Especially if it was Gabby.
The women were getting closer with every second. The smaller woman threw back her head and laughed. He looked away.
It wasn’t Gabby. Gabby’s laugh was low and earthy. This woman’s was high, a little nervous.
He waited until the women had passed him before pushing to his feet and dusting the grass off his backside.
He should have known it wasn’t Gabby the moment he’d spotted the fluffy dog. No way would she be caught dead with a designer pooch. If she had a dog, it’d be something big and scary and substantial like a Rottweiler or a Doberman or an Irish wolfhound. A big dog to match her big attitude. It hit him suddenly that he was disappointed that it hadn’t been her.
Which means you really are a perverse SOB.
He thought about it as he crossed the field. It wasn’t about those eyes of hers or the cute little behind he’d inadvertently discovered. It was simply that when he was with her, he wasn’t thinking about anything or anyone else. Including himself. She sharpened his focus, kept him on his toes.
So, yeah, he was a little disappointed it hadn’t been her.
Not a big deal.
Palming his car keys, he got in his truck and headed home.
GABBY WINCED A LITTLE AS SHE pulled on her underwear that evening. She’d paid a visit to the salon today and had the works—pedicure, bikini wax, facial, haircut. It was her birthday, and she’d figured she deserved a little pampering. After that, she’d met her sister for a late lunch and some shopping. She pulled the red dress she’d bought as part of her birthday splash-out over her head and wriggled until she’d tugged it down her body. The hem hit her at midthigh. Looking at herself in the mirror in her bedroom without the encouraging salesgirl at her side and all the bright lights and loud music of the store to lull her into a false sense of wonderfulness, she couldn’t help wondering if maybe, perhaps, the dress was on the short side. She was thirty-three, after all, not twenty-three.
After a long moment she shrugged. What the hell. It was only the company Christmas party. While Tyler always invited a few suppliers and clients and some of the guys often brought friends, it was unlikely that there would be many hot prospects there tonight. Still, it would be a good way to dip her toe into the dating waters. She could polish up her rusty flirting skills and ease herself into things. Once she was feeling a little more solid, she would phone one of her party-loving friends—Shona, or maybe Dee, or maybe both—and hit the clubs. Or wherever it was that women went to meet men these days. She honestly had no idea, which was sad in and of itself given how long it had been since she broke up with Tyler.
She slipped her black ankle boots on. Then she did her makeup. A touch of blush to highlight her cheekbones. Two shades of golden-brown eye shadow, black kohl. A deep berry-colored lipstick to match her nails and toenails. She finished with a spray of her favorite Dolce & Gabbana perfume and stood back. Her shapeless helmet of hair had been transformed into a tousled, sexy gamine style thanks to the attentions of a very expensive hairdresser. Her eyes looked big and mysterious, her mouth shiny and red.
She reached for the Santa hat she’d bought, a token nod toward her usual practice of dressing up for the Christmas party, then decided against it. You didn’t spend two hundred bucks on a cut and color only to hide it under a hat. The world would have to live with the fact that this year, Gabby Wade was going to be the life of the party in a different way. Brave words.
She wasn’t feeling quite as brave as she inched out of her car half an hour later. Amazing the things you could forget, such as how hard it was to get out of a car without disgracing yourself when you were wearing a short skirt. Finally, she managed to haul herself to her feet, tugging the hem of her skirt down and smoothing it over her hips. One of her heels sank into the lawn and she held on to the car door while she tugged herself free.
A very elegant start to the evening.
It’s practice, remember? This is a trial run.
That didn’t stop the butterflies from doing an aerial show in her stomach as she click-clacked her way up the garden path. There was no way people weren’t going to notice her change of appearance. They were going to comment, and Dino and the crew were going to make jokes. And Jon was going to look at her and—
She stopped in the middle of climbing the porch stairs.
Jon was going to look at her and…what? Stare? Drool? Laugh?
She didn’t want any of those reactions from him. She didn’t want anything from him at all.
A car door slamming announced the arrival of more guests and she stepped onto the porch and hit the doorbell. Ally opened the door wearing a flowing white halter-neck dress.
“Gabby! Wow. You look fabulous. You’re going to cause a riot in that dress.” Ally gave Gabby a frank once over. “Turn around so I can check all of you out.”
Gabby dutifully turned in a circle.
“Check out that little caboose of yours. I think I’m going to have to stand out of the way so I don’t get crushed beneath the stampede when the guys see you.”
“Hardly,” Gabby said, half-grateful, half-embarrassed by her friend’s assessment.
“I have a feeling this is going to be a good party.”
They walked together into the open living space at the rear of the house. The room was already crowded. Dino, Kelly and Carl were hanging around the kitchen counter, helping themselves to the chips and dips. To Gabby’s everlasting chagrin, they all stopped and stared the moment they saw her.
“Hubba hubba. Come and sit on Santa’s knee, Gabby baby,” Dino said with a comic leer.
“Could have given us a bit of warning, Gab. Heart’s not what it used to be,” Kelly said.
Carl simply stuck two fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled so loudly Gabby was amazed the windows didn’t shatter.
