by Eve Langlais
“I’m not stupid.” Lauren laughed. “But I won’t be owning or spinning or any other naughty ideas you can conjure. Gavin won’t be there. He said he was leaving tonight to head back home. Besides, we work together, remember? It’s not like that between us.”
“Lauren. Sweetheart,” Taralee sighed. “You can’t use work as an excuse anymore.”
“It’s not an excuse. And will you cut me some slack? This whole unemployment thing is going to take some getting used to. Anyway, Gavin has a job an ocean away. Sorry ladies, fantasies will have to stay fantasies. I’ve got a plate full of stuff to figure out in real life.”
“So what’s stopping you from figuring it out from Galveston Island?” Faith asked. “Gavin being in town on the day you are let go, offering you a place to go, those things are definitely signs. You can’t ignore them,” Faith reminded her for the umpteenth time.
Easy for her to say. Faith had everything she wanted. A successful occult shop in the Village and a smokin’ hot boyfriend who adored her. The woman was deliriously happy.
The question was, why did it make Lauren’s chest hurt? She’d always shared in the happiness of her friends, believing herself to be happy as well.
What the hell was going on with her? It was as if being fired had changed much more than where her next paycheck came from.
She suddenly felt empty. Alone in the apartment she loved. Lonely for no apparent reason and desperate for an escape.
“It’s not a sign. It’s a key.” She knew Faith would try to turn this situation into something supernatural. The woman would think wind blowing up her skirt was a sign it was time to get laid.
“Go ahead and make fun,” Faith’s wounded tone lingered through the line. “I’m right, but we’ll talk about that later. We’ve gotten off topic.”
Lauren rolled her eyes and adjusted her earpiece before reaching under the bed for her suitcase. “What more is there to say? I’m unemployed. Jesus, I never thought I’d hear myself say those words.”
“They didn’t tell you anything?” Taralee asked.
Lauren tossed the suitcase to the bed and threw it open. “Something happened that changed the direction of my division,” she said, repeating what her boss had told her at lunch. “After several weeks of consideration, my bosses decided to restructure their business model.”
“And you have no idea what the ‘something’ was?” Faith asked.
“I have no idea about any of it. Not what the something was, or what the new business model looks like. They were damned efficient in hiding everything from me.” Lauren still couldn’t believe she hadn’t had so much as an inkling this was coming. She’d been so focused, so dedicated to getting the job done, she’d been oblivious to anything going on outside her office.
“Look, I’ve gotta run,” Lauren said.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Taralee asked.
“She’s going to sexy-man’s house,” Faith said stubbornly.
“I’ll call soon,” Lauren hung up and turned her attention to her closet.
No dresses, no business suits, no heels. Instead, Lauren packed her suitcase with jeans and light, airy blouses. Her collection of T-shirts was pitifully small, but she’d worn the ones she had until they were soft and comfortable, so she threw those in too. For good measure—since she hadn’t decided where she was going—she threw in the two pairs of shorts she owned, a bikini she’d bought for a trip with her girlfriends she’d ended up canceling because of work, and her single pair of sandals.
She packed light because, well, without her business attire, light was all she had left. She could buy anything else she needed once she got to her destination.
“Maybe I’d like to be.”
Gavin’s words warmed her as much as the memory of his hands on her arms. She hadn’t shared his declaration with her friends, wanting to keep a small piece of her afternoon, of her relationship with Gavin, to herself.
God, Gavin’s touch had made her ache in places long ignored. She hadn’t been with a man in ages. It was hard to date when she worked eighty hours a week and traveled at least a week a month. Tempting as it might be, going to Gavin’s wasn’t an option. Now that she knew the warmth of his skin, the feel of his body … being in his space—with his things and his scent all around her—would be pure torture.
She was too emotional right now. For crying out loud, she’d imagined he’d looked at her with lust in his eyes and now she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have him in her life on a personal level.
Because of a key. To an empty house.
As much as she needed to get a grip, Lauren liked the idea of learning more about him. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she wanted to know the big stuff. Personal, private stuff. His hopes, his dreams, his goals for the future.
Did he like coffee or tea when he got out of bed in the morning? What would it feel like to share that bed with him?
She wanted to know everything. She wanted the privilege of being the woman who could call him, any time of the day or night, and have him be happy just to hear her voice. And not because she’d gotten a big contract signed.
Which was why she definitely wasn’t going to Galveston Island. She was waxing poetic about a man she barely knew. Allowing her emotions to romanticize something that wasn’t there.
He’d offered friendship, but Lauren knew how cumbersome an office goodbye could be—the very thing she’d been trying to avoid. People said things they didn’t mean to make the other person feel better.
He’d probably breathed a sigh of relief after making his escape.
With one last look around, Lauren grabbed her bags and locked the door behind her. The cab she’d called to take her to the airport waited at the curb.
“Miss Delgado? Your chariot awaits,” the cabbie joked. He was an older man; his quick smile and charm immediately reminded her of her grandfather.
The cabbie made to reach for her bag and stopped with a shrug when she shook her head. “I’ve got it, thanks.” Stowing one bag in the trunk didn’t seem worth the effort. She climbed in, grateful to have something other than Gavin’s liquid gaze to occupy her mind. “Chariot, huh? Does this ride come with beer?”
