Maybe she'd have a glass of wine when she got home and watch a movie, something funny—Woody Allen or John Cleese. They always made her laugh. Tomorrow was Sunday and she could sleep late, so maybe she'd have her own little comedy marathon and drink the whole damn bottle.
Why are you thinking that way? Everyone hits a few bumps in the road. You've been wallowing a little too deep in the self-pity trough. If she didn't stop, she was going to get thoroughly sick of herself.
By the time she turned onto Delancey, Abby had made a few resolutions. The first being, going forward she would stop killing people. They never stayed dead anyway. From now on she would deal with her frustration in a more productive manner. Kneeing Billings in the balls and watching him squirm the next time he made a lewd comment came to mind. As satisfying as that might be, she probably needed to rethink what constituted productive behaviors.
Second, and infinitely more difficult, would be to eliminate Gage Faraday from her thoughts once and for all.
She drew a shaky breath. She'd been trying to accomplish that one for over a week with little success. If she kept busy, she could force him out for a while, but he always found a way to creep back in. Her guard would slip and she'd imagine his face—smiling, teasing—and she'd feel a warm glow suffuse her until reality encroached and reminded her he'd condemned her as a scheming liar.
She really wanted to dislike him. Her heart just wouldn't let her. Hardly a night passed when she didn't dream of him. It would be fine if her dreams portrayed him as the coldhearted, ruthless man he'd become. But no, her psyche had to conjure up a warm, passionate lover who not only treated her like some precious jewel but eliminated every notion she'd ever had about being incapable of the big bang.
Nearing her townhouse, she reached into her bag for the keys. Starting tonight she would no longer dwell on the negatives in her life. She would lighten up and stop being so hard on herself.
Her life wasn't so terrible. She'd gotten her long awaited divorce. She still had the same goals and a firm determination to reach them. Everything would work out the way she wanted, the way she'd planned. She put the key into the deadbolt.
"Good evening, green eyes."
Startled, she whipped around and came face-to-face with the one person who had the power to shred her plans as if they were nothing more than a block of mozzarella.
~~~
A leap of surprised joy seemed to flare in her eyes then burn out as quickly as a shooting star. The measured cool Abby leveled on him now made Gage wonder if he'd only imagined the brief spark.
"What are you doing here?" Her cool reproach was nothing less than he deserved. She had a right to be bitter, and he owed her every second of the begging he'd have to do to earn her forgiveness.
He glanced down at the bouquet of long stemmed pink roses he held in one hand. In the other his fingers curled around the white box he'd had to sign away a couple of weekends of baking under a scorching sun to get.
Abby's gaze followed his. Her lips parted momentarily, and he thought her expression softened. But in the next instant her mouth closed into a taut line again.
He hung his head and let out a weary breath. In the brief time he'd had with her he'd discovered she had a good sense of humor. He'd also been pretty sure that she liked him as a person. At least she had before he'd screwed up.
Hoping he hadn't misjudged on either count, he held up the flowers. "There's an old Chinese proverb that says, 'He who offers candy and flowers while groveling greatly increases likelihood of forgiveness'."
Her lips lifted slightly into an almost smile. He inched the flowers toward her. She reached out and took them and then slowly raised the bouquet to her nose and sniffed. "I've never heard that one." She took another, deeper whiff, watching him over the roses as if leery of his intentions.
"Probably because I just made it up."
She did smile then.
Gage angled his head to try and catch her gaze which had centered around the middle of his chest. "Please forgive me for being such a stupid ass." He reached out with his free hand and lifted her chin. "I was wrong. So very wrong, and I'm sorry."
Her glance shifted toward the street. "You found out I'm divorced?"
He inched her head higher, trying to get her to look at him. "Yes. I also discovered how you knew about that old Mustang and Kelly Samuels." When she still avoided him, he added, "You've changed, green eyes."
"I guess the truth is out then. No more secrets." She smiled rather sadly but still wouldn't look at him. "I'm glad. It's good. You know, face your demons and all that." She stretched her neck first to one side, then the other as if working out a kink. She showed an inordinate interest in the cars driving down the street.
"You've got every right to be angry with me." He wished he could just pull her into his arms and hold her. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm probably even more pissed off at me right now than you are." That got him a definite smile and sparked a glow of hope. "I'd really appreciate a chance to make things up to you. Why don't you invite me inside? You can get us both a drink. If you don't want to do that, I'll get us both a drink and then you can sit back while I get on my knees to beg, plead, and otherwise demean myself in an attempt to win your mercy. He hedged his bet. "Besides, I've got a business matter I need to talk to you about."
Abby turned around and unlocked the door. He'd broken through. She was going to give him another chance. He wasn't out of the muck yet, but he felt a hell of a lot better than he had yesterday, an hour ago, even three minutes ago.
Gage followed her inside. He knew in his bones she'd forgive him. He didn't know how he knew—but he knew. And it didn't even appear she was going to make him beg. Lord, she was a sweetheart. He turned to secure the deadbolt, grinning like a fool. Deserving or not, he was one lucky bastard. Then from behind him she said, "I've always dreamed of being one of those women who could bring a man to his knees."
