Travis laughed. “Then she’s definitely sitting in on the meeting.”
“Oh, no,” Addison said quickly, shooting Gabe a you’re-in-huge-trouble look.
Well, good. He hoped he was. He didn’t like her little comment about how she didn’t want flowers and romance. He didn’t like that she hadn’t mentioned to Travis that she knew Gabe and his bar. And what the hell was this about a move? Had she moved to New Orleans? As in, was now living here? She was their newest associate? He supposed they could refer to consultants as associates, but that seemed odd. And he had every intention of delving into whatever the hell was going on.
“I know that Elena has a lot of great ideas for Gabe and Logan. This is my first day. I don’t want to barge in.”
“Don’t be silly,” Travis said. “It’s Gabe’s first day with us, too.” He clapped Gabe on the shoulder. “And it sounds like you have a more . . . intimate knowledge . . . of Trahan’s than Elena does.”
Wow, okay, so Travis had definitely picked up on the fact that the time Gabe and Addison had spent together had been . . . well, exactly what it had been. Intimate.
“I think it’s safe to say that Addison has a really good idea of what I need,” Gabe said with a nod.
He heard her little gasp even as Travis laughed, and Gabe could admit that he had probably gone over the line with that. He didn’t need to spell out that they’d had an affair. Travis didn’t need to know that. But fuck. He hated that she clearly didn’t want Travis to know. Because he was her boss? Or because she just didn’t want people to know she’d hooked up with a bartender a few times when she was on a semivacation from her life in New York? He’d known from minute one that Addison was a classy woman who was used to wining and dining in places a hell of a lot nicer than Trahan’s. But she’d seemed to love the bar. Hell, she was the one who kept coming to find him.
But yeah, he needed to rein in this desire to shout to the world that he’d had Addison Sloan in his bed. Probably. At least with her boss, or whatever Travis was to her. Well, if she was insulted, he’d send her apology flowers later. Maybe hibiscus this time. And since he wanted to be at the flower-sending stage, maybe he’d just fucking send her flowers every damned day whether she liked it or not.
“I would love to have Addison sit in on the meeting,” Gabe said. “And after the meeting, I’d love to take her to lunch to celebrate her move and her new job and her being a part of this project.”
Addison was already shaking her head. “I can’t just jump into a project that someone else has been working on,” she said. “Just because you and I are friends doesn’t mean that I can just come in here and take over.”
Friends? They were friends? Anger tightened his chest, but he made himself breathe.
“But there’s nothing to take over,” Gabe said. “This is the first meeting. The first meeting that’s only happening because you told me it was a good idea,” he added. “I’m sure Elena and Travis would agree that having good chemistry between client and associate is an important aspect of any project. And I don’t think anyone can deny that you and I can really get stuff done.”
If by “get stuff done” he meant mind-blowing, I’ll-never-get-over-this orgasms in every position and room in the apartment. Which he did.
Even she couldn’t deny that. And yeah, he was over the line again. And no, he didn’t care. Again. He’d send her some sorry-I-outed-our-fling-to-your-boss pralines, too. He knew she liked those.
Gabe couldn’t believe how knotted up he felt. Damn. He knew that his feelings for Addison had been growing, but now, being face-to-face with the idea that maybe hers had not made him feel uncharacteristically possessive and desperate and pissed. And he so rarely felt any of those things, and never where a woman was concerned, that he wasn’t sure what to do.
“I really insist you sit in, Ad,” Travis said. “Elena won’t mind a bit.”
Because Travis was furthering Gabe’s own agenda, he didn’t pull back and punch him for calling her Ad again. But his palm itched a little with the urge anyway.
Addison was clearly gritting her teeth as she smiled and said, “Fine.”
“And lunch after,” Gabe said. Hey, he’d already pushed his luck, might as well go for it all. She was, apparently, going to be pissed, and maybe even yell when he got her alone, but that was fine. He wasn’t feeling particularly sunny and happy right now, either. And he’d never seen her pissed. That could be interesting.
And if she had moved to New Orleans and not bothered to mention it, she wasn’t the only one who might be yelling.
Because, what the hell?
“I have a lot to do today,” she told him, meeting his eyes directly, her chin lifting slightly. “It’s my first day at a new job and all.”
Okay, so now she was going to lay that out there. Nice. “You have to eat,” he said. “And I’m sure Travis would consider this work rather than play. I mean, we’ll go somewhere public so it can’t get too fun.”
Yep, there he was stomping right over that decency line again. He’d have to throw some beignets into the sorry-I-was-an-asshole gift basket he was going to owe her.
But frankly, seeing the sexy spark of fire in her eyes was worth it. Not to mention making his point that this was not only a friendship or a working relationship. This was . . . well, he wasn’t exactly sure now. But by the time lunch was over, he was going to know.
“What do you mean that you intended to just not see me again?”
Addison hated the look on Gabe’s face. This entire day had been a huge fucking mess. Despite the fact that she’d started it out with two orgasms at the hands—and mouth—of the man now sitting across from her. She was now sitting on the sidewalk of one of her favorite New Orleans restaurants over a lunch date she’d never intended to have, initiating the breakup conversation she’d never intended to have, which would end the relationship that she’d never intended to have.