His boisterous laugh made her crack a grin.
“It’s not that kind of ride, ma’am,” he winked in the rearview before pulling into traffic.
A drink wouldn’t be remiss right about now. Her emotions were still bouncing all over the place. She didn’t know what she felt … about anything. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
The key Gavin had given her was shoved into the front pocket of her jeans, its sharp edges bit into her hip as a reminder of its presence.
He’d be on his way back to London by now.
Oh hell, it was just a house, right? Empty and secluded and a good place to think, or so he’d said. He’d also said it was just a job, and she was still trying to reconcile that little tidbit when the cab pulled up to the terminal a while later. She paid the driver and wheeled her bag inside.
Glancing at the display of outgoing flights, her pulse jumped when she saw a flight to Houston. A quick Google search when she’d gotten home had informed her Houston was where one would fly if one wanted to go to Galveston Island. Not that she wanted to go there. No, it would be better if she went to a hotel somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Get her head together. Have a couple of fruity drinks with silly little umbrellas in them, stop thinking about her hot ex-colleague, and figure out what to do with the rest of her life.
Satisfied with the plan, Lauren approached the ticket counter.
“Where’s your next available flight headed?” At this point, she didn’t care where she went. As long as it was away from here.
The man behind the counter tapped at his keyboard a moment. “It looks like … yes … Houston. It’s a direct flight, leaving in two hours. Only one seat left, ma’am. It’s yours if you want it.”
Lauren
sighed. Of course it was.
She could hear Faith giggling in her head.
Lauren’s shoulders squared as she slapped her credit card and driver’s license on the counter.
Okay, universe. You win. Let’s do this.
She was going to Gavin’s hideaway after all.
* * *
Gavin stared out the window of the commercial plane, grateful the first-class seat next to him was empty. He wasn’t up for company.
He was doing the right thing. He was.
At least, that was the mantra he kept playing in his head. But, it didn’t make him feel any less like an asshole.
It was time for him to go home, although the thought of leaving things the way he had with Lauren made him uneasy.
She’d been angry, rightfully so. Hell, he was angry, too. What he hadn’t expected was the loss that had shone in her gaze, the confusion and heartbreak. She’d made a valiant effort to hide it, but he knew her. He knew the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was deep in thought, knew the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when her ire was up and she was ready to fight, knew the way her lips curved into a satisfied smile when things went her way … or leveled off flat when they didn’t.
What he’d seen earlier had ripped his insides to shreds.
Defeat.
It had taken every ounce of willpower he could muster not to keep her in his arms. To shield her, protect her from harm.
Instead, he’d lied to her.
Gavin sighed and drained the scotch from his glass, the burn oddly comforting considering the stuff tasted like shit. On a normal day, he’d order a beer and be done with it.
Not today.
Fuck. Not today.
Gavin stretched his legs and signaled the flight attendant for another drink. If he kept this pace, he’d be flat-assed drunk by the time he got home. The idea appealed to the guilt churning, along with the cheap scotch, in his gut.
Damn it. He should’ve told her.
A pretty young woman handed him a new drink. He thanked her politely, but didn’t hold eye contact. No point encouraging the interested gleam in her baby blues when Gavin preferred the honey gold of Lauren’s eyes. They complimented the rich chestnut hair he imagined would feel soft as spun silk between his fingers.
He’d love to find out.
Her reminder that they weren’t friends pissed him off. They hadn’t been, so he really shouldn’t care. But he did. A lot.
She was amazing. Time and time again, he’d seen her in action. He’d seen contract negotiations go south, only to have Lauren walk in and tame a boardroom of unruly executives with the patience of a kindergarten teacher and the quiet dignity of a saint. Within minutes, men and women alike would kneel at her feet and eat out of the palm of her hand.
That was Lauren. Focused, calm, cool. She didn’t blow her own horn or demand credit. Like him, her satisfaction came from a job well done.
She’d make a great mom.
Christ. Where had that come from?
“Excuse me, sir. The captain is about to turn on the fasten seatbelt sign for our descent. Are you finished with your glass? Is there anything else I can do for you?”
The pretty flight attendant leaned over a little too far, telling him with her eyes and ample cleavage she was interested in more than whether or not he strapped in.
He should forget about Lauren. She’d hate him for what he’d done.
Gavin downed the rest of his scotch and handed her his glass. He reached in his pocket and brought out some bills. He pressed a folded-up hundred into her hand and kept his tone professional. “Thank you for a great flight, ma’am.”
She glanced at the bill, disappointment marring her features for a second before her game face returned. “My pleasure, sir.” She offered him a tight smile. “Welcome to Houston.”
Chapter Four
It was dark by the time Lauren arrived at the house on Galveston Island.
Gavin hadn’t been kidding about it being secluded. Pinpricks of light indicated houses in the distance, but she felt certain she could scream her head off and no one would come running.
True to his word, Gavin had sent the address to her phone. Just the address. No personal words to assure her, not even a hello. So, she hadn’t responded.
