* * *
The interview behind her, Gianna’s feet were happy now, encased in white tennies. She stood before the Nashville Parthenon in Centennial Park, the sign before her claiming the building to be the world’s only exact-size replica of the original Greek Parthenon, dating back to 400 BC. This one was built in 1897 and was beyond a work of art. It was stunning, and something she’d had on her bucket list. Of course, she’d wanted to see the real thing, but this replica simply took her breath away.
Gage let her gape as long as she wanted, his eyes keen on her and not the structure before him, but she didn’t care. It was a totally unexpected surprise. She didn’t know why Gage went to the trouble. Well, maybe she did. He’d been asking a lot from her lately, and taking a lot from her. Like kisses that made her head spin and made her heart pound. The surprise had surprised her in its thoughtfulness. It was something he didn’t have to do. And Gage Tremaine wasn’t the kind of man who did things he didn’t have to do. If he was reveling in that, so be it. He could tell her “I told you so” about her enjoying the surprise. But he didn’t, and she appreciated that as well.
“It’s the pride of Nashville, historically speaking,” Gage said.
“And you knew I’d love to see it.”
“We couldn’t leave Nashville without you seeing it.”
“It blows my mind.” She got out her phone and began snapping pictures. “Brooke’s gonna love this.”
“You’ll have to show her the inside, too.”
Gage walked toward the entrance, and she followed. He didn’t offer his hand. There were only a few visitors at the site, and he didn’t press her about their charade. Chills ran up and down her spine as she took in her surroundings—marvels as far as the eye could see. Every time she saw something new and read the accompanying plaque, she became utterly enthralled. The tall columns surrounding her were indescribable. How on earth had the Greeks ever gotten them to their forty-five-foot height? And the sculptures along the walls were amazingly intricate and lifelike. She stared at the details for several minutes.
Gage came over to her. “Come with me,” he said, this time taking her hand and tugging her away from the artwork.
They walked into the second room, and her eyes lifted to the towering gilded statue of Athena. It was massive and beautiful. “Heavens,” she said.
“Athena, daughter of Zeus. I read somewhere she was Zeus’s favorite child.”
“She was strong. The protector of the city. Goddess of warfare,” Gianna stated, remembering her Greek mythology.
“She was a lot like you, Gianna.”
She turned her head from the statue to gaze at him. “Very funny.”
“Not trying to be. She was the goddess of wisdom, too.”
She blinked. Gage didn’t usually come right out and compliment her. Not unless there was something in it for him. “You think I’m wise?”
“No, I think you’re a goddess.”
Laughter bubbled up and spilled over, echoing in the chamber. She should know better than to take him seriously.
Only Gage wasn’t laughing with her. His sober eyes told a different story. One that brought goose bumps back to her arms. One that made her question why it was that she didn’t like Gage all that much. He was all Texan, a hunk with deep-blue eyes, a man who looked at a woman and made her believe she was the only one on earth. It shattered her defenses. She didn’t like that. Not at all. “Th-thank you for bringing me here, but we should go.”
“I know, you have work to do.”
“It’s the truth. It’s already been an exhausting day, and I’m a little behind schedule.”
Gage nodded and put his hand to her lower back, ushering her outside. His constant touching for no good reason made her nerves jump. Not because she didn’t enjoy it, but because she did. She walked over to another informational sign, pretending interest, and broke away from him. She didn’t want her goose bumps to get goose bumps.
Relief registered immediately. He no longer touched her.
So why was she also terribly, terribly disappointed?
* * *
Gage tore up the page of lyrics he’d been writing and tossed it in the trash. Hell, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was on total shutdown. He’d made calls to industry friends and caught up on their news, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He turned on the TV. Shut it off. Nothing interested him, not the classic Jimmy Stewart Western he’d seen a dozen times on the screen. Not even the script he’d brought along to look over from Sunday in Montana. He got up from the bed and paced back and forth in the hotel room, “wearing out the rug,” as his mother would say. He was twitchy and restless. And the source of his restlessness came in the form of the woman in the bedroom ten feet away punching keys on her computer.
How could Gianna turn off the world so easily? How could she shut him out and lose herself in her research when all he kept thinking about was how cute she looked in those doggone sneakers today? And how delighted she’d been to see the Parthenon. How good he’d felt bringing that joy to her, seeing her face light up, her eyes sparkle.
Brainiac, it’s been five hours.
Of boredom.
Of being idle.
Of wanting to see her.
Needing a distraction, he ordered room service—a little bit of everything. Then he strode into the living room and poured himself a drink of the good stuff, bourbon that took time coursing down his throat, offering a slow, delicious burn all the way to his gut. It was good, damn good, but not enough to satisfy his edginess.
Not enough to quell his desire. He wanted Gianna. And not because she was here, convenient, and he was bored out of his mind. No, those were reasons to want other women. Women who wanted to hook up with a celeb. Women who didn’t really know him. But not Gianna. She was different, special. He knew it as much as he knew the sun set in the west. And he knew it was wrong to want her.
