It was none of her business. She didn't care if he was sleeping with this woman, whoever she was. Probably a bosomy brunette with big brown eyes like a cow.
Her eyes opened again to stare at the same patch of ceiling. She'd developed an intimate acquaintance with the ceiling over her bed these past few weeks. It wasn't as if, when she couldn't sleep, it was a simple thing to just get up and wander out to the kitchen.
That was another reason sleep was proving so elusive tonight. Earlier in the afternoon she'd thought she felt something in her legs. A tingling... faint, hardly noticeable, the sensation gone almost before she realized it was there.
She hadn't mentioned it to Gabe or to Diane when she'd come by with the tapes. She didn't want to get their hopes up. She was glad now that she hadn't said anything, because there hadn't been any repetition of the feeling, if indeed, there'd been any feeling.
Despite her determination not to make too much of what could be nothing, Charity couldn't help but hope. It was the first time since the shooting that she'd sensed any sign of progress.
The sound of the front door opening startled her out of her thoughts. She raised herself up on her elbows, staring at the bedroom door, listening as Gabe walked across the living room and into the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
He had to walk past her room to get to his own. Charity felt her pulse speed as she listened to his quiet footsteps. He stopped outside her door and her heart skipped a beat. She stared at the door, hardly breathing, waiting. She couldn't have said what she was waiting for.
He stood there for the space of several seconds, and Charity felt the tension in every fiber of her body. What would she say if. he came in? What would he say?
When he moved on, she fell back against her pillows, drawing a deep breath. His bedroom door closed with a barely audible click, and the last of the tension drained from her.
Fool. What did you think he was going to do? Come in and declare his undying love? After he just spent the evening with a dark-eyed beauty who could walk?
The tears she refused to shed burned at the back of her eyes. It was a good thing she wasn't falling in love with Gabe.
❧
"So, how was your date?" That was good. Just the right tone of polite interest.
"It wasn't exactly a date," Gabe said, sitting down at the table, coffee cup in hand. "Beth is the sister of one of the officers I went through the academy with. She needed an escort to a business thing."
Not a date. Charity sternly squashed the little bubble of pleasure the words gave her. It didn!t matter to her one way or another if it had been a date. She wouldn't let it matter.
"I've been thinking." She stirred her spoon absently in her cereal.
"A dangerous occupation at this hour of the morning." Gabe glanced at the clock, calculating how much time he had left before he had to leave for work.
"Maybe I should find somewhere else to live."
It took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did, his eyes jerked to her. She continued to stare at her cereal.
"Why?"
"Well, it's not really fair to you, having me dumped on you like this. I mean, when I moved in, I thought I'd be walking again in a few days."
"Let me worry about what's fair to me. And you are going to walk again."
"I know," she said without much conviction. "And I can't let you worry about what's fair because you probably wouldn't admit it if I was cramping your style."
"Cramping my style?" He raised his brows at the phrase. "What style are we talking about? I never knew I had a style and now it's suddenly in danger of being cramped."
Charity gave a perfunctory smile but she returned doggedly to the subject. She'd spent a lot of hours thinking this out and she was determined to have her say.
"Well, like last night, for example."
"For an example of what?" Gabe thrust his fingers through his hair.
"If I hadn't been here, you might have brought Beth back with you."
"Not unless I wanted her brother to tear my head off. Joe is six foot four and very protective."
"Well, if it hadn't been Beth, you might have brought her back here," Charity pursued stubbornly.
"I'd have felt like a total fool taking someone else to Beth's party."
"I'm serious, Gabe."
"I can see that. What I don't see is what you're serious about."
"What if you wanted to bring a woman back here?"
"I don't."
"But what if you did?"
"Charity, would you stop worrying about my love life?" He left his seat and went over to where she was sitting, lurning the wheelchair away from the table, he sat back on his heels in front of her, putting himself at her eye level.
"Contrary to the popular image of swinging bachelors, I do not sleep with every woman I meet. Beth is a friend, nothing more. If I'd never met you, I still wouldn't have brought her back here. Does that satisfy you?"
"What if she wasn't just a friend?" Charity ran her thumb along the arm of the chair, keeping her eyes on the movement, rather than meeting his eyes.
"Charity, I have no desire to make love to another woman. At the moment the only woman I want is busy trying to throw me out of her life.''
Charity's startled eyes swept to his, reading in their depths exasperation, amusement and... desire? She looked away.
"You don't have to be kind to me, Gabe."
"Kind?"
"Pretending you...want me," she said, getting the words out with difficulty.
"Why do you assume I'm pretending?"
"I know you feel bad about me being.. .like this." She gestured to her legs.
"I feel guilty as hell," he said bluntly. "But that doesn't mean I don't find you attractive."
She slanted him a quick look, an equal mix of vulnerability and doubt in her eyes.
"Charity, you're a beautiful, sexy woman. Why is it so hard to believe I'm attracted to you?"
Color flooded her face at his compliment but she was already shaking her head. "I'm not beautiful.
And I'm certainly not sexy. Especially not stuck in this thing. You're just trying to be kind."
