His only hope for funds resided in the painting. Later, when people learned of the women and children benefiting from the charity, they’d want to assist in making it more successful. Only then could he build an adequate endowment.
He rubbed his temples and turned toward a footstep behind him. Gabe, standing at the door, appeared innocent, sexy, and dangerous all rolled into a sinfully tight body. Her tousled black strands created an edgy appearance and the black eye makeup had returned. Even in jeans, ugly red trainers, and a sweatshirt, the woman tempted him.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked.
“Yes, but I appreciate your brand of disturbance.”
She smiled and entered the room.
In that moment, he would do anything to keep that ephemeral smile from disappearing. He looked at his watch. They had enough time to eat and run into town. “Don’t get comfortable. We need to have a quick dinner.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.” He stood and escorted her to the dining room. After escaping from hell, she needed to do something enjoyable, and Henry wanted to see her relax, if only for a moment.
Two hours later, at a quarter of nine, he stood with Gabe in front of the city hall of Ripon. A tour bus pulled into town, and a crowd formed around the city center. Then the official town horn blower arrived in full regalia, a black tricorne hat, beige coat with red embellishments, and an elaborately decorated horn. He sounded a low tune on each of the four corners of the obelisk, and then reported to the mayor, stating, “The watch is set.”
Henry loved how day after day, year after year, century after century, the tradition continued. He glanced at Gabe, who stood mesmerized by the simple ceremony. “What do you think?”
“I enjoyed it. Does he do this every Sunday night?”
“He does this every night. Rain, snow, bitter cold.”
He took off his jacket and placed it over Gabe’s shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“Let’s go for a pint.” Henry slipped his arm under his jacket and around her waist. Even through the sweatshirt, he could feel the chill in her body. They headed toward the Hornblower Tavern.
Once inside, Gabe rubbed her hands together and scanned the pub from the bar to the tables. “Can we take one of the round booths? They look warmer.”
“Absolutely.” He sat next to her on a curved cushioned bench, and then waved the waitress over. “Kate, two pints of your winter draft and some chips.”
The waitress, wearing black trousers and a too-tight T-shirt, winked at him. “Sure thing, Henry.”
“Sure thing, Henry,” Gabe repeated, all attitude.
Henry couldn’t suppress his grin. “It’s my hometown. I bet if I go to your hometown, wherever that is, everyone would know you, too.”
“Not really.” She wouldn’t add anything else. Instead, she flipped through the menu and observed the crowd.
Kate returned with the pints and bent close to Henry, offering him a view of those assets she’d barely covered in the T-shirt. He shifted his attention to the more subtle beauty of the woman seated next to him. Gabe, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, remained focused on their server.
“Thank you. Can you please check on the chips?” She ordered her away and then faced Henry. “The staff seems friendly here. Very friendly.”
“Are you jealous, Miss Sunshine?”
“In your dreams. You’d have to be a lot more”—she waved her hand in front of his chest—“everything to get me interested.” Her body, however, had been moving closer to his each time the waitress came near.
Kate returned with the order of chips. Gabe sent her away again with a request for ketchup. She’d have the poor girl running all night in her current mood.
He rested his arm behind her back and slid toward her until she could rest her head on his shoulder. She shifted on the bench. Her hip touched his, and her head fell back into his embrace, as though they’d been together for years. He didn’t want to like it so much, but he did. Having her in his arms felt right.
“Your women’s group must love your enthusiasm toward their cause and all the assistance you provide,” she said.
“I can’t assist as many families as I’d like. The painting would have really expanded the program.”
“It’s that important?”
“Yes. Unless you know someone willing to write a check for thousands of dollars, the painting is the only way to access the funds.”
“Could I help?” she asked, hesitation running through her words.
She wanted to help? Gabe surprised him again.
He lowered his voice, “I thought you were hiding from someone.”
She shrugged. “We can do this. You could cover more ground with me, because I’d know the questions to ask.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want you placing yourself in danger.” His arm tightened on her shoulder. Desire for the funds warred with his obligation to protect her. “I’ll think of something.”
She drank down her beer like it was water.
“Slow down, Sunshine. The beer will you hit you hard if you don’t pace yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
He could see the gears in that sharp mind of hers considering her options. Her fingers tapped the table, and she swallowed the rest of the pint in time to order another from Kate.
With a heavy sigh, she turned toward him. “If a child has to remain under the same roof as an abusive parent for one extra day because I didn’t help, I’d never be able to forgive myself. You have to let me do this.”
The sincerity of her words and the pleading in her eyes fogged over his brain. So against his better judgment, he agreed to let her help.
Chapter Nine
Alex stretched her arms over her head. She breathed in the smell of clean sheets and felt the sun tempting her eyes to open and face the day. Her leg straightened, and her bare foot brushed up against another foot—a bigger bare foot. Three shots of espresso with a Coke chaser wouldn’t have awakened her faster.
She turned to her right and saw Henry, pants on, shirt off, lying next to her on the bed in the red room. The twisted sheet covered half of his legs. She grabbed at the sheets and pulled, but they refused to budge from under his leg.
