She gave her name to the hostess, telling her she was meeting a man there. The hostess eyed her outfit carefully, and Cate tried not to let her self-consciousness get the better of her. She stood proudly. Sure, she had quite a bit of skin on display, but all the essentials were covered. She pulled her wrap around her shoulders, hoping not to feel so exposed.
The hostess walked her back to her table. It was in the corner, and the man's back was to her. His dark, wavy hair fell to his shirt collar. His wide shoulders filled out the sport coat he was wearing. She could see his large hands on the wine glass he held, and Cate suddenly felt completely out of her element.
She was a journalist—one who'd won many awards for her undercover reports. But this felt different. She reminded herself that she wasn't going to be sleeping with any of these men—they were paying for her company. And she knew it was the only way to try and ferret out the connection between the escort service and Tariq Ahmed Ben Ali. She was convinced that the escort service was a front for other criminal activities, but she had no proof. And without proof, she had no story.
Pulling in a deep breath, Cate crossed in front of the table and turned to take her seat. Her heart stopped. All the air whooshed out of her in one quick exhale. Sitting at the table, with hair that looked as if he'd just tumbled out of bed, a short beard that looked as if he just hadn't bothered to shave for the last week, and blue eyes that were so light they were almost white, was Gabriel Sanchez. Her Gabriel.
"What—how? I mean, what are you doing here, Gabriel?"
Chapter 5
Gabriel couldn't believe he was staring at Cate Bradshaw, the lying, manipulating, betraying woman who'd left him five years ago. He'd opened himself up to her—told her things he'd never shared with anyone else—and she'd left in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye.
"What the hell, Cate? Journalism not paying well anymore?" He smirked, knowing the coldness of his words had hit their mark as the color left her face. He almost felt sorry for what he'd said. Almost.
"I'm sorry. There must be some mistake. I'm supposed to be meeting someone, but it can't be—"
"Sorry, bonita. No mistake," Gabriel said, slipping into the Spanish words he used when he was stressed. He was unable to believe that Cate was actually an escort now. What had happened to make her stoop so low?
"I can't—I mean, I have to go!"
She turned to leave, but Gabriel stood up, blocking her path. He trailed the back of his hand down her arm where her wrap had come loose, exposing the soft skin.
"Not so fast, linda." The terms of endearment came to him without thought, catching him off guard. "I paid for four hours of your time. I expect to reap the benefits."
He knew his words were coarse, and the innuendo in his voice couldn't be missed. She stiffened under his fingers, then dropped down into the seat across from him. He drew in a breath, not understanding why he didn't just let her go. She would never agree to help him, and he wasn't sure he wanted her help. He still couldn't wrap his head around this successful journalist working as a high-dollar hooker.
Her lips were pulled tightly into a thin line. He knew she was keeping a firm grip on her temper. Gabriel had seen a glimpse of that fiery personality come out during that week in Naples. And he wanted to see more of it now.
"Well, I guess since I didn't get the opportunity to sample the goods for free years ago, I'll at least get to pay for them tonight."
That did it.
He saw the challenge in her eyes the minute she looked up from the menu she was pretending to study. She dropped it on the table, placing her hands on top, and leaned forward. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume—a blend of musk, vanilla, and flowers.
"I am not required to let you sample anything, Gabriel, but even if I were, I'd rather lose my job than let you touch me." Her voice was controlled, but he could see the anger burning in her eyes, and also—was that hurt? What right did she have to be hurt? She was the one that had left him, not the other way around.
He leaned in as well, their faces mere inches away. He could feel the small puffs of breath on his cheek as she struggled to maintain control. He suddenly had the desire to kiss her. He moved in a fraction closer and looked down at her lips, then reality crashed down on him. "I don't have to pay money for women to let me touch them," he snarled, and sat back in his chair.
She didn't move, confusion veiling her face. Her eyebrows furrowed together, and she scrunched her nose up in that way that used to drive him crazy. "Then why are you here?"
Damn. He'd forgotten that that was exactly what he was doing here. Paying for her time, her company. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?
"Can I get you something to drink?" the waiter asked Cate, saving his sorry butt from having to answer her question.
"I'd like some water, please. With lemon."
"We'll have a bottle of your house Chianti," Gabriel corrected.
"I'm not—"
"This is a date. I'm paying. You'll have a glass of the damn wine." He gave the waiter a pointed glare when he hesitated.
"Yes, sir," the waiter said. "Are you, um, ready to order as well?" he asked.
Cate gave him her order, and Gabriel followed suit. They sat in silence until the waiter dropped off the wine, pouring it into two glasses.
Cate sipped from the glass, and he watched her throat as she swallowed.
"I don't remember you being so rude before," she started. And his eyes jerked back to hers.
"Yeah, well, I don't remember you selling yourself for money, either, so let's just say maybe neither of us knows the other very well."
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he was being a jerk, but he couldn't seem to help himself. She'd caught him off guard. Never in a million years would he have thought that Cate Bradshaw would be his escort for the evening. Although, maybe this could work in his favor. She had been a journalist, after all, and a damn good one at that. Maybe her curiosity and reporter's heart would work to his advantage.
