Instants before, Rebecca had been powerfully ready to sleep. No more. Her pulse picked up an uneasy beat, thready, broody, worried. She wasn’t sure what to say or do; she only sensed that Gabe was distancing himself from her at the speed of light.
And then she felt his fingertips, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. And his voice was quieter than silence. “I should have stopped, Rebecca. It was my fault.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, thinking that she should have realized the broken condom was on his mind, thinking that she needed to be infinitely careful how she responded…or risk everything this night had meant to her, to them. “I don’t think fault is a fair word. No one was careless. Neither of us could have anticipated ending up on the wrong end of the statistical odds for the chances of one breaking.”
“Yeah, well…the point is—if you end up pregnant, I expect you to tell me. I don’t want you to think or worry that it’s your problem. It’s ours. There’s no question about my standing by you, shorty.”
Hurt lanced through her. Responsibility, duty, honor. She knew they were indelibly part of Gabe, but that wasn’t what she wanted from him now. It wasn’t what she hoped he felt for her.
“I know you have strong feelings about not wanting babies, not wanting a family,” she said softly.
“Yeah. Which makes me ten times more at fault.”
“Come on, Gabe. The condom just broke. Neither of us asked for that—”
“There’s always a risk of failure with any kind of protection. And for that reason alone, I never made love with a woman unless we were both comfortable with the same set of rules. You were revved up after one hell of a traumatic day, the adrenaline still pumping, your fear level still high. I understood you wanted to be held. You weren’t really asking to make love.”
“I very much wanted to make love,” she told him swiftly, but right then it seemed she couldn’t have sold him his own reflection with a mirror.
“Making love was taking advantage of you, Red. I know what danger is like, what it does to the blood, to your thinking. You didn’t, and couldn’t possibly, know those things. Maybe you wanted to make love, but you could still regret it like hell in the morning.”
“I won’t regret it. I love you, Gabe,” she said softly, fiercely.
He didn’t fall silent for long, but faster than a strike of lightning, she could feel every muscle in his body tense up. “I’m not saying you don’t feel love. Or that you’re not being honest. But I’ve never lied to you, shorty, and I wouldn’t insult you by doing it now. I don’t put the same value on that word love that you do.”
She swallowed. Hard. “Devereax?”
“What?”
“I’m not sure how you would define risk. But I can tell you how I do. My dad used to say that you should never play a game that you can’t afford to lose. I always saw life differently. I can’t see playing any game where the stakes aren’t worth winning.”
“You’ve won some dangerous first prizes as a risk-taker—” he turned his head “—but it’s not relevant in this case, because love is no game to you.”
“No. It isn’t. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but if I were shopping for a dad for a baby…I’d pick you.”
Again, he tensed. “Then you don’t know me worth beans, Rebecca.”
“Yeah, I think I do, but that isn’t why I brought the subject up.” She said gently, firmly, “I need you to know that I wouldn’t have trapped you. I wouldn’t have done that to any man, much less one I loved. You know how much I want a baby. You know I want a family. But if I wasn’t prepared with birth control, it was because I didn’t know we were going to make love. I would never have tried to corner you into going against your heart, knowing how you felt about wedding rings and families.”
His eyes found hers in the darkness. “I believe you. You always were honest to a fault, Red. But what you said was also right—you didn’t know we were going to make love—which makes me responsible for what happened. I want you to say it aloud, that you’ll tell me if you turn up pregnant. I want a promise that you won’t try to keep it a secret.”
“It was only the one time. And the chances aren’t that likely.” She knew that was a mile distant from the promise he was asking for, but her heart balked at making a vow she wasn’t positive she could keep. She needed more time to think. “I want to tell you something else.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t asking for anything by telling you that I loved you. It wasn’t meant to be a rope around your neck or a ring through your nose.” He’d been tense long enough, she thought. “I’ll love you if I damn well want to, Devereax.” She shifted on top of him, settled her full weight on his chest and kissed him, slowly and awkwardly and thoroughly. He took his punishment like a man, she noticed. He showed forbearance, patience, courage. He also aroused faster than a firecracker, but, poor baby, he couldn’t help that.
