Gabe eyed the innocuous piece of paper as if it were a letter bomb. He picked it up slowly. His name was written across the front of it. He ripped it open, already sure that he wasn't going to like what it said. He was right.
Dear Gabe, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. Your kindness these past weeks meant a great deal to me.
His kindness! Gabe felt his temper start to simmer.
I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened. I've told you, and I meant it, that I certainly don't hold you to blame.
I hope you'll forgive my cowardice in not saying goodbye face to face. I hate goodbyes. Besides, I certainly hope we'll see each other in the future. I consider you a friend and hope you feel the same about me.
A friend? Not bloody likely. There was nothing "friendlike" about his feelings for her. And he didn't believe for a minute that she felt nothing more than friendship for him. A woman didn't respond to a friend with the kind of passion Charity had shown him last night.
I think I got all my things, but if I've forgotten anything, I'll be staying with Diane until I get a new apartment. You can contact me there.
Contact her? Right now his palm itched with the urge to make contact with her rear end.
Please don't feel as if you owe me anything because of last night. It was what I wanted.
I'd like to think all debts are paid between us.
Yours, Charity Williams.
Gabe curled his fingers slowly into a fist, crumpling the note into a ball. All debts paid between them? His blood pressure climbed another notch. Is that how she thought of last night? As if she were repaying his "kindness" to her? And signing it with her full name, as if he might not know who she was, otherwise.
Come to think of it, it was probably a good thing she'd put this drivel in a note. If she'd been standing in front of him spouting this sort of garbage, he might have strangled her with his bare hands.
All debts paid in full.
If she thought she could get rid of him that easily, she'd better think again.
Gabe tossed the crumpled note on the table and strode toward the bedroom. He had several things to say to Ms. Charity Williams.
"All debts paid in full," he muttered as he jerked open a drawer and pulled out a pair of briefs. Come to think of it, maybe he'd strangle her first and say what he had to say later.
Gabe made record time getting from Pasadena to Beverly Hills. It was not yet eight o'clock when he stopped in front of Diane's apartment door. There was a bell but he ignored it in favor of the more satisfactory pleasure of banging his fist on the door.
Time hadn't cooled his temper. When the door wasn't answered soon enough, he knocked again, more forcefully. He was just considering kicking it in when he heard Diane's voice.
".I'm coming." She sounded annoyed. Unreasonably Gabe hoped he'd dragged her out of bed. She'd probably known about this insane plan of Charity's. That made her guilty by association, and getting her out of bed seemed a small punishment.
He glared at the peephole, hoping his expression was enough to intimidate her into opening the door.
He heard Diane mutter his name, as if answering someone's question, and then she was fumbling with the lock.
She pulled open the door, and Gabe didn't bother to wait for an invitation before stepping past her onto the thick carpeting.
"Come in," Diane murmured, but Gabe wasn't interested in sarcasm. He wasn't interested in anything but finding Charity.
His gaze swept unseeingly over an endless expanse of hopelessly impractical snow-white carpeting. The exquisite and expensive decor was lost on him.
His gaze only stumbled when it fell on a familiar figure in an unfamiliar place. Jay Baldwin stood in the hallway he assumed led to the bedrooms. He wore his pants but nothing else, and from the rumpled condition of his brown hair, it was obvious he'd just climbed out of bed.
Gabe's eyes skimmed from his neighbor to Diane, who wore a short black silk robe. From the looks of it, she'd just climbed out of the same bed as Jay. Gabe's brows rose slightly in surprise. So Charity had been right when she said they were attracted to each other.
But the distraction was momentary. He was only interested in one thing.
"Where is she?"
Diane's brows rose, her eyes snapping with interest. She studied him for a moment as if debating whether or not to answer.
"I could just kick open every door," Gabe commented to no one in particular.
"No need to go all macho on me," Diane said, grinning. "I'm on your side. I told her she was nuts."
"It's a pity she didn't listen," he growled. "Where is she?"
