“It’s just that I don’t know much about you.”
“What would you like to know?”
A bunch of questions sprang to mind, like was she seeing anyone? If circumstances were different, would she go out with him? He immediately squelched those inquiries. They were none of his business—no matter how much he longed to know the answers.
He swallowed hard. “How well do you cook?”
A smile lifted her pink lips. “Don’t you think you should have asked before agreeing to this meal? Now you’ll just have to find out for yourself. Come on.”
She didn’t even wait for his reply before she started up the steps to the guesthouse. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she mounted each step. No one had a right to look that good. And oh, boy, did she look good.
He hesitated. Right now, he was truly regretting agreeing to this meal. And it had absolutely nothing to do with his bad day or his uncertainty about her cooking skills and everything to do with how appealing he found the cook.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, come on.”
Not wanting her to notice his discomfort, he did as she said. He started up the steps right behind her. A meal for two. This was a mistake. And yet he kept putting one foot in front of the other.
He’d spent so much time alone that he wasn’t even sure he remembered how to make small talk. Just stick to business. It wasn’t like she wanted to have this dinner for them to get closer. She was just anxious to get on with this fund-raiser—a fund-raiser that he was certain would fail if it had his name attached to it.
* * *
What had she done?
Gabrielle entered the galley kitchen. It was small and cozy. If Deacon were to be in here with her, they’d be all over each other—as in bumping in to each other. But now that the seed had been planted, she started to think of other things they could cook up together that had absolutely nothing to do with food.
Her imagination conjured up a shirtless Deacon in her kitchen. Oh, yes, things would definitely heat up. And then she’d be there in him arms. Her hands would run over his muscled chest. And there was a can of whipped cream—
Heat rushed to Gaby’s face. This was a mistake.
But as she heard Deacon’s footsteps behind her, she knew that it was too late to change her mind. She just had to keep her attention focused on the main course and not the dessert.
She moved to the fridge and pulled the door open. There on the top shelf sat the whipped cream. She ignored it. “What are you hungry for?” She was hungry for... The image of licking cream off Deacon came to mind. She gave herself a mental jerk. “Maybe I, ah, should tell you what I have ingredients for and, um, then we can go from there.”
“Are you okay?”
“Um, sure.” If only she could get the image of having him for dessert out of her mind. “Why?”
“You’re acting nervous. If it’s dinner, don’t worry. We can order in.”
“No.” Her pride refused to give up. “I’ve got this.”
Deacon took a seat at the kitchen counter. “I’m not a picky eater. So anything is good.”
“Let me see what’s in here.” Mrs. Kupps had kindly offered to fill her fridge for the times when she was off and for the evenings when Gabrielle might get hungry.
“I’ve found a steak.” Gaby opened the produce drawer. “There are some fingerling potatoes. And some tomatoes, onions, Gorgonzola cheese and arugula.”
Her gaze skimmed back over that tempting whipped cream, but she absolutely refused to mention dessert. When he didn’t respond, she glanced over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“Sounds good. I’ll just look over this information about the fund-raiser while you cook the food.”
She closed the fridge and turned to him. “I don’t think so.”
His dark eyebrows drew together as his puzzled gaze met hers. “What?”
“I’m not cooking us dinner. We’re both doing it.”
He shook his head and waved off her idea. “That is not a good idea. I don’t know my way around a kitchen. That’s what takeout menus are for.”
“It’s about time you learned your way around it.” She wasn’t about to wait on him. She didn’t care how much money he had or how famous he was. “Come on. You can wash the potatoes and get them ready to go in the oven while I get out the ingredients for the salad.”
And so with a heavy sigh, he got off the bar stool and made his way into the kitchen. She gave him detailed instructions and they set to work. This wasn’t as bad as she’d been imagining.
Gabrielle finished rinsing the lettuce and turned to grab a bowl from one of the cabinets over the counter when she ran in to Deacon. To steady herself, she reached out with both hands. They landed on his chest—his very firm chest. The breath caught in her throat.
He reached out, catching her by the waist. His hands seemed to fit perfectly around her. It was though they fit together. But how could that be?
Deacon was the man who was responsible for her aunt’s death. At least that’s what her father and the papers were saying. But there was a voice deep inside her that said there was so much more to this man. Was she only seeing what she wanted to see?
Neither of them moved as her gaze rose from his chest to his full beard to his straight nose. And then she noticed his hair. It looked like it hadn’t been cut in months. It fell just above his eyes. When their gazes at last connected, her heart pounded. Each heartbeat echoed in her ears.
Was it wrong that she wanted him to kiss her again? That kiss they’d shared was stuck in her mind. No man had ever made her feel so alive with just a kiss. And she hadn’t gotten enough. Maybe it was the knowledge that it was wrong that made this thing—whatever you wanted to call it—between them that much more enticing. Deacon was the bad boy and she was the good girl.
