He shook his head. “I’m not going to lapse into a coma. I hope.”
Sighing, she rolled her lovely eyes. “That ‘I hope’ is the bit that bothers me.”
“Well, you certainly can’t stay at Patrick’s apartment. I don’t want any office gossip to start.”
The least hint of a relationship between staff would set people talking. He’d already been warned about it.
“I guess not.” Her clouded expression cleared. “I know, how about I call you on your cell phone every couple of hours?”
“All night?”
“All night. And if you don’t reply, I’ll send Nick around to check.” It sounded like she meant it.
He grinned. “Nick will love being sent on a wild goose chase at 2am.”
“So make sure you answer your phone.”
“Just to humour you, okay.” He nodded.
Zoe was interfering, bossy, and a worrier. As well as contradictory, stubborn, irrational, and all the rest.
Her concern still warmed him.
Her smile lit up her face. “Wise move.” She pointed at his suitcase and raised surprised eyebrows. “Is that all you have? My carry-on bag is the same size as that, and I had a huge suitcase as well. You travel light.”
“It’s enough for me. I prefer simplicity. Plus, the room I could afford as a grad student in NYC didn’t leave me a lot of space to collect stuff, even if I wanted to.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and smiled, remembering the clutter he’d grown up with. “Mom was a collector. She loved thrifting and yard sales and junk shops. She saved all my books and toys. My room at home still has the same Transformers bedspread and curtains she bought when I was eleven.” A heavy sigh escaped him. “I still have all that to sort out.”
She touched his hand. “I'm sorry. You must really feel the loss.”
He nodded.
Though he did still miss them deeply, thinking of his parents didn’t pain quite as much as it had done, even last week.
They talked about their childhood homes the rest of the way to the hospital. She didn’t brag or boast about her background, in fact she played it down.
But he didn’t need to read too hard between the lines to figure her life had been very different to his. She grew up in a mansion in the L.A. Hills, sister to a child star actor, daughter of a megachurch pastor, the family always in the spotlight one way or another. He came from a simple home in a rural Oregon town, son of a mechanic and a licenced practical nurse.
He laughed, though with an uncertain edge. “I’m wondering what you’d make of the little clapboard house I grew up in. The whole place would probably fit into your parents’ entrance hall.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Zoe said. “We drove to Bend, once, for a ski trip. I liked the cute timber houses. But your home is New York now, isn’t it? I thought you’d go back there after you’d done what you needed to in Oregon.”
“Not any more. I let the room I rented there go when Mom got sick. I could probably get a job back at my old university. I don’t know I want to. The politics and constant push to publish isn’t how I want to spend my working days. It almost feels as if I ended up doing what I was doing by default, not because I chose it.”
A longing for home so intense it was almost a physical ache wracked him. Was God calling him back to Sweetapple Falls?
She nodded slowly. “I know what you mean. My professors pretty much pushed me onto a pathway. I wanted to fit in and please them, so I went along with it.”
He heard the pain she didn’t admit to, the loneliness of the girl who felt she didn’t belong. He knew that feeling, too. Neither of them belonged in the lives they’d been living.
His footsteps stilled, and he reached out to her, taking her hand.
Zoe trembled a little at his touch, but kept talking. “I want to research and write, but I don’t know academia is where I want to be, either. Part of coming here for six months was to have some time out and think about what I wanted to do, for myself.” She met his glance, eyes clear and honest in the street lamp’s glow. “And I guess to think what God wanted me to do, too. I lost sight of Him for a bit there.”
Something bigger than both of them passed between them as their gazes connected and clung, as tightly as their joined hands. As if they understood each other, without any need to speak.
He knew, as if God had planted the sureness right into his heart, they belonged together.
He just didn’t know how or where.
The intensity of what he felt was all out of proportion to how long they’d known each other, but he felt it anyway.
And he had to control it.
He had to control the longing to take her into his arms and kiss her.
“Patrick will be waiting for us. Let’s get moving,” he said, to break the moment.
