Renegade

by Alers, Rochelle

  “No. Aunt Nancy’s oldest son, Timothy Cole-Thomas has taken over as president. My father and uncles are involved as board members. They are not involved in the day-to-day operation of ColeDiz, but have retained voting privileges.” Lowering his head, he inhaled the fragrance of coconut clinging to her hair.

  It sounds like you had a lot of fun growing up in a big family. Gabriel recalled Summer’s words as clearly as she had just spoken them. And he had grown up with sisters, a brother and several generations of cousins that were too numerous to count. Now, with Alexandra’s pregnancy, he would become an uncle for the first time, while Summer would never be able to claim the privilege of being an aunt. She was estranged from her parents, and was now an only child.

  “How would like to meet my family?” The question was out before he could censure himself.

  She stiffened, then relaxed. “When?”

  “My sister is getting married, and I’d like for you to attend the wedding with me.”

  “When?” she repeated.

  “Probably sometime next month.”

  “She hasn’t set a date?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “No.”

  “How long as she been engaged?” Summer asked, continuing her questioning.

  “A couple of days.”

  Shifting, Summer draped her legs over Gabriel’s, and stared at him as if she had never seen him before. “A couple of days?”

  “I think the Coles hold the record for short engagements. We’ve been known to plan a wedding in a weekend.” He successfully curbed his urge to laugh when he saw an expression of astonishment freeze her features. “Please come with me, Summer.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He pulled the braid resting on her shoulder. “I thought you told me you could hang?”

  “I can.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, you can’t. If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose our little wager.”

  “If I go with you will it fulfill my spending the weekend with you?”

  “Oh, hell no,” Gabriel drawled. “Our weekend is just you and me, one-on-one.”

  Summer rolled her eyes at him. “Not only are you arrogant, but also manipulative.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughed. “What do you expect, beautiful? After all, I’m a Cole.”

  Summer scrambled off the lounger, berating herself for being drawn into a game she really did not want to play. Why, she asked herself, was she so adept at being Renegade, but found herself inept when it came to dealing with the brilliant musician.

  There was no doubt that not only had she fallen into his trap, but also under his sensual spell that reminded her that she was still a woman—a woman with needs. His presence had awakened a hunger in her she did not know she had. A hunger she had refused to acknowledge.

  Hands on her hips, she stared down at him. “What time are we going dancing?”

  He gave her a direct stare. “That all depends on you.”

  “Why me?”

  Gabriel moved off the lounge chair. The shifting sun was behind Summer, bathing her in a halo of gold. “Would like to go to a place with dining and dancing, or eat at one place and dance at another?”

  Wrinkling her pert nose, Summer smiled up at him through her lashes, causing him to hold his breath. “You’re giving me a choice?”

  His expression was impassive. “With me, you will always have a choice. It will not be my way or no way.”

  “You’re right about that, Gabriel,” she said in a quiet voice, “because it would never be all your way. And to answer your question, I prefer dining and dancing at separate venues.”

  He measured her with a cool appraising look before he glanced at the watch strapped to his left wrist. “Can you be ready in two hours?”

  “Yes. Where are we going?”

  “Boston.”

  That said, Gabriel turned and walked into her bedroom, leaving Summer to stare at the space where he’d been. She was standing in the same spot when he returned without warning and picked up the many sheets of music he had been working on.

  “Two hours, Summer,” he warned softly as he turned and retraced his steps.

  “I’ll be ready,” she called out to his departing figure.

  And she could get ready within two hours. However, she had to decide on what she would wear. When she packed her weekender she hadn’t planned on going anywhere fancy with Gabriel. She’d brought one dress, just in case they would eat at a restaurant on the Cape.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she decided to wear the dress.

  Nine

  Summer was sitting on a cushioned rocker when Gabriel stepped out onto the porch, dressed completely in black. She smiled. It was apparent they were partial to the color.

  Gabriel caught the scent of Summer’s perfume and turned to find her sitting on the rocking chair. Waning light from the setting sun provided enough illumination for him to see the outline of her long shapely legs in a pair of sheer black hose and high heel suede pumps.

  Moving closer, he extended his hand. She grasped his fingers and he eased her up. Releasing her hand, he opened her raincoat to survey what lay beneath. His mouth curved into an approving smile when he saw what would’ve been a simple black dress on another woman, but on Summer it was sexy and provocative. The off-the-shoulder knit garment hugged her curvy body, accentuating the fullness of her breasts, narrow waist, and flat belly. It clung to slim, tight thighs before ending at her knees.

  “Do I pass inspection?”

  Gabriel ignored her sarcasm. “You are exquisite, perfect. I’m honored to have you at my side tonight.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks with the compliment. And because she did not want to spoil the moment or the evening, she decided not to remind him that she wasn’t someone who sought to enhance his superstar image by becoming an accessory or a trophy for him to show off.

  Her admiring gaze swept over his banded collar shirt, silk brocade vest, and wool crepe jacket and slacks. “I hope I don’t have to kick some butt tonight if a hoochie mama decides to rub up on my man,” she quipped lightly.

