by Craig, Emma
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet it has to do with Ivo Hardwick.”
Blast him. He was right. “You’re too distrustful for words, Gabriel Caine,” she said with asperity. “There’s nothing I can do to stop you from arresting Ivo Hardwick, no matter how much I wish you wouldn’t.”
“You’re right there, Sophie, my sweet. There’s a lot I can do to keep you from killing him, though, and I plan to do it.”
You would, she thought sourly. She only gave him another flirtatious smile.
He took her arm and guided her across the lobby to the dimly lit bar. She placed her other hand on his arm, too, thereby mashing her bosom against his shoulder. Her heart started hammering, and she swore at herself to remain calm. Every single solitary time she touched him lately, that tingling sensation began dancing through her. The sensation, caused as it was by whatever kind of magic she and Gabriel generated together, was disconcerting, and even rather frightening. A niggling voice in the back of her mind told her she was treading on dangerous ground, and she’d better be careful. But she wouldn’t turn back now. She couldn’t.
The Melrose Bar had very few visitors this late in the evening. Sophie saw a couple of men seated at the long polished bar. It was an elegant place, if any drinking establishment could be deemed elegant, with a dusky red carpet, hunting prints on the wall, and a long gold-framed mirror above the bar area where it looked as if hundreds of bottles stood in tidy rows. There were no other women in the room, but that didn’t bother Sophie. She was accustomed to doing things other women wouldn’t do.
Their shoes made no sound at all on the thick carpeting as Gabriel led her to a dark table in a corner where they wouldn’t be conspicuous. Sophie considered this a good sign, and smiled at him, aiming for a winning, seductive smile this time, even as she knew it might make him wary. She wished she could check her appearance in a mirror, but she didn’t want him to think she was preening for him, even though that’s exactly what she’d have been doing. Without comment, Gabriel went to the bar and returned with two drinks.
“Thank you.” Sophie watched him sit across from her as she sipped her drink. His every movement was fluid and graceful. She hadn’t observed many men who possessed such natural ease of movement. She suspected he’d learned early in life how to present himself effectively, since he’d been involved in show business of a sort different from that in which she participated. “My, this is delicious. I don’t believe I’ve ever had anything like it before. What is it?”
“It’s called a Manhattan cocktail.”
“Mmmm.” She smiled again. “Yum.”
He tossed back a good third of his drink and set the glass on the polished maple table with a clink. “All right, Sophie Madrigal, what are you up to?”
She lifted her eyebrows in a show of naive incredulity. “Whatever do you mean?”
He frowned at her. “You’re being coy. You’re never coy. You’d kill yourself before you’d be coy. You’re too damned sharp to be coy. What’s up?”
She shook her head. “That’s not fair, Gabriel. We’ve known each other for weeks now. I enjoy your company—”
“You could have fooled me.” He interrupted, sounding more than a little bit grumpy.
Sophie hoped to heaven that this evening’s abrupt departure from her usual behavior wasn’t going to backfire on her. She scrambled frantically for a way to mitigate his suspicions, and decided to add a trace of vinegar to her voice.”Nonsense. We’re two strong-minded people. Strong-minded people are always going to rub against each other sometimes.” When she got to the rub against part, she slanted a flirtatious glance at him, hoping as she did so that the vinegar would wash some of the oddity out of her attitude.
“Hmmm.”
“You look dubious, Gabriel,” she murmured. “I’m hurt.”
“I doubt it.”
She sipped more of her Manhattan. “It’s the truth. I’ve been attempting all evening to make amends.” She lowered her eyes and fingered her glass, hoping she presented an affecting picture of true contrition—and erotic craving. “I know I’ve been somewhat unkind to you.”
“You can say that again.”
She decided to ignore that one. “But in spite of our differences, I find you attractive.” She lifted her gaze and let it drop almost immediately, playing the demure young virgin to the hilt. “Very attractive.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, but swallowed more of his drink, eyeing her hard the whole time. She was beginning to feel like a butterfly pinned to a specimen board. When she couldn’t stand the silence another second longer, she said, “You’re a very handsome man. You must know that.”
