"I'm always nervous when we make love," she admitted to his shock. "Nervous I won't be able to satisfy you, that you'll end up frustrated and realize I'm not really very good at it."
He stared at her with his mouth open. "How can you say you're no good at it when you drive me so crazy with wanting you I practically attacked you the second I walked through your front door? I haven't been here ten minutes, and I've already maneuvered you into the bedroom where I'm intending to spend the next couple of hours making slow, sensual love to you."
"That's exactly what I mean. You're used to sensual. You've been with dozens and dozens of women, beautiful, sexy women who know how to match your experience. I don't have that experience. You probably know hundreds of ways to increase your partner's pleasure."
"Thousands," he said, slipping the straps of her bra off her shoulders.
"You see, and what do I know?" She looked down at a spot on the floor near their feet. "I'm never sure if I'm doing things right, or good enough, or even what the things are I should be doing."
"All you have to do," he insisted gently, "is look at what you do to me." He took her hand and placed her palm on his chest. "I'm so anxious to make love to you right now it scares me."
"You're afraid?" she asked tentatively, gazing up at him.
"Of course I'm afraid, afraid I won't be able to hold out long enough to bring you to a climax because every time we make love, my need to fill you, to find completion in you, is so great I feel like I'll go mad if I can't have release."
"You're afraid of disappointing me?" She looked like she was trying to hold back a smile. "Really?"
"Really," he said with a chuckle. "And there's something else I'd like to clear up right now." He reached for the clasp at the front of her bra and flicked it open with a twist of his thumb and forefinger. "All those stories you've obviously heard about other women and me are grossly exaggerated. I won't pretend to being a saint, but I'm hardly the bed-hopping, morally void playboy I've been made out to be."
"You have to admit you do have more experience than I, though."
Gage drew her hand down his ribcage until he reached the proof of his need for her. "Feel that," he said harshly.
She moved her hand over him, and he drew in a sharp breath.
"You never fail to excite me," he said through gritted teeth, determined to overcome her concern. "And it doesn't matter how many women there may be in my past, not one of them drove me as crazy with need or ever gave me the passionate, explosive climaxes you do."
"Does this excite you?" she asked, stroking him again.
Gage growled. "You know it does, and if you keep it up, I'll lose what little control I've managed to hold on to and toss you on that bed so I can put an end to my torment."
"I don't mean to torment you."
"The hell you don't," he said, having heard the amusement in her voice. He gave her a gentle push, and she landed on the bed. "Two can play at that game though, sweetheart."
"Gage," she said, backing up on her elbows.
"Give it up, Abby. You just held the evidence of what you do to me in your sweet, taunting little hands." He put one knee on the bed and came down beside her, hooking a leg around hers to hold her in place.
"Now," he continued, his voice thick with need, "we've made love probably six or seven times, enough that you should know you please me in every way. Obviously, I haven't done a very good job of expressing my pleasure."
"It's not your fault."
"Nevertheless, one of the most gratifying parts of lovemaking is observing and feeling the other person's excitement, knowing you're pushing them closer and closer to the edge, which in turn heightens your own pleasure. So do you know what I'm going to do?"
"What?" she asked, licking her lips. Her eyes were wide. He could see the effect his words were having on her. He couldn't take much more.
"I'm going to love you now. I'm going to let you see and hear what you do to me. You can ask me anything you want about what we're doing, and I'll answer you as honestly as I can, no matter how embarrassing it may be to my manhood."
Her eyes began to tear up. "I love you," she whispered, and his resolve shattered. In one movement he mounted and drove into her amazing warmth, shuddering at the exquisite delight.
His groan of pleasure filled the room. He buried his face against her neck, twisting higher inside her, holding himself still and then easing out again. He set up a rhythm that began to drive them both mad, but he was determined not to give in to his agonizing need for release. He was positive it would prove one of the most difficult tasks he'd ever set himself to.
~~~
Securing the towel over her breasts, Abby stood in front of the bathroom mirror and combed out her wet hair. A soft smile played on her lips, the smile of a contented woman.
Gage's lovemaking last night had been nothing short of magic. Afterward, he'd pulled her into his arms and questioned her about the article in The Dish. His concern had been obvious, but she didn't see any point in crying on his shoulder now. If they were lucky, nothing else would come of it, and that's exactly what she'd told him. She didn't tell him about Norwell's reaction or the argument she'd had with her father. He had enough to deal with as it was, and she didn't feel right burdening him with any more of her problems.
This morning, he'd convinced her to take a shower with him. Her smile broadened. She'd never before thought of making love standing up, let alone with eight jet streams shooting warm water all around, or that it could be so amazingly perfect. She was afraid she'd never be able to think of her morning shower in quite the same way as she used to.
Gage walked into the bathroom carrying two cups of coffee. She watched him approach in the mirror, appreciating every inch of his tall, taut body. Wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his still damp, uncombed hair falling boyishly around his forehead, and a crooked grin reflecting back at her, the man was a walking poster for unadulterated male sex appeal.
