by Eve Gaddy
But man, was it hard. And he was frustrated. So he lifted weights. A lot. His physical therapist was surprised, not to mention happy, about the progress. Gabe could have told him that exercise was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.
When his doorbell rang Saturday morning he thought about ignoring it, but since it was bound to be one of his family, he knew the uninvited caller would continue to ring the bell until Gabe answered. He finished the set and placed the bar back on the rack.
He mopped his face and chest with a towel before slinging it around his neck, then grabbed his cane and limped to the front door. He opened it and stood there in shock. Lana. The very woman he’d been trying to forget.
“Hi,” Lana said. “Have I come at a bad time?”
Yes, he thought. “No,” he said. She wore a pale yellow T-shirt, short white shorts and sandals. She looked absolutely good enough to eat. He groaned mentally and stood aside to let her in. His gut said to grab her and kiss that sexy mouth. His mind said to back off. But damn, he wanted her. Obviously he hadn’t done enough reps with the weights.
“I’ve interrupted you,” she said, but she walked in and handed him a brown paper bag. “I hope it’s all right. I made cookies.”
He looked inside the bag and smiled. “Sugar cookies. My favorite.” He took one out and bit into it. It was melt-in-your-mouth good, which didn’t surprise him. Lana was the type to do everything well.
“I know. Cat told me.”
He had to wait until he’d finished the cookie before he spoke. She’d baked cookies, especially for him. If she kept doing things like that, he’d lose his resolve to keep his distance. “These are good. You asked my sister what kind of cookies I like?”
“Yes. Why, is that a problem?”
“Not if you don’t mind the news being all over town that you and I are an item.”
She laughed. “Because I baked you cookies?”
“Because Cat knows you baked me cookies. Which means she’ll tell Gail and before you know it, the whole town will know. Add that to the fact that you’ve gone out with me a couple of times and the grapevine will be buzzing at top speed.”
“Would it be so bad for people to think that you and I are…together?”
“Not if it were true. But it’s not, is it? We’re not really dating, I’m just your buffer against blind dates and pushy men.”
“So that’s why you haven’t called. Is that what you really think? Is that honestly how you think I see you?”
“If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it usually is a duck.”
Lana looked at him speculatively then said, “Were you working out?”
Change of subject. Fine with him. “Lifting weights.”
“Need some help? I can spot you.”
He shrugged again and limped out of the room into the spare bedroom that held the weight bench, barbells and dumbbells, and not much else. Anything was better than looking at her, wanting her and knowing he couldn’t have her. Abusing his body with exercise might give him some peace of mind.
He tossed his cane aside and lay down on the bench before picking up the long, weighted bar to do a series of chest presses. Lana stood behind him, smiling as she watched him, waiting to see if he needed her help. Her presence shot his concentration all to hell. He finished the first set without help and added more weight. He lay down again and began another.
“I had an ulterior motive for coming over,” she said after a minute.
Ten, eleven, twelve. Lana spotted him the last two reps as he heaved the bar onto the rack. “What ulterior motive?” he asked.
Her T-shirt gaped when she leaned over. He could see her white, lacy bra, the swells of her breasts above it. He groaned and closed his eyes.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. Why would I be?” Opening his eyes, he thanked God for the fact that she’d straightened and removed temptation from his line of vision. He picked up the bar and started another series.
“Because of what you said earlier. That I think of you as a buffer. I haven’t seen you for two weeks, or heard from you, so I wondered.”
Mad at her? He wanted to take her to bed, to strip off her clothes and make love to her. Wanted to hear her call his name as she came. Wanted to—
Forget it, he told himself. He picked up the bar and lifted it, brought it close to his chest and pushed it back out.
As he neared the end of the reps, she leaned forward again. Her shirt gaped exactly as it had done before, and he struggled to replace the bar, his eyes drawn inexorably to her breasts. He could see the dark shadow of her nipples through the bra. God, he wanted to touch her so much, cup those sweet breasts, taste her…
A better man would know she didn’t realize what she was showing him. A better man would tell her not to lean over. God knew, he wasn’t that man. No, he intended to look his fill, torture as it was to look and know he couldn’t touch.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, helping him guide the bar to the rack. “You look sort of funny.”
Funny wasn’t the word he’d use. Aroused. Frustrated. Tense. Aching. Any of those words would do. “I’m fine. And I’m not mad at you.” He sat up and wiped off his chest and arms, resting a moment before picking up twenty-five-pound dumbells to begin biceps curls.
Lana came around and sat beside him on the bench. Her perfume drifted to him, a light floral scent that smelled like spring rain. “When I was in California, I did some weight training. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it. Watching you work out reminds me of that.”
“Why’d you quit?” He curled his forearm up and back down, glad that he had something in his hands to stop him from grabbing what he really wanted to hold.
“No gym in Aransas City. I guess I could look around to see if there’s one over in Port Aransas. Or I could buy a bench and some weights.” She watched him and when he started on the other arm said, “Have you been training long?”
