by Marina Adair
“More than fine.” He kissed each one of her fingers, most of them tipped with Band-Aids. “You are an amazing mother who’s managed to raise an amazing daughter all on your own, which is what I figured out sometime between having my ass handed to me by Jordan and seeing you in the freezer section.”
“I don’t need to be rescued, but I do need honesty from the man I’m sleeping with.” She tugged at the hem of his shirt. When she looked back up her expression was one of uncertainty. “I mean, if you’re still...if we’re still...”
“Oh, we’re still.” Not one to miss an opportunity, Gabe covered her mouth with his. Her arms slid around his neck, and she melted into him. The taste of her lips filled his head, and it would have been so easy to set her on the counter or try out a new table, but he remembered Holly, just two rooms over. And even though he had been adamant on the no-juice-before-bedtime rule, he didn’t want to mess this up.
He wanted Regan in his bed. And Regan was a single mom. Which meant that he would have to work on his patience and get used to cold showers. With one last kiss he pulled back.
“Why don’t you clean up and crawl into bed?” He tightened his arms around her. She snuggled deeper. “It’s late and you have work in the morning.”
Her body sagged against his and she shook her head, bumping it against his chin. “About that. I don’t want Holly to wake up with a man in the house or catch us in bed or another close call like the other night. I think it would be confusing.”
He smiled as she rambled on, and when she finally paused he said, “Agreed.”
“So if this sounds too complicated...” She looked up. “What?”
“I said I agree.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I meant, it’s late, why don’t you take my bed and I’ll crash on the couch?”
“No, I can’t make you sleep on the couch. You’d have a horrible night’s sleep. You could barely get out from under the table. Sleeping on a couch will cripple you for a week at least. I’ll just pack up and head home.”
“I’ll sleep even worse if I’m up all night worrying about you making it home safe. Feeling like crap that you woke Holly up on a school night. And that you have work early in the morning.”
Those full lips of hers quirked and all he could think about was kissing her again. “God, you really do have a hero complex.” Then she took a deep breath, making her chest rise and fall, and a hero complex was the least of his worries.
“I don’t have work tomorrow. I took a Sunday shift so that I could finish those.” She glared at the costumes on the table. “But, you’re right, waking up Holly would make for a miserable morning for all involved. So, if you can point me to the linens, I’ll take the couch.”
“ChiChi would kill me if she knew I let you sleep on the couch.” And the couch would kill her. It was comfortable enough for watching the game and napping on Sundays, but it was hell on the back.
“See.” He dropped on the sofa, stretched his legs out, and then tugged her down with him. Right on his lap. She made a big deal out of bouncing up and down, testing him out like she was Goldilocks until he was as hard as the couch.
“A little lumpy for my taste.”
“Little, my ass,” he grumbled, grabbing her ass and flipping her around so she was straddling him and she could feel for herself how wrong she was.
“I thought I was going to bed.” She leaned back, resting her hands behind her on his knees and rolling her hips forward, bringing all their good parts in perfect contact.
“Maybe we should test out the couch for a few minutes first.” His hands settled right below the dimples on her lower back and worked their way up, under her shirt and around the front searching out her other good parts.
“Clothes stay on. Then I go to sleep with Holly and you sleep in your bed. Couch stays empty.”
He dipped down and kissed her stomach. “Afraid you’ll be tempted?”
“I’m just glad you only have one couch.”
“Actually, I have one in my office too.”
Before Gabe even opened his eyes he knew three things: he’d fallen asleep on the couch, Regan was not with him, and someone was staring him down.
That someone was a little taller than a fencepost, stood next to the couch wearing one of his old T-shirts, a mess of brown ringlets, and a scrunched face that said she’d nearly used up all her superkid patience. The curtains were open, but no light was filtering through, meaning it was either storming again or way too early to be awake.
“What time is it?” Gabe said, his voice struggling to wake up.
Holly plopped on the floor, pulled the too-long tee over her bent knees and picked up his phone. “Five thirty-seven.”