“So I’ve been told.” His voice was as dry as Tucson, Arizona. Damn him. He had to say that, didn’t he? As if her opinion didn’t matter because women prettier—and thinner—than she had fawned over him for years. She made an effort not to purse her mouth in annoyance, fearing any show of anger would give her away. After a moment, she said softly, “I’m sure you’re accustomed to women falling for you.”
“Falling for me?”
She turned away, hoping he would take the gesture as one of confusion. The Melrose’s wallpaper was quite nice, she noticed, sort of a reddish-maroon with flocked cabbage roses blossoming on flocked stems. Annoyed with herself for concentrating on trivia, she commanded her attention back to the farce she was perpetrating. At least, she thought it was a farce. She hoped it was.
If she were to be brutally frank with herself, something she disliked being because it was so uncomfortable, she’d have to admit that she truly was attracted to Gabriel Caine. Wildly, impossibly attracted.
Good Lord, she couldn’t think about that, either, or she’d be sunk before she set sail. She heard Gabriel shift in his chair, and peeked at him. He was glaring daggers at her, his dark eyes flashing. He looked quite dangerous, and a thrill of anticipation shot through her.
“I don’t know what your game is, Sophie, but you’re going to regret it in a minute or two. I’m not made of stone, you know.”
Ahh. Sophie’s heart swooped crazily. It was working. She turned her head and gazed at him, trying for wide-eyed innocence again. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said,” he said, “I’m not made of stone.”
She fluttered her eyelashes a bit—not too much, because he’d be on to her like a cat on a mouse. “I—I don’t think I understand what you mean.”
“The hell you don’t.” He drained his glass, pushed his chair back, and headed to the bar.
Sophie stared after him uncertainly. She hoped she hadn’t gone too far. If she’d driven him off, she’d be furious with herself. Worse, she might have jeopardized her plans.
But no. He was coming back to the table again, holding two fresh drinks. He hesitated before he put one of them before her. “I don’t want you to drink too much. Not if you’re planning what I think you’re planning.”
She was still dawdling over her first Manhattan. She didn’t want to drink too much, either, because her goal for the evening depended on a clear head. With what she hoped was a sultry pout, she said, “And what’s that, pray tell?”
He sat with a plunk and frowned at her. “My seduction.”
She blinked, this time without premeditation and in honest surprise. “Mercy, you’re blunt.”
“Why not? We’ve been sparring with each other for weeks now. If you expect me to swallow this new act of yours, you’re way off base.”
Whatever that meant. Sophie presumed it was an expression borrowed from the sport of baseball. She didn’t, however, quite know what to say next. She licked her lips, noticing as she did so that Gabriel watched her like a lion stalking a fatted calf. So he was interested even though he didn’t trust her. That was good. She could work with that.
“I think you’re being unkind, Gabriel,” she said softly. “I’m trying to be ladylike about this. It’s not fair of you to doubt my intentions. Even if we don’t see eye to eye on most subjects—”
&nb
sp; “I’ll say,” he muttered gloomily.
“—We can still find each other—well—physically attractive.”
He eyed her hard for a minute. Sophie was reminded of a Gila monster she’d seen in Tucson. It had appeared to be a lazy, stout, and happy lizardly creature, but underneath its porcine languor, it was deadly. Suddenly she hoped to heaven she’d get through this night with her heart untouched. She was willing to offer up her body on the altar of her vengeance, but her heart had been too badly damaged already.
“So, you’re telling me you find me physically attractive?”
She snapped, “It’s really irritating of you to be so explicit about this, Gabriel Caine. Have you no refinement at all?”
“No.”
Bother, she thought peevishly. Leave it to Gabriel to tarnish the gleam on her well-laid plot. Any other man would be panting with lust by this time, and his brain would have ceased functioning ages ago. “In that case, yes, I find you physically attractive.”
Expelling a long breath, Gabriel continued to eye her closely. Before he spoke, he sipped some more of his drink.
He was frowning. Sophie didn’t think he ought to be frowning. Not if he was falling for her plot. Blast him. She ought to have expected him to react differently from other men.