She didn’t plan to stay long anyway. A day or two, tops. Long enough to satisfy Faith’s drivel about signs, and her own curiosity about Gavin’s life away from the office. Then she’d text him, thank him, and send his key back.
She pulled her bag from the back. The gentle melody of waves caressing the shore accompanied her as she walked to the front door.
After living in New York City for so long, being out here made her feel cut off. Alone. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t even cook. Not well, anyway.
Momentary panic made her chuckle. She had her phone and laptop; she wasn’t exactly cut off. If she started going through withdrawals, she could always use the Internet on her phone. This was her first vacation in … well … ever. She no longer had a job or a team to interrupt her every waking moment. She should take advantage of it while she could.
She felt more than a little ridiculous at the way her nerves shook as she let herself in. It wasn’t as if she was breaking and entering for chrissake. Gavin had invited her. She had the right to be here. Her breath caught as she got her first glimpse. And here was magnificent.
The lights were apparently on some kind of timer, because soft light glowed throughout the room, giving it a candlelit, romantic feel. An oversized couch and chair surrounded a massive fireplace. The room was warm, inviting. She could definitely see herself curled up on that couch with a book and a glass of wine.
A round table with four chairs separated the living area from the kitchen on her left, where the modern, stainless steel appliances glimmered against the night. But, it was the view that caused her to drop her suitcase and move forward, as if in a trance. The wall of windows, broken only by a large sliding glass door, enticed her with a stunning landscape. The moon reflected off the water like a beacon, calling her to come and let the waves wash away the last twenty-four hours.
All of a sudden, she was tired. Tired of not taking risks, tired of not experiencing her life outside the boardroom. She wanted to be impulsive and free.
She had plenty of time to investigate the house later. Right now, she wanted to dig her toes in the sand. She tossed her luggage to the couch and threw it open. She stared at the contents. Did she dare to skinny dip? It was dark, and she hadn’t seen any houses close. No one would see her, right?
Jerking her bikini from the case, her laugh startled the quiet from the room. Her bravado only went so far. Maybe tomorrow night, after she’d had time to check out the area in the light of day.
She turned her back to the windows and shimmied out of her slacks and panties. The bikini bottom she settled over her hips didn’t cover any less, but wearing it made her feel infinitely sexier than the plain cotton panties she’d shucked. Its sapphire blue hue sparkled in the light and her chest warmed with pleasure. Her body was probably too soft for something so decadent. Not soft, curvy. That’s what she was. It didn’t matter how many crunches she did, her belly would never be completely flat, nor could she change the flare of her hips.
And she didn’t care.
The wicked pleasure of wearing something so beautiful overpowered her insecurities.
The sound of waves lulled her as she unbuttoned her blouse. The material slipped from her shoulders and fluttered to the floor. Eyes closed, she breathed deeply. The scent of salt water and fresh sea air held a hint of something else. Something warm and deeply masculine.
Gavin.
She’d known this would happen, so she didn’t fight it. Had spent the entire flight coming to terms with her choice to be in his personal space, surrounded by the ghost of the man when what she really craved was him, flesh and blood.
She unhooked her bra and let it follow the path of her shirt. His scent driving h
er on, she ran her hands over her breasts, imagining his rough palms caressing her. Pleasure rippled over her skin and her nipples tightened. Lauren puffed out a breath and dropped her hands, poor substitutes for her desires.
Jeez, the water better be cold, because her libido needed a serious time-out. She bent to pick up the top of her bikini.
A throat cleared behind her and she jumped, turned, a scream on her lips as she smacked her palms against her bared breasts.
Holy shit!
Her heart pounded in her chest. A man filled the doorway. Dripping wet. And completely naked.
Before she could stop, her gaze tracked down the hard plane of his chest, his six-pack abs, to the dark patch of hair at his groin.
Oh god, she was in trouble.
She swallowed hard.
Very. Big. Trouble.
* * *
Time slipped away as Gavin made his way down the beach. His muscles ached, but he pressed on, his stride strong and sure. Running helped to clear his head, even if it couldn’t purge his guilt.
What had he been thinking, inviting Lauren here? Not that she’d come. He was sure her embarrassment, her pride, would keep her away. He should be glad. He’d done enough. He’d be a reminder of what she’d lost.
Fuck, it was all his fault. He should’ve tried harder to talk some sense into those jackasses he worked with. He should’ve made them see letting Lauren go wasn’t the answer. Better yet, he should’ve realized his decision to move home and take over Shadow Maverick Ranch—his family’s livelihood, his legacy—would have consequences.
Gavin cursed and dug in, pushing his lungs to the limit. By the time his house came into view, the night had settled in. He stopped, panting, his legs ready to buckle, and kicked off his shoes. The rest of his clothes quickly followed, thrown to join his shoes as the waves lapped at his ankles.
He loved to swim after a run. The cool water eased his heated muscles, and it gave him an opportunity to stretch his limbs without getting sand in places he’d prefer remained … sandless. The sky was clear, a billion stars and the moon to light his way, but he wouldn’t last long. His legs felt like rubber even as he let the waves carry him away from the shore. He slipped into an easy crawl, letting his arms propel him forward while his legs moved, gently kicking to keep him afloat.