Her gaze slipped back down to his mouth. It was surrounded by his mustache and beard. Though they were both well kept, she wasn’t sure she was a fan of so much facial hair. Still, she wouldn’t pass up the chance to kiss him, beard or no beard.
At that moment, Deacon stepped back. He released her. When she glanced at him, he turned away. Did he know what she was thinking? Did he know that she’d almost kissed him again?
“I just need the olive oil,” he said, as though nothing had happened between them.
“I think I saw some in the cabinet to the right of the stove.”
“Thanks.”
And that was it. They were both going to act as though sparks of attraction hadn’t just arched between them like some out-of-control science experiment. Well, if he could pretend nothing happened, so could she. After all, it was for the best.
Refusing to let her mind meander down that dangerous road, she focused on preparing a delicious dinner. In no time, Gaby filled their plates with seared steak, roasted potatoes and a fresh salad tossed with a wine-and-cheese dressing. They took a seat at the kitchen bar and ate in silence. In fact, Deacon was so quiet, she couldn’t tell if he was enjoying the meal.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Yes.” His gaze met hers but then he glanced away as though he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if he should. He stabbed a potato with his fork. “It’s the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“I doubt it. Mrs. Kupps is a marvel in the kitchen. But thank you for the compliment.” It’d been a long time since anyone had taken notice of her cooking, including her father.
She was truly happy he was enjoying the meal. This is the point where she should once again probe him about the accident, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ruin the moment. The questions had waited this long, surely they could wait a little longer.
They continued to eat in a comfortable silence. Deacon emptied his plate first. He politely waited for her to finish before he carried both of their plates to the sink. To
gether they cleaned up the mess they’d made in the kitchen.
After the dishes were placed in the dishwasher, Deacon said, “I should look over those notes for the fund-raiser.”
Gabrielle spied a beautiful sunset splashing the sky with brilliant pinks and purples. “Or you could go for a walk with me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, please? It’s such a beautiful evening.”
He shook his head.
“Do you ever get out of this estate?”
He frowned at her. “Of course I do. I was just in the city today.”
“I don’t mean for business or whatever drew you away. I mean get out of here and do something relaxing.”
“Not since the accident.”
“Because of the paparazzi?”
He nodded. “It stirs up interest in me. And it’s not my reputation so much as the people closest to me being harassed. When the reporters start their feeding frenzy, Mrs. Kupps can’t even go to the grocery store without being harassed in the parking lot. I thought staying out of public sight would help and it did for a while.”
“And then my father stirred things up.”
Deacon lowered his gaze and nodded.
“I’m sorry.” So he wasn’t hiding out here for purely selfish reasons. “Is that why you gave your grounds crew time off?”
“Yes. It just got to be too hard on everyone. Although Mrs. Kupps refused to take paid leave. She said she wasn’t going to let the reporters bully her.”
Gaby glanced away. Guilt settled over her like a wet, soggy blanket. Here he was telling her how hard the media had made the life of those around him and she was writing daily reports for QTR. She was starting to wonder if her idea to publicly out him was the best approach.
“What’s the matter?”
Her gaze lifted and she found him studying her. Apparently the guilt was written all over her face. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re upset because I don’t want to go for a walk.”
It was best to let him think that was the source of her distress. “Oh, come on. There’s no one out on the beach. Let’s go.”
“I thought the fund-raiser stuff needed to be dealt with.”
“It does. But there’s plenty of time for it. Right now, I’d like to see more of this area. I must admit I’m not used to hanging out in Malibu. And the beach here is so nice. Come on.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Show me around.” She started toward the door, hoping that he’d give in to her tug of his arm.
“But there isn’t much to show. It’s a beach.”
“A beautiful beach with a gorgeous sunset.”
He followed her to the door and then stopped. “But I have work to do.”
“Don’t you ever just want to play hooky?”
There was a twinkle in his eyes. “So that’s what you do? Play hooky instead of working.”
The smile slipped from her face. She couldn’t decide if he was being serious or if he was just giving her a hard time. She removed her hand from his. “I promise you that I work all day. I do a lot—more than what you’ve asked—”
“Slow down. I was just teasing you.” He sent her a small smile.
She studied him for a moment, determining if he were serious or not. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Harass you a little?”
“Yes. Because I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re being serious or not.”
“Perhaps I am too serious these days.”
“You think so?” The words slipped across her lips before she could stop them.
His eyes widened. “I didn’t know I was that bad.”
“Let’s just say that a bear with a thorn in its paw is more congenial than you.”
“Ouch.” He clasped his chest. “You really know how to wound a guy.”