He let go of her hand, so he didn’t feel that warmth passing between them. He turned away, so he couldn’t see her big blue eyes looking up into his, their appeal only magnified by the glasses she wore.
They had to keep things sensible, professional, no matter what he felt.
Because Zoe couldn’t be rushed.
And because H.R. still hadn’t answered the question of whether he was her acting supervisor. For the next six weeks, he had to work with her, as her boss.
But after that, he’d be free to see just where what he felt for her could lead.
Chapter 17
Three hours later, Zoe hummed as she tidied Patrick’s tiny kitchen and unpacked the bag of groceries she’d bought at the little supermarket around the corner.
Unpleasant as their argument that afternoon had been, maybe Tiff was right. Maybe she’d let past heartbreaks keep her focused on the negatives in life, not the blessings around her. And maybe letting herself enjoy being with Gabe and seeing what unfolded between them was one of those blessings.
A big blessing.
While Gabe made up the bed in the spare room, she prepared a simple meal of scrambled eggs and toast and salad. Patrick probably shouldn’t eat too many eggs, but she needed something her limited cooking skills couldn’t mess up.
Thinking of Gabe warmed her. Remembering holding hands, and that long charged look they’d exchanged. Something was happening, and scary though it was to admit, it wasn’t just the procedure.
It turned out Patrick lived only a few streets away from the apartment she shared with Nick and Tiff. His place was small, messy and cluttered, with books and papers everywhere, but it felt homely.
Back in his own space, Patrick lost the pinched anxious look he’d had in the hospital, and became his usual big expansive self again. Laughing, joking, and telling stories. Making plans to do exactly what she’d suggested, renew contact with family and friends back in Ireland.
She couldn’t keep from smiling to see it.
After they ate, she and Gabe washed up together. Then while the guys played chess, she curled up in one of Patrick’s big comfortable armchairs and leafed through a handful of books from his collection. An avid reader, he had everything from Freud to C.S. Lewis, Jane Austen to the latest thrillers.
Her mobile beeped. She groaned at the interruption, then saw who the message was from.
Brad.
She opened the email, though she really didn’t need the extra reminder that intense sudden relationships didn’t last.
Thinking of a trip to London next month. If I fly over, will you see me?
Her heart didn’t jump at the thought of seeing him again, like it would have done even a week ago. She knew the reason why.
Her non-committal reply, that they were always glad to welcome visitors from home, was signed with a simple Z. No love, no kisses.
Finally, Brad was taking the place in her life he deserved. Ancient history.
Picking up the book she’d been reading, she tried to get back into the cosy mystery. Unfortunately, watching Gabe’s face as he pondered his moves made a powerful distraction.
Judging by his creased brow, the game
wasn’t going his way. He looked up from the chessboard, eyes full of pleading laughter. “He’s annihilating me. I need help.”
“Not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try.” She moved to stand behind his chair, putting a hand on his shoulder for balance as she leaned over him to look at the board. His shoulder muscle tensed under her hand, then softened. He turned his head, and met her gaze, so close that everything but his face became fuzzy.
For a moment, her world collapsed to just the two of them. Something in her yearned toward him, chasing away logic and rational thought.
Needing to force herself to concentrate on the chess board, not him, she dragged in a sudden breath.
“It doesn’t look good.” She shook her head, but whispered suggestions for the next few moves. Their faces almost touched as they conferred, making her heart stir and her tummy flutter.
“It’s two against one,” Patrick complained, though he still managed to checkmate them in ridiculously few moves.
“We might need to make it three against one next time,” she teased. “You’ve had more than twice as long to learn your moves as we have.”
The truth was, Gabe’s nearness and the warmth of his smile twitched her far more than they should, short-circuiting her brain. She stepped away from him as soon as the game ended.
“I usually play better, honest.” Gabe uttered a mock groan and held a hand to his head in an overdone gesture. “I’ll have to blame my poor game on that supposed head injury earlier.”
