She didn't believe in fate. She believed too strongly in free will, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of foreboding raising the hair on the back of her neck.
Gabrielle pushed away from the door and headed to her studio. She'd meant what she'd told Joe, no more kisses. While she found lying to him easier than she would have imagined a week ago, she couldn't lie to herself. For reasons she could not begin to fathom, standing so close to Joe, his breath whispering across her cheek and his lips brushing her mouth wasn't all that unpleasant. No, it wasn't unpleasant at all.
Gabrielle believed in expressing love honestly and openly, but not in a crowded park, and not with Detective Joe Shanahan. He didn't care for her, and he'd made it real clear that he considered kissing her part of his job. She'd thought about her reaction to his kiss and had come to the logical conclusion that Joe's touch messed up her biorhythm and threw everything out of whack. Kind of a hiccup or a glitch in the life energy connecting her body, mind, and spirit.
If Kevin walked in on them arguing again, or if Joe saw anyone from his past, he was going to have to figure out something else. No more standing close, filling her senses with the scent of his skin. No more impersonal kisses that reached inside and stole her breath away. And there was absolutely no way she was going to dress in "something sexy" for him.
When the doorbell rang the next evening, Gabrielle thought she was ready for Joe this time. No more surprises. She was in control and if he'd been dressed in worn jeans and a T-shirt, she might have managed it, too. But one look at him and her peaceful center spun off into the cosmos somewhere.
He'd shaved his five o'clock shadow, and his tan cheeks were smooth. His ribbed black polo was made of silk and fit nicely across his wide chest and flat stomach. He'd slipped a woven leather belt through the loops of pleated gabardine pants with razor-sharp creases. Instead of old running shoes or work boots, he wore suede penny loafers. He smelled wonderful and looked better.
Unlike Joe, Gabrielle had purposely put less effort into her appearance. She'd dressed strictly for comfort in a plain white blouse and a shapeless blue-and-white checkered bib jumper that hit her just above the knee. She wore very little makeup and hadn't attempted to do anything different with her hair, just let it curl about her shoulders and down her back like it always did. Her only concession to anything resembling fashion was the pair of silver hoops in her ears and the silver band on the middle finger of her right hand. She'd left her panty hose in her drawer and slipped her bare feet into a pair of canvas sneakers. She figured she looked the antithesis of sexy.
One brow lifted up his forehead telling her he thought so, too. "Where's your little dog Toto?"
Her outfit wasn't that bad. "Hey, I'm not the one who wore my mom's red heels and skipped into a wall."
He leveled his gaze on her. "I was five."
"That's what they all say." She stepped out onto the porch and locked the door behind her. "Besides, I'm sure the party is casual." She dropped her keys into her big macrame handbag and turned to face him. He hadn't moved an inch, and her bare arm brushed across his chest.
"I doubt it." Joe took her elbow as if they were on a real date and led her to the awful beige car she remembered all too well. The last time she'd been cuffed in the backseat. "I've met Kevin, and I doubt he does anything casual, except maybe have casual sex."
The warmth of his palm swept up her arm and down to the tips of her fingers. She forced herself to walk composed by his side, as if his touch didn't make her want to pull away from his grasp. As if she were as calm and unaffected as Joe. She tried to ignore the sensations making her palms sweaty, and she didn't bother to comment on Joe's opinion of Kevin, since what he said was pretty much true. Which made Kevin no better or worse than a lot of other men.
"Last night I thought you were driving a Bronco."
"I was, but Kevin thinks I'm a broke loser. That's what I want him to think," he said and leaned forward to open the passenger door. His chest brushed her arm again, and she took a deep breath through her nose and wondered if his cologne was a combination of ceder and neroli or something else altogether.
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Sniff me like I smell bad." He let go of her elbow, and she felt as if she could relax again.
"You're imagining things," she said and slid into the car. Unlike Joe, the interior of the car smelled as awful as it did the day he'd arrested her. Kind of like motor oil, but at least the seats were clean.
The ride to Kevin's took less than ten minutes, and Joe used the time to remind her of the informant's agreement she'd signed. "If Kevin is innocent," he said, "he doesn't need your help. And if he's guilty, you can't protect him anyway."
Cool air brushed her bare legs and arms and the side of her neck. She wished she'd stayed home. She wished she'd been given a choice.
Gabrielle had been to Kevin's house on several occasions, of course, but she really didn't care for it. The two-story contemporary structure hung on the side of a mountain supported by stilts and had a spectacular view of the city. The interior was constructed of lots of marble, hardwood, and steel and felt about as cozy as a museum of modern art.
Gabrielle and Joe walked up the sidewalk together, shoulder to shoulder, barely touching.
"What if one of Kevin's friends recognizes you? What are you going to do?"
"I'll figure something out."
That's exactly what she was afraid of. "Like what?"
Joe rang the doorbell and they stood side by side, staring ahead. "Are you afraid to be alone with me?"
A little. "No"
" Cause you look worried about that."
"I don't look worried."
"You look like maybe you don't trust yourself."
"To do what?"
"Keep your hands to yourself."
Before she could respond, the door swung open and the charade began. Joe wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the heat from his palm warming her flesh through the thin material of her blouse.