"I'm not selling myself," she said under her breath. Gabriel's suspicions rose.
"What are you doing here, Cate?"
"I'm just—I just, well, I just needed a little extra—"
He cut her off. "You're working a story, aren't you?" he whispered. The truth hit him over the head like a ton of bricks. Of course that was what she was doing. The pieces all fell into place.
"No—no, of course not. I'm just a little low on cash, and a friend said that she made good money, that I wouldn't have to actually, you know, sleep with anyone, so I thought, why not?"
He didn't believe a word she said. No way was she hurting badly enough to go work for an escort service. She'd sell all her possessions before resorting to working as a prostitute, and he wasn't kidding himself: that's exactly what District Escort Agency was—a prostitution ring.
Cate’s blog was extremely popular, and her exposés had won several awards. He'd bet his last dollar that she was undercover. Did she have any clue whom she was dealing with? The danger she was putting herself in?
"I don't believe you, but we'll play it your way…for now," he said. Maybe she would agree to work with him. He felt a slight twinge of guilt about putting her in more danger, but she was far better equipped to do some snooping than your typical escort.
She crossed her arms over her chest, which did amazing things for her breasts. The tight, corset-type dress cinched in her waist and pushed her breasts up and over the edge. She was beautiful. His memory hadn't done her justice. But she was also evil. He needed to remember that. But maybe he could still have a little fun with her.
"So, Cate, I was told I was meeting Katelyn tonight. You've changed your name?"
"Of course not. Cate is short for Katelyn."
"But you spell your name with a C."
"So what, Gabriel? What's your point?"
He paused a minute, placing his finger to the side of his mouth as if contemplatin
g something.
"I'm not sure I have one," he said, and just about laughed out loud at the frustration pouring off her.
"You're not working as a journalist any longer?" he asked.
"No, I am. I'm just taking a little break. Do you know how much I can make in a week being a companion to men?" She looked serious, but Gabriel knew there was no way she was telling the truth.
"Enlighten me."
"Let's just say I can make more for a couple nights’ work than I can after weeks of investigating leads that might never turn up anything."
"Interesting," he said, knowing the vague response would drive her crazy. It did.
"What do you mean, 'interesting'? What kind of game are you playing here? And since when do you pay for sex?" she asked, her anger burning hotly, her cheeks flushing with color, and her breasts heaving with the ragged breaths she was taking.
"I thought you weren't offering sex?"
"I'm not—but you assumed—"
"Relax, Cate. I'm not paying for sex. I just need to find a companion for a few events over the next couple of weeks and don't want the entanglement of a romantic relationship. If whoever I choose and I decide to enjoy each other's company sexually as well—I'd say that's a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I'm not paying for sex. I get plenty of that for free."
He wasn't ready to tell her what he was really doing with the escort service. He'd have to feel her out and decide when the best time would be for that truth bomb.
"Christy said you were picky. That you'd tried several of the girls, but none had done it for you." She looked up at him, peering through her lashes—her long, black lashes that curled out, framing her whiskey-colored eyes.
"Well, I need the right woman. They've all been blonde, and, you know, I've always preferred brunettes." He waggled his eyebrows.
"Actually, I didn't know that. I wasn't given the chance to find out what your preferences are."
"If I recall correctly, you left me without a word in the middle of the night—not the other way around."
"And if I recall correctly, I tried calling you to try and explain what happened, and you refused to take any of my calls. And then changed your number."
They were both leaning in once again, chests heaving, eyes narrowed, and faces so close that their breath mingled together. Gabriel found himself staring at her lips, and he leaned just a little closer, angling his head—
A throat clearing broke through the haze of his desire, and Cate jumped back as if she'd been burned. The waiter stood with their food, placing her rigatoni with chicken and vodka sauce in front of her, and his braised veal shank with saffron and mushroom risotto in front of him.
Cate dove into her food, bringing a steaming bite to her lips and closing them around the fork. She moaned, closing her eyes as she savored the pasta. "Oh my gosh, this is the best stuff ever."
Gabriel was mesmerized. The look of ecstasy on her face as she ate captured his attention, and he couldn't look away. She lifted another bite toward her mouth and paused mid-air. "What?" she asked.
Gabriel shook his head to clear the cobwebs out. "Nothing. I just forgot how much you enjoy your food."
She grinned as she stuck the fork back in her mouth, but she didn't say anything in response. Gabriel took a bite of his veal, the rich wine sauce exploding on his tongue. He moaned, not able to control it. Cate giggled, and it almost made Gabriel smile.
He gave his undivided attention to his food, not wanting to analyze the tugging he felt in his chest. She was the woman that shall not be named. He couldn't trust her. He wouldn't open himself up to that kind of hurt again.
Of course, that didn't mean that he couldn't have a little fun—enjoy each other for a couple of nights and then let her go. That's probably why he felt this way. It was desire, physical desire. That was it.
"What are you doing these days?" Cate asked as she took a sip of her wine.