  He lifted his sweeping eyebrows. “Am I really your man, Summer?”

  She winked at him. “You are tonight.”

  Chuckling softly, he pulled her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her off the porch and around the house to the garage. Gabriel helped her into the low-slung car, then rounded it and took his seat behind the wheel. He started it up and backed out of the driveway. Pushing a button on the dashboard, the car’s interior was filled with the sound of Jon Secada’s voice singing the dance version of “Too Late, Too Soon.” Relaxing on the leather seat, Summer listened as Gabriel sang along. She found herself tapping her foot in tempo with the upbeat tune.

  She found Gabriel’s voice low and drawling with Southern inflections, but when he sang, his range shifted flawlessly from baritone to tenor. Listening intently, she realized he had perfect pitch.

  Gabriel gave Summer a sidelong glance, smiling. “Would you like to hear it from the beginning?”

  She returned his smile. “Yes.” He pressed a button to repeat the disc.

  “You like Secada, don’t you?”

  “I think he’s an incredible talent. He writes and sings all the vocals on most of his recordings. His work, unlike a lot of recording artists, is eclectic. He can sing in English with the same passion as he does in Spanish. He’s also versatile enough to sing ballads and dance music. However, I’m partial to this CD because of his collaboration with Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam.”

  “What’s the name of this CD?”

  “Secada.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  Summer closed her eyes listening as Gabriel harmonized with the talented singer. She jumped and then froze, when she felt Gabriel’s fingers graze her left thigh. She opened her eyes, staring at him when he stopped at a traffic light. It was then she understood why he had touched her. He sang “Ready for Love” with so much con
viction that she actually believed him.

  It had gone beyond him singing along with the compact disc. The passion radiating from Gabriel was so tangible, Summer could feel it. Their gazes met and fused when he crooned softly, “I don’t wanna stop. I don’t really wanna stop this. I feel fine—ready for love.”

  “No,” she whispered. The word had just slipped out.

  His hold on her thigh tightened. “Yes, Summer.”

  She shook her head. “No!”

  He leaned closer. “Yes!”

  The debate ended when the driver in a car behind them leaned on the horn. Gabriel removed his hand, shifted into gear, and the Porsche took off with a powerful burst of speed.

  “Why are you fighting what is so obvious?” he asked after several minutes.

  Turning her head, Summer stared out the passenger side window. “What’s obvious to you isn’t obvious to me.”

  “¡Mentirosa!”

  Summer turned and glared at him, unblinking. “This is the first and last time I’m going to permit you to call me a liar.” Her voice was low, threatening, and those familiar with Renegade knew she was close to losing control.

  Turning the wheel sharply to the right, Gabriel pulled up alongside a curb and put the car in PARK. His fingers tightened in a deathlike grip on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. This was the second time within twenty-four hours wherein he had lost control, and both times it was with Summer.

  He’d grown up hearing family members calling him reclusive and moody. Even the members in his band had learned to gauge his moods by his body language. Whenever he was in a funk they avoided him. However, they tolerated his irritability because of the music. And for Gabriel it had always been the music. He had sacrificed love and permanent companionship because of his music.

  But within the past two years, he had changed. The music was still important, but it was no longer a priority. Interning at a Miami middle school had permitted him to open up to others as Gabriel Cole the person rather than Gabriel Cole the award-winning musician. He would linger beyond the dismissal bell to tutor struggling students, had paid to replace another student’s stolen trumpet, and genuinely enjoyed talking to parents about their children’s musical talent. He had waited more than thirty years to give of himself, and since meeting Summer, he wanted to give her what he had never given another woman—his love. And like the Secada song, he was ready for love.

  He’d laughed at his sister because Alexandra had fallen in love, while it had taken him a little more than two weeks to find himself in a similar situation.

  Feathering the back of his hand over the hair she had pulled into a chignon on the nape of her neck, Gabriel leaned to his right and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Will you forgive me?”

  Crossing her arms under her breasts, Summer stared straight ahead. “I told you before, Gabriel, it’s not going to work. We’re too different in temperament to get along for more than an hour without being at each other’s throat.”

  He pulled back. “You’re right, Summer. It’s not going to work.”

  Surprised that he had conceded so easily, she looked at him. “What do you want to do?”

  Gabriel could not tell her what he actually wanted to do with her. That he wanted to lie in her scented embrace just once to assuage what he had come to recognize as a craving for her.

  “I did promise you dinner and dancing. After that, we’ll go back to Cotuit. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you back home.”

  She nodded numbly before averting her gaze. His voice was absolutely emotionless and it chilled her. The muscles in her stomach tightened. It was over even before it had begun.

  Why, she mused, was she so adept at pushing away men who’d expressed an interest in her? Why, she thought, when it would be so easy to become involved with Gabriel. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t attracted to him because she was. There was nothing about him she found repulsive. It was true that he was arrogant, but then that was part and parcel of his superstar persona.

  Don’t be a fool and lose him, an inner voice told her, followed by Lucas’s taunt of stay focused. Why, she thought, couldn’t she have both? Why couldn’t she have a relationship with Gabriel and bring down the dealers at Weir? It didn’t have to be mission or love when it could be mission and love.