"Once and for all, I'm not being kind." Annoyance colored his voice. "J think you're beautiful and / find you very sexy." His hand curved around the back of her neck. Charity's startled eyes met his as he drew her forward.
"I guess maybe actions will speak louder than words," he murmured an instant before his mouth closed over hers.
The impact was the same as when he kissed her in the pool. She'd nearly managed to convince herself that she'd imagined the feelings that had flared up between them then. But it wasn't imagination that put hunger in Gabe's mouth.
Her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders—for balance, she told herself. Her mouth opened under the hungry demand of his, her fingers sliding upward to bury themselves in the softness of his hair.
When he broke the kiss a moment later, they were both out of breath. It was all Charity could do to keep from whimpering a protest. Her fingers left his hair reluctantly, dropping to rest on his shoulders.
Gabe drew back just until his eyes met hers. "Did that feel like I was just being kind?"
Dazed, she blinked at him as she struggled to sort out her thoughts. There hadn't been anything particularly kind about his kiss. Hunger, demand, maybe a touch of good old-fashioned lust but not kindness. She stared into his green-gold eyes. She wanted to believe that he could desire her, wanted it so much it made her wary.
But whatever she'd been going to say was destined to remain unheard. The sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the tense moment. Charity jerked her hands from Gabe's shoulders as if she'd just been caught in some sin. Gabe ignored the bell a moment longer, his eyes holding hers.
"You think about it," he told her.
She swallowed hard and nodded. As if she was likely to think of anything else. The bell rang again, taking on an annoyed whine, as if transmitting the irritation of whoever was r
inging it. Gabe shot her one last look before standing up.
"Who the hell could that be," he said to no one in particular, glancing at the clock. Eight o'clock on a weekday morning was hardly a prime visiting hour.
Charity didn't know who it could be. At the moment she wasn't entirely sure she knew who she was, let alone who might be at the door.
She watched as Gabe strode out of the kitchen. His hair was tousled where her hands had slid through it. She curled her fingers against her palm. She felt as if she was suddenly seeing the world with new eyes.
Gabe found her desirable. What an amazing thought. She wanted to explore it more fully. Roll it over in her mind and look at the idea from different angles. But not, apparently, right now.
"Where is my sister?" The angry question cut across her tangled thoughts. Brian. He'd left for Europe a couple of days before she was released from the hospital. Obviously he was back, and from the sound of his voice, not in a good mood.
She wheeled herself out of the kitchen. Gabe, Diane and Brian were just stepping from the entryway into the living room. Brian saw Charity first and crossed the room to crouch down beside her.
"Charity. How are you, honey?" In his eyes was the shock of seeing her in a wheelchair for the first time.
"I'm fine, Brian." Since he seemed reluctant to make the first move, as if afraid she might break, she looped her arms around his neck. He returned the hug with gentle ferocity and she felt tears fill her eyes. All her life Brian had been there for her.
When they were younger, he might have pulled her hair or teased her mercilessly, but he'd also been the first to defend her if some other little boy tried the same tricks. He'd visited daily while she was in the hospital. In his eyes she'd seen his frustration at not being able to make her world right.
"When did you get home?" she asked as he released her.
"Last night."
"And he was at my place bright and early this morning, demanding to see you," Diane put in acidly. Early morning was not her favorite time of day.
"Well, since no one had bothered to tell me where you were, I think my concern was not unjustified." Brian stood up and turned to glare at Diane.
"As you can see, I'm just fine." Charity spoke quickly to head off the argument she could see brewing between her siblings.
"I don't know that I see that at all."
"Well, the wheelchair is a temporary necessity," Charity said defensively, surprised by his insensitive attitude.
"I'm not talking about the wheelchair. I'm talking about your living arrangements. What are you doing here... with him?"
Charity saw Gabe's brows go up at Brian's tone but she couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or amused that Brian had managed to make him sound like Ted Bundy.
"Gabe has been very kind in letting me stay here, Brian." But he ignored her repressive tone.
"Kind!" The word exploded out of him. "Kind! Are you crazy. He's the one who shot you. You could have died."
"I didn't die, and the shooting wasn't Gabe's fault."
"Then I'd like to know whose fault it was. He's the one who pulled the trigger."
"Stop it." Charity's tone was crisp with annoyance. "It was an accident."
"Don't worry about defending me, Charity. I don't blame your brother for feeling the way he does."
"Well, that's real gracious of you," Brian said. His angry glance took any possible compliment out of the words.
"Is this a private fight, or can anyone join?" Jay stood in the doorway, his eyes questioning as he observed the tense scene.
"Who are you?" Brian demanded, ready to add him to the list of villains.
"This is Gabe's neighbor," Diane said before anyone else could answer. "I'm surprised you're not off doing good deeds somewhere," she said to Jay, her voice dripping with acid sweetness.
"I'm surprised you're out of bed this early. I'd think you'd need all the beauty sleep you can get."
Diane sucked in a quick breath, her magnificent eyes flashing in anger. Brian, dismissing Jay as unimportant to the present conflict, turned his attention to Gabe.
