“I don’t like him.” Gabriel’s voice coiled around me.
“I do.”
“You can’t trust him, he’s rummaged through your mail.”
“He picked up our box. Relax Gabriel, it was a coffee, not a marriage proposal.”
He grunted at me and stormed out of the room, leaving me to wonder what being married to Björn Hellström would be like.
When Björn knocked on doors, it sounded like a hammer was slamming against the wood.
“Come in,” I yelled from my chair, I was mid-sentence and elbow deep in Mia’s mind. I needed to finish. I needed to document her confusion and heartbreak, her torment at having to make a choice she didn’t want to but knew she had to.
He came to stand behind me, remaining silent the room filled with the click clacking of my keyboard.
“I just need to finish this.”
“Take your time.” He gave me a wide grin and walked over to the couch.
For ten minutes I typed furiously, my heart beating with Mia’s, breaking with hers, weeping.
I sucked in a deep breath. Poor Mia.
I saved and turned to face Björn who was sitting on the couch watching me intently. It was then I noticed the book in his hand. He caught the flicker of my eyes and his smile broadened.
He flipped through the pages and smacked the book on his thighs. “I read your book.”
“And you still came back?” I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow.
“This, is a very interesting read Jane Miller. No wonder you changed your name. I bet you don’t want your mom to know you wrote this.”
“My mother is dead.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” I shrugged and realised how cold I must have sounded. I softened. “It happened a very long time ago. One day she just … left me. Died.”
“I’m very sorry Jane, I didn’t mean to –”
“I know, you didn’t.” I gave him a small smile. “It happened a very long time ago.” I slunk into the sofa next to him.
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“That must have been hard.”
I just nodded.
“What about your dad?”
“She took him with her…”
“Shit Jane.” He grabbed my hand squeezing it gently.
“It’s OK.”
“It’s not. Who took care of you?”
Who took care of me? That goddamn piece of shit did.
“My mother’s brother. We moved around a lot.” I didn’t elaborate.
“You must have been so lonely.”
Why are we talking about this? My stomach twisted itself in knots and my jaw clenched. Gabriel came to my side, rubbing my shoulders, soothing the pain, scowling at Björn’s hand on mine.
“I was, but I had company.” I grimaced feeling the flush creep across my cheeks, regretting my big mouth.
“Tell me.” Björn’s eyes were filled with concern and keen interest. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”
“And if you do?”
“Write about me in one of your books and kill my character off.” We chuckled at the prospect.
“Deal.” We shook hands and his landed on my thigh.
“I had an imaginary friend. I called her Alison, she came with me everywhere. The thing about an imaginary friend is that they don’t stay behind.” I winced.
His hand shot to my face, his fingers tracing my cheek. “Don’t make excuses for doing what you had to do to survive. You’ve had a tough time, you were a kid. I think it’s sweet.”
I bit my lip wondering what he might think if he knew of my current imaginary friend.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Gabriel’s abrasive voice taunted at my ear. I shook him off, Björn’s hand fell from my face.
“It was silly.”
“What happened to Alison?”
“She disappeared after Josh and I broke up.” I could see the surprise as it registered across his face and disappeared just as quickly. “It was almost four years ago.”
Björn remained silent. Was he waiting for more or was I just uncomfortable in the silence which is why I always needed something to fill it with?
“It was a short relationship, lasted less than a year. He was cheating on me with some slut anyway. I caught them with his dick in her mouth. It was over after that and I haven’t seen either of them since.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation into your past, we all have baggage and ex’s.”
“I can’t believe anyone would ever let you go.” Fuck did I just say that out loud?
Björn chuckled. “I am quite the catch,” he winked. “But for some, I am only a pretty face, no one wants to know what’s inside.”
“Their loss.” He nodded, the air between us suddenly charged.
Björn broke eye contact and cleared his throat. Flipping through his copy of Guarding Gabriel. “As I was saying, I read your book.”
“Yes?” my heart rate accelerated.
“I was hoping you could sign it for me?”
“Sure.”
When I went to grab it, he placed the book on the opposite side of him. If I was going to take it, I would have to stretch across his body.
“I was wondering.” His voice was low and heavy. “How do you get your scenes so vivid, so… real?”
I turned my body to his, stretching across him, toward the book. I could feel the hardness of his pecs and roundness of his thick strong arms. His hand dropped along my waist.
My face was inches from his. The glacial inferno blazed in blue flames. I was frozen, mesmerised. I brushed his lips with my own. A sliver of a kiss, a taste. “Lots and lots of research,” I whispered into his mouth.
His hot breath stalled, then his hands wrapped themselves around me, pulling me close. I could feel his chest against mine, rising and falling, his heartbeat, drumming through me, echoing my desire. His lips found mine. soft and thick, warm and inviting. I sank into his warmth, my hands raking through his silky hair, pulling him deeper, closer. He tasted like exotic places and familiarity, like a dream that made you smile. He smelled like forests and earth, a place where you could plant roots and grow.