Guilt tweaked her tummy. He might be joking about it, but he really had hit his head. “I almost forgot. You should get an early night.” She turned to Patrick to explain. “I slipped on the ice this afternoon, Gabe tried to catch me, and he hit his head on the sidewalk. Sarah said he needs checking during the night. We can’t ask you to do that, so I’m going to call him a few times, to make sure he’s all right.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you don’t mean that. I’m fine. I barely even have a headache.”
“Can’t be too careful about these things.” Patrick winked at her, grinning like a conspiratorial Cupid. “Let her call you.”
Zoe had her mouth open to tell him it wasn’t like that, then shut it. Patrick wasn’t obtuse enough to miss the evidence right in front of his eyes. She and Gabe got on like people who’d known each other far longer than they had.
Maybe it was the procedure. Maybe it was something else.
The idea of that ‘something else’ didn’t scare her as much as it did, even this morning.
“Why do I feel I’m being ganged up on?” Gabe grimaced as he packed away the chess pieces, but his eyes, intent on her face, held a tender and appreciative glow.
Seemed he wasn’t too upset about it.
And neither was she. His gaze melted something in her heart. Forgetting her usual automatic response of hiding behind her armour, she smiled back.
“Because you are being ganged up on? Accept the inevitable, and give in.” She turned to pick up the books she’d been reading and put them back on the shelf.
He rolled his eyes heavenward, as if praying for patience, but raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. I give in. If you want to call me, do.” He glanced at his watch, then at Patrick, who was sagging a little in his wing chair. “If you plan to keep me awake half the night, we’d better make it an early one. I’ll walk you home.”
His unspoken concern for Patrick was clear. Gabe seemed to genuinely care. She liked that about him.
She liked a lot of things about him.
Gabe took her arm as they strolled together down Baker Street. Their breaths puffed steam into the chill night air, but a wave of warmth swept over her at the simple joy walking with Gabe brought. They stopped at her front door, and he released her elbow as she reached to press the entry buzzer.
Ridiculous to feel so bereft at the loss of his touch.
“Hello?” Her sister’s voice filled the quiet entrance alcove.
“Just me, Tiff.”
For a moment, they stood looking at each other. He made no move to kiss her goodnight, though the way his eyes lingered on her lips suggested he wanted to.
Her tummy flipped over at the thought and she took a step back. The door beeped and she pushed it open.
“So, I’ll call you in the night, every three hours.” She tried to ignore how oddly breathless she sounded, and forced a smile. “Make sure you answer, or I’ll have to send the rescue team in.”
He shook his head. “No need for the rescue team. I’ll answer, if only to stop Nick, Patrick, and all the neighbours getting disturbed. But don’t expect any sense from me at four in the morning. Mom always used to complain how hard I was to wake up. She threatened me with wet washcloths, more than once.”
His smile tugged at her heart. It was sweetly reminiscent, rather than hurting, the way was the day they’d met.
Thank You Lord for starting to heal his grief.
She wanted to reach out and hug him.
Throat thick with emotion, she wanted to say far more to him than was wise. The air between them hummed with unspoken words.
Instead, all she said was, “Did the threats work?” Somehow, she kept her voice level, even managed a joke. “If I need to send Nick, should he arrive armed with wet washcloths?”
He grinned, and shuddered melodramatically. “Not the wet washcloth. Anything but the wet washcloth. I’ll talk, promise.”
“You better,” she warned, stepping through the open door she held, before she gave in to her longing to touch him. “Goodnight, Gabe.”
He waved, smiled, and walked away as she closed the glass door. She knew she should turn and take the stairs, but she stood watching him go. Something in her yearned for him, in a way that scared her as much as it thrilled her.
Upstairs in the apartment, Tiff waited for her with a grin, and patted the sofa beside her in invitation. “You guys took your time saying goodnight. Anything you want to tell me?”
Seemed she’d completely forgotten their row in the store that afternoon. Zoe’s cheeks heated as she sat.