Ally laughed, delighted. “What did I tell you?”
Gabby made a disparaging noise but she could feel herself blushing as people looked over, clearly wondering what all the fuss was about.
This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To remind everyone that you’re a woman?
“What would you like to drink? Champagne? Beer? White wine?” Ally asked.
“Um, champagne would be great.”
Gabby let her gaze drift around the room, smiling as she caught the eye of one of their major clients and lifting a hand to wave to Dino’s wife, Lucia. Then Lucia shifted and Gabby found herself locking gazes with Jon.
He stood near the window, a bottle of beer in hand. He gave her a leisurely head to toe. She fought the urge to suck in her tummy or jut out a hip or tug down her hem. When he’d finished his perusal, he lifted his beer and took a long, slow pull. As usual, his dark eyes gave nothing away.
Yet somehow she felt she knew exactly what he was thinking: that her skirt was too short, her shoes too high, her makeup too heavy.
Well, too bad, buddy, because I didn’t dress like this for you. I dressed like this for me.
She turned her shoulder on him. Screw him. He was the last person she wanted to impress.
Ally returned with a glass of champagne and Gabby took a gulping swallow. Bubbles hit the back of her throat and a few seconds later she felt the warmth of alcohol spreading through her empty stomach.
Ally was right. This was going to be a great party.
Tilting her head, she drained the rest of her drink and went in search of another.
JON WATCHED GABBY CROSS THE room in her stiletto boots, her hips and ass swaying provocatively with every step.
He wasn’t the only man watching, just as he was sure he wasn’t the only man wondering if her slim, finely muscled legs were as smooth and firm as they looked.
So much for her dressing as either a reindeer or a Christmas tree.
He swallowed another mouthful of apple juice. He’d made a deal with himself that he’d endure the party for another hour. But maybe now he’d stick around a little longer.
In case Gabby had any other surprises
up her sleeve.
Ally and Tyler had asked him to come early so he could help Tyler rearrange some furniture—Ally was redecorating for the fourth time since he’d known her—and he’d been left to kick his heels for half an hour while his hosts had slipped off to “shower” before the guests arrived. As Jon had expected, neither Ally nor Tyler had been ready in time to greet the first wave of guests and it had been left to Jon to play host, directing people to the bar on the patio and taking their coats and handbags into the guest room.
At least it had given him something to do. Once Tyler had emerged from the master suite looking both sheepish and a little smug, Jon had been demoted to the role of guest and the real torture had kicked in.
He wasn’t a party person at the best of times, but the prospect of enduring several hours of polite chit chat with a group of people he barely knew without the benefit of a few beers under his belt seemed like a refined form of punishment.
He’d been sober for ten days. Ten long, hard days. By now, he’d figured the whole abstinence thing should have been getting easier. It was simply a matter of discipline, right? And yet he’d cruised past the bar more times than he cared to count this evening, his gaze lingering on the bottles of beer spilling out of the ice tubs, his mind handing him excuse after excuse to grab one of those icy-cold bottles.
It was a party, after all. A special occasion. He could start his cold turkey thing again tomorrow.
And everyone else was drinking. He’d be out of step with the social rhythm if he remained stone-cold sober.
And so on.
Each time he’d kept walking, helping himself instead to one of the sparkling apple juices Ally had bought for him.
“In case you’re driving tonight,” she’d said when he’d first arrived. “I figured they’d be a change from water.”
No point pretending that he hadn’t been offended by her considerate gesture. He’d felt coddled, patronized. As though everybody was bending out of shape to accommodate his perceived weakness.
Careful with drink around Jon. He can’t control himself.
Only the knowledge that the past ten days had been far, far harder than he’d imagined had stopped him from letting her know what she could do with her apple juice.
Now, he crossed the room to dump the empty bottle in the bin, then worked his way through the crowd until he was stepping out onto the patio.
Gabby was on the lawn, her red dress drawing his eye like a flare. She was talking with Ally and a bunch of young guys he didn’t recognize. To a man they were all grinning like idiots, their chests puffed out as they checked her out with varying degrees of subtlety. As he watched, Gabby laughed at something one of them said, then gulped from her champagne glass.
She was really knocking back the drinks. If she didn’t pace herself, she’d be messy drunk within the hour.
Check out Sir Drinkalot. Policing other people’s consumption when he can barely get a grip on his own.
What Gabby did was none of his business. Just as it was none of his business that every man in the group with her was wondering what it was going to take to get her into bed tonight.
Common sense told him to go inside and forget about her. Instead, he crossed to the barbecue where Tyler was holding the fort. Jon remained there for the next half hour, ostensibly making small talk and trading jokes with his brother and a few of the other guys, but in reality keeping tabs on Gabby.
For a little person, she sure could drink. In the time he watched her she threw back two glasses of champagne before moving onto beer. By the time Tyler was piling the buffet table high with burgers and sausages, she was well on her way to oblivion.
Jon reminded himself that he’d just met her, and that they were hardly bosom buddies—for all he knew, this might be a typical Saturday night for her. Still, he loaded up a plate with meat and salad and a couple pieces of bread, grabbed a knife and fork and napkin, and made his way to where she was still holding court.