He stopped directly behind her then reached forward and set the cups on the vanity. Circling his arms around her waist, he pulled her against his warm chest.
Their eyes met in the mirror. "I love you," he said huskily.
Abby leaned her head back and smiled up at him, letting the warmth of his words fill her. No matter what the day might bring, in that moment she felt confident she could deal with anything, as long as she had him in her life to offset the negatives.
"Me too," she said softly.
His arms tightened and he lowered his mouth, brushing his lips back and forth over hers with a gentleness that stole her breath away. His hands roamed up her ribs to cup her breasts possessively, his thumbs stroked over her sensitive nipples, and she moaned into his mouth.
"As much as I'd prefer to steer you back into the bedroom and play hooky, I've got an important conference call in about an hour," Gage said.
"Then you'd better get that gorgeous butt of yours moving, mister."
His eyes seemed to sparkle with delight, and he grinned. "You like my butt?"
Abby stuck her tongue in the side of her cheek and nodded. "Among other things."
He squeezed her tighter. "Oh yeah, what other things?"
"If you want to make that conference call, I suggest you stop fishing for compliments and get dressed."
"Tell me," he said, tickling her. "I want to know what other parts you like."
"Stop it." She giggled helplessly.
He laughed against her ear. "Tell me and I'll let you go."
She batted his hands away and ducked out of his reach before he could grab hold of her again. He spun around to watch her as she backed out of the room. "I don't remember," she lied, "and if you don't stop it, we'll both be late for work."
He snapped the towel off his waist and began to stalk toward her, a devilish twist to his sinful mouth and a seductive gleam in the darkening pools of gray following her every move.
Lord, she was becoming aroused again. He'd turned her into a slathering sa
ck of hormones.
"Behave yourself." She managed to suppress a giggle and took another step backward. She bumped into the door frame. It was impossible to concentrate when presented with such a glorious specimen of nude male. "And stop flaunting yourself."
He came to an abrupt halt. "Flaunting?" he mocked, as if she'd insulted him. "I'm not flaunting, sweetheart. You said you didn't remember what other parts of my body you liked, so I thought having a good look might help remind you."
She could tell he was really enjoying teasing her. The cad. She was probably going to have this image of him stuck in her head all day. She had to admit it was a pretty incredible image, but that wasn't the point.
She gave him a quelling look. No one would believe her if she told them Gage Faraday, the ruthless CEO of GFI, a man who could make his business associates shake in their shoes with a glance, had stood proud as you please in her bathroom, wearing nothing but a boyish grin, prompting her to itemize his physical attributes.
On a laugh, he turned back to the mirror and picked up the hair dryer. "You forgot your coffee," he said over the whir of the dryer. His eyes danced as he regarded her in the glass. "I promise it's safe to come get it. I'm not going to try to make love to you in the sink."
Abby lifted her chin and edged back into the room. Cautiously sidling next to him, she reached for her coffee.
"Although I must admit," he said, as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the cup, his voice laced with amusement, "the idea holds definite appeal."
She straightened. She looked at the vanity, then up at him, then back to the sink. She tilted her head and frowned.
"Only if I can be on top," she said, shocking herself with her boldness. His shout of laughter filled her ears as she turned and marched into the bedroom. Lordy, Lord, she thought, wasn't she just the sassy one?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gage leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "I don't give a damn how much they were offered. We had a deal." He looked up when Grace walked into his office and put a note on his desk. He glanced down at it then gave her a curt nod. "Then tell Anderson if he takes that tack, he'll be in breach of contract, and GFI will be forced to do whatever's necessary to protect our interests."
He stood up and put on his suit jacket. "I'll leave that up to you. Just run it by Brett before anything goes out. I can't talk anymore right now. Something's come up that needs my attention."
Two minutes later Gage strode out of his office, his expression grim as he approached the immaculately dressed man waiting for him in the lobby.
"Quentin." Gage extended his hand. "Why the unexpected visit?"
The lawyer cast a glance toward Grace and the other two secretaries. "Have you talked to Abby this morning?"
Gage nodded. "Let's go into my office." He trusted Grace implicitly, but he'd rather not discuss anything associated with his personal life in front of the other admin staff.
Closing the door, he extended his hand toward the chairs in front of his desk. "I talked to her earlier this morning." He went around the desk and sat in his own chair.
"So you're aware of this mess in the papers?"
"I'm aware, yes." Gage frowned. "Abby's handling it all right. I'm sure it bothers her more than she admits, but she's a strong woman."
"Well, it doesn't help our case. This damn reporter, if he can be called that, is making the two of you look like conspirators to murder."
"I wouldn't go that far." Gage crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't happy about what had happened. He'd been more worried about Abby than himself, but after talking to her last night, he'd felt an enormous sense of relief she seemed to be handling things fairly well.
"I saw the pictures," he explained, "and although the one suggests we may have become involved in more than a business relationship, there was nothing in the article to prove it. It was pure speculation."
"What article are you talking about?"
"The one in the tabloid on Friday." An alarm began to sound off in his head. "What did you think I was talking about?"