“Well, if you want to make it up to me, let’s go for that walk.”
He hesitated. She waited for him to say no, but instead, he said, “Fine. Lead the way.”
She didn’t say a word, not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind. Instead, she headed down the steps as quickly as her legs would carry her.
CHAPTER TEN
WHY EXACTLY HAD he agreed to this walk?
Deacon pulled the navy blue ball cap from his back pocket and settled it on his head. And even though evening was descending upon them, he put on the sunglasses that had been dangling from the neck of his shirt. These days, he always took precautions.
He shouldn’t be out here, in the open for anyone to approach him—especially the press. The thought of being hounded with question after question about one of the most horrific events in his life almost had him turning around. Instead he pulled the brim down a little farther on his forehead. But the lure of stepping outside of his self-imposed confines was almost too tempting for him.
How could he resist walking along the sandy shore with the most beautiful woman he’d ever known by his side? The truth was, she’d cast a spell over him and he’d follow her most anywhere. And so he kept moving—kept in step with Gabrielle—as they made their way down to the beach.
He scanned the beach, looking for any signs of trouble. There was a man jogging along the water’s edge. And coming from the other direction was an older woman walking her dog. Other than that, the beach was quiet.
Before his life had crashed in on him, he would jog on the beach each morning. And sometimes in the evening, if he had time. He’d come out here to clear his head. It was funny to think that he’d ever taken those simple liberties for granted—
“Don’t you think?” Gabrielle’s voice cut through his thoughts.
He had no idea what she’d been saying. “What was that?”
“I said the sunset is exceptional tonight. I wish I’d have grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter so I could take a picture of it.”
Deacon stopped. This was one small thing that he could do for her. “I’ve got mine.”
He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. And then he handed it over so Gabrielle could forward it to her phone. When she was done, she returned the phone and that’s when their fingers touched. How could such a small gesture get to him? And yet, a zing of nervous energy rushed up his arm and settled in his chest, making his heart beat faster.
“Thank you.” When she smiled at him, it was like having the sun’s ray on his face.
“You...you’re welcome.” It’d been a long time since he’d used his manners, but it made him feel more human—she made him feel like a man again. He didn’t want this evening to end. “What are you waiting for? Surely you don’t want to turn around already.”
Her eyes lit up with surprise. “Certainly not.”
They set off again at a leisurely pace. Every now and then they passed someone else with the same intention of enjoying such a perfect evening. Deacon couldn’t recall the last time he was able to let go of the guilt, the remnants of the nightmares and the worry of what tomorrow would bring long enough to enjoy the here and now.
“I can see why you live here,” Gabrielle said. “If I had the opportunity, I’d get a little place along here and wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”
“Actually I’ve been considering moving. It’s time for a change. Maybe I could move someplace where they don’t recognize me.”
“I don’t think that place exists.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“You aren’t returning to the movies?”
Was she just being polite? Or had she not really looked at him? He stopped walking and held out his hand in front of them. “With scars like these, no one would want to hire me.”
“These are from the accident?”
“Yes.”
She reached out and ran her fingertip ever so gently over his skin. “It’s no
t so bad. Maybe some makeup could hide what’s there from the camera if you’re self-conscious about it.”
But makeup could not hide the scars in his mind. They were there—they kept him up at night, walking the halls in the dark. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Why not try?”
“Because...” Because he didn’t deserve to be in front of those cameras any longer. She of all people should understand that. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
She shrugged and then started to walk again. “How am I supposed to act around you?”
“Like you hate me.”
“Should I hate you?”
He inwardly groaned. Why did she have to keep turning things around on him? “It’s not for me to say how you should feel. It’s just that if circumstances were reversed, I’d probably act more like your father.”
“And what has that accomplished? He has broken the law and has his daughter bailing him out.”
Deacon really wanted to understand her. “So you think by taking the high road that you’ll accomplish more?”
“Such as you telling me what happened the night my aunt died?”
“There it is.” He stopped next to an outcropping of rocks. “I knew that’s why you dragged me out here. You wanted to get me someplace where you could interrogate me.”
“That’s not true. I didn’t drag you out here—”
“But you can’t deny that you didn’t think about questioning me. You were hoping to wear me down into a confession.”
Her gaze searched his. “Do you have something you need to confess?”
He should turn and leave. That’s what he’d do if he were thinking clearly. That’s what his attorney would advise him to do.
But his feet wouldn’t cooperate. He stood there staring into Gabrielle’s eyes and could only imagine the pain that she’d been through. And the not knowing, well, he knew all about that. Much too well.
He swallowed hard. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
He wanted to trust her. He wanted to believe that whatever he said would stay between the two of them. But he hardly knew her. And right now, he could count on one hand how many people he trusted.
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