by Cathy Quinn
"Good guess."
"What about your mother?"
Gabriel’s gaze flickered, then he shrugged. "Whatever problems are between my father and me, she’s staying out of it, like a good diplomat."
"Which means she’s taking his side."
"Like a good wife."
There was sarcasm in his tone now. This was obviously a juicy story. And he wasn’t talking.
He would. Sooner or later.
Alice plopped down on an exercise mat and got comfortable. "Tell me more. I need to know which side I should be taking."
"I wasn’t happy with ... some things my father did. He refused to discuss it, or do anything about it. So – I quit."
"Was this a personal disagreement, or something at work?’
"Personal. Now stop it, Alice."
"Was there a huge explosion? Are you out of the will and forbidden to darken their doorstep again?"
Gabriel laughed wryly. "Maybe. I don’t know."
"You’re not speaking."
"Nope."
"To either of them?"
He hesitated. "I’m not quite sure how my mother feels about all this."
"So, what happens now?"
He shrugged. "I’m just taking it easy while I look for another job. Got a few options, and I’m thinking things through."
Alice frowned. "Gabriel – you are going to make up with your father, aren’t you? I mean – you haven’t always gotten along, but you’re more alike then you think."
He cast her a wry look. "Think so?"
"You’re father and son. You should make up!"
Gabriel threw his water bottle in the general direction of his gym bag and started doing stretching exercises. "That’s up to him."
"Up to him? No compromise? No meeting him halfway?"
"No. Not this time."
She waited, but in vain. "Gabriel, getting you to talk is like waiting for hot water in your shower."
He flashed her another one of those lethal smiles. "I’ve fixed it. Come over for a hot shower anytime."
The suggestion gave her goose-bumps, but she tried to ignore them. He was actually talking about himself. Admittedly she was dragging every word out of him, but still, it was a rare gift, and she’d better make the most of it before he clammed up again.
"So you’re not working at all now?"
"No. I’ve got a few job offers lined up, but I decided to take a couple of weeks off and not make any hasty decision about what to do next. In the meantime, I can work on the house."
"Why are you living in a house, anyway? It’s a family house, and you don’t even have a girlfriend. Not even a dog! Just a few dumb fishes. What are you up to?"
"None of your business."
"What’s your plan for the future?"
Gabriel smiled his ‘none-of-your-business’ smile, and she was about to pry further when a group of giggling young women, looking like a rainbow-hued commercial for sportswear, entered the gym. Gabriel straightened up and a look of almost fear crossed his face.
"You look terrified," she commented.
"I am," Gabriel growled. "With good reason, too."
"What in the world did they do to you last time?"
Gabriel shook his head. "You don’t want to know.
Alice grinned and touched his arm. "Don’t worry," she whispered. "This time I’m here to watch your back."
And any other available parts, of course.
Chapter 6
Alice limped around the offices the following day. Even an hour at the gym twice a week had never left her feeling this battered. On the upside, she’d discovered all sorts of new muscles in the most unlikely places, simply because they hurt so much.
The second class had been interesting. The college girls had ignored her, just as they would the broomstick she had replaced, and buzzed around Gabriel as a single-minded hive. Still he’d said this was nothing compared with the previous week.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know just what they’d done to him then, but judging by the look on his face when he’d been surrounded by the giggling horde, the scars still hadn’t healed. She snickered at the thought, then winced at the pain in her stomach muscles.
"It even hurts just to suck in my stomach," she complained to Susan during lunch.
"Why are you sucking in your stomach for?" Susan asked, stirring her yogurt.
"I’m figuring if I do that enough, it’ll compensate for all those sit-ups I don’t do."
"Hm. Interesting idea. I should try that."
"If I get attacked at my date tonight, I won’t even be able to use any of my new tricks because I’m too sore to move," she grumbled. "Gabriel will have to come to my rescue instead."
"Yeah? Hot date tonight?"
Alice shrugged. "First date. Haven’t met him, just seen a picture. He looks nice enough. I don’t know a lot about him, we’ve just exchanged a couple of emails. We’ll see."
"What’s this about Gabriel coming to your rescue?"
"Er... I’m helping him out at the gym, and instead, he acts as my bodyguard at the blind dates. Something like that." It wouldn’t do her street cred much good to admit Gabriel was calling all the shots – making her take the self-defense course and insisting on being her bodyguard.
"Be careful."
She rolled her eyes. "Not you too."
"Your brother wouldn’t be thrilled about this, you know."
"You’re not telling him."
"I suppose I’m not," Susan muttered, "but he won’t be thrilled when he finds out I kept this from him."
Alice tossed her apple core into the garbage can and stood up. "I’ll keep you posted."
Back at her desk, the new mail icon was flashing. When she saw the sender’s name, she opened the mail with a huge grin. It was short. "Memorize this list. There will be a quiz."