Because, no matter how much she would love to tell herself, and Gabe, for that matter, that this thing between them had been nothing but sex, that simply wasn’t true.
It was a relationship.
And she’d fallen for him.
And when she’d lived three weeks of the month in New York City, that had been okay. Or relatively okay. She’d missed him. She’d thought about him. But she couldn’t go and see him, and while she could have called the bar, she didn’t have his personal number, and she’d been able to resist the urge to stalk him at Trahan’s. Most of all, she hadn’t needed to tell him about Stella. Or really anything about her life. She’d been able to escape for a couple of days, basking in the Big Easy and Gabe. Like indulging in a decadent dessert once a month. It was amazing and delicious and didn’t do any damage to her regular routine and diet.
But when she was living within two miles of him, it was never going to work. As crazy as it sounded, being closer to him geographically and able to see him more often would make a relationship harder. Or impossible. Considering she didn’t want an everyday, all-the-time, blend-our-lives-together relationship.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried not to look directly into Gabe’s eyes. His gorgeous blue eyes that reminded her of ice but could burn as hot as the blue of a candle flame and never failed to melt her resistance, and her panties, and her heart.
“Our routine was for me to just show up at Trahan’s when I wanted to see you,” she said, then immediately winced, because what was coming next was going to sound terrible. “So I thought the easiest way to break things off was to just stop showing up.” Because I didn’t want to see you anymore. She didn’t have to say the rest of the words. They seemingly hung there in the air between them anyway.
Gabe’s jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed around the glass mug of iced tea he was holding, but he nodded. “Got it.”
She breathed. Maybe he did. “I just didn’t think we needed to have a big, deep conversation about it, since things were . . .”
“Not big or deep,” he suppli
ed when she wasn’t sure where to go with the rest of that sentence.
She wanted to protest that. Because saying this thing between them wasn’t big and deep seemed to imply it had all been superficial and unimportant. And it really hadn’t been. But it was better not to admit that. It was better to walk away thinking that it was a temporary fling and nothing more.
Gabe’s tone and posture were casual. He sat back in the scarred wooden chair, one ankle propped on the opposite knee, his right arm draped over the back of the chair, his big left hand cradling the glass mug. But even if she’d only technically spent about twelve days total with him, she could tell that he was feeling anything but casual. Which, stupidly, made her stomach swoop a little. They couldn’t keep going, but she had to admit that it was nice to think that letting go wasn’t easy.
She lifted a shoulder. “Right,” she lied. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to have been big or deep, but it had felt like it was. Or could be. Or would be.
“I didn’t realize that your moving to New Orleans was an option,” he said, his voice low and his drawl coming out as he lengthened the words.
Damn, that drawl. His wasn’t nearly as pronounced as many she heard in the city. Even his brother Logan’s was more obvious. But when Gabe was relaxed, it came out. And when he had his mouth against her ear and was saying things like “Come for me, baby,” or “Damn, girl, you do things to me,” it was rich and thick.
And it also apparently showed up when he was pissed.
She fidgeted in her seat, partly uncomfortable and partly turned on. “It wasn’t. Or I didn’t think it was.”
“Until you had the right reason.”
She nodded.
“The job with Elena and Travis was the right reason?”
She nodded again. “Working with the buildings and houses in New Orleans is an amazing opportunity,” she said. “I don’t just know and love the architecture, but the history, too.”
“And what if I’d asked you to move down here?” he asked point-blank.
Okay, so they weren’t going to meander around things. That was probably good. She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t have moved down here for you.” There. That might sound harsh, but it was true.
Those blue-flame eyes flickered, but he held his casual posture. “What about some other guy? If you’d met someone else that first night?”
She was already shaking her head by the time he’d finished the question. “No. Not for a relationship. Definitely not.” And yes, she put a little extra emphasis on those last two words. “The job would be the only reason. And only this job,” she said. “I want to do restoration work on buildings I love and appreciate. For people in a city that also loves and appreciates them. I really think this job in this city is the only thing that could have gotten me out of New York.”
Gabe ran his thumb up and down the side of his mug, tracing a line through the condensation. And her traitorous body, which seemed wanton only for this man, responded to that stroking motion by that digit as if he were running it over her skin. Or her nipple. Or her clit. All those parts tingled just watching it.
“Obviously this morning when I was coming in your mouth in the shower and then fucking you over the sink in the bathroom, you knew you were moving here—had moved here,” he said.
His tone, and that drawl, was low and slow, as if they were discussing how her Cajun chicken salad was. But those words . . . and that look in his eyes when she met his gaze . . . Her whole body went hot and soft just sitting across the table from him.
She knew, of course, that Gabe was a dirty talker in the bedroom. She knew that he liked to lean in and say all kinds of naughty, delicious things to her when they were standing in line for beignets or listening in on part of a ghost tour or watching a street magician perform at Jackson Square. But that was when they were flirty and having fun and would be going back to his apartment that night. This—and the things he’d said to her in the hallway at the firm—was nothing like that. These were sexy and direct and dirty and, clearly, designed to get a reaction from her and give him some kind of advantage. Even if it was just to shock her.