He surprised her when he reached across the table and touched her, very lightly, smoothing his thumb across the back of her hand. Sophie felt hot little sparks begin to race through her body from the point of contact. Her nipples tightened immediately. Pressure began to throb in her lower belly. Her head swam. Good God, this was terrible. How could she keep her senses in check if this was going to happen when he even touched her hand? She sucked in a breath and the faint scent of sandalwood, orange blossoms, and jasmine permeated her senses. Oh, dear.
“You’re not a virgin.”
She blinked at him in confusion. What? What had he asked her? Or had it been a question? It had been a statement. Good Lord, was he going to tell her he had reservations about making love with an impure woman? She didn’t know what to say, and stammered, “I—I—what?”
A smile curled his mouth. “I’m not complaining, you understand.”
“I—I—no. I don’t understand. What difference does it make if I’m a virgin or not?”
He lifted her hand and carried it to his lips. When his soft, full lips brushed her knuckles, Sophie had to grab the table with her other hand or slither onto the barroom carpet in a boneless heap.
“The only difference it makes is how gentle I have to be.” He pressed her palm to his cheek. She expected to feel bristles, but he’d evidently shaved before the séance. Had he been anticipating this?
Sophie felt her eyes widen and then slowly close when he turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. That felt so good. So warm. So wonderful.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Sophie.”
Forcing her eyes to open again, she saw that he was gazing at her with remarkable tenderness. She swallowed what felt like a boulder that had lodged itself in her throat. “Good.” That wasn’t enough. “I mean, thank you, Gabriel.”
She didn’t want him to hurt her, either, although she had a feeling they meant different things by the word hurt. She anticipated no physical pain from any encounter with Gabriel Caine. She wasn’t so sure about her emotional health.
But she couldn’t think about that now. She’d formulated her plan this afternoon, and had gone about achieving it with, if not cold-blooded determination, at least with determination. Sophie was pretty sure she could never be cold-blooded about physical intimacy.
“Finish your drink, Sophie. Let’s go upstairs.” He pressed tiny kisses into her palm.
Sophie’s body was tingling and humming as if a pixie had sprinkled magical dust over her. “I—I need my hand back if I’m going to finish my drink.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper, and she tried to clear her throat, but it wouldn’t be cleared. Wonderful. If she cried in front of Gabriel Caine—tonight of all nights—she’d be humiliated forever.
He sighed. “All right. I like holding your hand, Sophie. It’s warm and soft, but it’s also beautiful and capable.”
Good Lord, he sounded sincere. The doubt that had become second nature to her since her first disastrous love affair surged up in Sophie, momentarily vanquishing the thrilling sensations Gabriel had implanted in her. Thank goodness. She didn’t feel like drinking all of her Manhattan, but she took a substantial swallow, then eyed Gabriel with renewed humor. If she could keep her sense of humor, perhaps she wouldn’t lose herself entirely. “Thank you, Gabriel. I don’t believe you’ve ever offered me such a pretty compliment.”
He grinned. “I’m sure I haven’t. You’d have thrown it back in my face if I had.”
“Probably.” She laughed, glad she’d come through that first swamp of emotional quicksand relatively unscathed. She rose from her chair and held her hand out to Gabriel, willing to let him lead her to his bed—and her own doom.
Lord, she had to stop thinking of it in that light. This was to be her salvation, not her doom.
He took her hand and tucked it under his arm, keeping her close to him as they walked from the barroom. Sophie noticed the men seated at the bar watching them, looking both gloomy and envious. Good. She might be heavier than the fashion magazines deemed appropriate, but she could still turn the heads of men. She hoped Gabriel wouldn’t find her too plump when—
No. She wouldn’t second-guess herself. He wanted her. He wanted her as she was. If he didn’t care for plump women, he’d have found a skinny one. Instead, he’d stuck to her and Juniper since they’d met in that wretched train station in Laredo.
Thus trying to keep her spirits up, Sophie climbed the stairs of the Melrose Hotel, her body tingling with anticipation, her mind a jumble of dark thoughts. Electrical lights burned here and there on the walls as she and Gabriel walked slowly down the hallway, illuminating patches on the patterned hallway carpeting. Sophie felt not unlike a prisoner who, trying to escape his fate, was caught now and then by searchlights.
