by Bella Andre
His words seemed to bring her back to him, to the realization that she was standing in his arms. She worked to move away from him and he made himself let her go.
“I’ve never told anyone that.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
She looked momentarily lost for words...like all the anger had been wrung out of her. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Some of it.”
She looked confused. “What else?”
“What do you eat for breakfast?”
Her frown was one of surprise, this time, rather than frustration. “Raisin bread. Toasted.”
Gabe filed that data away for one day down the road when, hopefully, he’d get the chance to feed her breakfast. “Do you like to hike?”
“Yes. But not hills.”
He grinned at the San Francisco girl who didn’t like hills. “What about biking?”
“Not much. I’d rather be on foot, or in a boat.”
“Do you have siblings?”
Her frown had been replaced by a bemused expression. “No.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“A little town just outside of Minneapolis. My parents still live there. They’re always trying to get me to move back.”
Everything in Gabe rebelled against the idea of losing Megan to a Midwestern town. “You belong here.”
She looked faintly irritated at his tone, but she agreed. “That’s what I’m always telling them.”
“Do you get along with your folks?”
“Yes.” She scrunched up her nose. “Except when I don’t.”
He had to laugh at her honest response. No woman had ever pleased him this much, both in and out of bed.
Her mouth twitched at the corners and he watched her war with herself for a moment before shaking her head as if she were disappointed with herself. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
Something inside Gabe’s chest unclenched at her offer. She hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but she wasn’t kicking him out, either.
“Always,” he replied.
The twitching turned into a full-on smile. “Why am I not surprised?”
Did she realize she was flirting with him? He hoped not, otherwise she was bound to make herself stop.
“Without Summer here I haven’t bothered to go shopping, so there isn’t much.”
She was just opening the fridge when he said, “How about I go move your clothes into the dryer while you rustle up something to eat?”
“No,” she said quickly, her flush giving away the train of her thoughts, making both of them think about those pink panties again. “I’ll run and do it. You just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Each of the guys at the station took a meal shift when they were on duty, so although Gabe might not have been the neatest guy in the kitchen, he knew his way around a good handful of meals.
A short while later, he had the makings of a pretty great omelet on the counter. He was just pouring the eggs into the hot skillet when Megan came back inside.
“Gabe?” She looked stunned to see him behind the stove. “You didn’t have to cook.”
He slid the glass of juice he’d poured over to her. “I enjoy it. Sit.” He looked over at her desk in the corner of her small living room, covered with papers and a couple of big, fancy calculators. “Looks like you’ve been working hard.”
She nodded, looking tired again. “Still playing catch-up with a couple of my clients. Fortunately, I’m just about there.”
“Good,” he said, holding back the rest of what he’d come here to say.
Timing was everything.
He slid the omelet from the skillet onto a plate, buttered the raisin bread that had just popped up from the toaster, grabbed two forks from the top drawer, and moved over to the tiny breakfast bar to join her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I can’t remember the last time someone besides Summer cooked for me.”
“Her muffins are great.”
“They are,” she agreed, “but now I’m wondering if I should teach her how to make omelets, instead.” She looked up at him with an even bigger smile. “The raisin bread is great, too.”
Somehow he managed to stop staring at the beautiful woman next to him and push his fork into the eggs. She followed suit and just as he was finishing his first bite, she made one of those soft little sounds that made him immediately hard.
“Ohmygod,” she moaned in one long syllable, “this is so good.”
Amazingly, praise from her over something as small as eggs and toast made him feel as good as if he’d singlehandedly put out a five-alarm fire.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, and then while he held her captive with his cooking prowess, he decided the timing was finally right. “Got any plans for New Year’s Eve?”
She seemed startled for a moment. “Wow, how’d it get to be December 31 already?”
Smiling at her, he said, “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Yes,” she said, and then, “No. I haven’t made any plans.” Her eyes widened as she realized where he was going with his question. “You’re not suggesting that you—” She pointed at him. “—and I—” And then at herself. “—spend it together?”
“Hey, that’s a great idea.”
“No, it’s a terrible idea.”
“Do you like fireworks?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“You do, don’t you?” he said with a grin. “I’ll bet you love them, the bigger the better.” The way her skin flushed in response was answer enough. “Watch them with me tonight on my roof.”
He could feel how tempted she was by his suggestion, but then she said, “I shouldn’t.”
But both of them knew shouldn’t was a hell of a long way from couldn’t.
“But you want to, don’t you?”
That gorgeous exasperated look reappeared on her face. “Of course I want to!”
He didn’t bother to hold back his grin at that admission. “What if I promise not to kiss you until next year?”
The heat between them flared into full-on flames.
“Nice try,” she said. “Next year is only a few hours away.”
