It Must Be Love

by Rachel Gibson

  "Stand right here," Joe ordered once they were out of sight of Kevin and his friends. "If anyone comes, talk loud and don't let them in the room."

  "What are you going to do?" Gabrielle asked as she watched him slip inside the first room they'd come to. He quietly shut the door without answering, leaving her alone in the hall.

  She stood perfectly still, hoping he'd hurry, trying to hear above the sound of her pounding heart. She felt like a spy, but not a very good one. Her hands shook and her scalp grew too tight. She wasn't cut out to be a Bond girl. Somewhere else in the house a cabinet door slammed shut, and Gabrielle jumped like someone had zapped her with a stun gun. She ran her fingers through her hair and took deep cleansing breaths. She didn't have nerves of steel. She glanced at her wristwatch and waited the longest five minutes of her life.

  When Joe appeared again, a deep frown wrinkled his forehead and lowered his brows. Since he didn't look happy and wasn't calling for backup or breaking out the handcuffs, Gabrielle figured he hadn't found anything. She relaxed a little. Now they would leave.

  Joe shoved her purse at her, then moved across the hall and quietly slipped into another room. The door had barely shut when she heard his familiar curse.

  "Sweet baby Jesus!"

  Everything within Gabrielle stilled. He'd found something. She sneaked inside the room and shut the door behind her, half expecting to see Mr. Hillard's Monet hanging on the wall. What she did see was just as shocking. Mirrors. Everywhere. On the walls, the backs of the doors of the walk-in closet, and on the ceiling. A round bed sat in the center of the room and was covered with a black-and-white sheepskin spread that had a big Oriental symbol in the middle. There were no chests of drawers or nightstands to restrict the view through the mirrors. Positioned beside the arched doorway leading to the bathroom stood a small pedestal table with an ivory chess set on top. Even from a distance of half the room's width away, Gabrielle cotdd see that the set was antique, Oriental, and, typical of that period, the nude pieces were not quite anatomically proportional. Gabrielle felt as if she'd stepped into a room at the Playboy mansion. Hugh Hefner's babe lair.

  "Look at this place. Makes you wonder what kind of action he sees in here," Joe said just above a whisper.

  Gabrielle leaned her head back and looked up. "And how much Windex he goes through."

  His gaze met hers through the mirrors on the ceiling. "Yeah, that was my second thought."

  She hung her purse on her shoulder and watched him walk silently across the room, the thick white carpet muting the sound of his leather loafers. No matter where she looked, she was surrounded by his image. Caught by his dark intent eyes and the sensual lines of his mouth. The profile of his straight nose and the square, stubborn set of his jaw. The curls at the base of his neck, and his wide shoulders outlined perfectly in his ribbed polo. Her gaze moved down his back to the waist of his gabardine trousers, then he disappeared inside the closet, and she was alone with her own image. She frowned at her reflection and stood a little straighter.

  So, Kevin was a little perverted, she thought as she pushed her curls behind her ear. It wasn't her business. Covering a bedroom with mirrors wasn't against the law. She ran her hand down the bib of her jumper, tilted her head to one side, and viewed herself with a critical eye. She was nothing like Nancy. She wasn't petite or blond or flirtatious, and once again she wondered what Joe saw when he looked at her.

  She saw every little flaw multiplied around the room and couldn't imagine watching herself making love. Totally naked. Obviously Kevin didn't have the same qualm, and that was just a little more information than she wanted to know about him.

  She walked to the bathroom, passing the chess set, with its rows of largely endowed and extremely erect pawns. She, didn't pause to inspect the other pieces; she really didn't want to know.

  The bathroom space was filled with more mirrors, a shower stall, and a big Jacuzzi tub surrounded by tiles. A set of French doors led outside to a small deck and another Jacuzzi. Except for the mirrors, she could visualize herself drawing a bath for a nice relaxing soak, maybe adding some ylang-ylang, definitely lavender and rosemary.