Alice opened the attachment and leaned forwards on her elbows as she read the contents. It was a long list. It looked like he’d culled together several lists of precautions to take when "meeting a stranger", and added some advice of his own. The results were two full pages of do’s and don’ts, with header that said "Staying Alive," and a PS: "I hate going to funerals."
How bossy. And yet kind of sweet.
And far too big-brotherly, damnit.
***
She had to see about moving away from home, Alice reflected for about the two-thousandth-time this year, as she got home and trudged up the stairs to the tiny apartment over her parents’ garage. Lost in thought, she screamed as someone sitting on the top step stood up. A black and white cat darted between her legs, down the stairs and was gone.
"Gabriel? What are you doing here?"
"Getting ready to give you your quiz before you go on your suicide mission."
"You’re impossible, Gabriel," she said, climbing the last few steps as she dug into her purse for her keys. "Thanks for the email missive. Several adjectives, including overprotective and paranoid, spring to mind, but still, thanks."
"Did you memorize the list?"
"I read it." She finally located her keys, still not having gotten the hang of the new system in her purse, and unlocked the door. Gabriel followed her inside.
"Good. Planning on following the directions?"
"Sure. At least half."
He sent her a grim look. "Watch it, Alice. I’m serious."
"I know. The bit about funerals punched that home. Nice touch."
"Did it scare you?"
"Don’t look so hopeful, Gabriel." She peered into her tiny fridge. "Let’s test out my mind-reading skills: you’re dying for .... skimmed milk right now? Lord, I need to go shopping."
"Did you give this guy any personal information?"
She rolled her eyes, and got out the ice cubes. If nothing else, she did have ice water to offer her guests. "Surprising as that may be, Gabriel, I am being cautious. He only knows my first name, and nothing he could use to identify me. The restaurant is not near where I live, I won’t be driving my car
so he can’t see the license plate. And I’ll take a taxi home, making sure he’s not following. Not to mention all the dangerous stuff I’m carting around in my purse these days. See? About half the stuff on your list."
"Okay," he murmured. "Not bad."
"So glad you approve," she said dryly.
"But I’m still coming with you." He grabbed a notepad from a shelf and tossed on the table. "Name and address of the restaurant."
"How about I just call you from there, to let you know I’m okay?"
"Nope. I’m coming with you. Name and address. I need to book a table for one."
She scribbled the address on the pad, then looked him up and down. Oh, Lord. A bright red t-shirt. Where did he find those colors? From a catalogue called Fashion Accessories in a Color-Blind World? "You’re not going to look like this, are you?"
"This is a fancy place?"
"In that t-shirt, people are going to mistake you for the lobster and I don’t suppose you fancy being tossed into hot water."
"I don’t know. If the right girl in a bikini joined me..."
"Lobsters girls have claws, not bikinis."
"A guy can dream, can’t he?"
"Gabriel, I hate to tell you this, but your fantasies need work."
"Yeah? Suggestions?"
Alice was too flustered to think straight. Every time she thought Gabriel might be flirting with her, might no longer look at her as a little sister, it turned out to be just friendly teasing instead. But every time, he got her with that glint in his eyes, and she didn’t have the faintest idea if he meant it or not.
She kicked a table leg in frustration. Suppose she just asked him? That was an option. A somewhat scary option, but suppose she just opened her mouth and asked "Gabriel, are you flirting with me, or just teasing?"
"Huh?"
Oh, Lord! She’d actually spoken aloud. She stopped herself halfway through sinking between the sofa cushions to disappear into the wastelands of dust under the sofa, and straightened her back. Why not just ask him? It was the logical thing. Definitely a thing a modern women would do. "Sometimes I don’t know what to make of you. So, just to avoid a misunderstanding: are you flirting with me or not?"
Gabriel stared at her for several seconds, then used several more to slowly empty his glass of water. Then he picked the ice cubes out of the glass and popped them in the mouth. Even more seconds passed as the room was filled with the noise of ice crunching between his teeth.
Alice rolled her eyes. "Gee, Gabriel, would you like a day or two to think it over?"
"You’re Michael’s little sister," he said slowly.
She sighed inwardly. It always came down to that, didn’t it? What was that, some stupid honor code among guys? Thou Shall Not Mess Around with Thy Friend’s Little Sister? "What has that got to do with anything?"
"I taught you to ride a bike."
"Yeah." She pulled up the cuff on her pants and revealed her knee. "See? I still bear the scars."
He stared at her knee. "I’m doing this to help you find your perfect guy, your soulmate, the one you’re going be happy with forever and be buried next to so you can be together ‘for all eternity’. Right?"
She shifted, uncomfortable not knowing if he was making fun at her. "Well, yes."
"I’m not that kind of a guy." He shook his head. "I don’t know if anyone is, but definitely not me. So, even if I flirt with you, which I shouldn’t do, because you’re off-limits for your own good, the smart thing for you would be do run in the opposite direction. Get it? So if I do – accidentally – you should ignore it."
Okay. That put her in her place.
