The only gown left was the one she was wearing. She’d bought it on a shopping spree with Frankie—with her fashionable sister’s mild approval—shortly before Lawrence had dumped her. She’d never actually worn it out. She would have returned it to the store, in fact, except it had been a clearance dress and it had been less embarrassing just to shove it in the back of her closet than go back to the store and admit she hadn’t needed the dress after all.
Not when her fiancé had decided she didn’t need to accompany him to any more fund-raisers. Or to anything else, for that matter. He particularly didn’t want her working on his reelection campaign. What was the point, since she didn’t have a pipeline into the treasures of the HuntCom empire after all?
She let go of her hair and it fell down past her shoulders, settling into its usual disarray. Her hand swept down the folds of gleaming fabric that fell in a column from the empire waist. The gown had tiny cap sleeves that were little more than wide straps hugging the points of her shoulders. The front of the bodice was cut low and straight across her breasts, leaving more of her cleavage on view than Bobbie was accustomed to. But Frankie hadn’t vetoed the dress, so Bobbie could only cross her fingers in the hope that it suited her as much as anything could.
Her phone jangled, startling her from her critical study of her self, and she picked up the extension on the nightstand. “Hello?”
“Bobbie?” The deep voice was unfamiliar. “This is Quentin. Quentin Rich. I’ve been hoping to reach you.”
She wrinkled her nose. The guy who’d left the phone message. Tucking the phone against her shoulder, she stepped over Archimedes, who was sleeping in the doorway, and went into the bathroom to rummage through the drawer for some hairpins. Where were the sparkly ones that Georgie had given her for Christmas? “Right. Quentin.” Whom she still couldn’t remember. “How are you?”
“Great. Just great. Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to meet up again. There’s a new restaurant that’s been getting rave reviews I’ve been dying to take you to.”
She lifted her eyebrows, a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Really. Dying, huh?”
“I know you’d love the place,” he continued confidently. “You actually dine in the dark. So you don’t even see what’s on your plate. It’s all very…tactile.”
“Messy, you mean.” She couldn’t help but laugh, as it finally came to her when they’d met. “Which seemed fitting, since you saw me spill a plate of hors d’oeuvres on myself at last year’s Christmas party.”
“It was hardly your fault,” he assured quickly. “And that wasn’t it at all.”
She rolled her eyes and slammed the drawer shut. Maybe the hair clips were in her jewelry box. “As I recall, you were pitching some sort of software to HuntCom. How’d that go?” She hitched up her dress again, stepping over the dogs on her way to her dresser.
“Great. Just great. Mr. Hunt’s taken quite a personal interest lately, too.”
A stray thought had her hesitating. “Which Mr. Hunt?” As far as she knew, Gray was way too occupied with helming the worldwide company while keeping up with his wife and their kids to get personally involved with a software project that even she remembered had been relatively small and unexciting.
“Harrison,” Quentin provided smoothly. “I’ll admit it’s pretty flattering to have such a pioneer taking an interest in my work—”
The man prattled on, but Bobbie barely heard.
Harry.
First it had been Tim Boering. And now it was this guy. She hadn’t had so much as a date since Lawrence dumped her, but now, in a matter of weeks, she’d had two men claiming interest. And both were connected to Harry?
Suspicion niggled at her, but she dismissed it. Admittedly, Harry was one of the most manipulative—if oddly charming—men that Bobbie knew. But he knew what a blow the whole Lawrence episode had been; she couldn’t imagine why he’d nudge guys her way now. He never had before.
If anything, he was probably looking for some innocuous per son to keep Quentin and his latest software project safely entertained.
Satisfied with her reasoning, she snatched up the sparkling hair clips shaped like daisies where they were buried beneath a jumble of inexpensive earrings and necklaces that would have given the orderly Georgie fits. “Listen, Quentin, I’m sorry, but I’m just on my way out.” Nearly.
“Ah. Then why don’t I call you tomorrow?”