“You don’t like being loved, cutie?”
He sighed loudly. “God, you’re trouble. I swear I knew it the first time I laid eyes on y—”
“You have any more condoms in your jeans pocket?”
“None that I wouldn’t be terrified to use,” he said dryly.
“Hmm… Well, we could get creative.” She kissed his chin. Then aimed for his throat. “You might have to help me think up some ways to get creative. I’m outstanding at research, but pretty much all the research I’ve done is related to writing mysteries and gruesome murders. A chapter never seemed to come up about seducing men, but you won’t believe how fast I learn. Honest. You’ll be impressed.”
“Has there ever been a time in your life when you didn’t invite trouble?”
“Now, now, this is good trouble. It doesn’t hurt to be loved. It’s not scary. Nothing terrible is going to happen to you. When’s the last time you let someone take care of you?”
“I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s how much you know, cutie.” Since his throat was so convenient, she took a bite out of it. “Everyone needs taking care of sometimes. Now close your eyes and suffer through this. Just practice. Write it off as a lesson. Just see if you can survive being loved without panicking, huh?”
“Becca,” he said…and then nothing else.
She was all through giving him any further chances to talk.
The waiting area for Rebecca’s plane was already crowded with tourists carrying luggage and souvenirs. Her flight left at three. She could certainly have taken a taxi alone to the airport, but Gabe had insisted on driving her. She suspected he wanted to make damn sure she was headed home and safe on that plane.
Gabe set her carry-on tote out of harm’s way while they were waiting. The scene at the airport was exactly the same as the day she’d arrived. The same blazing Las Vegas sun poured through the windows; the passengers bubbled off the planes with that hot-to-gamble look in their eyes. Exotic posters showing floor shows and casinos lined the walls, and slot machines clattered and rattled from every direction. Her Mickey Mouse sweatshirt was a little more wrinkled on the return trip, but it was exactly what she’d worn that first day, too.
Yet nothing was the same. The difference between now and just a few days ago hit her like a sudden, engulfing wave.
The whole problem with her brother wasn’t over. But it nearly was. And once Jake was cleared of the murder charge, the Fortune family would have no further immediate reason to employ Gabe. His job for them was over…which meant that his reason to be connected with her was over, too.
Her heart started thudding, not with anxiety, but just with a building, welling ache. That separation didn’t have to be—if Gabe wanted to pursue a personal relationship. If he felt love, as she did. If he even noticed the unique and wondrous specialness they brought each other.
The minute Gabe spotted airport personnel headed for the tarmac, he started jingling the change in his pocket. Typically, his shirt was button-down crisp compared to her floppy sweatshirt, his
hair neatly brushed while hers was a sleepy mop of curls. She’d seen him mussed. She’d seen him damn near looking like a disaster—a handsome, unforgettably sexy disaster—but only alone, only when he felt free with her, in bed.
He was as put-back-together now as a stranger. The ache in her heart suddenly hurt like a stabbing. The real Gabe, she knew, was a poignantly vulnerable and giving man, but that Gabe was nowhere in sight now.
“You got money, shorty?”
She forced a smile. “I never have money. But I have forty-seven versions of plastic.”
“Is your mom meeting your plane in Minneapolis?”
“My car’s already parked at the airport, so there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to meet my plane. I’ll see my mom when I get home.”
He frowned. “You’re not getting in until dark. I’d rather someone were meeting you.”
“Sheesh, Devereax. I know you can’t change all that sexist overprotective behavior all at once, but I swear, you need a massive retraining course.”
It was like expecting a duck to care if it rained. The insult flew right over his head. “You’ve been through a lot in the last few days.”
“Yeah, I have. But so have you.”