  Gabrielle sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi and glanced at her watch. If Joe didn't hurry, she didn't know how they would explain what had taken them so long to retrieve her purse. She tugged the skirt of her jumper down her thighs, then slid it back up to see if she really did have a mole. She leaned forward and saw a perfectly round mole about an inch below the elastic leg of her panties. It wasn't even that noticeable, and she wondered how Joe could possibly have known about it.

  "What are you doing?"

  She looked up into Joe's face and shoved her skirt down. His brows were pulled together in a straight line across his forehead.

  "Looking at my mole. How did you know about it?"

  He laughed quietly and lowered to one knee in front of the sink. "I know everything about you," he answered and began a search of the cabinet.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she doubted her moles were a matter of police record, but the bedroom door swung open and she recognized Kevin's voice.

  "What did you want?" he asked.

  Gabrielle's breath caught in her throat, and her gaze found Joe's reflection in the mirror above the sink. He slowly stood and raised a finger to his lips.

  The female voice that answered Kevin didn't belong to his girlfriend. "I want to show you something," Nancy answered.

  "What's that?" There was a long pause before Kevin spoke again. "Very nice," he said.

  "China told me about this room. About the mirrors."

  "And you wanted to see for yourself?"

  "Yes."

  Joe reached for Gabrielle's hand and pulled her with him to the French doors.

  "Are you sure? China might find out."

  "I don't care." There was a sound like clothes hitting the carpet and Kevin said, "Then come here and say hello to Mr. Happy."

  Silently, Gabrielle and Joe slipped outside onto the deck and shut the door behind them. A cool breeze lifted her hair and the bottom of her dress. The last orange and pink rays of the setting sun shot across a mackerel sky, and the lights of the city blinked to life in the valley below. Any other time, Gabrielle might have paused to appreciate the view, but tonight she hardly noticed. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she now knew a few more pieces of information about Kevin that she really wished she didn't. Like he cheated on his girlfriend with her best friend, and he called his penis Mr. Happy.

  "Do you think Kevin heard us?" she asked just above a whisper.

  Joe walked to the metal railing and looked over. "No. He sounded pretty busy." He straightened and moved to the left corner of the deck. "We can jump from here."

  "Jump?" Gabrielle moved to stand beside Joe and looked over the side. The back half of Kevin's house and the whole deck hung from the side of a mountain and were supported by several substantial stilts. The earth below was corrugated with a succession of three-foot-wide terraces and braced with concrete to prevent erosion. "When I signed the confidential agreement, it didn't say anything about jumping off Kevin's deck and breaking my neck."

  "You won't break your neck. It's only about ten or twelve feet from over here. All we have to do is climb over the rail, hang from the bottom of the deck, and let go. It'll only be about a four-foot drop."

  Her shoulder brushed his as she leaned out a little further. He made it sound so easy. "Unless you miss the terrace you're aiming for, then it's about four more feet." She turned and looked at his profile, bathed in the first shadows of night. "There has to be some other way."

  "Sure. We could always go back inside and interrupt Kevin. I imagine things are getting really interesting just about now." He looked across his shoulder at her.

  "Maybe we could just wait a bit and then go through the house."

  "And what are you going to tell Kevin took us so long to get your purse? He’ll think we were knocking boots in the bathroom the whole time."

 
; "He might not think that," she said but didn't really believe it.

  "Yes he would, and I'd have to give you a big sucker bite on your neck and mess up your hair just to make sure that's exactly what he'd think." He leaned way over the railing. "It's up to you, though. But if we're jumping, we better do it before it gets any darker out here. I don't want to miss that terrace." He straightened, looked at her, and grinned like he was having a really good time. "You ready?" he asked as if he hadn't just given her a choice between a hickey and jumping to her death.

  "No!"

  "You're not scared, are you?"

  "Yes! Any person with half a brain would be terrified."

  He shook his head and swung one leg, then the other, over the rail. "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights?" He stood on the outside edge of the deck, facing her, his hands gripping the metal bar.

  "No. I'm afraid of falling to my death."