Wham! She pounded on Henry’s arm and then slapped his face, ripping him from sleep.
He rolled over to face her and gently grabbed her wrist. “Bloody hell. I don’t care if you are female. If you hit me again, I’m heading to the bathroom for some ice water. And you’ll be wearing it, not drinking it.”
Then his eyes fell toward her bare breasts, uncovered by the sheets, and his mouth dropped open. His solid muscular chest brushed against her. Warm and sensual, the skin-on-skin contact invited an unwanted reaction.
Her last sexual partner took everything from her and gave nothing, except a broken rib and a bruised neck. With Henry’s body pressed up to hers, however, she hungered for something she’d never had. Intimacy.
Her chest rose and fell in deep breaths against Henry’s solid muscles. She tried to relax, but tears threatened to break free and ruin everything.
“Steady, Sunshine. It’s okay.” He backed away from her and sat on an armchair across the room.
“Why were we in bed together?” She blinked several times. The tears stayed away, but her expression must have given her fear away.
“You insisted I stay with you.” His voice was soothing.
She remembered drinking and singing a few songs and dancing on the table and then the bar while Henry tried to get her to put her shoes back on. Then the memory ended. “I don’t remember coming back here.”
“While you were calling out the bartender for letting the patrons put their mugs directly on top of the oak bar, I phoned a cab and brought you home. You then insisted on stripping down to nothing and tried to strip me down as well. I stopped you after you removed my shirt with your teeth. You begged me to sleep next to you, which was fairly cruel considering your naked body w
as more than a distraction, and then you fell asleep while I stared at the ceiling, counting sheep.”
That sounded like something she’d do if hampered with alcohol, which was why she so rarely drank more than one glass of anything stronger than coffee. “I’m sorry.”
What a stupid mistake. I can’t afford to lose control, ever.
“I’ve already forgotten it, although my cheek may remind me for the next hour or so.” He rubbed his hand through his hair and sighed. “You’ll always be safe with me. I promise. If you tell me what you’re running from, I can even help you take down your enemies.”
“We’ve been through this before. I’m hiding from something evil, and helpful is no match for evil.”
In the dawn’s early light without a button-down shirt hiding his amazing pecs, Henry could be described as masculine, rugged, and definitely beddable, but not tough enough to take on Luc.
“Maybe assisting me in finding the painting isn’t such a good idea.”
“Of course it is,” Alex insisted. “I’ll keep my identity undercover the whole time. It should be relatively easy. Besides, it’s only for three weeks, until the appraisal.”
Part of her wanted to help the children, and part of her wanted to remain with Henry a little longer. Deep down in the furthest recesses of her fear, she also craved the opportunity to find Luc again. Eliminating him would free her family from the threat he posed.
Henry remained stationed across the room. He wasn’t leaving, but he wasn’t encroaching on her space, either.
His easygoing nature beckoned her and scared the hell out of her. Why hadn’t she met someone like him before Luc had beaten the ability to live in the moment out of her? Luc had used sex as a weapon. The effect of that violence still punched into her soul.
“Are you sure you want to help?”
“I said I would.”
I just hope I don’t regret my decision.
“Thank you.” Henry smiled and stood to leave. “You’re not tied into this, you know. If you want out, just say so.”
“I know.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before hopping up to gather her clothes. She wanted to curl up with Henry on the bed, but a quick retreat would probably be for the best. The knots in her stomach told her she wasn’t ready. Perhaps someday, sex would feel more like an act of love and not torture.
He turned to leave. She felt a tightening in her chest as she watched him go. And the thought of this moment, this chance disappearing, kicked her bravado into overdrive.
“Henry?”
He paused and then slowly turned around. His eyes remained fixed on her face; her gaze dropped to his abs. Muscle, definition, solid. The professor was hot. Maybe sex didn’t need love, maybe she just needed to lust after her bed partner. She walked toward him as though on autopilot. She could do this. She could seduce this man and feel strong. Still naked, she sashayed over to him, hoping she looked confident.
Henry leaned against the wall and watched. His eyes held amusement, and the corners of his mouth rose with his smile. She lifted her arms, bringing Henry’s focus to her chest.
“Like what you see, Professor?”
“I love what I see, partner. What’s the L.P. stand for?” He pointed to just north of her right breast and the tattoo forced on her one really ugly night.
“Love and Peace.”
She refused to back away as the fighter in her woke up, craving a man who seemed trustworthy and noble. She pulled him over to the bed, all hips and attitude, and made him sit on the edge. He no longer towered over her. In fact, his head was level with her shoulder. He placed a hand on her hip.
She leaned over him and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. “Or maybe it means ‘Lusty and Provocative.’”
“That describes you perfectly.”
They kissed again, deeper this time. Her anxiety floated away as her body responded to the sensual connection with electrifying intensity. Overwhelming emotions rippled through her, compelling her to surrender to Henry in every carnal way she could think of. He pulled back.
“Are you with me?” He stared into her eyes, calm, poised, waiting.
“Yes.”
Yes, I want all of you. Your messy hair, your bedroom eyes, and that seductive grin.