“I’d have to break my promise if it were anything longer than that.” He reached for a tendril of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “And I don’t ever want to break a promise to you, Megan.”
Chapter Eighteen
Megan knew what the right answer was. Just two letters. N and O. Those were all she needed to string together and then he’d leave.
But after only two lovely days in Lake Tahoe with Gabe—and one truly incredible night—she’d missed him so much.
She’d missed his smile. His warmth. His humor.
She’d even missed that delicious hint of danger that fairly pulsed from him.
And now, like the most wonderful gift in the world, he’d appeared on her doorstep. She’d tried to scare him away by being snippy and unpredictable, but he’d simply grinned his way through it...and then held her while she raged about old hurts.
It had been only fair to tell him the truth about David after he’d told her about Kate. The thing was, she could have just told him the facts and left off the part about how angry she’d been—and, she was surprised to realize, still was—about it. But when he’d put his arms around her, he’d been so solid, so warm, so there, that she hadn’t been able to stop it all from spilling out.
Just as she hadn’t been able to stop herself from making love with him in Lake Tahoe.
So how, she had to wonder as she looked up and found him staring at her, was she going to be able to stop herself from saying it? “Yes, I’ll go watch fireworks from your roof.”
His gorgeous mouth curved up into the biggest smile yet. And, oh, how she loved it when he smiled at her like that.
As though she was the only thing that mattered.
No one but Summer had ever looked at her like that, although as her daughter moved farther from those b
aby years with every passing day, Megan got that look less and less.
They finished the delicious omelet without saying anything more and she was surprised yet again when he took the plate to the sink and washed it clean.
“I could get used to this kind of service,” she said, without thinking. Which seemed to be her usual M.O. around him.
Gabe’s eyes were full of heat as he looked back at her. “Could you?”
She pressed her lips together and tried not to follow suit with her thighs beneath the counter, even though she was feeling really hot and bothered. There was no way he could see what she was doing. So then why did it seem like he had as he said, “In some countries it’s already a new year, you know.”
The rumble of his low voice was almost as much of a caress as his hands would have been across her skin. Worse, she wanted that kiss just as much as he did.
Which was why she pushed off the stool and said, “I’d better go see if the wash is dry.”
He put the dishtowel back on its hook. “I’ll help fold.”
So much for her escape.
There was nothing even remotely sexy about the laundry room. So then why, she wondered as they headed back into the small basement, was sex the only thing she could think about as she reached into the humid dryer and pulled out the clothes? Blushing at the thought of Gabe folding her underwear, she looked closely for it, but she didn’t see it anywhere.
“Need some help in there?”
She could hear the amusement in his voice as she remained with her head stuck in the dryer. Lord only knew what it was doing to her hair, which had been known to scare small children—and grown men—when humidity caught hold of it.
“Nope,” she said in an overly bright voice. “I’m just looking for something.”
“This?”
Megan finally lifted her head from the dryer and found Gabe standing behind her with pink lace dangling from one finger. As she watched him stroke the lace between his thumb and forefinger, she felt scalded from more than the heat still pouring out of the open dryer door.
“Where did you find them?”
“Stuck to a towel.” He pointed to the stack he’d already folded and put in her laundry basket.
“Oh. The lace does that sometimes.”
She knew she was standing there like a frizzy-haired idiot, babbling about absolutely nothing of importance. Why couldn’t she act normal around him? Cool and composed.
But she knew why.
All she could think about was kissing him.
Or rather, the pain and suffering of having to wait to kiss him until 12:01 a.m. so that he could keep his promise to her.
She was never going to make it. Not if she wanted to hold onto her sanity, anyway.
“I was thinking,” she said as she tried to nonchalantly fold one of Summer’s dresses, “the whole New Year’s thing is kind of overrated. People always make such a big deal about it, but it’s just like any other day.”
She could feel his eyes on her, even though he was folding another towel.
“And you’re right,” she continued in what she hoped was a light voice, “there are plenty of places in the world where it’s already past midnight. Like Paris. They’ve already had their fireworks there.”
She held her breath as she waited for him to grab her and pull her against him and take the kiss she was begging for. But all he did was take the crumpled mess she was making of Summer’s dress from her hands. Sixty seconds later he had not only the dress, but the rest of the clean clothes folded.
He cooked, he cleaned, he did laundry...and he knew exactly how to kiss her, where to touch her, how to take her to the edge and then back over it again before she had a chance to recover from her first hit of pleasure.
“Let’s drop this off upstairs.” He picked up the blue basket as if she hadn’t been hinting with everything she had for that kiss. “And then we can head over to my place.”
Megan was a breath away from knocking the laundry basket from his hands and launching herself at him. But it was one thing if Gabe seduced her into letting him steal a kiss after midnight to celebrate the start of another year. It was another thing entirely if she was the one begging for his kisses.