  "You probably wouldn't die." He glanced at the ground below him, then back at her. "Probably could break a leg, though."

  "That doesn't make me feel better."

  His smile grew. "I was just kidding about that last part."

  She leaned forward a fraction and looked down. "This isn't a real good time for jokes."

  "You're probably right." He placed a hand beneath her chin and brought her gaze back up to his. "I won't let anything happen to you, Gabrielle. I won't let you get hurt."

  They both knew he couldn't promise such a thing, but staring into his intense brown eyes, she almost believed he had the power to keep her safe.

  "Trust me."

  Trust him? She couldn't think of one good reason why she should trust him, but as she stood there perched above the city, contemplating a leap off the balcony, she discovered that she did trust him. "Okay."

  "That's my girl," he said with a grin. Then he slid his hands to the bottom rail, lowering himself until all she could see of him was his big hands. Then they were gone too, followed by a heavy thud.

  Gabrielle looked down at the top of his head, and he lifted his face up to her. "Your turn," he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard.

  She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could climb on the outside of a flimsy rail and dangle ten or twelve feet in the air, then drop and hope she landed on a three-foot-wide terrace. No problem. She slid the strap of her purse over her head and shoulder, then shoved the big bag around to the small of her back. She tried not to think about falling to her death. "I can do this," she whispered and stepped onto the bottom rung of the railing.

  "I am calm." She managed to keep her panic at bay as she swung one leg, then the other, over the rail. Another blast of cool air blew up her skirt as she balanced on the edge of the deck, her heels hanging over. The metal bar was cold within her tight grasp.

  "That's it," Joe encouraged her from the ground.

  She knew better than to glance over her shoulder, but she couldn't stop herself. She looked out at the city lights below, and she froze.

  "Come on, Gabrielle. Come on, baby."

  "Joe?"

  "I'm right here."

  She closed her eyes. "I'm scared. I don't think I can do this."

  "Sure you can. You're the same woman who knocked me on my ass in the park. You can do anything."

  She opened her eyes and looked down toward him, but it was dark and he was hidden in the shadows of the house, and she couldn't see anything but a gray outline.

  "Just bend down a little and grab the bottom of the rail."

  Slowly she slid her hands down the metal bars until she crouched on the edge, her behind hanging out over the city. She didn't think she'd ever been so terrified in her life. "I can do this," she whispered on a cleansing breath. "I am calm."

  "Hurry up before your palms sweat."

  Geez, she hadn't thought of sweaty palms, but now she did. "I can't see you. Can you see me?"

  His soft, low chuckle rose to her "as she crouched with a death grip on the rail. "I have a real nice view of your white panties."

  At the moment, Joe Shanahan looking up her skirt was the least of her problems. She slid one foot from the wooden deck.

  "Come on, honey," he coaxed from below.

  "What if I fall?"

  "I'll catch you. I promise, only you have to let go now, before it gets too dark to see those panties."

  She slowly slid her other foot from the deck and dangled above the dark ground below. "Joe," she called out just as her foot contacted with something solid.

  "Fuck!"

  "What was that?"

  "The side of my head."

  "Oh, sorry." His strong hands grabbed her ankles, then slid up the backs of her calves to her knees.

  "I have you."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Let go."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, let go."

  She took a deep breath, counted to three, then released the railing. And she fell, sliding downward within the circle of his big arms. He clasped her to him, and her jumper bunched up around her waist as she slipped down his chest. His hands slid up the backs of her legs, and he held her bare thighs in his grasp. She looked down into his dark face just below hers.

  "I did it."

  "I know."

  "My skirt's up around my waist," she said.

  His teeth looked very white when he smiled. "I know." He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground, and his palms settled on her behind. "You're not only beautiful, you've got big cojones. I like that in a woman."

  Gabrielle could honestly say that no man had ever chosen those exact words to compliment her before. Usually they stuck with more common flattery and commented on her eyes or legs.

  "You were afraid, but you went over that railing anyway." His hot hands warmed her flesh through the lace of her underwear. "Do you remember last night when you said I couldn't kiss you anymore?"

