by Lisa Plumley
Under her feet, her porch floorboards creaked. Her porch light shone welcomingly, casting her and Shane in flattering golden light. Beyond them, the only sounds were crickets and the whoosh of faraway traffic. Her yard smelled of the roses that her Nonna Grimani had initially planted. Gabriella tended them now, inexpertly, trying to keep their beauty blossoming.
“Nice place.” Shane nodded. “I like it.”
With one final burst of self-protectiveness, Gabriella faced him. She put both hands on his chest, gently warding him off. “Thanks for driving me home. I’ve got it from here.”
“You’re not serious.” Appearing entirely and appealingly sure of that fact, he smiled at her. “I can’t come in?”
“I, um, didn’t think you’d want to,” she fibbed. Geez, she was terrible at subterfuge. Shane knew it, too. But that didn’t mean Gabriella could quit. Feeling newly nervous, she said, “It’s so late now, and we both have to work tomorrow, and—”
“And you’re so cute when you’re nervous—”
“—and we’re both so tired, and I need to vacuum—”
His gaze sharpened. “Why are you trying to ditch me?”
Awkwardly, Gabriella laughed. “I’m not! I just—”
Don’t want to find out that you’re really a bad guy.
“—don’t think you’ll be impressed when you get inside.” She waved toward her house. “Your place is so fancy. Mine … isn’t.”
“I grew up thinking ramen noodles were a delicacy. I slept without heat. When my parents forgot to pay the electric bill, I kept on eating only because I sweet-talked the little old lady next door into feeding me fried-egg sandwiches and Tang.”
“Oh. Ugh.” Feeling sorry for him, Gabriella looked up. “I didn’t know that. You seem so capable now. So on top of things.”
“Poor is poor. Not incompetent.” Shane’s gaze swerved to hers, then held. “If you don’t want me to come in, I get it.”
How could she refuse him now? She’d be a snob.
Worse, she’d be a liar. Because she wanted him inside.
She wanted him inside in every way.
Steadily, Shane watched her. Gently, he touched her.
“But I really want to come in,” he murmured, moving closer. He pressed kisses to her cheek, her mouth, her neck. His hair ruffled against hers, tousled and dark. “Please let me in.”
That was as much as Gabriella could stand. Shakily, she jangled her keys. She swallowed hard. “Your wish is my command.”
“I hope so,” Shane said, his voice husky as he followed Gabby inside. “I’d like you being mine to command again.”
He’d also like studying her home, getting to know more about her, learning what she liked and wanted. Technically, he wanted to know more about the nonsexy her. After all, he’d earned it—he’d revealed a lot more about himself than he’d planned, trying to get her to unlock the door. But he seemed to have ignited an unexpected responsiveness in Gabby in the process. Because the minute they got inside and shut the door, she pushed herself against him.
It was as though she’d waited all day to be with him.
“I’m yours,” she breathed, wrenching off her jacket. “I am. Just take me, all right? I want to forget … everything.”
Shane assumed she meant the difficult night she’d had.
But hers wasn’t an invitation he intended to decline.
No matter how much damn baring of his soul he’d had to do to gain admission to Gabby’s house, he meant to savor the time he spent there. Already he felt he’d won, just by being inside.
“I could use some forgetfulness, too,” Shane said, thinking of the frustrating realization he’d had earlier—that his rival fixer had gotten the jump on him again with that online review slam. “And maybe some TLC.”
He showed her the bandaged gash he’d gotten earlier, on the edge of his palm, while industriously chopping mushrooms for Campania’s special night. Real work wasn’t without its hazards.
Gabby looked at his bandage. “I’ve had worse.” Her gaze turned evasive. “Restaurant work can be pretty dangerous.”
“Wow,” Shane deadpanned. “That’s very nurturing of you.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m pretty sure I just did.” Eyes sparkling, Gabby wrenched at his shirt. “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”
“I get it. I’m not stupid.” With a helpless smile, Shane leaned into her. He brought his mouth to hers, very sweetly.
Gabriella grabbed his head and deepened their kiss.