Gabe groaned. “Want me to walk you back to bed?”
Holly shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere.
“Want me to get your mom?”
Again with the hair. Only this time she fidgeted with the hem of her tee.
Something was up. He could sense it in his gut. Could see it in her expression, in the way she was worrying that adorable lower lip just like her mom did.
Adorable or not, it was too freaking early. Because her eyes were also batting and innocent-looking, reminding him of ChiChi when she set her mind to something. Something that was sure to complicate his already complicated life.
He raised his brow in a silent last chance. Holly smiled bigger.
“Suit yourself.” Gabe rolled over, grabbing a pillow and smothering it over his face.
He stayed like that, back to Holly, face wedged between the couch and the pillow, sucking in the leather, waiting to hear the pitter patter of feet back to the guest room. It didn’t happen. She just kept silently willing him awake—he could feel it. He could also feel her little breath on the back of his neck. She was almost as bad as Marc, just cuter.
Which meant she’d wear him down.
Resigned to the few hours of sleep he’d managed to get, Gabe threw back the blanket and sat up. “You want some breakfast?”
“Pancakes with chocolate chips and bananas and a glass of milk?” She blinked. Three times.
He wiped a hand down his face, the stubble scratching his palm. His groggy mind tried to catch up, making a mental rundown of what he had in the kitchen. “No pancake mix. No bananas. But I do have milk and some chocolate chips.” They were left over from one of ChiChi’s failed fruitcake attempts.
Holly took his hand and walked with him to the kitchen, eyes batting the entire way. After starting the coffee—he had a feeling he was going to need it this morning—he plopped her on one of the bar stools at the counter, poured her a glass of milk, and scavenged the pantry for something other than beer, chips, and a half-empty jar of maraschino cherries.
In the eight years he’d owned the house he couldn’t remember anyone ever using the breakfast bar. People usually sat at the table, or more often on the couch. People being his siblings, Jordan, Ava, and his grandmother. Gabe didn’t entertain. Didn’t like people in his space. It made him feel like he had to put on the DeLuca hat. He was beginning to hate the DeLuca hat.
He looked at Holly, milkstache above her lip, hem hanging past her ankles, and realized that somewhere along the way he’d lost the façade and, with the Martin women, he was comfortable just being himself. Not a side many people experienced.
He opened the fridge and rummaged through the shelves. “Okay, I’ve got bread, eggs, onion, and cheese. How about an omelet and toast? Scratch that.” He studied the cheese. It was looking a little fuzzy, so he tossed it in the garbage. “Scrambled eggs with onions and toast?”
Holly’s nose scrunched up. Either the kid was going to sneeze or she wasn’t a big onion fan.
“You got any cereal?” she asked, her feet swinging back and forth.
“Yup, cornflakes.”
“With chocolate chips?” Holly asked, her eyes darting back toward where Regan was sleeping.
So, Mom didn’t feed the kid junk. Good to know. “One bowl of plai
n cornflakes coming right up.”
Holly dropped her chin to the counter and blew out air. Smiling, Gabe grabbed two bowls, a couple spoons, and joined her. Holly poured the cereal, and Gabe polished off each bowl with the milk. He even opened a can of pineapple, also ChiChi’s, pleased that he had covered three of the five food groups.
He helped himself to a cup of coffee, patiently waiting for Holly to spill. She was so amped her entire body was humming with the need to talk. So he’d do exactly what he did when Abby or ChiChi had a secret. He’d get busy, because the second he got invested in something the women in his life decided to talk.
Gabe lifted his mug, took a big sniff of hazelnut and caffeine, and could almost taste the first sip. He brought the cup to his mouth—
“Gabe?”
“Uh huh,” he mumbled, watching her over the rim of his cup. When she didn’t continue, he tilted the cup back and the liquid touched his tongue—
“I know it’s not polite to ask someone for a present, but...”