  "I remember."

  "Did you mean on the lips?"

  "Of course."

  He lowered his mouth and kissed the side of her throat. "That leaves a lot of really interesting spots free," he said as his hands squeezed her bottom.

  Gabrielle opened her mouth, then closed it again. What could she possibly say to that?

  "Do you want me to find them now or later?"

  "Ahh____________________later would probably be better." She tugged at the bottom of her skirt, but Joe's grasp tightened on her behind.

  His voice was low and husky when he asked, "You sure?"

  Not really. She stood on a terraced mountain-side, her butt hanging out of her dress, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be any other place than exactly where she stood. Wrapped in darkness, shoved against Joe's solid chest. "Yes."

  He yanked the hem of her jumper and smoothed it over the curve of her bottom. "Let me know."

  "I will." She stepped away from the lure of his voice and the warmth of his embrace. "How's your head?"

  "I'll live." He turned and hauled himself up to the next level of the terraced retaining wall. She looked up at his outline, and he reached for her hand and pulled her up after him. He hauled her up three more times and made it all seem so easy.

  The night had taken on a discernable chill by the time they made it to his old Chevy, and Gabrielle was looking forward to taking a nice warm soak in the tub when she got home. But fifteen minutes later, she found herself sitting on Joe's beige-and-brown sofa, the beady yellow-and-black eyes of his parrot pinning her to the couch. Across the living room Joe stood with his back to her, the cradle of a telephone dangling from one hand, the receiver in the other. He spoke just low enough not to be heard, then walked into the dining room, the long cord trailing after him.

  "You've got to ask yourself one question. Do I feel lucky? Well do ya-punk?"

  Gabrielle jumped and turned her full attention to Sam. "Excuse me?"

  The parrot flapped his wings twice, then flew to the arm of the couch. He rocked from one foot to the other, then tilted his head to the side and studied her.


  "Ahh… Polly want a cracker?"

  "Go ahead, make my day,"

  She supposed it made perfect sense that Joe's bird would quote Dirty Harry. She sat perfectly still as the bird walked along the back of the couch, a blue metal band around one scaly leg. "Nice parrot" she said softly and glanced in Joe's direction. He still stood in the dining room, his back to her, his weight resting on one foot. He cradled the receiver between his shoulder and ear and massaged his other shoulder with his opposite hand. For a brief second, she wondered if he'd hurt himself helping her over the retaining walls, but then Sam let out a shrill whistle, and she forgot about Joe. The bird swayed back and forth, then hopped on her shoulder.

  "You behave."

  "Joe," she called out, keeping her gaze on Sam's black beak.

  Sam laid his head against her temple and puffed out his chest. "Pretty bird."

  Gabrielle had never been around birds before, let alone had one stand on her shoulder. She didn't know what to do or say. She didn't know anything about bird behavior, but she knew she didn't want to make him mad. She'd seen the Alfred Hitchcock classic many times, and the image of Suzanne Pleshette with her eyes pecked out flashed through her head. "Nice parrot," she said and glanced across the room. "Help."

  Joe finally looked over his shoulder at her, his now familiar scowl lowering his brows as he spoke a few words into the receiver. After a few terse sentences, he finished the call and walked back into the living room. "Sam, what do you think you're doing?" he asked as he set the telephone on the coffee table. "Get off her."

  The bird rubbed his soft head against Gabrielle, but didn't hop from her shoulder.

  "Come on now." Joe patted his own shoulder. "Come here." Sam didn't move.

  Instead he dipped his head and touched his beak to her cheek. "Pretty bird."

  "Well, I'll be damned." Joe put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. "He likes you."

  She wasn't convinced. "Really? How can you tell?"

  Joe moved to stand directly in front of her. "He kissed you," he said, then he leaned forward and placed his hand just below Sam's feet. "Lately, he's been in the mood for a mate." Joe snapped his fingers, and the side of his hand brushed her chest through her white blouse. "I guess he thinks he's found a girlfriend."