“Gabby,” he said from behind her.
She turned, her eyes widening when she saw him. He thrust the plate into her hands.
“Ally told me to bring this to you,” he lied.
She blinked, frowned, then pursed her lips as though she was about to object.
He should have known—nothing to do with this woman was ever easy.
“By the way, happy birthday. It’s tonight, right?” He surprised them both by leaning forward and planting a kiss on her cheek.
She smelled of something floral and fruity and she jerked a little away from him as he withdrew.
“That’s right,” she said warily.
“Have a good one,” he said, raising his apple juice in toast.
Then he headed to the barbecue, his good deed done for the night.
He could feel her following him with her eyes and he kept his face carefully blank as he rejoined his brother.
“What was that all about?” Tyler asked.
“Just making sure she gets something to eat.”
“Don’t worry, Gabby never passes up a free feed. I have no idea where she puts it, but she eats more than almost anyone I know.”
“Except for the times she skips dinner because she’s working late for you.”
Tyler frowned, then glanced at her. “She’s eased back a lot on the overtime.”
“Mate, she worked late almost every night this week.”
“I guess I need to talk to her again.”
“Like that’s going to make a difference.”
Tyler gave him a sour look. “You got a better idea, have you?”
“Yeah—hire her an assistant. Or outsource some of the work. She’s working from dawn to dusk, which means there’s too much to do for one person. Talking to her isn’t going to make a difference. She’s the kind of person who works until the job is done.”
“She won’t like that, either, you know.”
“Because she’s a control freak. Tough. She’s killing herself putting in so much time.”
Tyler didn’t look happy, but Jon figured it was more about the conversation he was going to have to have with Gabby in the near future than the money he’d spend to hire her an assistant. From what Jon had seen, the business could more than afford to take on extra administration staff, and Tyler didn’t strike him as being the stingy type.
Ally joined them, encouraging them to abandon their post at the barbecue to come mingle with the guests more. Jon left Tyler in her clutches and filled a plate for himself at the buffet. He found a chair in a quiet corner of the garden and sat, balancing his plate on his knee.
Every time he glanced up he caught sight of Gabby. It was that red dress of hers. Plus she always seemed to be laughing. She had yet another beer and he watched her make short work of it as she flirted and talked with her circle of admirers. So much for trying to slow her down with some food.
She’s hardly your responsibility, mate.
The thought was enough to get him on his feet. All his life he’d dodged relationships and held people at arm’s length in order to remain unencumbered. He didn’t want to have someone else’s well-being on his conscience. Didn’t want the burden of worrying about their happiness—he had enough trouble keeping his own head above water without worrying about anyone else.
Given he was such a seasoned expert at avoiding personal entanglements, it was more than mildly baffling to him that he seemed to be unable to stop himself from watching over the office manager. First he felt compelled to play bodyguard to her, now he’d appointed himself her moral guardian.
The irony was that she was the last person to welcome his concern. She had attitude to spare, and then some. He was willing to bet that she’d fight to the death rather than admit she needed anyone.
So why was he hovering like a fretful nanny?
He walked inside. Maybe he’d go home after all. There was nothing for him here except temptation and aggravation.
“Just the man I’m looking for. Come help me get the extra win
eglasses out of the hall cupboard.” It was Ally in full hostess mode.
He allowed himself to be hauled off. He’d go after he’d helped Ally out. Definitely.
GABBY LAUGHED AT SOMETHING ONE of the guys— Vaughn? Or maybe it was Dane?—had said, then her beer to her mouth for a swig. She overestimated the distance between her hand and mouth, however, and the rim of the bottle hit her front teeth with an audible click.
“Oops!” she said, laughing even harder.
God, this was a good party. The best Christmas party Tyler had ever thrown, hands down. Probably that was Ally’s touch. She made everything better. She was that kind of person. Warm and friendly and fun. That was probably why everyone was having such a good time.
Because of Ally.
Against her will, her gaze picked Tyler and Ally out of the crowd. They were standing near the bar, heads close together as they talked. He laughed at something she said, then lifted a hand and rested it on the nape of her neck. She kept talking, and all the while his thumb caressed her gently, lovingly.
The way he looked at her, the way he held her—as though she was the most precious thing in the world to him. As though she was a wonder. A miracle.
Envy and sadness twisted inside Gabby. She hated herself for coveting Ally’s happiness, for being unable to look away. There was no point to it, only pain.
A swell of music washed over the yard. Gabby allowed it to distract her. A couple of women had claimed the space to the left of the French doors as an impromptu dance floor and cranked up the stereo. Already more people were joining them, moving with varying degrees of skill and grace.
“Dancing. I love dancing,” she said to no one in particular.
Dumping her almost empty beer bottle, she turned to the nearest man and grabbed his hand. “Dane. Do you dance? Please tell me you dance.”
“Vaughn. And yeah, I’ll dance with you.” He said it in a way that implied he’d be happy to do a lot more than dance, too.
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