“He’s my boss. That puts him off-limits.” Her words were firm and definite, but the truth trembled through her. Once Patrick was back at work, Gabe wouldn’t be her boss anymore. Everything would change. She wasn’t sure she welcomed that.
Tiff pursed her lips. “Shame about that.”
Zoe wasn’t sure. The knowledge gave her a sense of safety she needed, at least for the next six weeks.
Though it hadn’t stopped her kissing him, last evening in the hospital.
And it didn’t change how she felt.
There was no escaping it. She’d fallen for Gabe, and the vulnerability terrified her. At least for now she could push her feelings away since he was off limits.
“About this afternoon…” Tiff started.
Zoe held up a hand to stop her. Biting her lip, she glanced at her sister. Saying sorry didn’t come easy to her, but she’d been wrong. “Me first. You were right in what you said this afternoon. I am scared of falling in love. I owe you an apology, and Josie too. I still don’t think Darren is good enough for her, but I shouldn’t have tried to interfere. I had no right to give her advice.”
“You meant well. I know you’ve been burned before, but I hope you can take a risk again on love.” Tiff’s face softened and she almost glowed. “Mac’s shown me, it’s worth it. I pray that someday you’ll feel the same joy I do.”
Zoe swallowed a pang of envy and shook her head. “It doesn’t happen to all of us. Some of us are called to be single. I decided after what happened with Adrian to focus on my work and forget romance.”
Her twin’s eyes gleamed. “It might not have to be that way. I saw how Gabe looked at you during the meeting.”
A painful truth twisted in her heart. Admitting how she felt about him wasn’t enough. She shook her head. “He might think he’s fallen in love, but he’s not ready to make any sort of commitment. He’s grieving both his Mom and Dad. I’
m like the rebound girlfriend after a breakup. The one to help him get over his loss, but not the one he stays with. I like him, and yes, he probably does like me. But that doesn’t mean anything more will develop between us.”
Tiff shook her head, as if ready to disagree.
Zoe rushed to say what she needed to say, before she lost her nerve. “Gabe’s more than just my boss. We met in Paris on Valentine’s Day while I was recruiting subjects for my research. Thinking he was just some random stranger, I dared him to do a Closeness Generating Procedure. It’s a process that makes people feel close even though they’re strangers.”
She glanced across at her sister, who nodded, encouraging her to continue. Confiding in Tiff wasn’t something she normally did but tonight it felt right. “I wanted to prove my point that intimacy can feel real, even though it’s artificially manufactured. Obviously, neither of us knew we’d be working together. But between that and his grief, I have no way of knowing how he really feels about me. Or how I feel for him. There’s a good chance it’s not real at all, just the procedure.”
Tiff shook her head. “Life can feel so complicated.” Then she leaned forward to hug her, sudden and fierce. “I’ll pray for you both. And in the meantime, despite all that, why not just relax and enjoy it, while you wait to see what happens? Once your professor goes back to work, he won’t be your boss anymore. And surely that procedure you did won’t last longer than six weeks.”
Zoe nodded, slowly. This last week, she’d felt more alive than she’d ever felt, every nerve ending humming, the hard defensive wall around her heart softening.
And she knew why.
Gabe.
She liked him. She liked being around him. She wanted to help him with his grief.
No point lying to herself about it. She knew whatever she and Gabe felt for each other wouldn’t last, wouldn’t go anywhere. She wasn’t the sort of girl men chose to commit to. Too messy, too flawed, too difficult, from the top of her too-brainy head, to the soles of her too-big feet.
Gabe reminded her so much of her Dad. Kind, feeling, stable, smart, and rock solid in his faith. He deserved a woman more like her mother. Someone whose perfection she could never measure up to. Or a woman like Tiff, beautiful and sweet. Or someone like Cara, lovely, talented, and caring.
Forget Paris: Sweet and clean Christian romance in Paris and London (Love In Store Book 4) Page 12