“Obviously,” she managed to say in response to his comment. She even, somehow, managed to inject a little sarcasm in there.
“How about last month when you were letting me get you off with the vibrator we bought on Bourbon before making you ride my cock?” He paused, letting those words swirl around them. “Did you know then that you were going to move down here?”
“I found out that Monday,” she said, her mouth dry and her panties wet as that memory replayed in vivid color and graphic detail.
“And did you figure then that you were going to end things with us?”
She nodded.
Suddenly he shifted on his chair, leaning onto the table, his eyes flashing. “Then why in the hell did you show up in my bar two nights ago?”
Addison swallowed, her heart beating hard against her chest wall. “I should have stayed away,” she admitted softly. “I know that. I knew it as I was walking up the sidewalk and through the door. I knew it the second you looked over and saw me.”
“But you didn’t fucking stay away,” he practically growled.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
Gabe swore and shoved a hand through his hair. “Goddammit, Addison.”
“I know.”
“This is . . . bullshit.” He pinned her with his gaze again. “You can’t stay away. I don’t want you to stay away. What the hell is going on?”
“There’s just . . . It’s complicated,” she said. “It’s not as easy as my just moving here and us continuing to go out on the weekends.”
“Why not?” he demanded. “You want more than that? Let’s talk about that.”
She shook her head. “You’re . . . amazing. But no, I definitely don’t want more than that.”
He blew out a breath, seeming almost relieved. Had he offered more accidentally?
“Then let’s keep doing what we’re doing,” he said. He leaned in again. “I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you, Ad. Let’s just keep it going. It’s good. It’s really, really good.”
Her heart softened, and she felt herself leaning in, too, and almost nodding. But no. She couldn’t fucking nod yes to that. They couldn’t keep it going. She wasn’t in New Orleans alone. She couldn’t spend every weekend, or even one weekend a month, with him the way she had been. Her parents weren’t here to watch Stella. And dammit, she had to be with Stella on the weekends, showing her daughter around the city that was her new home, introducing her to beignets and exploring the museums, not off screwing some hot bartender in the French Quarter. And seeing the city, eating beignets, and exploring the museums with him.
Dammit.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, fine, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“There’s someone else.” He said it flatly. No drawl. No huskiness. No hint of humor. None of the things she usually loved in his voice.
“No—” But then she thought about it. That was definitely one way to put it. “Well, okay, yes.”
He blew out a breath. “Dammit, Addison.”
“But it’s not what you think,” she told him. She paused and added, “It’s maybe worse.”
“Worse than you fucking me behind some other guy’s back?” he asked.
It was insulting that he’d think that of her. But then again, he didn’t really know her, did he? So she simply shrugged. “Yeah, kind of.”
“What’s worse than that?”
“The someone else is a girl. And is five. And is my daughter.”
Gabe stared at her. Addison just sat quietly, letting all of that sink in. She watched him processing it.
Then she watched as his mouth—easily one of her top three favorite body parts of his—spread into a huge grin.
A grin.
Oh yeah, she really loved it when he grinned. Sometimes it was sexy—like after he’d said something naughty and was watching her r
eaction. Sometimes it was mischievous—like when he’d thought of something they hadn’t done yet, in the bedroom and otherwise, and he was about to show her. Sometimes it was flat-out happy—like when he was joking with his brother or other patrons at the bar. And sometimes it was big and bright and made her feel like the most special woman in the world—like the one he gave her when he would first turn and see her sitting at the bar on a Saturday night.
This one was like none of those. This one was like she’d just given him the greatest gift anyone had ever given him. It was a little like the Saturday-night grins but even more.
“You have a kid?” he asked.
She nodded. “Stella.”
“Well, holy shit, Addison.”
“I know. I—”
“That’s fucking amazing.”
Wait, what?
Chapter Three
“It’s amazing?” she repeated.
Gabe reached across the table and grabbed her hand. His palm was slightly rough, and his hand engulfed hers, making her feel small and delicate and . . . warm. Very warm. It reminded her of the way he wrapped himself around her in bed. He always wanted to hold her after sex, and his huge body around hers always made her feel protected and safe and loved. And when that L word hit her brain, she always pulled away. She wasn’t a cuddler. She didn’t need to be held and protected and taken care of. She took care of herself and her stuff. Like Stella.
And now she wanted to pull away, too. It was strange. She typically did hold hands with him. Gabe was a very physically demonstrative guy. He always seemed to want to be touching her—running his hand over her hair, putting his arms around her from behind and pulling her up against his body, resting his hand on the back of her neck. And she let all of that go. Because she actually really loved it. The feeling that he just couldn’t help but touch her and the way it said to the rest of the world, “She’s mine.” But she only let it happen in public. It seemed safer that way. Like when the rest of the world was bustling around them, she couldn’t get totally lost in him. But in private . . . when it was just the two of them, the touching was sexual. And then she pulled away. They didn’t spoon, she didn’t sit in his lap, they didn’t cuddle on the couch.
Going Down Easy (Boys of the Big Easy) Page 4