“No!” She winced a little at her own vehemence. “I mean, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m—”
“—seeing someone again already, I suppose.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words didn’t come. A vision of Gabe and his children crowding around her coffee table the night before to wolf down the best pizza Seattle had to offer swam inside her head much too readily.
“Well…” She forced a little laugh, hoping he’d draw his own conclusions without her actually having to tell an outright lie. She’d never claimed that she wasn’t a coward. And she didn’t want to hurt his feelings any more than she’d wanted to hurt Boering’s. They were associates of her Uncle Harry’s, after all.
“Message understood,” Quentin was saying. “But seriously, if you change your mind, you have my number.”
“Right.” Actually, she didn’t, since she’d erased his earlier message with no thought or regret whatsoever. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve really got to run now.”
“Sure. Good night, Bobbie.”
“’Bye, Quentin.” She quickly disconnected and tossed the phone on her jumbled bed. “Zeus, remind me to tell Uncle Harry I’m not the welcoming committee lady the next time I see him, will you?”
Zeus yawned hugely, then lowered his head down onto his outstretched paws.
“Thanks for the support,” Bobbie muttered. She stepped over him again to reach the mirror and pinned back several curls of hair with Georgie’s fancy little clips. Then she pushed her feet into the shimmery silver shoes with the deadly spiked heels that Frankie had insisted were made to go with the gown and grabbed the long, black cashmere coat that had been a birth day present from her mother two years earlier.
There was no need for her purse since she was just going across to the main house. She swung the coat around her shoulders and snatched up the box containing the scrapbook she’d made as a gift for Fiona, then headed outside.
The enormous tent that had been erected on the graceful lawn was surrounded by little white lights that sparkled wetly in the damp night air. She could hear the band playing some old, sedate melody that sounded more in keeping with a museum opening than a birthday celebration and as she neared the tent, she could see that only a few couples were moving about on the dance floor. The floor was surrounded by linen and crystal-covered round tables, most of them occupied, and the nervousness that Bobbie had been more or less successfully holding at bay since she’d woken up that morning came barreling down the chute.
A uniformed young man carrying a gilded tray of filled champagne flutes crossed her path. “Wait.” The heels of her fancy shoes sunk into the grass a little as she took a step after him. “Can I—”
“Certainly.” He waited for her to take one of the flutes, which she did carefully lest she knock the other glasses over.
“Thanks.” She took a quick drink as her gaze skimmed over the crowd. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the birth day girl is, would you?”
“Inside, I believe.” The young man continued on his way toward the guests.
Bobbie looked up at the deep terrace that led into the house. There were tables and guests there, too. She took another sip of champagne, chiding herself inwardly for feeling so nervous.
She’d spent several thoroughly enjoyable hours with Gabe and his children the evening before and he hadn’t uttered one single syllable about his suggestion that she pretend to be his fiancée for the benefit of his child custody case. If anything, he’d treated her more like a sister. Certainly not like someone he’d twisted inside
out with his very kiss.
And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to her privately, because after they’d ravenously consumed the pizza that she’d talked him into letting her order while he’d been wedged into her bathroom working on the floor, Todd and Lisette had been totally occupied playing with the dogs in the yard outside.
For all she knew, he’d come to his senses and realized the potholes in his thinking, so there would be no need for her to get into all the reasons why going along with his scheme was a bad idea.
Tightening her arm around the large gift-wrapped box, she went up the shallow steps to the terrace. On the way, she recognized Kanya, the community affairs manager from the company that Fiona was hoping to get that substantial grant from, and stopped long enough to exchange pleasantries. Hers was the only familiar face that Bobbie saw.
But when she spotted Gabe standing just inside the open French doors of the living room, she forgot how to speak altogether.
Over the years, Bobbie figured she’d seen countless men in countless tuxedos. But not once had she ever been dumbstruck by the very sight. He looked…magnificent.