They called her flight. She bent down to grab her tote and purse. When she straightened up, Gabe yanked his hands out of his pockets and grabbed her shoulders. She saw his eyes just before he ducked down to claim her mouth.
The kiss was lethal. Vintage Devereax. Hot, swift, thorough, less than respectable, a wanton and intoxicating invitation to mayhem and madness…but when the devil got around to lifting his head, she saw it again. The goodbye in his eyes.
It hurt a thousand times more than the feel of Wayne Pott’s switchblade directly on her throat. She had to swallow thickly before she could even try speaking again.
“When’s your flight home?” she asked him.
“Haven’t arranged it yet. Won’t even try for at least another day. I want to talk with the cops again, see what happened after their questioning Tracey and Wayne. There are just some details here that I still want to follow through on.”
“And then?”
“And then…I’ve got a ton of work projects waiting for me at home, in the office. And you’ll be going back to your world.” The pad of his thumb traced her jawbone. She saw longing in his eyes. She saw love, even if he’d never said the words. But Gabe said nothing about calling her. Nothing about wanting to see her again. And, abruptly, his hand dropped. “You’ll let me know if there’s a problem?”
Rebecca thought, she should have known he’d bring up the potential-pregnancy problem again. Gabe was ever practical, ever the honorable man.
But if he saw her—and a baby—as a problem, there seemed nothing else to say.
When Rebecca answered the knock on her door, the last person she expected to see was her brother. It’d been five weeks since that long, impossible, unforgettable weekend with Gabe. And three weeks since the murder charges against Jake had been dropped. He was a free man again. But Jake had never made an impromptu visit to her place before.
She promptly threw herself into his arms with a boisterous laugh. “Well, what brings you here, stranger? Come in, come in. You want some coffee or tea?”
“Wouldn’t mind some coffee, but I’m guessing from your appearance that I’m interrupting something…”
Rebecca glanced down, vaguely aware that she’d started out the morning fairly neatly dressed in a black turtleneck and casual flannel skirt. Sometime over the past four hours of writing, she’d lost her shoes and become untucked, and she strongly suspected her hair was standing up in wild tufts. She grinned for her brother. “I get more aerobic exercise writing than some athletes do training for the Olympics. And believe me, I was ready for a break. Make yourself comfortable. Coffee’s already made. I’ll bring it in.”
Minutes later, she carried mugs of a hazelnut brew into her office, where Jake was wandering around. “I think you need a backhoe in here,” he teased.
“If you think this is messy, you should see it when I haven’t cleaned.”
“You cleaned in here in the last decade?”
She set down their mugs. Then punched him. When he feigned deep pain, he almost brought tears to her eyes. God, he looked good. Just having the right to look at him, free from those jail bars, was a feast for her eyes—and heart.
Others saw Jake Fortune as a formal, formidable man, Rebecca knew. Very few people had the guts to punch—or tease—him. It took a little sister to get the job done.
He was fifty-four to her thirty-three, but that huge sibling age gap had never troubled either of them. Gabe had a much brawnier build, but her brother was a respectable six feet, with dark brown hair and a set of green eyes that matched her own. Jake had always been built lean and elegant, but she could see that the time in jail had skinnied him down. It wasn’t unusual to see him dressed in a formal navy suit, but even fine tailoring couldn’t hide his loss of weight. Or that there was more silver than brown in his hair now.
Her brother had always been a controlled and contained man—except with her. But that kind of control was a choice. She’d always known with a sister’s instincts that being caged up in a jail was Jake’s worst nightmare. Now, though, he was finally free, and she didn’t want to remind him of these past terrible weeks.
“Did you come visiting just to tease and give me grief?” She curled up in her desk chair with her hands wrapped around the coffee mug.
“Actually, I had a different reason.” He glanced around for a place to sit and, after lifting five pounds of paper and files off a chair, created one. “This private visit is way overdue, sis. I came to thank you personally. I could still be rotting in that jail if it weren’t for you.”