The clank of ceramic on granite sounded as he set the mug down and turned his attention fully on Holly. Women tended to like that. And he could tell by the way she clasped her hands in front of her chin and smiled that, five years old or not, so did Holly.
“But?”
Holly took a big breath and exhaled so slowly Gabe was afraid she was never going to get on with it. Once she opened her mouth, he was suddenly afraid the only way she would stop talking was when she ran out of oxygen.
“Lauren’s got a single mom just like me. Only Ms. Isabel is divorced from all three of Lauren’s daddies, which is kind of neat because she gets to have four kitties of her very own, one at each house, and I don’t even have one kitty of my very own. Well, not yet because we had to move and Ms. Jordan isn’t our landlord anymore and Mr. Chester doesn’t allow any kind of pets, not even goldfish. He says his wife’s allergic and she would smell it all the way to her house and then where would he be?”
She gave a dramatic pause, her hands out to her side in a dramatic question.
Gabe swallowed, hard. So that was what Regan had been talking about the night of the Christmas party when he pretty much fired her and kicked her to the curb. If the kid wanted a cat for her birthday, he would figure out a way. Even if it meant paying Chester an insane pet deposit.
“I can talk to Chester about letting you have a cat.” Hell, if Regan was on board he’d even buy Holly the cat. Let her pick out one of those expensive white ones with the flat face.
“No, then Mrs. Chester would divorce him and he’d come live at the apartment, and then we’d have to move again. And I just got my own bed.”
And his day got shittier and shittier as the story went on. Every Christmas Gabe dressed up like Santa for his little cousins and his employees’ kids. This year he was feeling more like the Grinch.
“Lauren was telling me that all three of her daddies want to go to the Christmas musical. But every kid only gets two tickets and I only have one parent.”
Gabe saw where this was going and his heart ached for the little girl in front of him who wanted to make her friend happy, but desperately wanted more than one person in the crowd clapping for her.
Holly mushed a soggy flake against the side of her bowl with the spoon, then her hand stilled. “Ms. Isabel asked me if my daddy was coming.”
Everything inside of Gabe stilled. He’d already decided not to even tread there about Richard. Now the opportunity his brothers had been hounding him for was being handed to him. Only it meant using a little girl’s sadness about missing her daddy.
“Is he?” Gabe asked with a forced a casualness that he sure as hell didn’t feel. The last thing he needed was for Holly to pick up on his tension and mention this conversation to her mom.
Eyes firmly on her cereal, she shrugged her little shoulders. “I don’t think so. He’s not around much. So Ms. Isabel said it isn’t nice to waste and that I should give my extra ticket to Lauren so all her daddies could go.”
Gabe rested his elbows on the counter and resisted the urge to hang his head in his hands. He would do anything to find Richard if it meant putting an end to this entirely screwed-up situation. Unless that anything included hurting Holly. Or Regan.
“Were you saving it for your dad, hoping he would come?”
Holly looked up at him. Her eyes vulnerable and uncertain. “I was hoping you would come.”
Strong hands massaged Regan’s back, easing her from a dead sleep. Feeling like a content cat, she rolled over and stretched. She opened her eyes and blinked twice, trying to get her bearing, but all she could see was the most gorgeous set of brown eyes staring back at her.
Regan was flat on her back in Gabe’s guest bed, his hands were up her shirt, and, when she shifted her hips, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. And she might have been purring.
“Morning.” His voice was gravely and soft and sexy as hell. He nipped at her lip and then delivered a toe-curling kiss. Yup, she was definitely purring.
Morning?
Regan stopped midkiss. Her lids snapped open, the blinding light from the sun pierced her eyes and instantly cleared her mind from the sex-fog that was Gabe DeLuca. She took stock and, realizing just what she was doing, shoved him off and pulled the sheets to her chin. “What are you doing in my bed?”
“It’s my bed, but I’m more than willing to share.” He grinned, tugging on the blanket.
“What?” She frowned, then said, “Oh, my God! What time is it?”
