Moonlight Seduction

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “To fuck?” he answered.

  Whoa. That was not exactly where she was going with that train of thought, but hearing that come out of his mouth made her feel warm in areas that did not need to feel warm. At all. “I was going to say to meet new people, but I mean, I guess if that’s what happens, it happens.”

  She had no idea if that would happen, but she knew she’d need to be into Gerald for that to go down, and she hoped she was.

  His head tilted to the side. “So, you’re looking for a hookup?”

  “I’m not saying that I am actively seeking a hookup—”

  “But you’d be down for it if Gerald is?”

  “I thought we agreed on not having this conversation,” she reminded him.

  “I don’t know what you think we agreed on. I want to talk about you and Gerald.” He rose from the stool and crossed the kitchen, coming straight for her. “Do you even know what he looks like?”

  “Um, yeah, Rosie showed me a picture.” Her hand tightened on the bottle of cumin. “He’s cute.”

  “Cute?” He stopped in front of her.

  Nikki tilted her head back. “Yeah.”

  “Interesting.” He stepped forward and his bare feet brushed her flats.

  She pressed against the counter, still holding on to the stupid bottle of spice “I am not sure why you find any of this interesting.”

  Placing his hands on either side of her hips, he dipped his chin and suddenly their mouths were lined up. She sucked in a soft breath as her heart threatened to slam its way out of her chest.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “About to have an awkward conversation with you again.”

  “And that requires you to be all up in my personal space?”

  “Yes.” A small grin tipped his lips.

  “I do not think that’s the case.”

  He tilted his head slightly, and when he spoke, his breath danced over her lips, sending shivers down her spine. Did he realize how close their mouths were?

  Better yet, was he out of his mind?

  “You know what I can’t picture?” he asked.

  “I guess you’re going to tell me.”

  Thick lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “I am. Ready for it? I can’t picture you hooking up with some guy named Gerald.”

  How mad would he get if she threw the cumin on him? “Is it because you think I’m still little Nikki?”

  “Pretty sure I stopped seeing you as little Nikki about four years ago.”

  Her eyes widened. What did he just say?

  “Back to my point. Do you know why I can’t picture you hooking up with some guy named Gerald?”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  Gabe leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. Her chest rose sharply as she sucked in air. “That right there,” he said. “That little inhale you just made. That’s why.”

  A sweet and heady flush coursed down the front of her body. All she could think about was those brief moments at his workshop. Him pressed against her, his hand clenching her hip.

  That had not been her imagination.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, swallowing hard.

  “Yeah, you do.” His nose brushed hers again, sending another tight wave of shivers throughout her body, and then he pulled back. “You sure you want to go out on that date?”

  What date?

  Breathing heavy, she watched him step away and then turn. He picked up her smoothie and took a long drink. She was about to ask him exactly what the hell he was up to, but the sound of heels drew her attention.

  Freaking Sabrina entered the kitchen.

  There were few stronger wake-up calls than seeing Sabrina Harrington. Her slim figure looked absolutely elegant in a pale-blue dress that complemented her skin tone. The icy-blonde hair was coifed back behind her ears, showing off glittering diamond earrings.

  Parker’s threat surfaced, and Nikki turned back to the lamb. Looking down at the spice in her hand, she wondered what the hell she planned on doing with it.

  “I was looking for Devlin,” Sabrina said.

  “I don’t know why you’d think Dev would be in the kitchen.” Gabe placed the smoothie on the counter.

  Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see him crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter.

  “Well, you’re in the kitchen, aren’t you?” Sabrina’s tone was thick and sweet like molasses.

  “I live here.”

  Sabrina laughed, but Nikki wasn’t sure what was so funny. “Devlin lives here, too. He could be in the kitchen.”

  “You obviously don’t know the man if you think he’s in here.” Gabe’s tone was flat, like it had been when he was pestering her about the date. “Did you need help with something?”

  Nikki stepped around Gabe and opened the fridge, grabbing the fresh thyme she needed to cut up.

  “That’s sweet of you to offer.” Sabrina’s voice sounded closer.

  Rolling her eyes as she picked up the cutting board, Nikki glanced over at Gabe. He arched a brow. Biting down on her lip to keep from smiling, she pulled the packaging off the herb. It was like she didn’t even exist in the room and that was fine by her.

  “I was hoping you could help me, actually,” Sabrina said. “I brought this painting over that I wanted Devlin to hang in his office. Since I can’t find him, could you help me?”

  “Did you try looking for him in his office?”

  “Of course.” She laughed again, the sound grating. “I even looked for Mr. Besson, but I believe he must be on break.”

  Nikki picked up the knife.

  “Richard has the afternoon off.” He pushed away from the counter. “I’ll help you.”

  “That’s so kind of you.”

  Gabe’s arm brushed hers. “We’ll finish our conversation later.”

  Nikki said nothing as she nodded, because as far as she was concerned their conversation was already over.

  Because her date was something she wasn’t discussing with Gabe.

  Gabe was barely listening to Sabrina prattle on about whatever painting she had in her car as they walked out the front door, to where her red BMW was parked.