Rebecca swiftly shook her head. “Gabe did all the investigative work that mattered, Jake. Not me.”
“I’ve seen Devereax. Thanked him, thanked the whole family, personally.” Jake had yet to touch his coffee. “God. I still can’t believe how the family stood by me through this mess. I’ll never take family for granted again—but you were the only one who did something about it, Rebecca. Don’t think I don’t know it.”
She knew her support had helped him emotionally, but the practical help it really took to free him had come entirely from Gabe. Sometimes the spinning events of the past few weeks still made her mind reel.
Gabe had directly involved himself with the police regarding the questioning of Tracey and Wayne. The nefarious twosome had made a living out of lying, but the cops had grilled them separately, and both had been in such a hustle to cover their behinds that they ended up cooking their own geese. Gabe had followed up on the discrepancies in their tale-telling. The result was that they’d both been charged with conspiracy to commit murder, and Tracey had additionally been charged with murder in the first degree.
Not only was Jake free, but his name had been cleared, and that had mattered desperately to Rebecca. Freedom was more than being loose. Her brother needed the right to hold his head up, needed his pride back. And, thanks to Gabe, he had that.
“You know, there turned out to be a fitting irony in that whole mess,” she said thoughtfully. “Tracey and Monica were two of a kind. Neither could define ethics with a dictionary. Both were manipulative and greedy, not above blackmail or stealing or any other criminal activity. I’m not saying it’s right that Monica was murdered. But those two running into each other was like a witch finding her familiar.”
Jake nodded. “Almost eerie, those two black cats crossing paths in the night. Monica threatening Tracey, to keep the secret quiet about her kidnapping our brother decades ago. Who would have thought that Tracey would investigate Monica and discover she’d so conveniently adopted Brandon just after the twin disappeared. And only someone with that devious mind would make the connection and confront Monica. Tracey saw murder as a way to keep her secrets, so she could capitalize on a financial scam.” Abruptly he looked weary. “Maybe it’s a twist of iron
y that those two were immoral predators exactly the same way…but I think a lot of grief could have been saved over the years, if the Fortune family hadn’t tried to hide so many secrets.”
“Including yours?” Rebecca asked gently. “How are you and Erica doing after all this? I know the girls have stood by you, but how are things with Adam?” She’d never been close to Erica, his wife. But Adam was his only son, and more Rebecca’s age—the two growing up together had been thick as thieves—and she knew father and son had been emotionally estranged.
Jake admitted frankly, “It’s going really good, though I still have a lot of fences to mend with my family. I made a lot of mistakes, took a lot of wrong turns.” He hesitated. “You know…the reason I got involved with Monica to begin with was because she was blackmailing me. I never did know how she found out that my genetic father wasn’t Ben Fortune. But I responded with panic. I thought I’d lose everything—my wife, my work, my whole life—if it came out that I wasn’t in the direct bloodline to be a Fortune heir. It wasn’t only about losing money, Rebecca. Or about a fear of losing money. It was about being afraid I would lose my whole life.”
He lurched out of the chair, and started restlessly pacing around her cramped office. “That was part of what was so unbearable about being charged with murder. I’d been drinking. I did go to confront Monica. I was angry. But I had no motivation on earth to kill her. I know it looked that way—but I’d already accepted that the truth about my background needed to come out. I’d had it with living a lie. I’d come to the conclusion that I wouldn’t, couldn’t, live that way anymore. Only I had no way to make anyone believe that.”
“I’m afraid the truth doesn’t always show up as evidence in a court of law,” Rebecca murmured, thinking of Gabe and all the times they’d bickered about the validity of facts versus intuition. Harshly she slammed her mind’s door on that train of thought, though. Even a mention of Gabe induced a fierce, aching pain for which there seemed no salve…and this was no time to deal with that, not with her brother here. “Jake, you still didn’t say how your wife and son are handling all the ‘real truth’ that’s come out.”
The Baby Chase Page 15