What to tell her? He wasn't ready to tell her that he worked for a security firm yet, so he decided to stick close to the truth without giving it all away.
"I work with a friend. We grew up together. He needed my language skills, so after I got out of the SEALS, I thought, what better way to use my gifts than to work for one of my best friends?"
"What kind of business does he own?" she asked, not letting the subject go.
"International recovery," he answered, hoping the vagueness of the response would make her take the hint. But that was the thing about reporters—they didn't do vague well.
"What do you recover?" she asked.
"Mainly people." He pointed to the last few bites on her plate. "You planning to finish that?"
She swatted at his fork, which was making its way toward her plate.
"You know I am. Keep your filthy hands to yourself."
He thought about how he'd like to have his hands on her, but decided that that thought was going to get him in trouble. So he squirmed in his chair and looked for the waiter to refill his water glass.
He lifted a hand, and the waiter scampered over in a rush. It looked like Gabriel's earlier insistence had scared the guy. He poured the water and then asked, "Dessert?"
Cate's eyes filled with interest, and Gabriel fought the laughter bubbling up in his chest.
"Cannolis, please!"
"Tiramisu for me," he said, not able to keep the smile from his face.
"What?" she asked him, as the waiter turned to get their desserts.
"Nothing." He needed to get back to his earlier anger. This pleasure he felt in conversing with Cate was not good for him. He needed something to put some distance between them again.
"Want to tell me why you're really working as an escort? Come on, Cate. I'm not stupid. I can put two and two together. You're an investigative reporter. I guarantee you're undercover. My question is, what is it you're trying to uncover?"
She dropped her gaze to her plate, unable to meet his eyes.
"I'm not—"
"Cut the crap, Cate."
"Fine. I'm not really an escort," she said, her voice low as she leaned in closer to him. "I'm investigating a lead—trying to uncover a connection with the agency to someone I believe is involved." She looked away as if she were hiding something. He waited, hoping she would elaborate, but she just fiddled with the silverware on the table.
"And just how do you think you're going to figure that out?" he asked.
"There's a rumor that the owner not only owns the service, but uses it as well. I believe it's someone with ties to politics. I'm hoping to get a date with him."
"And what makes you think he'll give you a try? How would you even ensure you'd be matched with him?"
"I heard he likes brunettes," she said, giving him a pointed look, and Gabriel felt his blood boil. Her long hair would definitely be a turn-on for someone who favored brunettes. It was certainly a turn-on for him. Something that felt a lot like jealousy reared its ugly head, but he pushed the feeling away. He didn't care whom she went out with. She wasn't his.
She bent her head closer again. "You know, you just said you favored brunettes and that you worked for a friend. Anything you want to tell me, Gabriel?"
He laughed. "Querida, I don't own an escort service, nor do I work for someone who does."
"Maybe you just don't know that—"
"Stop."
She straightened in her seat, her chin lifting in defiance. He knew that look.
"I'll tell you more, but not here. Let's get the desserts to go, and take them someplace quieter and less crowded."
He motioned for the waiter and told him to get him the check and the desserts to go. He stood and walked over to the owner. She greeted him with kisses on both cheeks, and he filled her in on his dilemma. She agreed to help, and he returned to his seat.
"What was that about?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Just a little chat with the owner."
"You know the owner?"
"I do. I told her I had a pretty girl over here I wanted to
have a picnic with, but we needed some assistance putting together a spread. She said she would help."
A few minutes later, a small basket sat on top of the table. He peered inside. A bottle of sparkling rosé sat with two glasses, fruit, and their desserts. Perfect.
Cate peeked in the other side and sat up, confusion making her nose scrunch again.
"I don't understand," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"You hate me. Why would you go to so much trouble?"
"I don't hate you." Well, he kind of did, but she deserved it, didn't she? "And it's not any trouble. I didn't lift a finger to put this together."
"No, but I'm sure it's expensive, and—"
"Just let it go, Cate. I planned to take a beautiful woman on a date tonight, and that's what I'm doing."
She nodded, standing and wrapping the shawl around her shoulders. He took in her dress—short, tight, and hugging her in all the right places. It was also expensive, and he wondered if the escort service had paid for the dress. The stiletto heels she wore on her feet put her just below his chin. He took her by the elbow, grabbing the basket off the table, and left several bills on top to cover the check and the impromptu picnic.
He placed his hand on her lower back as he directed them towards the front door, and desire shot straight to his gut. The feel of her small waist under his hand felt so right. It jerked him back to a time when he’d thought that she could be the girl to break down his walls. The one who would tame the monster inside him. The one who wouldn't leave.
Chapter 6
Cate's skin tingled where Gabriel had placed his hand. She’d never thought she'd see him again, and yet here they were, walking down the streets of Georgetown towards Waterfront Park.
They passed by the splash fountains and took the path beside the water. A cool breeze blew across the river, and although it was warm, Cate felt a chill spread goose bumps across her arms. She wasn't sure if it was from Gabriel's proximity or the breeze. She was going with the breeze.
Castle Investigations Box Set Page 29
