by Jami Alden
She heaved herself the rest of the way up and snagged her tank top and pajama bottoms off the floor. Leaning against the table for support, she drew them on with trembling hands.
Once she was decently covered, Gabe turned from the sink to face her, focusing his gaze somewhere past her ear.
“Reggie, that was extremely unprofessional and inappropriate. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what just happened.”
“You’re sorry?” She felt like a tight fist had invaded her abdomen and was busy twisting her small intestine. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I know anything I say will be insufficient.”
Unbelievable. Ten seconds ago he’d been grunting and straining over her like a man fresh out of prison, and now he was as cold and impersonal as the guy who did her dry cleaning! Scratch that—at least the dry cleaner always smiled and said thank you.
“And if you want to terminate our contract, I completely understand.”
She snapped. “This is great. You attack me like a raging ball of testosterone, and now you want to abandon me?” A psycho-sounding cackle erupted from her throat. “Sorry, buddy. I still need you around to make sure I keep my job.” A knot the size of a grapefruit lodged at the back of her throat, and she knew if she didn’t get away from him right then, she’d burst into tears.
She stomped over to her bedroom and slammed the door so hard the walls shuddered. Reggie flung herself down on the green and gold printed bedspread and punched the pillow.
Gabe had slept with her and unhesitatingly rejected her. But what had she expected?
She should have stopped him, should have realized that for him, sex was nothing more than a good way to release tension after a particularly stressful few days. But from the second he touched her, any thought of pushing him away had fled as every drop of blood abruptly headed south.
And who could blame her? She’d been walking around in state of arousal from the moment he’d reappeared in her apartment. All it took was a tiny stick of dry tinder to make her burst into flame. And Gabe, well, he had a nice big log.
She slumped down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. God, maybe he was right. Maybe she should have fired him. But did she really want another man, a stranger at that, following her around and tracking her every move?
On the other hand, did she really want to spend the next, oh God, four weeks in agony over a man who drove her hormones berserk, but who was determined to avoid her like the plague? And when he did finally succumb to his oh-so-human urges, he looked like he wanted to flay himself and stroll around in a hair shirt for the next month.
A soft knock interrupted her moping. She squelched the urge to tell him to get lost. Thanks to her big mouth, she was stuck with Gabe for quite a while, and the sooner they made peace, the better. “Come in.”
Gabe entered warily, as though he expected her to be waiting in a corner to pounce. He folded his arms over his chest, his mouth pressed in a tight line. Difficult to believe that same mouth had been pressed ravenously between her legs not ten minutes ago.
Reggie squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself not to think about it.
As he moved closer to the bed, the scent of his skin teased her nostrils—his own hot, musky, soap smell, entwined with the sharp tang of pure sex.
She jumped up off the bed before she lunged at him and started clawing at his pants and raised her eyebrows in what she hoped was an imperious manner. “Was there something else?”
He paused, pressing and unpressing his lips as though trying to find the right words.
Reggie braced herself for more insults.
“We, uh, we didn’t…” he stopped again.
Reggie stared at him expectantly, enjoying his discomfort.
His cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath. “We didn’t use anything.” Another pause. “Birth control-wise.”
Reggie’s face went hot as a habanero. “B-but you pulled out.”
Though his eyes were blank and impersonal, he couldn’t stop the streaks of red that appeared across his cheekbones. “I know. But I also thought you should know that I get tested regularly, and I’m clean.”
Hot embarrassment flooded her as she realized what an ignorant teenager she’d sounded like. Of course disease was an issue. She’d grown up in the eighties, prided herself on being relatively smart and sexually aware. She looked up. Gabe was staring at her expectantly. Then she realized he was looking for the same reassurance.
“I had a full workup six months ago, and since you’re the last person I slept with, I know I’m still fine.”
For a split second, surprise and an emotion Reggie wouldn’t dare call pleasure illuminated his face. Then he nodded curtly and turned to go.
As soon as he closed the door behind him she flopped back on the bed. Why in the hell had she told him that?
Now he would think she was so desperate, hard up, that of course she would jump at the chance to screw his brains out with the slightest provocation.
Obviously, that was true, as evidenced by her embarrassingly immediate orgasm earlier, which had taken her completely by surprise. As had the second one mere minutes later.
Well, there was nothing to be done for it but to take Gabe’s lead and just pretend it never happened. She rolled off the bed and ripped back the covers. Praying, in futility, for a decent night’s sleep, she climbed into bed.
She snapped off the lights and stared up at the darkness. If nothing else, the tenuous friendship they’d formed over the past few days would make their time together more bearable. If they could regain that, surely she could tolerate his presence for the next several weeks.
Gabe watched Reggie as she finished up shooting in and around New Orleans the next morning. Even with the unmistakable signs of exhaustion lining her face, she managed to appear vibrant for the cameras.
He couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction he got from knowing she’d slept as poorly as he. All night he’d struggled with the urge to slip into her room, climb into bed, and slide into her tight, willing body.
Far from taking the edge off the desire that had ridden him from the first moment he’d seen her again, last night’s tussle in the kitchenette had only made him want her more.
