by Lynne Graham
Her mother would have been distraught, had she only known. Like her, Pamela Morgan had worked hard to cultivate a healthy scepticism when it came to the opposite sex. There was nothing wrong with that. It was called reality. How many times had they joked that men were more trouble than they were worth? For her mother, it would have been more than just a joke.
They usually ate in the kitchen, unless there was something on the telly they both wanted to watch, in which case trays were brought—although her mother never failed to complain that eating in front of the television was a sloppy habit.
But her mother watched a great deal of television and there had been times when some detective series or gardening show had been too tempting to miss.
Tonight, Alice set the table for them, leaving her mother in the sitting room, where she was happily flicking between her crossword book and the television.
She had almost had an argument with her mother and she felt awful about that.
Not only was the man intruding into all her thoughts, her waking moments, her dreams, but he was now managing to interrupt the easy flow of conversation with her mother.
She slammed place mats on the table and was reaching for wine glasses when there was a knock at the door.
Everyone used the kitchen door, but whoever it was had banged on the front door and, after just a brief hesitation, she dropped what she was doing and arrived at the front door at exactly the same time as her mother.
‘You sit back down,’ Alice said firmly. ‘I’ll get rid of whoever is out there.’
‘No! I mean, dear, I’ll get this. I don’t like just telling people to go away. You know—it’s a small village and I wouldn’t want to get a reputation for being the sort of person who can’t be polite to visitors...’
‘Mum, if it’s a visitor, of course I’m not going to send them on their merry way! But if it’s someone trying to sell double glazing...’
‘I’m not sure they do that any more, dear. Do they?’
As they stood there, vaguely quibbling, there was another loud knock on the door and, with a sigh of exasperation, Alice pulled open the front door and stared...
‘What are you doing here?’ Her mother was right behind her and she edged out of the door and half-shut it behind her, then she poked her head through and told her mother, who was avid with curiosity, that the caller was for her.
‘Who is it?’
‘No one! You...er...go inside and I’ll be in, literally in a minute or two...’ For a moment, Alice thought that her mother was about to ignore that suggestion but, after a brief staring match, Pamela Morgan tutted and headed towards the kitchen, not before casting another curious glance in the direction of the front door.
‘What do you want? What are you doing here?’
Gabriel stared down at Alice. This was an Alice he had not seen before. Not the brisk, efficient secretary in the neat, uninspiring suit, or the glamorous, leggy woman in the designer clothes she had bought when she had been in Paris with him. A beautiful, fresh-faced girl who looked her age, with a ponytail and wearing stay-at-home, faded clothes and peculiar bedroom slippers with a cartoon motif.
Warmer weather had brought out a band of light freckles across the bridge of her nose. He had completely forgotten why he had come but he was damn glad that he had. Just seeing her did something to him and he fidgeted and looked away before resting his gaze once again on her upturned face.
‘I couldn’t get you out of my head.’ Hell, had he just said that?
‘What?’ Alice was so shocked by that statement that her mouth fell open. Her eyes were glued to his face, which the early evening threw into shadow. He looked tired and dishevelled and drop-dead gorgeous. He had pushed up the arms of his long-sleeved cotton jumper and the sprinkling of dark hair brought back vivid memories of those strong arms around her. His low-slung jeans clung to him, delineating his long, muscular legs.
She felt her nipples pushing in anticipation against her bra, wanting to be touched and teased and licked.
‘Shouldn’t you be with...that woman who came to the office yesterday?’ Alice asked huskily and Gabriel delivered a slow, amused smile that rocked her to the core.
Alice stared down at her feet. The pulse in her neck was beating fast and here, in these clothes, she had that weird, out-of-body feeling that she had had in Paris when she had thrown caution to the winds and jumped into bed with him.
He was making her aware of something better out there, something wild and free, and she hated him for that because she knew that it was all an illusion.
‘It turns out that she didn’t do it for me.’ Gabriel had made a decision; it was one that had come to him when she had pulled open the front door and he had looked at her.
He was done telling himself that he was not built for pursuit. He was done pretending that he wasn’t jealous whenever he thought of her with another man. If these reactions stemmed from the fact that what they had hadn’t run its course, then it was up to him to ensure that it did run its course. How else was he going to get her out of his system?
‘Are you going to invite me into the house?’
‘No. You shouldn’t be here, Gabriel.’ But she was light with relief that the pocket-sized brunette hadn’t become her replacement. It was stupid and it was cowardly but she couldn’t help it.
‘I know I shouldn’t.’ He raked his fingers through his hair, not too sure where he went from here.
Alice looked at him, perplexed.
‘Is there a man in there?’ he questioned suddenly, roughly, and Alice’s mouth tightened with outrage.
‘I’m not you, Gabriel. I don’t hop from one bed to another without pausing for breath.’