Quentin opened his briefcase and pulled out a folded up newspaper. "This one," he said, dropping it on the top of Gage's desk.
Gage read the headline of the lead story in the popular tabloid.
SENATOR'S DAUGHTER-IN-LAW HAD ILLICIT AFFAIR WITH FINANCIER DEVELOPING PHILADELPHIA RIVERFRONT
"Son of a bitch!" He scanned the article. It claimed a source close to Dick Carpenter's murder investigation revealed the police were in possession of Abigail Carpenter's diary, in which she had recorded a lurid affair she'd had at the tender age of fifteen with Gage Faraday, the wealthy financier responsible for the current development on the riverfront. It went on to mention Carpenter had also bid on the project and that there had been bad blood between the two men.
He continued reading. "Damn it," he swore viciously when he reached the part about the Attorney General's probe. Not only did it reveal Carpenter had been involved in the investigation, it detailed his affair with the woman in the AG's office and ended with references to Gage's reputation for ruthlessness if crossed.
"How the hell did this bastard find out about any of this?" he demanded of Quentin. "None of it was public knowledge."
"I'd like to know the answer to that myself. I think now you can understand my concern." He picked up the paper and held it in the air. "This kind of thing can be very damaging. Yes, it's sensationalized and much of it is insinuation, but the basic facts are accurate, and this business about the AG's probe points to motive for both of you."
Gage picked up his phone and hit Grace's page button, his rage potent as it ran through his blood. "Get Abby on the phone for me immediately then get Detective Simms with the homicide division." He disconnected and stood up. "Can you get a gag order on this guy?"
"It's unlikely. We'd have to petition the court, and if we try to get a gag, the paper will counter by claiming it's a violation of their First Amendment rights, which allows newspapers to publish lawfully obtained information regarding matters of public concern."
"It's a fucking tabloid!" Gage exploded.
"That may be the case, but it still operates as a legal entity, and if we try to shut them up, they'll no doubt drag in the ACLU, and then we'll have a real circus on our hands."
Gage raked his fingers through his hair. Why hadn't Abby called? Maybe she didn't know. They'd both been running late and unless someone had shown her a copy of The Dish, it wasn't something she would have picked up on her way to work.
His phone buzzed and he grabbed the handset. "Do you have Abby?" he asked urgently.
"No, the secretary at her office said she wasn't there. I tried her cell phone and the number at her house, and she isn't answering either. I have the detective on the line, though."
"Find her," he ordered. "Call Norwell's office back and see if she came in this morning. If she did, see if they know where she is now." He closed his eyes. "Put Simms through."
"Do you want me to talk to him?" Quentin suggested.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Simms," Gage growled into the phone, ignoring his attorney, "but you picked the wrong man to play for a fool."
"Don't threaten him, Gage," Quentin said, standing up.
"I take it you're referring to the story in the paper this morning," Simms said with a calm that made Gage want to shove his fist through the phone and deck the other man.
"You know damn well I am. I'd like to know how that reporter got information no one but the police had access to."
"You're assuming no one else had the information. I suspect there are a number of people who knew about one or all of the things mentioned in the article."
"Listen, Simms, someone in your office leaked information to that reporter. If it wasn't you, then check with that asshole partner of yours, but don't call me down there again and pretend you want to play nice and then pull this kind of shit."
"I told you once I don't play games, Faraday."
"
Find the leak," Gage said between gritted teeth, "and when you do, you'd better damn well plug it." He slammed the phone back down.
Quentin closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not sure what you hired me for. You don't seem interested in following any of my advice."
Gage fisted his hands at his sides. "They can't arrest me for asking questions."
"You stopped short of threatening the man. Actually, a couple of the things you said could be interpreted as implied threats."
The intercom buzzed again and Gage dove for it, praying Grace had managed to track Abby down. He was half crazy worrying about her. He pressed the button. "What?"
"It's Mrs. Carpenter," Grace said, and he felt a rush of relief.
"Put her through."
"She's not on the phone; she's here."
"What do you mean she's here?"
"Here, in our lobby. The guard called a minute ago, and I had him send her right up. You were on the phone and—"
Gage strode quickly out of his office without listening to the rest of Grace's sentence. Abby was sitting in the waiting area, wringing her hands. His first impression was that she looked so small in the oversized leather chair. She raised wide, haunted eyes to his. Someone would pay for this.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gage had insisted on having his driver take her back to her office. He'd tried to convince her to take the rest of the day off and go home, promising to join her there as soon as he could get away, but Abby couldn't do that. She wouldn't hide, no matter how much she might want to.
Why hadn't he told her about Dick's involvement with the probe? Because he'd wanted to protect her from finding out about the woman, she realized. He'd probably been furious when he'd discovered what happened, but instead of ranting to her about her ex, he'd said nothing.
"You can let me out at the next corner," Abby said to the driver. "I want to stop into the drugstore, and my office is only a block from here. I can walk the rest of the way."
"Mr. Faraday told me I was to make sure you got back to your office."
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