accident. That’s all, dude. I wasn’t hitting on your girl.”
My girl. The words warmed his insides like he’d just taken a long dri
nk of really good coffee.
“And I told him I hadn’t seen it. Have you?” Gabby asked, looking up at Owen with her still slightly slumberous eyes.
“No.”
Jake shook his head like a scolded child. “Fine. If you see it, though, can you let me know?”
“Sure,” Gabby said.
Jake walked away, leaving Owen and Gabby standing in her doorway. When Jake stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed, Gabby whirled on Owen, giving him a little shove. “What the hell was that?”
Owen flinched, more from surprise than pain. He captured her hand when she poked him in the chest. The residual irritation swirled in his gut, boiling over. “What was what? How many times have I told you not to be alone with him? The guy is a first-class creep.”
Gabby raised her eyebrows and pushed past him into her apartment. “I was not alone with him, you dope. He knocked on my door and I answered. We were standing in the hallway. I never pegged you for a caveman.”
He followed behind, leaving her door open so they could take some of her stuff to his place. He decided now wasn’t the time to mention she’d been standing in the hallway wearing hardly anything. Even now, as she picked up a pile of clothes still on the hangers that were draped over the back of her couch, he could easily see the outline of her breasts. Not that he was looking.
He cleared his throat and picked up her easel, carefully, and folded the legs. All I did was stand beside her. “What are you talking about?”
Gabby laughed. “I’m talking about your little act out there. The she’s-my-woman stomp you did, rushing from your door to mine. I think you’re wasting your time staking a pretend claim on me in front of Jake. Even if we were really together, that wouldn’t stop him from being a creep.”