~~~
Abby thought her heart might beat right out of her chest as she crossed the living room toward the kitchen. She heard the front door close and then the turn of the deadbolt. She had no idea what to expect or why she'd agreed to let him in.
"I've always wanted to be one of those women who could bring a man to his knees," she quipped, still in defense mode.
She didn't want to be hurt again, and she hadn't let go of all her anger toward Gage. But he'd apologized, and he'd seemed sincere. He'd brought her flowers, too. What harm could it do to hear him out?
Reaching into the cupboard she took down two glasses, every nerve in her body aware that he'd followed her into the kitchen and stood only a few feet behind her. She pulled the cabernet she had planned to share with Woody Allen and John Cleese from the wine rack.
"What would you like to drink?" she asked, as if they were a couple of old friends just hanging out on a Saturday night.
"What have you got?"
She held up the bottle of wine. "Cabernet, or I might have a couple of bottles of warm beer under the sink cabinet."
He gave her a wry grin. "The cab will be fine."
She nodded, inserting the wine key into the cork and giving it several turns. She didn't have to see to know he was watching her. She felt it. Her body seemed to vibrate with awareness of him. It had always been like that, even when she was a teenager. There would be times she had gone somewhere and she would sense him. When she looked around he'd be there. Maybe she was psychic.
Her fingers felt clumsy and when she tried to remove the cork, it broke off at the lip. She reinserted the key and gave a few more turns. Gage leaned against the side of the counter watching her. Lord, the man made her nervous. She smiled to cover her uneasiness.
"Would you like some help with that?"
"No, I can get it." She didn't need him to open her wine. She'd been doing fine managing her life and opening her own wine bottles long before he'd dropped back into it. She was quite independent in fact, and—she gave a tug and the cork popped out.
"
There." She held the key with the chewed up cork in the air. Gage gave her a lopsided grin. Abby poured the wine and cursed her susceptibility to him.
"So." She handed him a glass. "You said you had a business matter you wanted to discuss?"
Considering Norwell Group would be handling all the marketing for Riv One, there might be occasions when Billings wasn't around, and she could be asked to pinch hit. It only made sense Gage would want to ensure what had happened between them didn't hurt the project.
"Yes, I'll get to that." He paused until she looked at him. "Before I knew you were married to Richard Carpenter, you and I had been getting along very well. We liked each other, or so I thought." He seemed to search her face, as if looking for confirmation she'd felt the same. She'd felt a lot more, but she'd chew her tongue up into bite-size pieces and swallow them before that admission passed her lips, especially when she still didn't know what he wanted from her.
"I asked my Chief of Security to investigate your husband." He frowned. "Ex-husband, because of the defamatory comments he made about GFI at the press conference."
Abby took a sip of wine. He hadn't said anything she hadn't already figured out on her own.
"So you can imagine my surprise when my Chief of Security showed me a picture of your ex at a charity event with his wife. The same woman I had put my trust in to represent Riv One."
She remembered the photo, and she remembered that night. Dick had been drinking heavily. He had disappeared shortly after the press shot and when it came time to leave was nowhere to be found. She'd had to call a cab to take her home. Two days later she had found the black silk stockings under the back seat of his Mercedes. They hadn't been hers.
Abby looked away so Gage couldn't glimpse anything in her expression. Dick's unfaithfulness still had the power to hurt.
"If I trust someone and they abuse that trust, I consider it unacceptable. If it happens, I cut the person off completely." Gage looked at her, held her gaze. "I trusted you, Abby. Even though we'd only been working together a couple of days, we already had a bond."
Abby tensed. She set her glass on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, Gage, I had my reasons. Maybe they weren't the—"
He held up a hand. "Please let me finish." He waited for some sign from her and she nodded. "I trusted you," he repeated, "and you had probably begun to trust me." He pushed away from the counter and took a step forward, then another. A faint warning sounded in her head. Danger, danger, run Abby Carpenter, but her feet had become cemented to the floor.
As if in one of her fantasies, Gage drifted toward her. When they were only inches apart, he reached out and ran his hands up her arms.
"I broke that trust." His voice had gone deep, and very soft. She didn't want to look into his eyes for fear of what she'd see there, or worse, what she'd imagine.
"I was, as you tried to tell me, so very wrong." His hands continued to stroke up and down, flames licking in their wake. "The things I said when you came to my office last week were cruel. They were meant to be hurtful. I felt betrayed and I wanted to punish you. Calling Norwell and having him assign Billings to work the account was one way to do that. It was wrong and I'm sorry." He rested his fingers on her shoulders, and she recognized regret in the smoldering depths of his steadfast gaze.
Abby melted—again. She wanted to press her hands to his sculpted cheeks. She wanted to pull his head down and feel those gorgeous lips on... Wrong! No pulling his head down. No lips. She could cut him a break on the cruel and unusual punishment, but that was it.
She stiffened her spine for what ridiculous little resolve a straight back could give her. Attitude was everything, right?
"If you choose not to forgive me, I'd understand." He lifted her chin and looked directly into her eyes. "If you'd be willing to let me make it up to you though, I promise you won't regret it."