"I wondered if you two were going to make it." Kevin stepped back, and they moved inside. As always, he looked like he'd just posed for GQ.
"I told you I could get her out of the house for a few hours."
Kevin glanced at Gabrielle's bib, and a line appeared across his forehead. "Gabe, this is a new look for you. Interesting."
"It's not that bad," she defended herself.
"Not if you live in Kansas." Kevin shut the door, and they followed him toward the living room.
"I don't look like Dorothy." Gabrielle glanced downward at her blue-and-white-checked jumper. "Do I?"
Joe pulled her against his side. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from flying monkeys."
She raised her gaze to his eyes, with their rich brown irises and thick, spiky lashes, and it wasn't flying monkeys that had her worried.
"Why don't you let Kevin put that big purse you're packing somewhere?"
"I can put it in the spare bedroom," Kevin offered.
"I want to keep it with me."
Joe snatched it off her shoulder and handed it to Kevin. "You'll get bursitis."
"In my shoulder?"
"Never can tell about bursitis," Joe predicted as Kevin walked off with her purse.
The living room, kitchen, and dining room shared the same large airy space and spectacular view of the city. A small group of guests mingled at the bar, while Mariah Carey sang from hidden speakers, filling the house with every last octave she managed to pull from her vocal cords. Gabrielle didn't have anything against Mariah personally, but she thought the diva would benefit from a lesson in moderation. Gabrielle moved her gaze about the space, from the zebra skin draped over the back of the leather sofa to the African artifacts cluttering the room. Kevin could have used the same lesson.
When Kevin returned, he introduced Joe and Gabrielle to his friends, a tight group of entrepreneurs who were, as far as Gabrielle was concerned, far more worried about the state of their bank accounts
than the state of consciousness. Joe kept his arm around Gabrielle as they shook hands with a man and his wife who owned a chain of successful coffeehouses. Others sold vitamins or computers or real estate and apparently did very well. Kevin introduced them to his girlfriend, China, who, Gabrielle could have sworn, was named Sandy the last time they'd met. Whatever her name now, the woman was still petite and blond and flawless, and Gabrielle felt an overwhelming urge to slouch.
Next to China stood her equally beautiful and petite friend, Nancy, who didn't even pretend to be interested in anything Gabrielle might have to say. Her attention was on the man who stood with his hip pressed against Gabrielle. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched pleasure curl the corners of Joe's lips into an appreciative smile. His gaze flickered to Nancy's bosom, and he shifted his weight to his opposite foot. His warm hand slid from Gabrielle's shoulder and across her back, then he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and his touch was gone completely.
She should have been glad. She was glad. Only she felt a little deserted and something more. Something uncomfortable that felt like jealousy, but couldn't possibly be jealousy because (a) Joe wasn't her real boyfriend; (b) she didn't care about him; and (c) she wasn't attracted to unenlightened men.
Kevin said something Joe must have thought funny, because he tipped his head back a little and laughed, showing straight white teeth and his smooth tan throat. Creases appeared in the corners of his eyes, and the deep mellow sound reached inside her and settled in her chest.
Someone else said something too, and they all laughed. Except Gabrielle. She didn't think there was anything to laugh about. No, there was absolutely nothing funny about the little pang beneath her breastbone, or the white hot anarchy surging through her veins, arousing a physical desire she found impossible to ignore.
Chapter Eleven
Gabrielle bit into an asparagus spear and glanced at the silver watch strapped to her left wrist. Nine-thirty. It seemed a lot later.
"If you're not careful, Nancy is going to steal your man."
Gabrielle glanced across her shoulder at Kevin, then returned her gaze to the undercover cop who'd obviously forgotten he was supposed to have a girlfriend, or that he was supposed to be looking for Mr. Hillard's Monet.
Unless Nancy had the painting down her dress, Joe wasn't likely to find it. He stood across the room with his forearm resting on the bar, his hand wrapped around a half empty glass. His head was cocked to one side toward Nancy, as if he couldn't bear to miss one fascinating word uttered from the woman's red lips. "I'm not worried." Gabrielle reached for a slice of toasted Brie on a piece of baguette.
"Maybe you should. Nancy loves to steal men away from their wives or girlfriends."
"How'd the store do today?" she asked, purposely changing the subject and turning her full attention to Kevin.
"We sold a few garnet pieces, and that big wicker picnic basket. Made about four hundred dollars. Not bad, I guess, for June." He shrugged. "How'd you do with your oils?"
"I sold just about everything. By two o'clock. I only had a few bottles of sunscreen oil. So I packed up and spent the rest of the day at home painting and napping."
She took a bite of the baguette, and her gaze strayed across the room. Now the two were smiling at each other, and she wondered if Joe was secretly making a date to meet Nancy later. They made a good-looking couple. Not only was Nancy petite but she also had that pale, frail look about her, like she needed a man to protect her. A big hunk of man who could throw her over his shoulder and save her from burning buildings. A man like Joe.
"Are you sure you aren't worried about Joe and Nancy?"