It wasn’t just the formal wear, though the midnight-blue jack et and trousers were miles away from his usual jeans and T-shirt. He’d slicked back his dark hair from his face and when he shifted, looking out over the terrace, even from several yards away she was struck by the sharp angles of his handsome face, by the startling clarity of his blue, blue eyes.
And then those eyes turned her way.
His lips turned up at the corners and even though she knew it was fanciful of her, when his hand left his pocket to lift in her direction, it all seemed to happen in an achingly slow motion, accompanied by a swell of music from the band.
Her stomach dipped and swayed woozily, and she had the ridiculous sense that her life, in that moment, had just changed forever.
“So we’re hoping to get an answer for Fiona on the grant,” she heard Kanya saying, though it might as well have been gibberish.
Bobbie dragged in a shaking breath and swallowed hard, mumbling something—hopefully coherent—to Kanya before she headed toward Gabe and his extended palm.
Only when she neared the open doors did she notice the other people he was with. Two men easily as tall as he was, though not quite as broad in the shoulders, but with hair equally as dark as Gabe’s. She guessed that they were his older brothers, Liam and Paul. And the women with them were undoubtedly their wives—who looked like cookie-cutter socialites with their upswept hair, diamonds circling their long throats and strapless black gowns showing their svelte figures to their best advantage.
They were so picture-perfect that Bobbie felt even more like a schoolgirl playing at dress-up.
Then Gabe stepped out onto the terrace, closing the distance between them. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to come and find you,” he greeted. His gaze ran over her. “But the wait was worth every second. Let me take that.” He plucked the box out from beneath her arm. “Heavy,” he commented.
She was still shaking, and she ordered herself to get a grip. “I made a scrapbook showing everything that’s gone on at the agency since Fiona started it. You wouldn’t believe some of the dusty old boxes I hunted through,” she added nervously. “I had everyone working there helping me keep it a secret. There ended up being a, um, a lot of stuff.”
His lips tilted. “I’ll bet. And she’ll love it.” Then he leaned toward her. “You take my breath away.” His low voice whispered over her ear as his lips brushed her cheek.
She actually felt faint for a moment and stared up at him as he straightened. “How can you tell?” She cleared her throat and tugged her collar. “I’m wearing a coat.”
He brushed his thumb over her chin. “Believe me. I can tell. Everything all right?”
Except that she knew she was being dazzled by him? “Fine.” She took another sip of her champagne, willing her heart to move back down into her chest where it belonged. “I didn’t mean to be this late. I was held up this afternoon having lunch with my mother. Where’s Fiona?”
“Being held captive by my mother and some guests she’s introducing.” Gabe took her hand, setting off yet another bout of weak knees as he tucked it around his arm and turned her toward the house. He added her gift to the collection already gathered on a long table and his head lowered again so she could hear his soft voice. “Astrid doesn’t seem to recognize the irony in having to introduce someone to Fiona at Fiona’s own party.”
“Maybe we should mount a rescue,” Bobbie suggested just as softly.
Gabe’s eyes crinkled. “I knew you were a kindred spirit.”
Her smile felt shaky. The man was much too appealing. It was an effort to remind herself that he was still a man with an agenda—even as justified as his cause was.
She had no desire to get burned again, and every speck of self-preservation that she possessed was shrieking at her that she would be in even more deeply over her head where Gabriel Gannon was concerned than she had ever been with Lawrence. And even though she was finally realizing that she hadn’t wanted to die of a broken heart when that had ended, the experience had still been a humiliating disaster.
Unfortunately, there was also a small voice inside her head that was screaming at her that it was already too late.
Her fingertips pressed against the hard biceps she could feel through the very fine fabric of his exquisitely cut dinner jack et. She tipped the champagne glass to her lips again, swallowing down the last sip of the sparkling wine before depositing the glass on an elegantly draped high-top table near the doorway. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Gabe’s smile grew slowly. He covered her hand on his arm with his and squeezed as he escorted her into the house.