She chastised herself for the thought. She was doing this on purpose, because she had a plan to fulfill. She needed Gabriel Caine to be distracted tonight, and she knew—she knew—that this was not only the best, but perhaps the only way to distract him.
An arrow of guilt shot through her, and she suppressed it ruthlessly. She was only doing this because she perceived no other course of action. Surely Gabriel would understand why she had to do what she was going to do. Eventually. Probably. She hoped he’d understand after he thought about it for a while, at any rate. He wouldn’t feel used and abused, would he? Heavens, no. Not Gabriel Caine.
Lord, she was being wicked.
She told herself to stop thinking like that.
“Here’s my room,” Gabriel said in a low voice.
A sickening jolt shot through Sophie. This was it. She would have prayed for strength, except that she couldn’t force herself to be such a hypocrite. She managed a smile.
Gabriel hesitated. Sophie feared her jumbled emotions might be written too plainly on her face, and she attempted to keep any doubt confined to her heart.
“Are you sure about this, Sophie?”
His voice was kindness itself, and it very nearly made Sophie burst into tears right there in the Melrose hallway. Good heavens, what was the matter with her? Intentionally thrusting all doubts aside, she said, “Yes, Gabriel, I’m sure.”Wonder of wonders, her voice was as strong as ever. He paused for another moment. It was fully long enough for Sophie’s smile to fade and for panic to begin to fill her.
Damn it! He couldn’t back out now!
He didn’t. “I’ve been waiting for this too long to back down now. If you’re sorry later, I’ll apologize then. If I’m sorry later, well . . .” He let the end of the sentence dangle unspoken.
Sophie had to force herself not to slump with relief. “I won’t be sorry,” she said. And she meant it, too, for the most part. She only hoped her emotional si
de wouldn’t overwhelm her sensible side once the deed was done. She knew beyond certainty that Gabriel Caine wasn’t a man to pin one’s future hopes on. He was a rambler and a gambler and not the sort to stick around for the long run. She knew the type, unfortunately. “I don’t think you will be, either.” She would be, but she couldn’t afford to think about it.
“I hope you’re right.” He stuck the key in the lock, turned it, pushed the door open, and stepped aside so Sophie could enter before him.
The moment of truth had arrived. Without so much as a stutter to her step, Sophie walked into Gabriel’s hotel room.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dresser and was surprised that none of the mayhem wreaking havoc on her emotions showed in her face. Actually, she looked wonderful. The dusky green of her gown made her skin appear almost opalescent in the light of the one electrical lamp Gabriel turned on.
She hoped to goodness he wouldn’t turn any more lamps on. It had been years since she’d made love to a man. She’d been a pretty young girl then, as lively as a colt, and as slender as a reed. The reed had grown considerably since then and, although her shape was curvy and womanly, she’d just as soon not have lights blazing on it for Gabriel’s inspection. Goodness only knew how many women, thinner and far more experienced than she, he’d romped with through the years. She didn’t fancy hearing—or fearing—negative comparisons.
Because she didn’t want him to suspect how nervous and unsophisticated she was, she reached up to unfasten the decoration from her hair. She knew this to be a classic pose—female raising arms above head, thereby displaying her body and presenting a vulnerable picture to the predatory male.
Stop it, Sophie!
The hair decoration was a necklace, really, but she liked to wear it in her hair during séances. The garnets and gold glimmered in the low red lamplight and contrasted nicely with her blond locks.
Gabriel, who had gone to the bedside table to turn on the lamp, turned and gazed at her. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, but they were as beautiful as ever, and warm. Sweet heaven, she hoped he liked the way she looked! This was going to be harder than she’d first thought, she realized, because all of her insecurities had chosen to froth to the surface of her consciousness. She also couldn’t completely repress the feeling of guilt about using Gabriel to achieve her aims. She reminded herself that men used women all the time to achieve their aims, but it didn’t make her feel significantly better about herself and what she was doing.