  “It’s in the backseat,” she was saying. “It’s a surprise for Devlin. Do you think you can hang it up for me?”

  “I’ll let Dev do the hanging. It’s his office.” He was careful to keep a good foot’s worth of distance between them.

  Sabrina opened the back door, and Gabe peered in. Was she for real? The painting was maybe a foot long and a foot wide. “You couldn’t carry this?”

  “It’s heavier than it looks.”

  He bent in, easily picking up the wrapped painting with one hand. Without saying a word, he turned and started back to the house.

  Sabrina hurried to catch up to him. “Please be careful.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll carry it to his office. You can wait for him in one of the sitting rooms.”

  “Wait for him like I’m a guest?” She placed a hand on Gabe’s upper arm. “Darling, I’m going to be your sister-in-law soon. I don’t need to wait in the sitting room like I’m a guest.”

  Shaking off her touch, he opened the front door. “Until you’re married to him, you’re a guest in this house.”

  He started for the stairs, but Sabrina darted in front of him. “While I have your attention, I thought there was something we needed to talk about.”

  “I don’t think there is anything we need to talk about.” It was a struggle to keep his tone even. “You want me to carry this upstairs? You’re going to have to move.”

  Sabrina looked around before she stepped forward, lowering her chin in what Gabe could only guess was an attempt at looking demure. “Do you remember college? We used to be friends once.”

  “We were never friends, Sabrina.”

  “That’s not true.” She started to place her hand on his chest, but he stepped back, and her fingers closed around air. “
Well, I suppose I was closer to Emma than you. Such a tragedy what happened to her then.”

  His jaw locked down. “How in the hell do you know about that?”

  Sabrina’s calculating gaze lifted to his. “Oh, you didn’t realize that I knew what had happened to her?”

  All he could do was stare at Sabrina.

  She tsked softly. “What was his name again? Oh. I remember. Christopher Fitzpatrick. I do wonder what happened to him.” She tilted her head to the side. “Didn’t he . . . go missing? How convenient what happens to those who have gone against the de Vincent family or those they care about.”

  Chapter 20

  Gabe slammed Dev’s door shut behind him. His brother was there, behind the desk looking through some paperwork just before dinner on Friday night. “What in the hell does Sabrina know about Emma and Christopher Fitzpatrick?”

  Arching a brow, Dev looked up. “That is a very random question.”

  “And you know what else is random?” Gabe stalked forward. “Your fiancée bringing up Emma and that bastard earlier.”

  A slight frown crossed Dev’s face. “Sabrina shouldn’t know anything about Christopher.”

  “Then why would she bring him up?”

  “I really don’t have an answer for that.” Dev closed whatever file he was looking over. “Sabrina did know Emma. It’s a good chance she said something to Sabrina.”

  “She barely knew Emma. I have no idea if she would’ve told Sabrina what happened to her, but I know damn well she never would’ve told her what happened to Christopher.”

  Dev was quiet for a moment. “Sabrina likes to sound like she knows things. I wouldn’t pay any attention to it.”

  Gabe wasn’t so sure about that. The way Sabrina had said what she said told Gabe that somehow Sabrina knew that Christopher Fitzpatrick wasn’t simply a missing person.

  “Since you’re here—” Dev tossed the closed file across the desk “—you’ll be happy to know that the investigation into our . . . into Lawrence’s death has officially been closed.”

  Gabe picked up the file and opened it, flipping through what appeared to be copies of the police report Troy had filed and the autopsy report.

  “They now believe that the scratches along his neck came from him possibly changing his mind,” Dev said, sitting back and crossing one leg over the other. “Since there were no wounds or trauma, it has been officially ruled as a suicide.”

  Gabe closed the file and dropped it on the desk.

  “And the new police chief sends his apologies over the inconvenience of them investigating the death,” Dev continued, smiling slightly. “He’s assured me that the case is truly closed.”

  “Even if Stefan continues to push it?”

  “If Stefan has any hopes of retaining the Harringtons as donors, then he’ll leave it alone.” Dev glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly time for dinner. Are you joining me?”

  He nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. Neither he nor Lucian truly believed that Lawrence de Vincent killed himself and there was a reason they didn’t speak of that suspicion to Dev.

  Because there was only one person Gabe believed would’ve killed Lawrence, and it wasn’t their sister Madeline.

  Wondering if there was a cold draft in the office, Gabe turned. As he did, he noticed the painting he’d carried upstairs earlier. Dev hadn’t hung it up, but it was propped against the credenza, unwrapped.

  It was a painting of Sabrina.

  A nude painting.

  Jesus.

  Nikki couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so much, but her stomach practically ached from doing so and their meal had just arrived.

  Her date with Gerald wasn’t going bad at all.

  First off, Gerald was definitely as cute as he looked in the pic Rosie had showed her. Come to find out, contrary to Gabe’s smartass mouth, Gerald wasn’t very much older than her. Only six years. Definitely not in Granddad Gerald territory.

  He was also funny as hell, and had a knack for telling stories.