Evidently, she didn’t want things to be sweet this time.
“Rougher?” Shane asked, feeling his pulse quicken. “Okay.”
He gave her a seductive look, then grabbed Gabby’s wrists. As she stared at him, he pinned her arms to the wall behind her.
“You don’t scare me,” she boasted. “I’m ready for you.”
“Oh yeah?” With another smile, Shane brought his mouth almost to hers. Her breath feathered against his lips, inciting a fresh round of shudders in both of them. “How ready are you?”
Gabby tried to complete their kiss. Shane stopped her.
“Really ready,” she gasped, staring at his mouth. “Gimme.”
“Soon,” he promised, not moving yet. He wanted to savor this moment, to lengthen the anticipation … to make Gabby love him. That became his mission for the night, in that moment. He was going to make Gabby love him. With his body. With hers.
“Now?” she pleaded. Her hips thrust against his, enticing him into moving. Her gaze locked with his. “You’ll like it.”
Her cajoling tone reminded him that he already had liked kissing her. Multiple times. Multiple ways. “I love kissing you,” Shane told her unabashedly. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste … the way you moan when I do this.”
Deliberately, he met her thrust with one of his own. Gabby’s eyes widened. Shane chuckled. His erection couldn’t do all the talking, but it could damn well start a conversation.
“Stop teasing me,” Gabby demanded, “and just do it.”
“Hmm. Maybe we’ve both waited long enough.” Shane kissed her, hard and fast, pinning her more firmly against the wall.
Gabby responded with a moan. She tried to wrench her arms free. Shane held on. He didn’t want her to get away. Not ever.
Their next kiss went on and on. Dimly, Shane felt Gabby wriggling, felt her arching her hips … felt her making him crazy.
Maybe he wasn’t really the one in charge here after all.
“Not enough,” Gabby panted. “I want more.”
“Of this?” Shane kissed her. “More of this?”
Her guttural moan answered him. “We need to be naked.”
He smiled. “No, we don’t.” To prove it, Shane released her arms. He hiked up her skirt, whisked away her panties, and found that Gabby was gratifyingly, wetly ready for him.
It was his turn to moan. He wanted her so much.
He wanted her to love him even more than that.
“You’re right. This is good enough.” With a determination that was wholly her, Gabby freed him from his jeans. A second later, she flung her arms around his neck. “Let’s go. Now.”
Shane didn’t need a second invitation. Growling with impatience and need, he lifted Gabby in his arms. Their bodies came together perfectly. He nearly came undone on the spot.
Wrapping her legs around his hips, Gabby clung to his shoulders. Eyes closed, she pushed against him. “Oh, yes. That’s it. Just like that. Exactly like that. Only faster. Harder.”
Full of bliss and urgent need, Shane smiled. “Which is it?” he managed breathlessly. “Exactly like that? Or faster? Harder?”
“All of it!” Gabby panted, beautiful and wanton against the wall. Her elbows banged against it as they struggled for more, but she didn’t seem to care. Everything around them grew hazy.
Much too soon, Shane felt her shudder around him. Crying out, Gabby clenched his shoulde
rs, coming hard. Within seconds, Shane was right behind her. With Gabby, he had no self-control.
He needed, he wanted … he took and he loved. That was all.
Giddily, Shane slumped against her, still holding them both against the wall. His heart hammered; his breath sounded as though he’d just run that race with Gabby all over again. He inhaled deeply of the familiar scent of her hair, then smiled.
He might not have her love, but he had this.
Maybe, for him, that would have to be enough.
Could a man like him really ask for more?
Limp-limbed, Gabby kissed him. “Mmm. That was … hot.”
Shane could only nod. Faintly, he became aware of their disheveled clothing and their perilous against-the-wall position. He liked all of it.
“When you invite a man inside,” he said with a goofy, happy grin, nuzzling her neck again, “you really invite him inside.”
“I’m not a halfway kind of person.” Wearing a look of satisfied bravado, Gabby clambered down. Nimbly, she adjusted her skirt. She picked up her panties, then pocketed them.