Hell, he knew it and still he walked the steps to her bedroom door. He knocked, three sharp raps, and waited. “Gianna?”
“Just...a...sec,” she said, distracted. She opened the door, and there she stood in a plush white robe, her hair slightly wet, glistening. She’d taken a shower and hadn’t redressed. Those black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose told him she’d been working. Still.
“I’m starving.” What was she wearing under that robe? And why did he find a cushy bathrobe and tangled, wet hair so damn attractive? He knew the answer, of course. Gianna, unassuming and so damn distracted, was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “It’s after seven.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.”
“Lost in your work?”
“I only have another hour of—”
“I’ve ordered us room service. Should be here any minute.”
“Thanks.” She stared at him, blinking a few times. And he stared right back into those meadow-green eyes, watching her sweet mouth twist a little. How many times had he seen that particular look, as if she was trying to figure him out? Well, if she had a clue, she should tell him, because he didn’t know why his feet weren’t moving. Why he couldn’t pull himself away from her doorway. He couldn’t keep his heart from pounding hard, either. Or keep lust out of his eyes. And he didn’t give a flying fig if she could read his mind.
She stood at the door, blocking the entrance as if she’d pulled guard duty. “Is there anything else?”
Her gaze lowered to his mouth, her eyes bold and daring. She was no longer distracted by her work. No, something else fascinated her; something else tempted her. They were inches apart, and raw tension pinged between them. He wouldn’t make the first move. But he wouldn’t back away, either. This was all Gianna. What she wanted. What they’d been tiptoeing around for days now. This chemistry between them. “Gage,” she whispered.
“Right here.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be.” Yet there was no co
nviction in her voice.
“Tell me to leave.”
She pulled air into her lungs and opened her mouth. But the words didn’t come. She reached up and put her hand to his cheek, stroked his face, gently, tenderly. A groan rose up this throat. She was playing with fire.
“I c-can’t, Gage. I can’t tell you to leave.”
It was all he needed to hear. He cupped her face and positioned her mouth, their eyes meeting for a second of confirmation. They were doing this. And there was no protest, no refusal. He brought his mouth over hers and tasted her once, twice. A whimper rose from her throat, and then he took charge, pressing his lips to hers urgently, unleashing his pent-up lust on her. Consuming her with his mouth, his tongue.
Gage wanted more. He wanted everything from her, but he had to slow down. He couldn’t rush her. He didn’t want to overpower her. He wanted her to come along on this ride beside him. He wanted to please her, pleasure her. It wasn’t just about relieving his itch. It was more, because this was Gianna.
They kissed until they were breathless. Gage gave a kick to her door, opening it wider, and then he was backing her up, into the room, toward her bed. Her computer was on, papers all in a tidy pile on her desk. That was her, neat and tidy, and Gage wanted to see her let loose, watch her be free. Give her a reason to go wild.
He lowered her down onto the bed. Her hair spilled out around her, her eyes glowing. She untied the belt and he parted the robe, opening the material wide. His breathing stopped. “My God, Gianna. You’re perfect.”
Her skin was smooth and tan, creamy. Her small, beautifully rounded breasts filled the cups of her lacy white bra, and below she wore barely there matching panties.
He pulled off his shirt and tossed it, Gianna watching him carefully, her eyes wide and gleaming. She reached her arms out for him, and he nearly lost it. He was harder than granite under the zipper of his jeans, but determined to take this slow.
He lowered himself, and her arms came around his neck. He kissed her again and again, and those little noises she made down deep in her throat rocked him to his core. He touched the swell of her breasts, filling his hands, and he kissed her there over and over. Her nipples pebbled hard. Her breaths were coming sharp and quick, and he flattened his palm to her stomach and drew his hand down to touch her folds underneath her panties. A whimper rose from her throat, and he gave her more, sliding his fingers over her sensitized skin. Her hips arched up. Giving him access to do more, give her more. Panting, she squeezed out a plea. “Gage.”
“I know, Gia, honey.”
Her release came sharp and fast, her cries of pleasure echoing in his ears. He brought his mouth over hers again, and they shared one long, mind-blowing kiss.
A knock at the front door startled them. Ah, damn. Must be room service. “The food,” he whispered. He hated that the moment was interrupted. “They’ll leave it outside.” No way was he getting up to eat now. Everything he wanted was laid out before him on this bed. “Are you okay?”
Gianna smiled, a satisfied lifting of her lips that told the whole story. “I’m very, very good.”
He chuckled and pushed the hairs that had fallen onto her cheeks away from her face. “I’m very, very glad.”
From the other room, his phone banged out a tune announcing a caller. He ignored it, hating this interruption even more. But the insistent thing wouldn’t stop. “For heaven’s sake,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ll watch you get it,” Gianna said, rolling onto her side, all legs and creamy skin.
He chuckled again. He was impatient for her now, more than he thought possible.
He picked up the phone from the living room sofa. “You can leave it outside,” he said, just barely holding on to his patience.
“Gage? Is that you?”
It was his brother. “Cade? What’s up? Now’s not a good time.”
“No, it’s not a good time. Mom’s been in a car accident.”
