Instead he turned and climbed up on the rocks. He made his way to a large boulder on the water’s edge. He sat down, letting the sea breeze fan his face, and hoped the lulling sound of the ocean would ease the storm raging inside him.
He sat there for the longest time, trying to get his thoughts in order. By then the sun had sunk below the horizon. It was an overcast night with the moon peeking out here and there. Deacon found comfort in the long, dark shadows. He glanced around and found that Gabrielle hadn’t left. Instead, she was sitting just a few feet away. She was too far away in the dark to make out her face. As she sat there with her knees drawn up to her chest, he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. He hated the thought that he continued to cause her pain. But nothing he could say would fix things.
“If you’re waiting for a confession, you’re wasting your time.” He turned back to the ocean.
Gabrielle moved to settle on the rock next to him. “Is that because you didn’t cause the accident?”
Why was he holding back? So what if she didn’t believe him. Once he said it, it would be out there. Perhaps she’d believe him. Perhaps she wouldn’t. But it was time he told the truth.
“I don’t remember.” Somehow it was easier having this conversation under the shelter of darkness.
“What don’t you remember?”
“The accident.” He could feel her intense stare.
“What part don’t you remember?”
“All of it. They called it retrograde amnesia or some such thing.”
“That’s pretty convenient.” She said it as a fact.
He turned to her and now that she was closer, he could make out the disbelief written on her face. “Actually, it isn’t. I want to remember the accident as bad as you need me to remember. I need to know what I’ve done.” His voice cracked. “I—I need to know if I’m responsible.”
For a moment, Gabrielle didn’t say anything. “So you’re not holding out and trying to bury the events?”
His jaw tightened. He knew that she wouldn’t believe him. But then again, why should she?
“No. I’m not lying.” He shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
“And the delay with the police report?”
“I’ve had my attorney pressing for its release, but without camera footage or an eyewitness account, it complicates matters. Once the police have finalized the report, it must go up the chain of command, ending with the DA’s office. When my attorney checked yesterday, he was told the report should be released soon.” When Gabrielle didn’t say anything, he glanced over at her. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear.”
Her gaze met his and she placed a slight smile on her lips. “It’s the truth and that’s what matters.”
“You believe me?” If she did, she’d be the first person to do so.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”
“I’m just surprised is all.”
Gaby paused. “So tell me more about yourself.”
“You don’t really want to hear about me?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Where do I start?”
“How about at the beginning.”
“Well, I was born on Valentine’s Day. My father died when I was thirteen. My mother finished raising me on her own. I split my time between the fishing boat and watching movies.”
“Fishing and movies. Those are two diverse interests.”
“The fishing wasn’t a hobby. It was my job. I started when I was thirteen, getting paid under the table, in order to help my mother pay the bills.” It hadn’t been an easy life and his schooling had paid the price, but he’d graduated by the sheer willpower of his mother. “The movies were my passion. I drove my mother crazy telling her that one day I would be a movie star. And do you know what she told me?”
Gabrielle shook her head.
“She used to say, ‘Deacon, you’re a smart boy. You can be anything you want to be as long as you work hard and don’t give up.’”
“She sounded like a smart lady.”
“I thought so, too. And then she met my stepfather. In the beginning, he wasn’t so bad. And then they got married. That was when I decided to move to California. I just couldn’t stick around and watch those two argue. I tried to talk my mother in to coming with me, but she insisted that her place was with her husband.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been tough on you.”
“And what’s even worse is that when she first found a lump in her breast, that—that man told her it was her imagination. By the time I talked her in to going to the doctor, the cancer was advanced. I brought her here to California. Oh, they tried to help her, but by then the cancer had spread.”
Gabrielle reached out, taking his hand in hers. She gave a firm squeeze. It shouldn’t, but it meant a lot to him. And it even meant more because she wasn’t supposed to be here giving him support. She was supposed to hate him—hate his very existence. The fact that she didn’t confused him, yet also intrigued him. There was definitely something different about Gabrielle.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE DIDN’T MOVE.
Gabrielle left her hand securely within Deacon’s hold. His hands were large and his fingers long. And his hand fit perfectly around hers. It was as though they were made for one another. Not that she was letting her heart get ahead of her mind. She knew that nothing could ever come of their relationship, whether he’d caused the accident or not.
Because in her father’s mind, Deacon would always be responsible for her aunt’s death. And she highly doubted that anything would change her father’s mind. He was a very stubborn man. She’d inherited his stubborn streak. Or at least that’s what her aunt had told her.
However, Deacon was far from the spoiled movie star that her father and Newton had accused Deacon of being. There was a lot more to this man than anyone would guess. He was like an onion, with layer upon layer, and she had an overwhelming desire to keep peeling back the layers until she reached his heart.