She really did believe this was all about sex with them, Shane realized. He’d done it. How the hell had he done it?
He felt certain that his caring for her wore him like an expensive suit. It elevated him way beyond the man he was.
“Thirsty?” Gabby asked. “How about a nightcap?”
“How about another round?”
She turned. Blinked. Grinned. “Already?”
“Later.” Shane waved. “After you give me a tour.”
“Of my place.” Gabby nodded. But where before she’d seemed nervous—and full of excuses—now she seemed at ease. That was the magic of their coming together. It … lulled her. If he were a less scrupulous man, he’d have taken advantage of that. “Okay.”
Her shrug suggested a lightheartedness she definitely hadn’t displayed before. Wearing a matching buoyancy, Shane nodded. “First up, show me where those bodies are buried.”
“You make me sound so nefarious. Maybe you’re the one—”
“Who hadn’t pegged you as a flowers-and-cushy-upholstery type?” Switching on the nearest lamp, Shane put his hands on his hips. He studied the entryway and small living room. Both were full of feminine touches, from floral chairs to an overstuffed sofa to a fringed lamp. Lots of throw pillows. Gabby’s place looked comfortable. Homey. “I thought you’d be—”
“More urban? More alternative? More tomboyish?”
“Oh, you’re all woman.” He arrowed a look at her, knowing there weren’t enough jeans and T-shirts and sneakers in the world to consign Gabby to the tomboy zone. She was all woman. “And no, actually. I thought you’d be at home someplace more zen. No knickknacks, no tchotchkes, no frills. Just peace.”
“I guess now you know my awful secret. I’m a closet June Cleaver. I have an apron collection, too. Wanna see?”
“Hell yeah.” Shane grinned. “Sounds kinky.”
“It’s not kinky.” Grinning back, Gabby showed him to her kitchen. It was equipped with renovated antique appliances, several pieces of collectible Art Deco pottery, a professional-caliber stand mixer, and brightly colored walls. “Ready?”
She grabbed an armful of garments from a nearby peg.
Shane squinted at them. “You were serious.”
“Of course!” Gabby slipped one of those garments over her head. Brightly, she tied on the apron strings. “See? Exhibit A.”
“I like it.” He came closer, then nuzzled her neck. “It makes me want to do this.” Gently, he nipped her. “Yum.”
“Mmm.” Gabby’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “More, please.”
Helpfully, Shane obliged. He grabbed the bib of Gabby’s old-fashioned apron, then used it to pull her nearer. He lowered his lips to hers. He caught her next exhalation with his mouth.
Their kiss went on and on, drugging him with its sweetness. Until Gabby, he’d never kissed a woman who was wearing an apron. Now, the very sight of an apron made him start feeling fired up.
She had a whole collection of them? It was going to be a long, hot night. On the other hand, Shane wanted that.
He wanted her and everything she would give him.
Starry-eyed and breathless, Gabby broke off their kiss first. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”
“What about the rest of the aprons?” And the kissing?
“I have an idea about those.” Clutching them in the crook of her arm, Gabby grabbed him. “Come on. Tour’s leaving now.”
She shouldn’t have brought Shane to her house, Gabriella realized as she finished showing him her spare bedroom, her hallway and bathroom, and—finally—her bedroom. Because as seen through Shane’s eyes, her home revealed everything about her.
Starting with the fact that, despite her rebellious behavior and her rift with her dad, maybe she wasn’t so different from Robert Grimani after all. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it—or to toe the line that had been laid out for her since birth, no questions asked. But the truth was, Gabriella realized now, her appreciation for old-fashioned furniture and fabrics revealed her authentic fondness for tradition. Her methodical Fiesta ware kitchen canisters, stacked neatly in size-ascending order on the counter, betrayed her genuine appreciation of order and control. Her spare bedroom exposed all the space she had for other people in her life; its tidy furnishings, her attempts to welcome them.
Her tchotchkes revealed the importance of her friends—after all, most of those items were souvenirs from her travels with them. Her throw pillows disclosed her yearning for comfort. Her myriad soft, cushy surfaces divulged her intrinsically sensual nature. Even if she’d wanted to hide herself, Gabriella realized, she couldn’t have. Not from Shane. Not after this.