It was the last thing he expected to hear. “Crap. Is she okay?”
“She’s unconscious.”
Gage pinched his nose. He didn’t want to hear this news. Blood rushed through his system. “What the hell happened? And where is she?”
“I’ll explain all that later. Just come. We’re at Juliet Memorial.”
“Cade? How bad is it?”
“She’s banged up, Gage. The doctor is in with her now.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up the phone, his eyes slowly closing, and he envisioned his strong, beautiful mother lying in a hospital bed. Injured. Banged up. Frail.
“Gage?”
He turned, and Gianna walked into the room. She took one look at him, and immediately her smile faded. “What is it? What’s wrong?” There was panic in her voice. She knew something serious was going on. She closed the lapels of her robe and came to stand beside him. “Gage, you’re scaring me.”
“Don’t mean to.”
“Then tell me. Now.” More panic.
“It’s my mom. She’s been in a car accident. She’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, my God. No. Not Rose.” Tears surged to her eyes, filling them with moisture. He had a feeling she was reliving another moment, a frightening one involving her own mother. She’d been so courageous, selflessly caring for her mom until the very end. It had been hard on her, and now this? It might be too much for her to take.
He wrapped her up in his arms, her soft robe pressing against his chest. He kissed her forehead. “Don’t cry, Gia.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t m-mean to make it w-worse. It’s just a sh-shock.”
“It is. I don’t have details, but she’s being treated. She hasn’t woken up yet.”
Gianna gasped. The noisy sound touched every part of him. She was suffering, too. She loved his mother. They both did.
“We have to go. I have to make arrangements.”
“I’ll get ready,” she said softly. Yet she clung to him still, and every protective instinct he possessed didn’t want to let her go. She needed comfort. And he wanted to give it to her. It pained him how much.
She broke away all on her own, giving him a brave nod, and strode into her room.
Gage used the speed dial on his phone and called Regan. She’d make the arrangements. She always knew what to do. If anyone could get him home quickly, it was her. And home was exactly where he needed to be.
Seven
“Would you like some coffee, Gianna?” Harper asked. “Cade and I are going to get some.”
Gianna shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t fine. She’d been scared silly, and the fright had come far too close to home. She and Gage had flown in the dead of night to get to Juliet Memorial, Gage holding her hand the entire time, while she sent up prayers for Rose’s recovery. Lily was in with the doctor now, discussing her mother’s injuries. Time was creeping by.
Gianna glanced at Gage standing against the wall, speaking quietly to Regan. She’d gotten here before they had and greeted Gage with a big consoling hug. Gianna’s heart had pinged then, a totally ridiculous emotion edging its way inside. She had no reason to be jealous. Regan was his manager. She was like a partner to him, too, and he didn’t seem to make a move without her blessing. They were close. Gianna understood that, even though, whenever Regan was around, she totally monopolized Gage’s time.
Now she had a hand on Gage’s arm and they were face-to-face. He nodded his head as whatever she was saying seemed to resonate with him. She was his mentor, a person he relied on, but Gianna suspected Regan’s interest in Gage went deeper than that.
But who was she to analyze his relationship with Regan when she couldn’t figure out what the heck was happening between her and Gage? She didn’t have a clue what had changed between them, except that spending time wit
h him hadn’t been horrible. In fact, he’d made their trip memorable. She’d had a good time at Red’s, letting loose and dancing, eating decadent desserts and being Gage’s sole focus while he sang about love.
The television interview had been difficult, but Gage made up for it with the surprise trip to the Parthenon. And afterward, in the hotel, she hadn’t been able to resist him, hadn’t been able to send him away. They’d combusted. She’d been unabashedly naked before him, stripped of her cement-hard resolve. And she was glad of it. He’d given her her very first orgasm.
Lily walked over to where the family was waiting. Cade and Harper set down their coffee cups, and Gage moved from the wall to greet her, Regan right by his side. Gianna stood as well, her pulse pounding, her legs wobbly.
“Mom’s awake. She has a concussion, but the preliminary tests are showing no further injury. Her left arm is broken, and she has a bruised rib or two. The doctor will be out shortly to explain, but I know you guys were dying to find out. Looks like she’s going to be okay.”
Relieved sighs filled the room. Tears streaked down Gianna’s cheeks. Lily and Harper were also wet puddles of thankful tears. Gage smiled for the first time since they’d learned of the accident. He walked over to her, leaving Regan to stand alone. “Good news, right?”
She nodded. “The very best.”
“Are you okay, Gia?”
The pad of his thumb wiped away her tears. His touch also wiped away her worry. His touch made her feel safe. Which was odd, because nothing about Gage was safe. He was stubborn and confident and self-serving at times, and she’d never believed him a safe bet. Especially since they’d practically made love last night. But it wouldn’t be fair to fault him for something she’d wanted. That she’d wanted him at all and desperately last night—now that was the bigger issue.
She stared into his eyes. “I should be asking you that question.”
“I’m all right.”
“Me, too. As long as Rose is going to recover, that’s all that matters.”
The Fake Engagement Favor Page 10