In Hawaii, he’d gotten the sense that he’d only touched on the surface of her deep and giving sexuality. But when she’d snuck off without a word, he’d resolved to be satisfied with the small taste circumstances had allowed.
But now he knew what a little hellcat lurked under that wholesome exterior. All that energy and heat she possessed permeated every facet of her life. Including sex. He got hard just thinking about how she’d gone off like a rocket at the mere feel of him inside her. This morning he’d had to jerk off like a goddamned teenager when he felt the heat of the shower sting his back where she’d raked her nails across the skin.
And now, as he watched her bite into a beignet, he unconsciously licked his lips as he remembered the tiny bite mark he’d discovered on his shoulder this morning in the mirror. He’d been so fucking hot for her, he hadn’t even felt her teeth sink in with enough pressure to leave two tiny, crescent-shaped bruises.
He’d barely spoken to her all morning, deciding the best move was to keep as much distance as possible. He did his best to ignore the tight wad of guilt lodged in his chest. He knew he was handling this badly. She deserved better, another apology and moderately civil behavior at least, but he didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t like he could avoid her, and he was afraid any attempt at conversation would be a slippery slope. If he wasn’t careful, the next thing he knew, he’d be ripping her clothes off and going down on her right in front of the crew.
His emotions, which he fought so hard to keep under control, rode way too close to the surface when it came to Reggie, and they were searching for any tiny crack to spill out. And it scared the hell out of him. Last night, against all better judgment and good sense, he literally hadn’t been able to stop himself from having her. Craving f
or her had superseded control to the point where he’d been past caring, even though he knew the risks involved in letting Reggie be anything other than a client.
Now, doing damage control was his main priority. The only way to prevent future slipups was to remain ruthlessly distant, uninvolved on any personal level.
Finally, the shoot wrapped and Reggie made her way over. Fumbling through her bag, she pulled out a sheet of paper with her flight information on it. “Let’s see, where are we going today,” she said in a singsong voice. “Aha! Dallas.” She looked up at Gabe. “Don’t you have family in Dallas?”
He nodded coolly. “My parents and one of my sisters and her husband.”
“I have a great idea!” She clapped her hands and looked up at him with a huge grin, and he couldn’t ignore the curl of warmth twisting in his belly. “Why don’t you call your family and invite them to watch some of the shooting. Then they can join us at the Fort Worth Stock Yards for dinner.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? Is it too short notice?”
Why couldn’t she just take a hint? Pulling her aside so the rest of the crew couldn’t hear, he said, “Reggie, while I appreciate the gesture, I’m here to work. We’re not buddies, and I don’t want you to do me or my family any special favors.”
Reggie jerked her head back and stared at him. His heart twisted at the flicker of hurt that flashed in her eyes, the faint tremble in her soft lips as she pursed them.
Then, eyes narrowing, she said, “Do you have a pen?”
Confused, Gabe pulled one out of the inside pocket of his sport coat. Mouth tight, Reggie flipped over her itinerary printout and began to write, reading aloud as she did so, loud enough that her producer and cameraman looked over with interest. “Note to self: Never try to do anything nice for Gabe again because he is an asshole.” She dotted the period with a flourish and folded up the paper. Blinking innocently up at him, she said, “Can you remind me to have Natalie program that into my Palm Pilot so I get a daily reminder?”
Gabe had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. He wished he didn’t like her so damned much.
Reggie’s cell phone trilled. Glancing at the screen, she said, “Speak of the devil.”
Gabe listened as she told Natalie about last night’s events, leaving out the part about how he’d attacked her like a Neanderthal.
“Sure, go ahead and tell everyone. I don’t care. Maybe I’ll get my face in Us Weekly.”
It bothered Gabe that they would exploit the possibility, however far-fetched, that Reggie’s stalker had followed her all the way to New Orleans to generate publicity. Could Natalie have inadvertently leaked information about Reggie’s schedule? What if her stalker actually had been in their hotel room? It was a long shot, but Gabe couldn’t suppress the ugly suspicion that the threat was real, more real than Reggie was willing to admit to herself.
And Natalie’s carelessness could be placing Reggie in harm’s way. “Let me talk to her,” he said, reaching for the phone.
Natalie nodded as Tyler passed her a note to remind Reggie about the book signing he’d scheduled in Austin at the beginning of next week.
“Oh, hi, Gabe.”
Tyler frowned across the desk at her greeting.
Ever since screwing everything up in Memphis, Natalie had been busting her ass to prove to Reggie and Tyler that she was capable of being Reggie’s assistant. So far she was doing a damn good job, if she did say so herself. So she was wholly unprepared for Gabe’s assault.
“Natalie, I don’t need to remind you not to share Reggie’s hotel information with anyone, do I?” Gabe asked, his voice dripping with acid-laced condescension.
Natalie held the phone away from her ear for a second. She heard a brief scuffle on the other end as Reggie tried to get the phone back from Gabe. “I haven’t told anyone, just like you said.”
“It’s possible this guy found out where Reggie and I were last night. Reggie didn’t tell anyone. I sure as hell didn’t. So that leaves you. What, are you and Tyler scheming to set her up to get more publicity?”