His arms wrapped around her, and his mouth closed in on her tattoo. His lips felt amazing on her skin. His tongue made a strong case for her to let go and allow him to eliminate the horrid memories of being branded Luc’s latest whore. He moaned as her fingers pressed over his shoulders and across his neck.
One of his hands roamed down her thigh, too close to a place that had known only violence. She recoiled at his touch. The memories too fresh, too painful.
A hand over her throat, an order to remain perfectly still, rough, brutal sex.
Luc had marked her forever with a tattoo on her skin and one embedded into her soul. How could she release such a past and move on? Pulling away, she grabbed her clothes and held them in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” His tone lowered into a soothing sound, without harboring an ounce of annoyance or frustration. He stood up, but didn’t approach her.
Holding back tears, she turned toward the bathroom. “I don’t sleep with anyone I work with. Ever.”
…
Henry took the coldest shower of his life and remained under the icy drops for thirty minutes. He understood she’d been hurt in the past, but she had to know he’d never harm her. He would, however, hurt the bugger who had made this amazing woman cower in fear over physical intimacy.
Perhaps this was for the best. He had to focus on finding the painting. He’d be wise to treat Gabe as an assistant, or a workmate. He shook his head. Impossible. His skin heated up just thinking about her.
He found her in the great hall stretched across one of the couches facing the window. Strong and vulnerable. She didn’t seem the type to want pity, so he decided to give her a bit of tough love instead.
“You need a haircut. Get up.” His tone came out more brusque than he’d wanted, but he had her attention.
She raised her eyebrows. He strode up to her and pointed at her foot propped on the armrest. Frowning at him, she moved it off the couch in slow motion. He then proceeded to do the same with her other foot. She sat up, not happy about his interruption.
“If this is to work, you need to play the part of a wealthy heiress in search of some amusement in your otherwise humdrum life.”
Gabe rolled her eyes and snorted, as though an unruly adolescent. “Humdrum life? Is that how heiresses live?” She slid back into a prone position. “I think I’d enjoy a humdrum life.”
Okay, that didn’t work. Perhaps a bribe would motivate her out the door. “We’ll find you some appropriate clothes as well. You must have been dressed better than this when you were working in the art world.”
She smiled. “The art world is a forgiving place, Henry. If I do my job better than anyone else, I get to dress any way I wish. Besides, I’m more of a backroom kind of girl. Are you funding my miraculous transformation today?”
“Yes. But don’t expect to be treated like royalty. I’m limited to a low-level professor’s salary.” He helped her to her feet.
She started for the door and tilted her head in his direction. “I can make do with anything.”
Their first stop was Shear Pleasure, a local beauty salon. Lynn, an old friend of Henry’s mother, looked Gabe over and agreed that her hair needed work.
“Blond? Your hair’s been overprocessed and completely stressed, dear. If you must, I’ll need to do a deep conditioning and slowly strip the color and then put back something softer. How short are you willing to go in length?” She picked at the ends of Gabe’s hair like she was touching burlap.
“The hair in front needs to remain at least chin-length. Otherwise, cut away. Something with an attitude.”
Henry interrupted, “Not too much of an attitude. She needs to appear classy.”
“I’ve never s
een you take so much interest in a girlfriend before.” Lynn beamed at him as though he had met someone worthy of marriage after his numerous short-term relationships.
He didn’t feel like explaining his private life to anyone, so he wished Gabe luck and strolled around the town square thinking about Lynn’s comment. She’d known what an arse his father had been. In fact, most of Ripon knew of the earl’s female conquests. They didn’t, however, know of the abuse.
The image of his father, a man who went through women like tea bags, stabbed at his memory. His father was the all-time most despicable prat who had ever lived. Someone Henry swore to never be like.
Yes, he’d dated a lot of women in the past, and, yes, the relationships rarely lasted longer than a few weeks. But he’d always treated the women in his life with the utmost respect. So what if he didn’t feel compelled to marry? It wasn’t like he needed a wife. Besides, he’d never met anyone he wanted to settle down with.
He smiled, remembering the comment to his uncle about being engaged to Gabe. Too bad his uncle hadn’t seen the pink-haired version of her. Being a gentleman, though, Uncle George would never comment about her hair or any other quality of Gabe’s, especially if she was joining the family. She’d require tons of protection and assistance if she were to hobnob with the European upper class. She’d admitted she preferred back rooms of art galleries to the more public spaces. She’d be a sitting duck among a group of swans and swan wannabes. Too bad she wasn’t really his fiancée. In Henry’s experience, fiancées gained immunity to the harsh comments and rude attitudes of others.
If she did, in fact, remain with him to help locate the painting, being his fiancée would offer her a layer of protection. Not a real engagement, of course, but one created out of necessity, for a specific length of time. Three weeks.
He drove home and picked up a piece of his inheritance. Although possession was restricted by the trust to the current countess only, there was no countess currently, so she wouldn’t miss it. He’d return it to the family jewels after they retrieved the painting.
When he arrived back at the salon several hours later, he held a small box in his hand that would help protect Gabe from at least some of the obstacles in their path.
Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense) Page 7