Several sets of eyes immediately turned toward them, but Bobbie didn’t have a chance to shy away because his hand tightened even more on hers. “Everybody, this—” he looked down at her in a way that had her heart jumping back into her throat all over again “—is Bobbie. She’s—”
“—the one renting Fiona’s carriage house,” one of the cookie-cutter wives put in with a tone that had Bobbie’s smile stiffening.
“—a close friend of mine,” Gabe continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all.
“And one of my all-time favorite people.” Fiona’s voice was as bright as her yellow gown as she swept into the room, giving Bobbie barely enough time to notice the way Gabe’s brothers had glanced at each other after his words.
“Bobbie, dear, you’ve never looked lovelier.” Fiona brushed her cheek against Bobbie’s before straightening and smiling at her and Gabe. “Give me your coat and let me see your gown. We won’t let you freeze. There are heaters going outside.”
Bobbie obediently slipped out of her coat and Fiona handed it off to a server she flagged down. “Now,” she said with satisfaction, “You two are surely the most striking couple here.”
Couple? Bobbie hoped to heaven she didn’t look as jarred as she felt hearing the term, particularly hearing it from Gabe’s own grandmother.
And the way that Gabe tucked her hand around his arm again didn’t help any.
“Grandmother, you’re going to hurt our feelings.” The same woman who’d set Bobbie’s teeth on edge pouted prettily as she snuggled up next to her husband.
Fiona waved her hand dismissively. “Renée, don’t worry. We all know you and Diana both have a closet full of beauty pageant crowns.”
Renée smiled, evidently mollified.
“Has Gabriel introduced you to everyone?” Fiona tucked her arm through Bobbie’s other one, making her feel surrounded by support.
“He was working on it.”
“Ah.” Fiona gestured to Renée and her husband, a tall man with a sprinkling of gray in his brown hair. “This is Liam and Renée.” Liam, Bobbie knew was Gabe’s oldest brother. “And Paul and Diana.” She gestured to the other couple. “Liam and Paul, of course, are the Gannon part of the Ga
nnon Law Group, along with their—oh, there he is. Colin.” Fiona waited for the tall, silver-haired man to join them. “My son, Colin. Dear, this is Bobbie Fairchild. I’ve told you about her.”
“Of course.” Bobbie found herself face to face with Gabe’s father and knew she was seeing what the future Gabe would probably look like: silver-haired and incredibly handsome. And his smile was much more natural than either Liam’s or Paul’s. More like Gabe’s, in fact. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Bobbie. I’ve met your mother, actually. She served on a committee with Astrid several years ago. She’s a lovely woman.”
“Thank you.” Bobbie managed a smile. She still felt rather like a specimen on a pin. “It’s nice to meet all of you.” She took in the others with her smile.
“And now that the niceties have been observed,” Fiona said brightly, “you all go on and have a dance.” She waved toward the French doors and the tent outside. “I’m going to see if I can get that band to play something from this century.” She headed out.
“I’d better make sure she doesn’t cross swords with Astrid again,” Colin murmured with a wry smile that reminded Bobbie even more strongly of his youngest son before he strode out the doors. His daughters-in-law were hard on his heels as they prodded Liam and Paul out into the evening.
Which left Bobbie standing there alone with Gabe and she was suddenly very aware that her breast was pressed closely against the arm she was clutching.
She moistened her lips and carefully loosened her grip, step ping a few inches away. “Your family seems nice.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “They’re judgmental and pretentious and my sisters-in-law care more about how many diamonds they’re wearing and how long they can stave off their wrinkles than anything else.”
“Gabe!”
His lips tilted. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing I haven’t told them to their faces. And they, in turn, find me as alien as I find them. But we all do care about one thing.”
“Fiona?”
“Exactly.” He turned her toward him, his hands cupping her shoulders. His thumbs brushed over the sleeves of her gown and her breathing went all scrambled again. “I did tell you how incredible you look, right?”
Once Upon a Proposal Page 7