Most damning of all was her collection of family photos. Those pictures were framed and propped on every table, framed and hung on every wall. But not in a haphazard way. Not at all.
Gabriella hadn’t realized it before tonight, but as she moved down the hallway with Shane, she did. Too late, as usual.
He grinned at a row of pictures. “Perfectly hung,” he observed, touching a frame. “Very evenly spaced, like a gallery.” Shane turned to her as she hugged her aprons. “All the turmoil at Campania must be agonizing for someone like you.”
Helplessly, Gabriella nodded. “It’s been tough.”
It hasn’t been helped by my secret saboteur, either, she wanted to say. Is it you? Are you the one gunning for Campania?
Looking opaque, Shane moved on. It felt as though he was studying her home. Analyzing it. Absorbing it. Absorbing her.
“It must have been hard to leave all this behind when you went to Astoria.” His gaze probed her. “Did you miss it?”
“Of course I did.” Straightening, Gabriella looked right back at him. “Don’t you miss your home? Wherever it is?”
His smile flashed. “You can’t miss what you never had.”
Oh. Gabriella’s attempts to interrogate him fell flat, squashed by a sudden surge of empathy. “Not ever? Really?”
Shane looked away. “Do you need a signed affidavit from one of the foster homes? I’m telling you the truth. I was adopted into a wealthy family when I was fifteen, but until then—”
“Then you’re not a secret venture capitalist?” Gabriella pressed, remembering his earlier remarks about ramen and Tang. She still knew so little about him. “You didn’t make all your money by taking over small businesses and killing them?”
It was as near as she wanted to come to accusing him outright. But if she had to be so honest tonight, he did, too.
Shane frowned. “I have a trust fund. It’s pathetic compensation for the fact that my dad doesn’t give a shit who I really am or what I do with my life, but it’s something.”
It was a lot, judging by his apartment. Shane had told her he had several other living places too, all around the world.
No wonder he was so upset to think she’d only wanted him for his money—for an inve
stment in her family’s pizzerias, Gabriella realized. Probably, in Shane’s life, people had wanted him only for his money and connections. Suddenly, everything made sense. Even better, everything Shane had said freed her.
She didn’t have to suspect him. What would Shane possibly stand to gain by sabotaging her family’s struggling pizzerias? He already had so much. He didn’t appear to want any more.
Except her. Shane wanted her. And she wanted him.
She was a pizza-slinging Cinderella being courted by a Prince Charming who was willing to wield a mop to learn from her. She was Sleeping Beauty being awakened by every kind of kiss ever invented. Who wanted to waste time with suspicions?
Besides, she was terrible at subterfuge anyway.
“I’m sorry.” Contritely, Gabriella touched Shane’s arm. His biceps felt granitelike beneath her fingers. His body had stiffened into a rigid column of defensiveness. Because of her suspicions. “Let me make it up to you, okay? Please. Let me.”
Warily, Shane eyed her. “I told you, I don’t want pity.”
“You’ll want my apron fashion show.” Wiggling her eyebrows, Gabriella waved her remaining aprons. “It’s happening now.”
“Look, that sounds great, Gabby, but I—”
“Have I mentioned that I love it when you call me Gabby?”
“No.” Shane seemed guarded. “No one else does that.”
“That’s why I like it so much when you do it. It’s special.” She herded him down the hall into her bedroom, past the photos of her family and friends. She had so much, Gabriella knew. Shane didn’t. She didn’t pity him, exactly … but she did feel a tremendous amount of compassion for him. She wanted to help if she could. “My apron fashion show is special, too.”
With a shove, she situated Shane on the edge of her bed.
“Hang tight,” she commanded. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.” Shane looked bemused. “Waiting.”
“Oh, and take off your shoes.” Breathlessly, Gabriella doubled back, already on her way to her spare bedroom to change.
“My shoes? Why?”
“Because if you don’t, they’ll get my bedspread dirty.”
“Why would I be getting into your bed wearing shoes?”