She didn’t feel too rejected though, because there was this wistful regret in his voice, as if he didn’t quite agree with himself and his reasoning.
Maybe he’d change his mind.
Maybe she’d make him change his mind. The time they’d spent together lately had molded her crush into an intense attraction she was having one hell of a time fighting. Especially as she didn’t want to fight it.
She wanted to give in – and she wanted him to give in.
But he didn’t want to want her, did he? And if Gabriel never changed his mind, maybe one of the A-Z guys would turn out to make her heart flutter and her palms sweat. Maybe Gabriel was just one of many who had a direct link to her libido, maybe one of her alphabetized guys would also be able to melt her bones with just a look or a smile. It could happen.
"Fine. I was just checking."
"It’s not that you’re not..." He shoved a hand through his hair repeatedly and tried again. "It’s not that I’m not...." A curse flew out of his mouth and a shrug told her he gave up on phrasing his thoughts. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about." She jiggled her glass and held it out towards him, ecstatic that she’d gotten him so flustered. That had to mean something, right? "You look a bit hot, Gabriel. Want my ice cubes?"
* * *
It had been a long, sleepless, hot night. She’d even contemplated following Gabriel’s lead and munching on ice cubes just to keep cool. Eventually, sleep had claimed her, but she wasn’t sure which had been the worse – or rather, better – the dreams or the fantasies.
Both made her blush.
Instead of heading for her own cubicle, she ambled into Susan’s office and shut the door behind her. She needed civilized intelligent conversation. Something to take her mind off Gabriel. Maybe they could chat about clothes for a while. Or botany. Foreign policy. Even work.
Anything to get her mind off Gabriel.
"Hi." Susan wiggled fingers at her without looking away from the computer screen. "What’s up?"
Alice leaned against the door and reviewed all the non-Gabriel related topics she had mapped out. She had plenty of them. Plenty of safe, neutral, impersonal topics.
She chose one and opened her mouth to comment on the upcoming winter fashions.
"I’m a pervert," she blurted out.
Susan looked up, but didn’t seem all that shocked at this momentous revelation. Not so much as an eyebrow was raised. "Aren’t we all?"
Alice clenched her fists, shoved them into her pockets and paced the floor. "You don’t understand. I am so bad." She took a deep breath. "I’m having wicked, lewd, depraved, debauched fantasies about a man."
"Mmmmm. Those are nice, aren’t they?"
Alice fell down into the chair opposite Susan’s desk and stared into air. "I’m thinking naked showers in the front yard. Sex in the back of a pickup."
Susan’s eyebrows went up at that. "Interesting. Whose pickup are we talking about here?"
"Camping up in the mountains. Against the cliffs, with view down over valleys and hills..."
"German tourists hiking by..."
"I’d borrow your dog. She’d keep guard and bark if anyone got close to getting close."
"Take it from me, you don’t want that dog watching. She kills the mood quicker than football on television does."
"Or maybe in the middle of the forest. Nature romance. Sunlight seeping down through the leaves, bathing everything in a green glow, birds chirping, the breeze rustling the leaves..."
"Been there, done that. Got a swollen behind. Don’t forget the bug spray."
Alice crashed back to reality. "Whoa. You’re my brother’s girlfriend. I think we just crossed over into the too much information lane."
Susan just chuckled and leaned back in her chair. "So, what are you going to do about those torrid fantasies?"
Alice answered with a glare.
"Hmm," Susan mused. "Don’t give me that! You’re a 21s century woman. Please don’t tell me you’re going to wait primly in a corner, pining away if he doesn’t make the first move?"
"It’s not that simple..."
"I mean – we’d have to fire you."
Alice blinked. "Huh?"
Susan pointed at her with a pen. "Don’t you see? We can’t have a 19th century woman copy-editing articles for the 21st century woman. Who knows what kind of arcane at
titude would creep in..."
"Arcane? I am not arcane!" Alice muttered an un-arcane word. "I am a 21st century woman!"
"Excellent. Go get him, then!"
"He doesn’t want to be gotten!"
"So what?"
"That does make it difficult, don’t you agree?"
Susan shrugged. "It’s part of the challenge. Why doesn’t he want to be gotten?"
"To him I’m still a surrogate baby sister, the tree-climbing monkey he taught how to ride a bike."
Susan cackled. "It’s Gabriel? Hah! I knew it!"
Alice bit her lip and scowled. "You did not know anything."
"Yes, I did. He’s totally hot – don’t tell your brother I said so – and you’ve idolized him forever, haven’t you?"
"Fine. Whatever. The problem is -- how do I make him see me as a sex object when he insists on focusing on my six-year-old scraped knee?"
"Hmm." Susan mused. "From Tomboy to Temptress: Ten Easy Tips." She scribbled something on a pad. "Not a bad idea for an article."
"First tip, please?"
Susan winked at her. "LCD."
"Huh?"
"Lowest common denominator."
"Oh. Right. Which is?"