I released him, relishing the thought. I pushed away from Bjorn, his taste lingering in my mouth as I reached for the book and left the couch. I dropped the book on my desk. And turned back to see Björn’s eyes observing me, stalking me, seeking me.
He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to sign my book?” his voice was low and strained, this is not what he wanted to be talking about.
“I will, but I want to think about what I’m going to write.”
“Oh? I thought it was a simple to Björn from Jane.”
“It could be.”
“Or?”
“You need an example?”
“Yes.”
“Well…” I took long strides closing the distance between us. I slid in beside him, his hand atomically falling around my shoulders. “How about, ‘to Björn, can’t wait to show you how I do my research, Jane.’”
He swallowed hard. And then his lips were on mine. Hungry, possessive, insatiable.
When we came up for air he said, “I think I like that dedication.”
He didn’t give me a chance to reply. Instead, his big body pushed mine onto the couch and there we were. Like horny teenagers, kissing, exploring, giggling. Me, him, us, and his lingering smell, the smell that said that maybe this is where I plant roots.
When he left, my lips felt raw and used, while his were red and tinged around the edges. We may have kissed for hours, I was lost in him. In his thick lips and black hair, strong arms and chiselled jaw. Like an addict, I wanted more, insatiable. He was just too tasty, too delectable, so sweet. I needed more sweet.
“I would like to take you out for dinner.” He flicked his tongue over his reddened lips. “Tomorrow?”
“Like a date?” My insides curled; I hadn’t been on a date since…
“Yes.”
“I would love to.” It was time to move on.
“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He gave me a quick peck knowing that if he was to kiss me deeper, he would stay longer and maybe the kissing would lead to other things we both knew our bodies wanted. But there he was, a perfect gentleman. My mind shot to Leon again, and my stomach churned. Is that why I was so drawn to him? I shook the thought away.
“See you tomorrow.” Björn walked down the hall and to his own apartment. I watched his swagger until he closed his door behind him then leaned against the wall, my heart leaping, thundering with joy, sadness, regret, opportunity.
“It won’t end well.” Gabriel came to stand in front of me.
“Stop it.”
“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt again Jane.” Gabriel gave me a soft peck on the cheek.
“I know exactly what you want.” I pushed him away.
“I can tell you want it too, let me give you release Jane, let me help you.” He traced a hand down from my shoulder his thumb finding my nipple, pinching it lightly as he continued.
I grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I’m fine Gabriel. I’m better than fine.”
I could see the anger flash in his eyes, like lightning strike in a dark field. “Is this going to be like last time?”
I gave Gabriel a long lingering look. “I hope not. Now let’s go write.”
2003
It took six months for me to finish that first book. Without me really noticing, Gabriel became a constant. He was no longer an idea. No longer a shadow, but a real thing. A presence that lurked and remained and became more real and solid the more I wrote about him, the more I poured myself into him.
I found an editor who tore through the pages. She loved the story. She loved my Gabriel and had offered to set up a meeting with a well-known agent.
To say I was ecstatic would have been an understatement. When I put down the phone, I jumped up and down in my apartment. I may have screamed a little too because the urgent knock on the door pulled me from my ecstasy.
“Jane, are you OK?” it was Grish. Of course it was.
I threw myself into his arms. “My editor loved the story I wrote, she wants to introduce me to an agent.”
Despite being stiff at my outwardly show of affection, his arms folded around me for a few seconds. “I am proud of you Jane. I knew you could do it.” The smile he gave me was genuine and bright, and I felt like all the suns of the universe were shining down on me. “Come on,” he said in his sing-song voice while his head lolled. “Let's go celebrate.
“Now?”
“Yes now, grab a jacket, meet me by the elevator.”
I could see the lightness in his step, the joy that oozed from his body. All for me. No one had ever been that happy for me. I could feel my mouth stretch further, the smile stupid and delicious.
We walked down the street to the park, Grish led me to the waiting ice-cream van and asked me to pick a flavour. I felt like a child rewarded for good behaviour.
“Chocolate and vanilla, please.”
The man scooped out the ice-cream on a large sugar cone and handed it to me. Grish ordered vanilla with chocolate flakes. I wished I knew about the chocolate flakes. He paid the man, and we walked to a bench that overlooked the small duck pond.
“Whenever my daughter achieved something she was proud of, I would bring her here. I was proud of her anyway, but she needed to be proud of herself too. She always picked the strawberry and vanilla flavour and we would come to sit here, on this bench, and she would tell me all about it.” He licked his ice-cream his eyes melancholy. “You would have liked her.” He smiled.
We sat in a comfortable silence licking our ice-cream and watching the world drift by.
“Now tell me, what is this book of yours about?” Grish gestured with his hand and put the ice-cream back to his mouth.
I cringed internally. There was no way I could tell Grish what it was really about. “It’s a romance.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you know, the usual, boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“I’m sure it can’t be that simple.”
“There may be a few complications along the way.” I gave him a wide smile.
“Indeed.” He swayed his head in the way that he did.