“Just since the accident. Before that, I never did.” After a fishing trip he was generally too tired to do much except fall into bed and sleep.
“Your job kept you in shape.”
He grimaced as he curled his arm. “Fishing’s more physical than most people think.”
“You have to be pretty tough to wrestle a two-or three-hundred-pound fish, I suppose. Marlins get that big and bigger, don’t they?”
He shot her a sideways glance and grinned. “You’ve been reading up.”
She smiled back. “It’s amazing what you can find out on the Internet.”
He felt ridiculously pleased that she’d been researching fishing. Maybe she really did care, at least a little. He set the dumbells down and wiped the towel over his forehead, ready for a break. “I used to be a bouncer at a dive in Port Aransas. The jokers I had to get rid of always weighed twice what I did. And when they were drunk, they got mean, and they were always drunk. Compared to that, fishing’s easy.”
“You were a bouncer?”
“Yeah.” He rolled a shoulder. “The pay was decent and I needed the money to save for a down payment on my boat. And that wasn’t by any stretch the worst job I ever took.” She was looking at him as if he were a different species. Well, compared to the men she was used to, he was. He bet her ex-husband had never dirtied his hands with tossing out drunks from a bar or working on a shrimper.
“What’s wrong, Doc?” he asked mockingly. “You have a problem dating a man who used to knock people’s heads together for a living?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t try to put distance between us by making me out a snob.”
“I don’t think you’re a snob. But admit it. I’m blue-collar.” He traced a finger down her cheek. “And you, baby, are white-collar all the way.” He had to consciously move his hand away before he sank it into her hair, dragged her close and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.
“Is that why you quit
calling me?”
Better if she thought that was his reason, but he didn’t like lying to her. “No.”
“Why didn’t you call me, Gabe?”
“You don’t want to go there, Lana.”
“Yes. I do. Even if it’s because you were bored with me and our…friendship, I want to know. I need to know. Please.”
Oh, hell, what was he supposed to do now? Tell her he’d fallen in love with her? Yeah, that would send her running so fast he’d be eating her dust. So he settled on another reason, though not the main one.
“I don’t think you really want to see me. So I made it easy on you. I didn’t call.”
She looked at him blankly. “I don’t understand. We’ve been dating.”
“I’ve been dating,” he pointed out. “You had to be conned into it.”
“That’s not true, Gabe. I wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t wanted to.”
“I think you would have. I think you were trying to prove it wasn’t a mercy date when it was.”
Her mouth fell open, then she snapped it closed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never known anyone less in need of a mercy date than you.”
He grinned at her irritable tone. “Thanks. I have to tell you, my ego thanks you, too.”
“I kissed you. If it had been a mercy date, I wouldn’t have.”
“Technically, I kissed you.”
She pressed her lips together. “Are you trying to annoy me? Because you’re doing a good job of it.”
He laughed. “Trust me, darlin’, annoying you is the last thing I want to do.” No, he wanted to eat her up in great big bites. Starting from the top and working his way down.
“Then trust me. If I hadn’t wanted you to kiss me, you’d never have gotten near me.”
He suspected that was true. He realized she wasn’t talking anymore but was staring at him with a look in her eyes that in another woman he might have thought was lust. Yeah, right. Wishful thinking.
She touched her tongue to her lips. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do since I got here.” Raising her hands, she placed her palms flat on his chest. “Do you mind?”
Mind? Did he mind that she looked as though she was about to make his fantasies come true? “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”
She laughed, a sexy little gurgle, and, spreading her fingers, ran her hands slowly over his chest. Her fingers grazing his nipples, her palms smoothing over his muscles. This was too good—it had to be a dream.
“I thought you’d feel like this,” she murmured. “I wanted to put my hands on you this way since I walked in and saw you without your shirt. You’ve got great…muscular definition. Strong. Hard.”
Hard? He was beyond hard. And he’d been that way since before she’d ever touched him. She leaned forward and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth to tease, taunt. No hesitation, no uncertainty.
He put his arms around her and pulled her against him, sliding his tongue against hers in a slow, seductive rhythm. She didn’t freeze, didn’t pull back. Instead she snuggled against him, moving her hands down to his waist so her soft, amazing breasts were pillowed against his bare chest.
He slipped one hand into her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her more deeply. Some part of him waited for her to stop him, for her to get cold feet, but she didn’t. Her arms slid up his back, slowly caressing him as she continued to exchange soul-searing kisses with him. Finally he had to stop or risk taking her right there on the weight bench. And he wanted her in his bed. He just wasn’t at all sure she was ready to be there.
“Lana.”
“Hmm?” She smiled at him and ran her tongue over her lips. Started to pull his head back down to hers.
His mind blanked for a moment. “I want to make love to you.”
She said nothing, but she stared at him so long he knew he’d blown it. “Forget I said that. It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have—”
“Gabe.” She put her fingers to his lips and smiled. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. I want you to make love to me.”