"Second door on the right." Diane nodded to the hallway. Gabe strode across the living room, nodding shortly to Jay as he passed. Now that he had her almost within reach, he wasn't sure whether to air his rage or kiss her until she came to her senses and admitted she loved him.
Charity was lying on the bed in Diane's cluttered guest room, which also functioned as her workroom. She'd been staring at the ceiling to avoid staring at the incredible disarray that filled every corner of the room.
She had to start looking for a place of her own. And a job. Mr. Hoffman had promised her that she had a job with him anytime she wanted, but she couldn't imagine going back to the jewelry store. Too many memories, of the robbery as well as of Gabe. Besides, it was time she moved on, did something else with her life.
She jerked up on the bed, her breath leaving her on a startled cry as her bedroom door slammed open. Thoughts of burglars and banshees scattered when she saw Gabe's towering figure in the doorway.
The sight did nothing to still her pounding heartbeat. His expression alone was enough to make banshees look tame.
"G-Gabe," she stammered out.
"In the flesh," he said grimly.
"Wh-What are you doing here?"
"All the way over here, I've been considering the possibility of throttling you," he said, advancing into the room.
"Throttling me?" she squeaked, wondering if he'd lost his mind. "I don't understand. I left you a note." She eased back on the bed, wishing Diane hadn't piled so many boxes around the room that escape was impossible. Not that she was afraid of Gabe. At least, not really afraid.
"A note." He made the word an epithet. "It's a good thing you put that crap in a note. I'm not sure I could have held my temper if you'd said that garbage to my face."
This was holding his temper?
"I don't understand why you're so upset." She wanted to stand up but she could only get off the bed on the side facing Gabe, and she didn't want to get any closer to him.
Neither of them paid any attention to Jay and Diane, who were standing in the open doorway, shamelessly eavesdropping.
"You don't understand why I'm upset? Let me explain it to you," he said with awful calm. He'd moved to loom over the bed. "I went to sleep last night with a beautiful woman in my arms—a woman I've already said I love. I expected to wake up this morning with that same woman in my bed—or at least in my house. Instead I wake up to a polite little note that could have been written by a total stranger."
"It was a perfectly good note," she offered weakly. "I meant everything I said."
He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "All debts paid in full," he quoted, his eyes flashing fire. "Did you mean that?''
"Yes," she admitted, wondering why he should be upset that she'd told him not to feel as if he owed her anything.
"Did you sleep with me because you thought you owed me something?" he roared.
Charity gaped at him, trying to see how he could have interpreted her note to mean that. She'd tried so hard to strike just the right balance.
"I...you didn't...I meant you shouldn't feel guilty anymore,'' she finally got out.
"Guilty! Is that all you think I feel?"
"I—" She looked past him at Diane, her eyes pleading for help. But Diane only gave her a completely unsympathetic grin, her eyes full of laughter. Charit
y was on her own.
"I think you felt very guilty about the shooting," she said carefully.
"Of course I felt guilty," he snapped. "Who wouldn't? But I've already told you—several times— that my feelings for you aren't guilt. I made love to you last night because I love you. What do I have to say to get that through your head?"
Charity saw Diane beaming with approval and she felt her own cheeks warm. So much for keeping her private life private. From the look on Gabe's face, she doubted he'd have cared if they were standing in the middle of the Rose Bowl.
"I never said you didn't like me," she began, her voice dropping.
"Like you? I love you, goddammit!" he barked in a less than loverlike tone. "At the moment I'm not sure I 'like' you at all."
Her heart began to thump. Despite herself, she almost believed him. Almost. But she had to be careful. She didn't think she could bear it if she let herself believe him and then found out he'd mistaken his feelings. Better never to have him than to lose him.
"It's easy to mistake guilt and... and affection for stronger emotions. I—Gabe!" His name was a startled shriek as he bent to grab her by the shoulders. Snatching her up off the bed, his mouth covered hers before she'd had time to regain her breath.