We finished our ice-cream in silence.
“When is your meeting?” he stood up signalling I do the same.
I followed him. We walked down the path surrounding the park, his long strides casual and relaxed like a man who had no problems.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to hear back from my editor. I mean the agent might not even -”
“Of course, she will,” he cut me off. “Believe in things Jane and they become true enough.”
I just nodded. If he only knew how right he was.
Clarice Bonner was what one might call ‘out there.’ Her eccentricity was worn like a second skin. Everything from her thick-rimmed glasses that were far too big for her mousy face. Her hair shaved on one side and rolled into a purple wave on the top of her head, her ugly knee-high boots and yellow socks that disappeared under a brown skirt. The hot pink shirt covered in the fake fur, waist-high jacket, down to her too small handbag that meant she had to carry half her accessories in her hands. It was a tragic mismatch of clothing as if ten different eighties fashion styles met in a bar and somehow fornicated giving them a way to coexist as one freakishly ugly thing.
Yet, she carried it with utter confidence and not a care in the world. I was sipping a glass of water when she walked in, directly over to my table.
“Jane?”
“Miss Bonner?”
“Clarice!” she threw a large black diary, a cell phone, a notebook and a few other random accessories onto the table and bent down to kiss my cheeks. “How are you darling?”
“I’m great, thank you for –”
“What are you drinking?” She sat down ignoring my thanks.
“Water.”
She pouted, and I was unsure how to interpret the look in her eyes. She waved to a waiter and asked for boiling water with a tea bag on the side. She glared at me until I ordered a coffee.
She waited until the waiter left, then grabbed my hands from across the table. “Janey, Jane. Let me be honest with you. When I heard about your manuscript, I thought, here we go, another over the top explicit novel with zero plot.” She exhaled, a long dramatic thing, that lasted an entire century. Her hold tightened around my hands as she squeezed, her face changed breaking into an exaggerated smile. “But, oh Jane, then I read your pages, and asked for more. I devoured your book.”
Her head rotated as she looked around the room then focused back on me. “Oh my, your character development is second to none, poor old Mia, my heart breaks for her and oh, Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel.” Her hand was fanning her face. “What a man, what a relationship, your writing is so raw and real, so painful and evocative. Tell me Jane. What are you working on next?”
I was levitating somewhere above the table. Her words lifting me higher than I had ever anticipated, she liked my work, she loved Gabriel. Of course, she did. He was easy to love.
“Next?” I calmed my heart rate just enough to speak.
“Yes, next, when we sell your book, we want to sign at least a three-book deal, we need to know you have so much more coming than just this. Tell me you have more, I need more Gabriel in my life, I think we all do.” She gave me a wink, and I shuddered. She was older than what my mother would have been.
Next. “Yes, I am.”
“Excuse me?”
“I am working on my next book, as you know Gabriel and Mia run into some trouble at the end of the book –”
“Oh yes, why did you do that to me Jane? Broke my heart! Do they figure it all out in your next one? Wait don’t tell me, I want to be surprised.”
I clamp my mouth shut and wait as the waiter places our drinks
on the table.
“Can we also get two glasses of Champagne?” The waiter nodded at her, and I glanced over to the wall clock. She caught my eye.
“It’s after five somewhere, and anyway, we are celebrating dear. You just scored yourself an agent.” Her smile spread and her teeth glowed too bright in the fluorescent lighting of the shop.
“I did?” I must have screamed it because all heads suddenly turned and looked at us. I guess Clarice was used to the attention as she didn’t bat an eyelid.
“Yes darling, I don’t just step out of the office for anyone.”
When the Champagne arrived, we clinked our glasses and the ring was a soft melody like a choir of angels, the flavour sweet like nectar of the gods. I felt as if life was finally on my side. Good things would happen from now on.
Clarice stayed for another thirty minutes. We discussed upcoming paperwork with her office and how she planned on selling my book and to who. When she left, she had a dance in her step, I wondered if it was the three glasses of alcohol or the fact, she just signed a hot new client.
Me.
I almost squealed at the thought. I made it home, barely, my face holding in the imminent explosion of glee.
I threw my bag on the couch and jumped up and down squealing like a little kid. No, she hadn’t sold the book to anyone yet, and yes, I still had light years to go in the industry as I would soon learn, but this victory, it was massive, important and one that was the beginning of this shift in my life.
I was happy, delighted, ecstatic, and a little tipsy. I needed to celebrate with someone. I picked up my phone and scrolled through a list of names knowing the one person I wanted around wouldn’t touch me.
I texted him anyway.
“You’ll have to fire me soon, I just scored an agent, I’m going to be a famous writer and I won’t need your fancy job anymore.”
Three dots appeared on my screen. I held my breath in anticipation. “Congratulations. I look forward to it.”
That was all.
It was something so small, a crumb really, but he told me he was looking forward to firing me, or to my success. Either way, it lit a hotter fire inside. One that needed quenching. One that needed Barry.
Guarding Gabriel Page 10