Did she really? If she was going to back out, he’d rather she did so now than later. “I need to take a shower.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw that hadn’t seen a razor in days. “And shave.”
She looked a little dazed. “Why?”
He kissed her, but lightly this time. “I don’t want to give you razor burn.”
“Don’t…go. I don’t care about that.”
“What’s wrong, Lana? Afraid you’ll change your mind if you have time to think about it?”
She was silent for a moment. “What if I did? What if I was gone when you came out?” Her eyes were locked on his earnestly.
“Then I’d have to turn around and get back into the shower—a very cold shower.” He kissed her again, quick and just a little hard. “I want you to be sure. I’m not going to make love to you unless you’re as sure as I am that you want to be there. In my bed.”
“Most men wouldn’t take that chance.”
Most men weren’t in love with her, which he sure as hell didn’t plan to tell her. “I told you once that you matter to me. I meant it.”
He started to get up and his leg buckled, forcing him to fall back on the bench.
His damned leg. He’d forgotten all about it. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, willing the pain away.
Opening his eyes, he gave Lana a bitter smile. “Now wasn’t that just romantic as hell?”
She put her hand on his bad leg and touched it gently, her eyes solemn on his. “Gabe, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” He wanted to be normal again. Strong and…whole, dammit. Instead of damn near helpless. Once, he’d have thought nothing of picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom. Now he couldn’t even get himself there without help.
Lana kept stroking his leg, running her fingers over the road map of scars. Not saying anything, just looking at him.
He grabbed her hand and stilled it. “Don’t,” he said harshly. She was so…perfect. And he was anything but.
“They’re just scars, Gabe,” she said softly. “I have them, too. Mine just aren’t as visible.”
How could he have forgotten? This wasn’t all about him. It was about Lana. He was dead certain by now that she’d been raped, and almost as sure that she hadn’t made love since. He wanted to remind her what sex could be like, and make her forget the nightmare that had happened to her. And he wanted to make love to her because he wanted her so much it was nearly killing him.
“Maybe you should carry me.”
Her smile broke like sunrise over the ocean. “I would, but I don’t think that’s going to work. But you can lean on me, can’t you?”
“Leaning on you wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
She got up and held out her hands. He put his into them and let her help him up. Once he was standing, she slipped her arms around his waist and raised her face for his kiss. He bent his head and took her mouth, spread his hands over her bottom and pulled her tight against him.
“I guess you’re still interested,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Baby, you have no idea.” They made their way slowly down the hall, stopping every few minutes to kiss and caress each other.
Eventually they reached his bedroom and tumbled onto the bed. He landed between her legs, his arousal pressed against the softest, warmest part of her. And she froze.
He wanted so much to stay where he was, nestled against her so intimately. But she needed time to think things through, and he meant to give it to her. He rolled off her and looked down at her, smiling. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”
“I think so. I hope so.” She raised her hand, cupped his cheek. “Gabe—”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. “What?” he asked huskily.
“I don’t want to…disappoint you.”
Was she kidding? He stared at her, trying to read her expression. She was serious. De
ad serious. How could a woman like Lana doubt herself so much? He kissed her lips. “Lana, there is no possible way you’re going to disappoint me.” He took her hand and pressed it to his arousal. “Does that feel like disappointment?”
She stroked him, her smile growing as his erection did. “No, it doesn’t.”
“There’s just one thing,” he said, concentrating on not exploding beneath her caressing hand. “When we make love—” He slipped his hand behind her hair to her nape, pulled her mouth to his and kissed her. “You have to be on top.”
Without giving her a chance to speak, he got up and limped into the bathroom. “You’re a dumb-ass,” he told himself, looking in the mirror. “You should have taken her when you had the chance.” If he was still a gambling man, he’d have bet the entire farm she’d be gone when he came out.
CHAPTER TEN
FOR A FEW MINUTES after Gabe went into the bathroom, Lana simply lay on his bed, unable to believe he’d actually left her. She didn’t know of a single other man who would have, especially knowing she might be gone when he came out.
But Gabe had been surprising her ever since she’d met him. He must want more than a simple fling with her if he was willing to go to so much trouble to make certain of her feelings.
She sat up and looked around the room, curious to learn more about him. The bedroom was unabashedly masculine. A few pieces of dark furniture with clean lines filled the medium-size room. The bed was unmade and very comfortable. Only one picture graced the walls, a framed picture of his boat, taken out on the water at sunset, the red sun a fitting background for the gleaming white vessel.
The room was neat, no clothes tossed in the corners and very little stuff lying around. She’d imagined that a long-time bachelor would be messier.
A number of books, several of them hardbacks, lay on the bedside table, a couple of them open and the rest stacked neatly. Curious to see what he read in his spare time, she picked one up. A book on Texas history. Glancing at the others, she realized all of them were some sort of history book, from American history to Asian and European. She remembered that he had admitted to being a history junkie. She’d never have guessed that a man who professed to hate school would have such an obvious love of history.