If Charity had wanted to resist, he didn't give her a chance. He put all his hunger and need into that kiss, and she was helpless to do anything but respond.
He ended as abruptly as he'd begun. Pulling his head back, he glared at her.
"Does that feel like guilt?" he snarled.
Charity could only stare at him, trying to gather her scattered wits. His eyes were still furious. And hurt, she realized suddenly. She'd hurt him. The realization was stunning. Gabe had always seemed so self-contained, as if nothing really got through to him. It had never occurred to her that she could hurt him. That he might care enough about her to be hurt.
That he might love her?
"Oh, what's the use," Gabe muttered, taking her continued silence as a confirmation that she didn't care. He released his hold on her shoulders, and Charity sank bonelessly to the bed, trying to absorb the incredible thought that he really did love her.
It was only when he turned away from the bed that she realized he was leaving. Walking out of her life. Because he thought she didn't care.
"Wait."
Wrapped in his own hurt, Gabe didn't even hear her husky plea. But Jay did. Acting with the presence of mind that made him an excellent doctor, he reached past Diane and grabbed hold of the doorknob, shutting the door in Gabe's face.
"What the hell?" Gabe stared at the closed door, wondering what sort of game Jay was playing. All he wanted was out of there. Charity had made it plain that she didn't love him. He'd gambled that she didn't realize the strength of her feelings, and he'd lost. Now he just wanted to go beat his head on a convenient telephone pole. He reached for the doorknob.
"Gabe." He stiffened but he didn't turn around. He didn't want to see her sympathetic look. No doubt it bothered her to think that she might have hurt him.
"Forget it," he said gruffly. He tugged on the doorknob, but something was holding the door shut. Something like Jay Baldwin, he guessed. Maybe instead of beating his head on a telephone pole, he'd beat Jay's head on one.
"Gabe, wait. Please."
Something in her voice reached him, breathing life into the hope he was sure was completely unfounded. He released the doorknob and turned toward her.
"What?"
She was standing next to the bed, and for just a moment he savored the miracle of seeing her on her feet. Even if he never saw her again, he'd at least know she was walking.
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"No big deal." He shrugged.
"Gabe, are you sure you love me?"
My God, did she want to rub salt in the wounds? But there was something in her eyes that told him there was more than idle curiosity behind the question. Something he was afraid to believe in. He took a step toward her.
"I love you."
"And it's not guilt or pity or anything like that?"
"I'll always feel guilty that I hurt you, Charity. But I don't pity you. And I do know the difference between guilt and love."
She took a hesitant step forward, her fingers twisting in the hem of her nightshirt—a battered football jersey emblazoned with a giant number one.
"I'm walking again now, and it won't be long before I'll be able to go back to work and get an apartment. You don't have to worry about me or wonder if I can get along." She seemed anxious that he understand just how well she could get along without him.
"I'm glad. But that doesn't change the way I feel about you."
"You're sure? Really, really sure?" she whispered, her heart in her eyes.
"I'm really, really sure." He stopped inches away. "I love you, Charity. Whether you ever walked or not, I love you."
"Oh." Interpreting that, quite correctly, to mean that she felt the same, Gabe caught her in his arms. "It's just that I couldn't stand it if you changed your mind," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.
"I'm not going to change my mind." He slid one hand into her hair, tilting her head back until her eyes met his. "Are you sure? You're not feeling that you owe me something for taking care of you?"
"No. I'm sure."
"You might tell me just what it is you're sure of." His smile had a wistful edge. Looking into his eyes, Charity saw a touch of uncertainty, and she realized suddenly that he was just as worried about her feet ings as she had been about his. Her arms tightened around him, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could get her voice out.
"I love you, Gabriel London. I love you. I love—"
Gabe's mouth smothered her words. There'd be time enough later to tell her he'd left the force, time enough to talk about Wyoming. They had the rest of their lives.
Charity's Angel Page 17