Especially when nothing had changed. She still couldn’t let herself fall in love with him. And she certainly couldn’t let Summer get attached to him.
Loving a man like Gabe and then losing him...well, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to recover from that. No matter how strong her mother—and everyone else—always said she was.
Fortunately, the roof of his building was sure to be crowded with all the other residents out watching the fireworks. Because despite knowing better, Megan simply couldn’t trust herself to be strong when she was alone with Gabe.
They’d watch the bright lights in the sky, they’d press their lips together once in a crowd of revelers, and then she’d go home. To her own bed.
Alone, thank you very much.
Chapter Nineteen
Don’t psych yourself out.
~ from “Firefighting 101” ~
Thirty minutes later, Megan stepped out of the elevator into Gabe’s penthouse apartment in Potrero Hill and her mouth fell open. He slipped her coat from her shoulders, but she was so busy taking in the views from every window that she barely noticed.
“These views are incredible.” She turned to him. “How do you ever do anything but stare out the windows?”
“I thought you might like it,” he said as he moved across the room to stand beside her. “It’s usually clear like this in the winter, but in the summer—”
“—it must be like floating on a cloud of fog.”
He’d wanted to kiss her at least a hundred times since she’d opened her front door, and now, as she stood staring dreamily out his living room window, Gabe was working like hell to stick to his plan and keep his promise.
It was just that she looked so good in his house. So right. Despite the great bones of the building, the views and location, he’d always felt like something was missing.
Now he knew exactly what it was.
How different would it be if Megan and Summer lived here with him? If all that color from their small apartment were in here? If their clothes hung in the closets and Summer’s drawings were up on his fridge?
Knowing he was getting ahead of himself, that nothing past tonight’s fireworks was even settled, Gabe forced himself to take a step away from the only woman who had ever ripped his control to shreds.
“That omelet barely took the edge off,” he told her. “How does Thai food sound for dinner? There’s a great place around the corner that delivers.”
Her face lit up. “I love Thai.”
Jesus, he wasn’t just jealous of a dead man—now his envy extended to Thai food, too.
“Make yourself comfortable while I order one of everything.”
She laughed and said, “Sounds great,” but she never left the window the entire time he was on the phone. Gabe knew without a doubt just how much she must miss being up high enough to see out over the city as she had in the apartment that had burned down.
He hung up the phone and she was still so mesmerized by the lights of the city that she didn’t notice him put a couple of glasses of red wine on a nearby bookshelf.
A minute later he said, “Excuse me.”
Megan was clearly shocked to see him holding a large overstuffed chair over his head. “What are you doing with that?”
“Hoping to make you more comfortable,” he said as he slowly lowered it to the floor. And also, maybe showing off a bit, he had to admit to himself as her eyes traveled across his biceps, which were now bulging from lifting the heavy chair.
He reached for her hand. “Sit with me.”
“The chair isn’t big enough for the both of us,” she protested, but he already had her half on his lap and his arm around her waist.
“Feels like just the right size to me.”
God, he loved the way
she smelled, like a field of blooming flowers topped off with a hint of sweet female arousal.
“Gabe, we shouldn’t—”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured against her ear, “I’m not going to break my promise.”
Did she know just how disappointed she looked as she turned her face away from his to look out the window once more? Gabe made sure to hide his grin from her as he reached over to the bookshelf for the wine and handed her a glass.
“Sullivan Winery’s finest.”
She took it from him and inhaled with pleasure. “In the interest of full disclosure, I feel that I should tell you I was already a fan of Marcus’s wines before we met.”
“It’s good stuff,” he agreed.
She nodded, then said, “And I know I haven’t met him, but your other brother Smith—” She stopped suddenly, as if she’d just realized she shouldn’t say any more. “Never mind.” She took a sip of Cabernet. “This is yummy.”
“What about Smith? You also want me to know how much you love his movies?”
She licked her lips and shrugged. “You’ve got to admit they’re all pretty good.” She stopped again, took another sip of her wine. “Just like this wine.” She pointed out the window. “Hey, isn’t that the baseball stadium over there?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a baseball fan, too, aren’t you?”
“Blame Summer,” she said, giving him her most innocent look. “Her father used to take her to games when she was a baby and she’s loved it ever since. She was really thrilled about meeting Ryan at your mother’s party. He’s her favorite pitcher.”
Why did he have to have so many brothers? The stem of his wine glass almost shattered beneath his irritated grip.
Megan’s eyes were dancing as she pointed to the huge picture of an African sunrise on the wall. “I have to ask—did Chase take that?”
“Yes.” The word came out more clipped than he intended it to.
That was when he caught her smiling over the rim of her glass and realized that any illusion he’d ever had of being in charge of their evening was just that—an illusion.