"Not at all." To prove it, she turned her back on them, determined to forget about Detective Shanahan. She might have succeeded, too, but his deep, rich laughter rose above the other noise in the room and reminded her of his exact location beside the bar-next to a beautiful little blond in a tiny dress. "Guess who I saw today?" she asked, trying to refocus her attention. "That guy I dated last year, Ian Raney. He's still giving Reiki treatments at the Healing Center. He had a booth at the festival and was healing auras."
"He was an odd one," Kevin chuckled.
"He's gay now." She frowned. "Or maybe he was gay before, and I just didn't know it"
"Really? How do you know he's gay now?"
"He introduced me to his 'special friend Brad." She popped the rest of the Brie into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of white wine. "There wasn't a doubt about Brad's sexual orientation."
"A flaming fruit?"
"Flambeed, I'm sorry to say. How could I have gone out with a gay guy and not have known it? Weren't there signs?"
"Well, did he try to get you into bed with him?"
"No."
Kevin put his arm around Gabrielle's shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. "There you go."
She looked into his familiar blue eyes and felt herself relax a little. She'd had these kinds of conversations with Kevin in the past They'd sit in their office on slow days, feet kicked up, ignoring the thousand and one details and demands of running a small business, and they'd talk about anything. "Not all men are like you."
"Yes they are. But most men aren't going to tell you the truth if they think they have a chance to score. I know I don't, so I have nothing to lose."
She laughed and took another sip of her wine. Kevin could be just as superficial as the rest of his friends, but he was never that way with her. She didn't know how he was able to meld his different personalities, but he managed it somehow. He was honest and open and a lot of fun and could almost make her forget about the man across the room and why she was there. "So you're only telling me the truth because we're never going to have sex?"
"That's about it."
"If you thought there was a chance, you'd lie?"
"Like a cheap rug."
"And you think all men are like you?"
"Absolutely. If you don't believe me, ask your boyfriend." He dropped his hand from her shoulder.
"Ask me what?"
Gabrielle turned and looked into Joe's watchful eyes. A knot twisted her stomach, and she tried to tell herself it was the Brie. She didn't want to even think it could be anything other than rich food. "Nothing."
"Gabrielle doesn't want to believe guys lie to women to get them into bed."
"I said not all guys," she clarified.
Joe glanced at Kevin, then returned his gaze to Gabrielle. He slid his hand to the small of her back. "This is one of those trick questions,right? Either way I answer, I'm screwed."
A warm tingle swept way up her spine, and she stepped away from his touch. She especially didn't want to think about how easily this one man could affect her with nothing more than a glance or a touch.
"Looks like you're screwed anyway. Maybe you should pay more attention to Gabrielle and less to Nancy," Kevin said, noticing her reaction and misinterpreting it for jealousy. Which it wasn't, of course.
"Gabrielle knows she doesn't have to worry about other women." He took her wine glass and set it on the table. "I have a real fondness for that mole on the inside of her thigh." He raised her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. "You might even say I'm obsessed."
He stared at her over the back of her hand. Her fingers trembled, and she tried to remember if she had a mole and couldn't.
"Did you get enough to eat?" he asked against her knuckles.
"What?" Was he really asking about food? "I'm not hungry."
"Ready to go home then?"
Slowly, she nodded.
"Are you two leaving already?" Kevin asked.
"It's our one-month anniversary," Joe explained as he lowered her hand and kept it tight in his grasp. "I'm sentimental about those kinds of things. Let's say good-bye and get your purse."
"I'll get it for you" Kevin offered.
"Thanks, but we'll get it," Joe insisted.
Saying good-bye to Kevin's friends took about three minutes, and most of that was spent tr
ying to convince Nancy that they really did have to leave so soon. Joe wove his fingers through hers, and they walked from the room, palm pressed to palm. If they'd been a real couple, she might have rested her head against his, and he might have turned and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek or whispered something sweet into her ear. But there was nothing soft or sweet about Joe, and they weren't a real couple. They were a lie, and she wondered how anyone looking at them couldn't see behind the facade.
The warm sensation of his touch triggered an even warmer physical desire, but this time her mind and spirit were in control. Just in case, she dropped his hand and kept a few inches of distance between them. She wondered how Kevin was so easily fooled.
Kevin kept his gaze on Gabrielle's back as she and her boyfriend walked from the room. He watched her drop Joe's hand and knew she was upset about something. But whatever it was, Kevin was just as sure her boyfriend could make her forget. Guys like Joe were like that. They could be losers and still get what they wanted handed to them. Not Kevin. He had to take what he wanted.
He glanced around at his young wealthy guests, eating his food, drinking his booze, standing in his beautiful house. He'd crammed his home with wonderful paintings and fine antiques and artifacts. He had one of the best views in the city, and it hadn't come cheap. He'd made it to the top of the hill, but one look at a guy like Joe, and he got that old hunger in his gut for more and that old pounding in his head that told him he would never be enough, never have enough. Enough money, nice clothes, fancy houses, and fast cars. Enough beautiful women to make him feel as if he were different from every other guy walking the planet. As if he weren't invisible. The hunger inside was insatiable, and sometimes he feared there would never be enough.
It Must Be Love Page 15