“Maybe we should head back.” Deacon released her hand and got to his feet.
“So soon?”
He laughed. “We’ve been out here a long time. It’s getting late.”
“But we have the whole beach to ourselves.” And then she dropped her voice. “We can do whatever we want and there’s no one around to see.”
“Be careful. Or I just might take you up on the invitation.”
A shiver of excitement raced through her. She knew she shouldn’t be flirting with him, but she couldn’t stop herself. There was something about Deacon that she couldn’t resist.
“Maybe I want you to take me up on the invitation.”
Deacon stood there in the shadows. She wished she could make out his eyes. He was so quiet. Was he considering taking advantage of her suggestion? Her heart thudded against her ribs.
“Gabrielle, don’t make offers you aren’t ready to fulfill. Let’s head back before something happens that we’ll both come to regret. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He held out his hand to her and helped her to her feet. For a moment, they stood there face-to-face. Her pulse raced and her heart pounded. With darkness all around them, a few moonbeams silhouetted Deacon’s face. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t fragile. But her tongue refused to cooperate.
Instead of turning and heading back to the estate, Deacon continued staring at her. Was he considering kissing her again? Was it wrong that she wanted him to pull her against his chest and lower his head to hers?
And then he turned away and started climbing down off the rocks. When he was standing on the sand, he turned back to her and held out his hands in order to catch her. Even though she could make it down on her own, she didn’t resist his offer of assistance.
He placed his hands on her waist and lowered her ev
er so slowly. Her body slid down over his. It was tantalizing and oh, so arousing. She was so caught up in the crazy sensation zinging through her body that she never noticed when her feet touched the ground.
Beard or no beard. Scars or no scars. Long hair or short. There was something magnetic about this man. She knew that it wasn’t rational. And right now, she didn’t care.
Her heart pounded so loud that it drowned out rational thought. She was going to live in the moment and damn the consequences. She tilted up her chin and lifted up on her tiptoes. Her mouth pressed to his.
His lips were warm and smooth. And the kiss, it was full of emotion, of need, of desire. Her hands slid up over his broad shoulders and slipped around his neck. She could get used to this.
Except for the beard. It tickled her. And when he moved to trail kisses down her neck, it tickled so much that she pulled away. A smile lifted her lips as she struggled not to laugh. He sent her a concerned look as though wondering if he had done something wrong.
“It’s not you.” But when he went to press his lips to her neck again, she placed her hands on his shoulders and held him back.
“What?”
She wasn’t sure if he would take offense or not. And so she stood there not saying a word.
He frowned. “Just tell me.”
“It...it’s your beard. It tickles.”
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “It does?” He leaned toward her. “How much?”
Before he could tickle her again, she yanked away from him. “Catch me if you can.”
And with that taunt, she ran up the beach. A big smile was plastered across her face. For once, she wasn’t the dutiful daughter working two jobs to keep the bills paid and she wasn’t answering her father’s numerous phone calls to check up on her. She was just Gabrielle Dupré, a woman with a dangerously handsome man chasing her. She could hear Deacon calling out to her, but she didn’t stop until she was out of breath.
When she turned around, she fully expected Deacon to be standing there, but he wasn’t. She squinted into the shadows. He was quite a way down the beach. What in the world? Hadn’t he wanted to catch her?
Disappointment socked her in the gut. They’d been having so much fun. Where had it gone wrong?
Her wounded pride urged her to keep going. But another part of her wanted to wait and find out what was up. The curiosity in her won out. She started to walk back to him.
When she was within a few feet of Deacon, he said. “Sorry. I couldn’t keep up. My leg is getting better, but it’s not that good yet.”
And suddenly she felt foolish. She was worried about him being upset with her when in fact he had an injury. It never even dawned on her that the injuries he’d sustained to his face, arms and hands had extended further.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“It’s not your problem. And how would you know?”
They started to walk side by side. She felt awful. She’d just assumed that he was fine. “Are you okay to walk back?”
“Yes. I’m just not up for running. Maybe one day, if I keep going to therapy and doing the exercises.”
“You go to physical therapy?” She hadn’t noticed him leaving on a regular basis, but then again, she hadn’t been here that long.
“Not anymore.”
“Why not?” She knew from her father’s accident how important physical therapy could be to making a full recovery. “It’s really important.”
“I’m fine.” His dismissive manner bothered her.
“If you were fine, you would have kept up with me or surpassed me. You are not fine. Your therapy is important. You can’t just dismiss it because you don’t want to do the work.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And since when does my welfare matter to you?”
“It—it doesn’t.” Did it? She glanced away from him, not wanting him to read anything in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be important to you.”