‘I didn’t hop anywhere with Bethany. I put her in my car and my driver took her back to her house. End of story.’
‘Just go, Gabriel.’ She sighed and stared to the side of him, but his image was imprinted so forcibly in her head that every bit of him had been committed to memory. He was in her system like a virus which she couldn’t budge.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Why? Why? I’ve told you...’
‘Let me in.’
‘You always think that you can get whatever you want.’
Gabriel stared at her and she squirmed under his unrelenting dark gaze. What would she do if he kissed her right now? Melt. She was melting now, liquid heat gathering between her legs, dampening her underwear. He couldn’t get her out of his head. She told herself that those were just meaningless words, but they bounced around in her head until she was giddy.
‘Let me in.’
He was as immovable as the rock of Gibraltar, standing there in all his brooding, intense glory, and with a little sigh of resignation Alice stood aside.
Her mother was hovering in the kitchen and introductions were made. Pamela Morgan launched into a series of questions, her curiosity on red alert, and Alice groaned silently to herself. If she had never said a word about Gabriel, she might have been able to channel him out of the house without too much difficulty—as just her boss who happened to be down to see a client and had popped in for...reasons best known to himself.
But she had spent far too much time telling her mother about him, describing him, inviting the curiosity that was now unstoppable.
How great to finally meet the man her daughter worked for! ‘You never told me that he was so good-looking!’... ‘My daughter loves her job; I can tell because she talks so much about it!’... ‘And Paris...how wonderful that she had the opportunity to go there! She can’t stop talking about it!’
‘You asked me, Mum!’ Alice avoided eye contact with Gabriel but she could feel him simmering with his own curiosity. ‘I talked about Paris because you asked me!’
Her mother had chosen, however, to skirt round that technicality.
This was the first time he had ever met any relative of any woman he had slept with, aside from Bethany’s father. Meeting the family had been something he had always heavily discouraged. Now, he was intensely curious, intensely curious to join the dots and make connections—intensely, inexplicably curious just to find out more.
‘You’re not intruding! Is he, Alice?’
‘Well, now that you mention it...’ She caught Gabriel’s eye and noted the wicked gleam of amusement.
‘That’s very kind...may I call you Pamela? Yes? Well, you’re very kind, but I won’t be staying long.’
‘Yes.’ Alice stood up with a wide, false smile. ‘Gabriel has to be on his way. Don’t you, Gabriel? He’s probably got all sorts of plans for the evening.’
‘None,’ Gabriel drawled. He settled down comfortably in the kitchen chair to which he had been ushered. ‘But I will have, if you ladies would allow me to take you both out for a meal...?’ His sharp eyes noted the quick look that was exchanged, and then Pamela Morgan was on her feet, clutching her cardigan tightly around her.
‘You two go out. There’s a lovely little restaurant in the village, just opened...’
‘There is?’ Alice gaped. ‘And, no! We won’t be going anywhere!’ She glared at Gabriel who returned the glare with a comfortable smile of satisfaction.
‘Yes, you will, Alice! I insist. We eat in every single weekend. It will do you good to get out and see the place for a change. Plus, there’s food here for me, and what’s left over I can pop in the freezer. And the weather is so nice at the moment. Such a lovely change from all that rain we’ve been having. Alice, darling, why don’t you go and change, and you two young things can go out and have some fun.’
‘Mum...’
‘If you’re sure, Pamela...’ Gabriel stood up, exuding innate charm. ‘Why don’t you run along, Alice? Change into your glad rags? And, in the meantime, Pamela and I can get to know one another...’
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALICE FUMED. WHY HAD he shown up on her doorstep? It was utterly out of character for him, but then being dumped was out of character for him as well. Was that why he had said that he couldn’t get her out of his head? Once you stripped that remark down to its bare bones, what you were left with was a man who wanted something of which he had been deprived, whatever the cost.
He was impossible!
She had practically nothing to wear. She didn’t come down to Devon intent on having nights out. Her wardrobe consisted of comfortable clothes to hang around the house in. With a groan of despair, she rummaged through the bottom shelves where clothes from another era had been shoved and forgotten.
Gabriel here, in her mother’s house, felt like an invasion of her privacy. He was seeing where she had lived for years; seeing the photos of her which were liberally scattered throughout the small house; the little drawings she had done which her mother had kept in a box during those long, miserable years when she’d been married, drawings which she’d had framed as soon as she had a house of her own.
He was a billionaire and she couldn’t help wondering what he thought of her mother’s house: too small, not smart enough, filled with mementoes and knickknacks that had cost practically nothing. Everything else, the more expensive stuff, had been sold off when her father had died and the family home sold. Her mother had not wanted to bring any bad memories with her to wherever she chose to put down roots.
Alice wasn’t at all ashamed of where she had lived but it was only human to see your own particular circumstances through the eyes of someone else. In this case, her arrogant, super-rich boss.