He wanted her forgiveness so things wouldn't be awkward if she had to pinch hit on Riv One, nothing more. It would be better, too, if she didn't have to worry about running into him or hiding out in the ladies' room if he dropped by the office.
Maybe they could even be friends. He did seem sincere. And she had withheld telling him about her relationship with Dick because she knew it would cause a problem. If she'd just been up front to begin with, maybe none of this would have happened.
She didn't want to stay mad at him. Angling her head, she grinned and in the spirit of good humor, asked, "You're not afraid if we kiss and make up that I might stalk you?"
He held her gaze and gave her a sexy smile. "I can only hope."
Lord, she thought, how could any woman look into those eyes when he smiled that way and not fall hopelessly in love?
Abby laughed. She couldn't help it. Maybe she should have made him sweat a little, but it felt much better to be his friend than to think he hated her. Now that he'd be Harold's client and not hers, maybe… She gave herself a quick reality slap. Just reel those fantasies right back in. Man! Did she want to self-destruct?
She took a step back and extended her hand. "I guess if you can forget that silly little obsession I had with you and my father threatening to have you arrested." She smiled to cover the lingering embarrassment. "Then I can forgive you for not trusting me."
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Abby watched as if in a dream. Could he feel her racing pulse? She shouldn't read anything into the gesture. It was simply that, a gesture.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.
"You're welcome." She pulled back and turned away. "What's that?" she asked, spying the white box on the counter and making a dash for it. She needed to put space between them and regain some equilibrium.
"It's for you, a surprise."
"Let me guess." She picked it up and shook it near her ear. "Candy."
He chuckled warmly, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "If I hadn't already told you, I might be impressed."
Abby peeled back the tape. "The box is a dead giveaway. I shouldn't admit this, but you probably could have saved yourself a lot of groveling." She gave the box another rattle. "Once you gave me these I would have considered you a friend forever. I'm a sucker for chocolate."
Gage put his hands in his pockets and watched as she pulled the lid up. Abby folded back the paper and her eyes grew wide.
"Oh!" She brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, where did you—" She shot him a disbelieving glance. "Ba-nan-a taf-fy," she whispered haltingly.
"You used to come into my uncle's shop almost every day to buy it." He grinned and Abby swore she could feel the warmth of his smile on her skin. "I think the only reason it came back to me is because you never got anything but banana. I wish I could recall more, but I'm still having a hard time matching you up with the kid I remember. If you recall, though, I did say you reminded me of someone, so I must not have been totally oblivious."
Abby held the box against her chest, a warm, sweet feeling spreading through her.
"I drove to the shore this morning to get it. My uncle never opens the shop until Memorial Day weekend. I had to do some heavy-duty bartering before he'd take me down so I could make that for you."
"You made it?" That revelation made her heart do a funny little flip-flop.
Gage shrugged. "After two summers of mixing and pulling, you get pretty good at it. I figure I can always fall back on it if my current gig doesn't work out. There's no telling how many taffy pullers have that on their resume: failed corporate CEO."
He hitched his head toward the box and gave her a lopsided grin. "You used to be addicted to that stuff. I figured if the flowers didn't do the trick, I'd try to bribe you with the taffy."
Abby started to laugh. Gage crossed his arms and frowned at her. She laughed harder until tears rolled down her cheeks, and she reached up to wipe them away.
Gage's frown grew. "Would you mind telling me what's so funny?"
Abby set the candy on the counter. "I'm sorry," she coughed on another laugh.
"But I, it's just that you went to all this trouble and well, I've never liked taffy."
He stared at her a full moment then put his hands on his hips. "Then would you like to explain why the hell you used to come into my uncle's shop all the time and buy the damn stuff?"
"Oh." She hiccupped. "That was just an excuse." She caught her bottom lip on a smile. "I only came in to buy it because I wanted to see you. You know, that silly little crush thing. Even if I had wanted it, I couldn't eat it. Braces," she said, showing off her hard-won, perfect orthodontia. "I had them until I was eighteen."
"So what did you do with the candy when you left the store?"
Abby lifted her shoulders. "I used to give it to the homeless people on the boards."
He shook his head, picked his wine up off the counter, and took a drink. He put it back down and looked at her. He shook his head again. "So I drove all the way down the shore this morning to get you banana taffy, and you don't even like it."
She lifted her palms to the air and shrugged again. "Sorry."
"You know I had to promise my uncle I'd spend two weekends deep sea fishing with him this summer if he'd open the shop for me?"
Abby bit back a laugh. Gage pushed his fingers through his hair. "God, I hate fishing." He shook his head yet again and leaned his hip against the counter. "The thought of spending two weekends floating around in a fiberglass sweat tank under the burning sun, dangling a silly line in the water makes me want to groan. I don't even like fish." He let out a snort. "Not that I ever catch any."
Abby wanted to wrap her arms around him and give him a hug but knew better than to act on the impulse. It would be a mistake. He'd only wanted to set things right between them for the sake of the account, and maybe a little bit because they'd started to become friends. Still, she wanted him to know how much it meant to her that he'd gone to so much effort to mend things between them.
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