"I suppose you thought you could wipe the slate clean by offering my sister a place to stay. But it's not that simple. I don't know how you managed to talk her into staying with you but she's not spending another day in this house."
Gabe remained stubbornly silent. He'd slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and was staring at the floor, his expression impossible to see.
"Brian!" But Charity's protest was swallowed by Diane's angry voice.
"You know what I can't stand?" She glared at Jay. "I can't stand self-important prigs who think that they're more important than anyone else."
"And I suppose you think designing clothes for rich women to wear once then throw away is an important contribution to the world?" Jay shot back.
"You can't just walk away from your guilt in this," Brian said, ignoring the battle between Diane and Jay. "You're the one who pulled the trigger. You're going to have to live with that, and you can't make it all better by offering her a place to stay."
Charity lifted a hand to her head, feeling a headache starting to pound in her temples. Diane and Jay were in the midst of a full-blown argument, the subject of which she couldn't quite pin down.
They'd raised their voices, either in anger or simply to be heard over Brian's accusations. Brian had raised his voice over theirs, which brought the noise level up another notch.
Gabe offered not a word in his own defense, letting Brian's words wash over him unchallenged. His complete lack of response only fueled Brian's anger.
"You may have been able to fool my sisters into thinking you had nothing but altruistic motives, but I know better. She's moving out today. I—"
"Quiet!"
It was amazing what results could be obtained with a single word, especially when that word was shouted. All conversation came to an abrupt halt, and there was blessed silence. All eyes turned to Charity.
Diane and Brian couldn't have looked more startled if the lampshade had suddenly spoken. Jay looked surprised, though be didn't know her well enough to be as shocked as her siblings. Gabe's head jerked up, his quizzical expression quickly changing to one of amused pride.
Charity drew a deep breath, letting the quiet wash over her.
"Are you okay, Char?" That was Brian, bending over her solicitously, his expression so anxious that she promptly forgave him for trying to run her life.
"I'm fine, Brian."
"Then why did you shout?" His concern changed to puzzlement.
"It seemed like the only way to remind you all that I was still here," she said ruefully.
"What do you mean?" Diane asked, frowning. Jay slid his hands into his pockets, his expression going from puzzled to understanding.
"It's very nice to know that all of you are so concerned about me," Charity said. "I really appreciate
it but I think it would be nice if someone thought to ask me what I wanted to do."
"Well, of course we care what you want to do," Diane said.
"Of course we do," Brian said supportively. "As soon as we get you moved out of here, we"ll settle you anywhere you like."
"Maybe she doesn't want to move out," Gabe said quietly, speaking for the first time since the argument began.
"You stay out of this." Brian shot him an angry look. "If it wasn't for you, she—"
"Brian." Charity didn't shout this time but there was a steely note in her voice that made him break off instantly.
"If it wasn't for Gabe, I would be dead." She tilted her head back to fix her older brother with a stern look. "I've told him and I'll tell you. He has nothing to feel guilty about."
"You don't have to defend me," Gabe told her.
"Damn right, she doesn't." Brian caught Charity's eye and subsided.
"What do you want to do, Charity?" It was left to Jay to get back to the main question.
Charity threw a quick glance at Gabe before focusing her attention
on the toes of her tennis shoes. She knew what she wanted to do. She just didn't know if it was the smart thing to do.
Remembering the steamy kiss she and Gabe had shared just before the doorbell rang, she wondered if the smart choice wouldn't be to let Brian move her out as quickly as possible.
But she didn't want to leave Gabe's house. She didn't want to leave Gabe. He'd said he found her attractive, desirable. If she left now, would she ever find out if he'd meant it?
"Charity?" Brian's prompting made her realize how long she'd been silent. The time had come to make a decision—right or wrong.
"If Gabe doesn't mind—"
"He doesn't," Gabe said, earning a fierce look from Brian.
"I'd like to stay here."
Chapter 11
"You know, there are moments—more than a few of them—when I have serious doubts about my suitability for this job." Gabe slammed his car door as he spoke.
Annie shut her own door with more control, sliding her partner a sympathetic glance. "You can only help people who want to be helped, Gabriel. You can't force people to do what's good for them. Nita has to make the decision to leave Lawrence herself. Then we can see about getting her some help."
"Why would she stay?" Gabe asked, his voice rough with frustration. "She's got family. They'd take her in."
"She thinks she loves him, sugar." Annie shrugged. "As long as she thinks that, she ain't goin' to leave him."
"Why would a nice kid like Nita hook up with a two-bit enforcer like Lawrence?" Gabe turned the key in the ignition, the movement so violent that Annie wouldn't have been surprised to see the key snap off.
"Maybe he seemed real romantic," she suggested as they pulled away from the curb.
Nita had probably already called her boyfriend to tefl him that the cops had been there asking questions. If Lawrence followed his past record, he'd come home and knock Nita around a bit, blaming her for the fact that the police were on to his protection racket.
Gabe's knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel, imagining that it was Lawrence Moodie's neck.
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