She looked around her own bedroom with critical eyes. Nothing had been done to it since she had moved out. It was in good condition, but dated. The wallpaper was old-style floral and the bed and the dressing table harked back to a different era—the era of cheap reproduction furniture that was functional but lacking in style. It had served its purpose and, for the first time, Alice was slightly ashamed that she had not encouraged her mother to do some basic renovations to the house.
Yes, some of what she earned went on paying her mother’s therapist, but there was always enough left over to spend a little on the house.
Her mother, whilst she probably would have been able to afford some of those renovations, would have swept aside the suggestion as being a waste of money. That, like so much else, was a legacy of her past, unhappy life, where money had never been thrown around and where the housekeeping had been frugal.
Eager to get downstairs and curtail whatever conversation Gabriel was having with her mother, Alice showered and changed as fast as she could. The black trousers, which had been folded on the bottom shelf, thankfully still fit; the red jumper might be baggy but its colour had not been diminished in the wash, and at least it looked jollier than the greys, blacks and dark blues that comprised most of the rest of the wardrobe of clothes.
As an afterthought, she applied a light covering of make-up—some mascara, a little blush, some lip gloss.
I couldn’t get you out of my head...
She could feel his remark burning a hole through all her defences, worming its way past her conviction that it was just another example of his arrogance, and she groaned again.
She barged into the kitchen to find Gabriel enjoying a cup of tea and her mother giggling. Giggling! They both looked up as she entered, like a couple of kids found out in a conspiracy. Alice took a few deep breaths, gathering herself and resisting the urge to ask them what, exactly, what so funny.
She had been gone less than forty minutes and they had become best friends!
‘This is all I could find to wear,’ she said ungraciously, and was treated to a wolfish smile from Gabriel.
‘You look lovely, dear. Doesn’t she look lovely, Gabriel? You should wear red more often. It suits you.’
‘It certainly does...’ he murmured. ‘We’re going to an Italian restaurant. Your favourite type of food.’
Pamela looked between them with keen interest. ‘How do you know that?’ she asked with, Alice thought, a complete lack of tact.
‘Oh, I know a great many things about your daughter, Pamela...’
‘Because,’ Alice snapped, ‘when you’re stuck in someone’s company for days on end, you tend to find out superficial things about them. Like what their favourite cuisine is.’
‘Stuck in my company? I got the impression that you rather—’
‘Okay,’ Alice interrupted hurriedly, before something was said that would have her mother’s curiosity spiked even more than it already was. ‘Shall we go? I don’t want to be long, because...’
‘Where will you be staying, Gabriel?’
Gabriel shrugged. ‘Well, I hadn’t thought ahead.’
‘You’ll save some money if you stay here. The spare bedroom is small but it’s tidy. I use it as a sewing room, but I could just pop my bits and bobs in my sewing box.’
‘Gabriel doesn’t need to save money, Mum. And I’m sure he won’t be staying overnight.’
‘It’s way too late for me to drive back to London,’ Gabriel said thoughtfully. ‘And don’t we all need to save money?’
Alice controlled hysterical laughter. This was the man who travelled first class and only stayed in the finest five-star hotels. She doubted the concept of saving money had ever crossed his radar.
‘It would be rude of me to turn down such a kind invitation.’ He smiled at Pamela, the sort of smile that would have had
any woman on the planet eating out of his hands.
‘No,’ Alice inserted firmly. ‘If you really can’t drive back tonight, then I’m sure we can fix you up with a pleasant local hotel. Closer to Exeter, of course, because I’m sure you’ll want to visit Harrisons first thing Monday...’
‘Of course you must stay here, Gabriel. I’ve never seen my daughter as happy and as fulfilled as she has been since she’s started working for you. And if in return you want to buy me a new toaster, well, then it would be downright churlish of me to refuse...’
With which, she shooed them both out of the house.
Head held high, Alice snatched her jacket from the coat hook by the front door and stormed out into the cool darkness. She closed her ears to the friendly banter between Gabriel and her mother and, when the front door had been quietly but firmly shut on them, she turned to him, hands on her hips.
‘How dare you?’
‘How dare I what?’ He guided her towards his black SUV, which had made light work of the journey down.
‘Become best friends with my mother!’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’ He opened the passenger door and steered her into the car.
‘I am not being ridiculous!’ she hissed as soon as he was behind the wheel, starting the engine into throaty life. ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re not glad...no, excited...that I’m here. I can feel it.’
‘I am not...’
Whatever she had been about to say was lost as his mouth hit hers in a crushing, hungry kiss, a kiss he had been waiting for ever since they had returned from Paris and taken up the charade of playing boss-secretary as though nothing had happened between them.
Hand behind the nape of her neck, he pulled her towards him and carried on kissing her, their tongues melding, their bodies yearning for one another.