  Within seconds she made a decision she knew would change her and her life forever.

  Gabriel placed his hand in the small of Summer’s back as they followed the maître d’ to the table in a secluded corner of a carriage house turned restaurant near Boston’s fashionable Beacon Hill.

  The maître d’ seated her, smiling. “Your server will be with you momentarily.” He nodded to Gabriel. “Bon appetit, Monsieur Cole. Mademoiselle.”

  “Merci,” Gabriel replied in French.

  The flickering candle on the table cast long and short shadows across Gabriel’s lean face as Summer stared at him. “You speak French, too?”

  He smiled, flashing the deep dimples in his cheeks. His teeth were a startling white in contrast to the mustache framing his upper lip. “Only enough to order a room or food.”

  “Have you done a lot of traveling?”

  His lids lowered as he stared at the candle. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “You didn’t enjoy it?”

  He glanced up, his gaze meeting and fusing with hers. “No. I prefer being stateside.” He lifted an eyebrow when he noticed a slight smile soften Summer’s lush mouth. “What’s so amusing?”

  She flashed a demure smile. “Us.”

  Gabriel’s expression did not change. “What about us?”

  “We’re like oil and water.”

  “Are you saying we don’t mix?”

  “Not unless we’re blended.”

  Leaning forward, Gabriel reached across the table to capture her hands. “That’s not possible because you keep throwing up roadblocks. It has nothing to do with vanity or arrogance when I say I know that we are attracted to each other. And that’s more than enough for me to want to see you outside of Weir.”

  “You want a relationship.” The question had come out like a statement.

  “I want whatever it is you are willing to give me.” Gabriel chuckled when her mouth formed a perfect O. “Are you shocked by my candor?”

  “A little.”

  “Well, Summer? What’s it going to be? Are we going to become a couple?”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Now we’re a couple?”

  He nodded. “You did say that I was your man tonight.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “If I’m your man, then it goes without say that you must be my woman.”

  A full minute elapsed before Summer spoke again. “Yes, Gabriel,” she said softly, “you can say that I’m your woman.”

  “You can’t be my woman for one night, because I don’t do one-night stands.”

  He had given her back her statement. “Touché, Gabriel.”

  A powerful relief filled Summer as she concentrated on the menu in front of her. It was printed in French. Even with her head lowered she still could feel the heat of the golden orbs studying her.

  Her commitment to date Gabriel had nothing to do with her mission to expose the high school drug ring. And she had no doubt that she would identify those responsible for dealing at Weir. She would give Lucas Shelby his drug dealers, while attempting to grasp her own happiness.

  Her head came up and she stared at Gabriel. She did not know where her involvement with him would lead, but she was certain when her tenure at Weir ended neither would be the same.

  A white-jacketed waiter approached the table. His gaze darted from Summer to Gabriel. “Monsieur Cole, may I impose upon you to grant a small favor?”

  A frown furrowed Gabriel’s smooth forehead. “What is it?”

  “Monsieur, a lady recognized you when you came in. She asked me if I would ask you to give her an autograph for her children.”

  Gabriel’s frown vanished quickly. “Please tell her that I’m dining, a
nd that I’m willing to give her an autograph if she’s willing to wait until I’m finished.”

  “Merci, Monsieur. I will inform her. Meanwhile, would you like to see our wine list?”

  Gabriel winked at Summer. “Will you share a bottle with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please bring the list,” he said to the waiter.

  Waiting until the waiter was out of earshot, Summer said, “How often does this happen?”

  “Not as often now as in the past.”

  “You could’ve signed the autograph now. Why make her wait?”

  “She’s imposing on my time with you. That is not acceptable. If she wants an autograph, then she will wait.”

  His tone though soft held a thread of steel. It was the second time Summer heard the drawling voice take on a cold edge. The other time was when he had confronted the photographer.

  How, she asked herself, had she missed it? Gabriel Cole was more than the image he had cultivated as a laid-back musician. Instinctively, she knew he could become a formidable opponent when crossed.

  Summer still felt the effects from two glasses of champagne as Gabriel escorted her into a dance club amid the glares from those lining up behind roped-off stanchions.

  The adage that fame has its privileges was apparent when he approached the man standing at the door to the popular club. Within seconds they were led into a large space pulsing with ear-shattering music and flashing lights. Taking off the jacket Gabriel had placed over her shoulders, she handed it to him. During the drive from the restaurant to the club, she had decided to leave her raincoat in the car.

  Gabriel slipped into his jacket, then reached for Summer’s hand and led her toward the dance floor. Pulling her to his chest, he twirled her around in an intricate dance step.

  She melted into his strength, her body pliant and yielding as they were molded as one from chest to thigh. She gloried in the silkiness of the hair on his upper lip grazing her ear, the scent of his woodsy cologne in her nose, the power in the solid muscles in his back as her arms curved under his shoulders. Tightening her hold, she pressed closer. She felt safe; she was safe.

  Gabriel was shocked by the sensations shaking him as he held Summer to his heart. He had always protected his sisters, but this was the first time he had felt the need to protect a female with whom he did not share blood.