“I would never endanger my sister.” Though she had, with Tyler’s encouragement, leaked information about the stalker to the press, and with great success if she did say so herself. Still, the implication that she’d willingly place her sister in danger cut her to the core.
Suddenly, embarrassingly, her throat closed up with an onslaught of tears. Obviously, the entire world saw her as either a huge fuckup or an idiotic mercenary who had no regard for anyone else, including her own sister.
She let Tyler tug the phone out of her hand without looking up. Great. Now he and Gabe could talk about what a parasitic loser she was. At least Max had promised to give her show idea consideration after their meeting the other day at Reggie’s.
“I don’t know who you think you are, Bankovic, but you have no call to talk to Natalie like that.”
Natalie nearly fell off her chair as Tyler continued, “She’s been doing a damn good job, and she wouldn’t leak information that would put Reggie in danger.” He was silent a moment as he listened to Gabe’s reply, then, “I was the one who called People, okay, so get off Natalie’s back.” Another pause. “Yeah, well, that’s my job, buddy. We all work for Reggie, including you.”
He stabbed at the End button and shoved the phone back at Natalie. “Reggie should fire that asshole. He was way out of line.”
But Natalie suddenly felt like Gabe was right. “He takes his job seriously. Besides, I think he still has a thing for Reggie.” Like the rest of the world. Suddenly, Natalie felt excruciatingly sorry for herself. Look at you, she thought scornfully, twenty-six years old and nothing but a glorified gopher living off your sister’s charity so you can pay rent on that rathole you call an apartment. Maybe she should go home, grab a box of Krispy Kremes, and have herself a full-blown pity party.
Tyler came over to her side of the desk and squatted next to her chair. Handing her a tissue, he awkwardly patted her shoulder. Natalie turned to face him, knowing that her tear-ravaged face looked like the wrath of God. He, of course, looked perfect, the epitome of a Nordic god. This close she could see the tiny golden hairs sprouting on his chin where he’d missed a spot shaving. That tiny crack in his Ken-doll perfection was oddly comforting. His blue eyes, which never regarded her with more than casual friendliness, were deep and warm with what looked like real concern. “You’ve been doing a great job lately, so don’t let him upset you.”
Natalie sniffled, wishing with everything she was worth that she could lay her head on his big, cotton-clad shoulder. But he stood up and looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, I need to wrap this up.” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “I have a lunch date with that hot little lawyer who works across the street.”
For some reason she chose not to examine, that made her want to cry even harder.
If Gabe wanted the silent treatment, Reggie had no problem giving it to him. Bad enough that he’d refused her olive branch—the last she would ever offer, guaranteed—then he’d had the gall to insult her sister.
Before they went to the airport, they stopped at an Internet café so Reggie could check her e-mail and send off another round of notes to her editor. About halfway through the list of nearly fifty messages was one from “Your One and Only,” with the subject line: Black lace and cream.
Though the address was unfamiliar, she knew instantly who sent it. She called out to Gabe, who sat across the room from her at the only other available terminal.
“It’s from him,” she said, indicating the message with her mouse.
Gabe pulled up a chair and clicked on the message.
Darling Reggie,
Why do you persist in hiding from me? Don’t you know by now I will find you, no matter where you go? All that matters is you, darling Reggie, and I won’t stop until we can be together.
I trust that by now you’ve received my latest token. Though I wanted to leave something
more personal behind, I decided it best that I wait to give it to you in person, when the time is right.
Thinking of you always.
Chapter Eight
Cold shock iced Reggie’s limbs as reality hit her. Whoever was sending the creepy notes really was following her. He knew her every move, and he had actually broken into her hotel room the night before. Now he was talking about being together. Was this the escalation that Gabe was talking about?
“I’ll be damned. He really was there,” Gabe muttered.
Reggie shook her head, denial welling in her chest. “I can’t believe it. I thought I was overreacting.”
“I want to send this to a friend of mine. He was in the forces with me and has his own security company now. He’s an expert at finding electronic trails.”
Reggie sat quietly while Gabe left his friend a message and forwarded her e-mail. But she still had several messages to go through, so Reggie sat back down for the next hour and did her best to focus on the work at hand and not obsess over how the stalker had gotten access to her hotel information and worse, their hotel room.
One bright spot was an e-mail from her editor, saying that she loved the previous chapters and that since the Good Morning America story aired, sales of her last book had climbed a full ten percent. She didn’t know why having a rabid fan made her books more appealing, but she’d take any good news she could get at this point.
With that in mind, she made a mental note to call Max about ratings for Simply Delicious. Maybe they’d received a boost too.
The next few days passed in a blur as they traveled all over Texas. Reggie immersed herself in work, and much to her editor’s delight, made a decent dent in the work required for her next book.
On set was a little hairier. Though she did her best not to let it get to her, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled like a heavy cloak around her shoulders. She’d tried to convince herself that the stalker was harmless, that everyone else was overreacting, but what if he really meant her harm? And while Gabe’s presence went a long way in making her feel safer, memories of his warm, wet mouth sliding over her skin tortured her every time she so much as looked at him.