  And bonus points for the fact he looked nothing like Gabe. Not that she was thinking of Gabe while on her date with Gerald—not at all. Gerald was a blond and his hair was cropped short. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Gabe, but he was taller than her. Well, most people were taller than her, but he would probably only come up to Gabe’s shoulders—

  Okay, so she was thinking about Gabe just a little bit.

  “So,” he said, picking up his glass. “Rosie was telling me you work for the de Vincents? Like the de Vincents?”

  Her eyes widened slightly. Could he read minds? You never knew when it came to the people Rosie hung out with. “Temporarily. My parents have worked for them for years.”

  “Man, I bet you guys have seen and heard some stuff.”

  She stiffened. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because of what they’re called. Their nicknames the magazines use? What are they? Devil? Lucifer. There was one more—damn, I can’t remember.”

  “Demon,” she said, sighing. They called Gabe Demon. A weird need to protect them rose. “They really don’t live up to those nicknames the papers give them.”

  “They don’t?” He sounded surprised. “That’s kind of disappointing. Sounds sort of badass to be called Lucifer.”

  She wasn’t so sure she agreed with that. “It’s funny how the newspapers always focus on rumors and stupid stuff, but never on how much work they do for charities and the millions of dollars they donate.”

  “Well, people would rather read about scandals than good deeds.”

  Sad but true.

  “And the de Vincents have had their fair share of scandal.” He took a drink. “The thing with their father recently? Such a damn shame.”

  “It was,” she murmured, wanting to change the subject. “So, you were telling me about Rosie wanting to investigate where you work or something?”

  “Ah, yes.” He laughed. “Rosie once convinced me to let her investigate the office building I work in.”

  “Oh, no.” She grinned as she cut into her steak. Crescent City Steaks was packed on a Saturday night, with the waiters rushing back and forth between the tables. “I’m sure that didn’t end well.”

  “It didn’t. She brought this medium with her. Someone named Princess Silvermoon—”

  “No way,” gasped Nikki. “That was not her name.”

  He placed his hand to his chest. “Scouts’ honor. That was her name. Princess Silvermoon.”

  Laughing, she took a drink of her wine. Scouts’ honor. She liked that. It was cute. Everything about him was cute. He was actually perfect, but . . .

  Nikki’s smile faded.

  But from the point they met outside, while they waited for their table, ordered the appetizers, and the main course, she waited for that spark. That undeniable attraction that wasn’t just physical, but went beyond that.

  The spark hadn’t happened.

  Yet.

  “So, Princess Silvermoon walked through the first floor and did a reading of the place. She immediately said that there was a young girl there who died of one of the flu outbreaks. The girl ghost was looking for her—”

  Her phone rang from inside her purse. Since everyone who would need to get ahold of her knew she was on a date, a kernel of concern blossomed.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached for her purse. “Do you mind if I see who this is? My mother has been sick and I just want to make sure it’s not an emergency.”

  “It’s okay,” he replied. “Totally fine.”

  Smiling, she reached inside her bag and tugged her phone out of its little pocket. Turning it over, she saw that it was a local number, but she didn’t recognize it.

  “Is it your family?”

  She shook her head as she placed her phone back in her bag, draping the strap over the back of the chair. “No. I actually don’t recognize the number. Must be a wrong number. So back to the ghost girl. What did she want?”

  He smiled as he picked up his
glass of water. “She was apparently looking for someone to play with.”

  “That’s kind of sad.” Nikki heard her phone beep like it received a text or voicemail, but she ignored it.

  “It is, but then things got really weird when Silvermoon went upstairs. She claimed that the back office, the one where my boss works, was haunted by a ‘woman of the night.’”

  Her lips twitched. “A prostitute?”

  “Yep. And apparently, she was a vengeful spirit, having been murdered by one of her customers.”

  As Gerald talked, Nikki finished off her steak and found herself looking for the waiter. She could really use another glass of wine. Maybe that would help find the missing spark.

  At least temporarily.

  Nikki sat back, folding an arm in her lap as she toyed with the stem of her glass. He was really cute. Had a nice smile.

  “. . . Then Rosie decided that we just had to do a séance. I don’t even know why I agreed to it. I really shouldn’t have, because my boss walked in about fifteen minutes—”

  A shadow fell over their table, and Gerald trailed off. Thinking it was their waiter, she twisted in her seat. The first thing she caught was the fresh, crisp scent of cologne. Warning bells went off as she lifted her chin.

  “What in the hell?”

  Her jaw hit the floor as she looked up, seeing Gabe standing there. She had to be hallucinating, so she blinked once and then twice. Nope, he was still there.

  He was staring—no, glaring at Gerald like he was five seconds from yanking him out of his chair.

  “Gabe?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Gabe demanded.

  Nikki jolted as her gaze swung toward Gerald. She didn’t understand his reaction. “What are you doing here, Gabe?”

  “Is this the guy you said you were going out on a date with?” he asked instead of answering her question. “Gerald?”

  “Gabe, what are—?”

  Gerald leaned back in his chair. “Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, Gabriel.”

  Nikki turned to Gerald, her stomach twisting with unease. “You know Gabe?” There was no way. When he talked about the de Vincents, he didn’t speak of them as if he was on a first-name basis.