“Eight fifteen.” He rested back against the headboard, calm as could be.
“I’m late. And it’s Holly’s last day of school before break. She has her party. Her cookies—” Regan scrambled out of bed, felt a cold draft on her bottom, and leaped back under the covers, wrapping them securely around her. “Her cookies and our clothes are at home. You have to leave so I can get dressed.”
“I’d rather you stay naked.” He ripped the blankets back and she squeaked. “As for Holly, ChiChi picked her up ten minutes ago. Showed up with a change of clothes, a bag lunch and enough of Pricilla’s special Christmas cookies to get twenty-four kids hopped up on sugar and food coloring.”
Regan felt herself relax and, after covering herself in a cocoon of pillows, actually flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes. Then they snapped open only to find herself staring up into Gabe’s eyes—again. Gabe, who was now missing a shirt.
“How did she know I was here?”
“She makes it her business to know, and before you start freaking out...” He smoothed the stress lines out of her forehead and the pillows off her legs. “I think last night was a setup. Actually, I think she has been setting us up from the beginning.”
“Really?” Regan didn’t know why that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it did.
“She sent you the job offer from Ryo.”
“She did?”
“Then made me bring you that cake. And she’s been doing everything in her power to get us in the same room. Alone and often. In fact, she gave me explicit instructions to go back to bed when she left.”
“Gabe, are you trying to tell me your grandma wants you to sleep with me?” Suddenly she didn’t mind the lack of clothes.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting forever to get you in my bed. Sleep is the last thing I had in mind.” He rolled on top of Regan, and she realized he wasn’t wearing any pants either. He was blessedly naked and, as he slid between her legs and pressed against her, ready to go.
“This isn’t your bed, exactly.” Not that she cared. When he held himself over her like that, his arms did the most amazing thing: they got even bigger and bulged and she couldn’t help but slide her hands up them.
“We’ll get there.” He kissed her languidly, taking his time to build the heat, until her whole body was shaking with need. “We’ve got a couple couches to try out first. Oh, and I have this swing on the back porch that I went out and bought cushions for.”
“You bought new c
ushions? Why?” Regan choked out as he nibbled at the sweet spot right behind her ear.
“Because watching you sleep naked, outside on that chaise with your hair all wet and your body slick, was about the sexiest thing I’ve seen.” He rested his weight on one elbow, freeing up his other hand. Grabbing her shirt right below her breasts, he slowly tugged it up, baring her stomach, her nipples, and over her head, his eyes taking in every exposed inch. “Been thinking about it for days. Wondering what it would have been like to splay you out so I could lick every inch of you.”
Regan slid her legs around the back of his thighs and, arching her hips, slid right over his length. “Want to move to the porch?”
“First, I want you here, in this bed, so I can touch every inch of you with my hands until you explode.” His hands already roaming over her chest, belly button, hips, everywhere. He trailed a single finger down her stomach and right over the center.
“Then where?” she whispered.
“Where am I going to touch you next, or where am I going to take you next?” His finger made the same mind-blowing pass; this time, though, he lingered, making slow, mind-blowing little circles.
“Both,” she gasped.
Gabe kissed his way across her jaw to her ear and proceeded to tell her in explicit detail where, why, and for how long he was going to take her.
Which was how she ended up in his bed four hours later, exhausted and ready for a nap. Gabe had given her the full and complete tour of his house, not excluding the laundry room or shower. But her favorite, by far, was his bed. It was big and soft and smelled like him. It was also because in his bed, he had pulled her close, holding her tightly as though he didn’t want any space between. And afterward he had hugged her with those strong arms of his and fell asleep with his face buried in her neck.
Regan had never been in love. Sure she had loved Richard, but that was a young love, one that was born out of loneliness and insecurity and the need to be loved back.
She tightened her arms around his middle and closed her eyes, just taking him in. This felt different. It didn’t make her feel anxious or hollow. With Gabe, all she felt was a sense of rightness.