“I don’t think it’s going to matter. All I do is haunt that place.” He gestured toward the mansion in the distance.
“If you refuse to leave home, I can help you with the exercises.”
“I don’t need help.” His voice rumbled with agitation, letting her know that she’d pushed as far as he was going to let her go.
And so they walked in silence. She wasn’t sure what to say now. He’d made it clear he didn’t want her help and he refused to go anywhere to get help. She couldn’t believe this, but she’d met someone who was as stubborn or perhaps more stubborn than her father. They at least had that in common.
The thought of who could be more stubborn made her smile and the more she thought about it, a giggle started to form. And before she knew it, she was laughing. Maybe it was her nervousness or maybe it was the stress, but it felt good to laugh. Talk about a cathartic moment.
Beneath one of the estate security lights, Deacon stepped in front of her. “What’s so funny?”
The frown on his face just made her laugh some more. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. She couldn’t help herself. And it just felt so darn good.
“Stop it. Right now.” His eyebrows were drawn into a firm line.
“I—I can’t.” She laughed some more.
She could see that the more she laughed the angrier he was getting. She really had to pull herself together. She had no idea what had come over her, but she needed to get a grip.
With a frustrated groan, Deacon turned and started to walk away. That was definitely not a good sign, at all. The elation in her started to ebb.
“Wait.” She rushed to catch up with him, all the while trying to catch her breath.
“I don’t care to be laughed at.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you. Not really.” And then she thought about it a little more. “Well, maybe some. But it really wasn’t that bad.”
“I don’t want to be laughed at.”
Totally sober now, she said, “I just started thinking about you and my father and what you two have in common.”
Deacon came to a stop and she almost ran in to him. “You were comparing me to your father?”
“Yes, in a way.”
“What way?”
“You are both so stubborn. I was trying to figure out which one of you is the worst, but I couldn’t decide.”
“And that made you laugh.”
“Yes, I guess it did.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”
“That’s okay. I don’t really understand myself, either.” It was the truth. She understood the parts of her that were like her father, but the other parts, the silly parts, sometimes surprised her. “I honestly don’t know why I laughed. But once I did, it felt good. It’s been a very long time since I laughed like that. You should try it some time.”
He looked at her like she’d just grown an extra head. “You want me to laugh for no reason at all.”
She shrugged. “Don’t put it down until you’ve tried it.”
He shook his head again. “It must be a woman thing.”
Before they went their separate ways, Deacon asked for the fund-raising plans. She ran upstairs and retrieved the papers. She was kind of hoping he’d follow her upstairs. His kisses were more addictive than the squares of chocolate with caramel centers that she enjoyed each night while reading.
She hurried back down the steps. “This is everything I have so far.”
When she handed over the papers, their fingers touched. To her surprise, he didn’t rush to pull away. Neither did she. Their gazes met and her heart careened into her throat.
Her gaze lowered to his mouth. She’d never been so tempted by anything in her life. What was it about this man that muddled her thoughts? It was as though he had some sort of magnetic force and anytime she was near him, she was drawn in.
And then he stepped back. “Thanks for these. I’ll look them over tonight.”
She choked down her disappointment. “Good. The sooner I jump on these plans, the better.”
“Then how about a breakfast meeting?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “You do eat breakfast, don’t you?”
At last, she found her voice. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” He gestured toward the papers. “Good night.”
She stood there for a moment watching him retreat to the main house. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to fall for him. It was the ocean breeze and his deep voice that caused her to lose focus for just a few moments. She was fine now. Realizing that she shouldn’t be standing around staring at Deacon like some besotted schoolgirl, she turned and headed up the steps.
Before it got much later, she needed to file her daily report with QTR. She carried her personal laptop to a chair on her private balcony and sat in one of the comfy chairs.
She opened the laptop and typed in her password. Once she had her email open, the words came pouring out of her.
Tonight we walked on the beach. It was like a scene right out of a movie, with the lull of the water in the background and the gentle breeze. It was amazing.
Beneath the moonlight, we kissed. I don’t think my feet were touching the ground. His touch—it was amazing. I know that I shouldn’t feel anything for him because of the accident, but the harder I fight it, the more attracted to him I become.
His kiss awakened a part of me that I’d forgotten about. There was a rush of emotions unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s all so confusing. Maybe I’m just lonely. It has been over a year since I dated anyone. Work and caring for my father has consumed my life. When I leave here perhaps I need to revisit the dating scene and update my online profile. Because there’s no way what I’m starting to feel for Deacon is real. It can’t be!
She read back over what she’d written. What was she thinking? She could never tell anyone her most intimate thoughts—most especially a tell-all magazine. Talk about creating sensational headlines.
Beauty and Her Boss Page 9
