by Jacie Floyd
He paused as if considering, but his eyes flickered with desire. His gaze settled on her lips. “Almost.”
Heat crept up her cheeks as she remembered the kisses they’d shared. She still couldn’t believe she’d taken matters into her own hands and kissed him. But she had an inconvenient habit of looking before she leaped, and this time, she didn’t regret it. He was so careful, so reserved, so precise in all his actions that she’d feared he’d never have gotten around to kissing her if she hadn’t jumped in. But boy, he hadn’t resisted taking the lead.
Even though his desire had been evident, she wondered if he’d found her impulsiveness too pushy. He had a tendency to want to call the shots at his own practical pace. She cleared her throat. “Um, about Wednesday...”
He cupped her cheek with his palm and pressed his thumb against her lips. “Please don’t say you’re sorry. It was the highlight of my day. Week. Month, in fact.”
“Not too forward?”
“Forward is my favorite direction.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You can be forward with me anytime.”
Tempted, she swept her gaze around the dimly lit restaurant. “Like, now?”
The heat in his eyes cooled and he leaned back. Way back. He cleared his throat. “No, not now.”
“That’s what I thought.” Deflated, she used the soufflé to extinguish her disappointment. Even his surprises were premeditated. Except for that first day. At the taping. When the two pieces of jade slid into perfect place after a century of division. Hmmm...
“What?”
“I wonder why you’re reluctant to kiss me here, when you kissed me at the taping of Your Grandma’s Attic. Do you think it’s true that the Sleeping Lotus is an aphrodisiac?”
“No.”
“Then explain that first kiss.”
“Hey, you were the one hugging everyone in sight. I just took it a step further. We were both excited over the moment, plus I was attracted to you from the first.”
She beamed at the flattery until she remembered his original lack of interest in her. “No, you weren’t. You didn’t even notice me until you found out I had something you wanted. So it was either greed, or the power of the Sleeping Lotus.”
“It was attraction.” He pressed his lips firmly together. “It still is.”
“Prove it.” Curling her fingers around his lapel, she pulled him forward. “Kiss me now.”
“Demanding.” Gabe looked around the room. She could see him gauging the interest of the other diners. With his eyes fixed on hers, he placed his fingers under her chin. “I like that.”
She couldn’t look away as he moved in close. Closer. She saw her image reflected in his eyes. His breath brushed her lips. Her heart stilled, waiting for the contact, speeding up again when his mouth took hers, tentative at first, then exploring.
As his tongue slid into her mouth, it brought with it the heady mixture of chocolate, wine and desire. He slid his tongue farther inside, rubbing against hers. His fingers eased their way into her hair, grazing her scalp, prompting a low moan of pleasure. Her fingers moved to caress his cheek, his jaw, and the firm contours of his skin.
The kiss went on and on. Time expanded and contracted, losing all meaning as she fell inside the all-consuming moment. Inside him. Inside his world, his space. He aroused every tingling molecule of her being, just as he had that first day, taking her to a place that felt all new, yet familiar. With his lips against hers and his fingers tunneling through her hair, she wanted so much more.
She toed off a sandal under the table and rubbed her foot along his calf, up to his thigh where he reached out to cup her ankle. Beneath the tablecloth, he moved her foot against the rigid erection straining against his zipper. Instinctively, she moved from her chair to his lap.
Surrounded by him, she brushed her breasts against him, against the heat and strength she craved. As she slid her hand inside his coat, against the warm cotton of his shirt, the tinkling sound of silverware tapping against glasses registered in her brain.
Gasping, they broke apart.
The other diners whistled and cheered. Molly returned to her chair, smiled and waved, laughing at the attention. Gabe looked both abashed and pleased with himself. He straightened in his chair a bit, a chuckle tempered with self-consciousness.
“Well, that got out of hand, didn’t it?” He cleared his throat. “See? That’s how attracted I am to you. Are you ready to go?”
“Not nearly.” Breathless and winded, she doubted her ability to stand at the moment. “Not while there’s soufflé left on the table. Eat up. The sooner it’s gone, the faster we’ll get out of here.”
“Promise?” He picked up his fork and dug in.
She almost hated replacing the taste of him with the chocolate, but she did it, rolling the confection around her mouth while she studied him. “You really are embarrassed. You aren’t just being contrary. You don’t believe in any of my favorite things, like magic, luck, or spontaneity, do you?” She cut into the soufflé for another bite. “So, what do you believe in?”
He set his fork down and considered. “I believe in taking care of the people I love, working hard to get what I want, and planning ahead for all eventualities.” He ticked each item off on a finger.
“Sort of takes the romance out of the soufflé,” she muttered.
“Why? Because I made sure you liked it before I ordered the most expensive dessert on the menu?”
One of her eyebrows shot upward. “Ah, so you didn’t want to waste your money on me.”
“I was happy to order it, I was happy to spend the money—if it was something you wanted. It would have been a waste if you hadn’t liked it. I took the guesswork out of the equation, that’s all.”
She couldn’t believe that lips that could kiss like his could speak words that took all the joy, all the risk, all the fun of discovery out of life. She shook her head over the practicality of it.
Would he ever lighten up?
Chapter Eleven
“Sorry dinner took so long.” Gabe pulled into Molly’s driveway. He noted the Porsche’s engine growled like a tiger and handled like butter. Gabe gave into a moment of serious car-envy. He’d been extra-careful with Max’s pride and joy all night. Except for Max’s new fiancé, the reporter loved nothing more than his vintage Porsche. Gabe’s ass would be grass if he let anything happen to it.
The car could go from zero to sixty in ten seconds flat. Unlike his date, who had perfected dawdling to an art form. Or to be generous, maybe she just enjoyed all of life’s little moments so much, she wouldn’t hurry through any of them. Either way, for a workaholic like Gabe, her pace took some adjusting.
And watching her roll every bite of soufflé around on her tongue as she savored it had provided him with pure pleasure, once he quit worrying about the time and the money and the public display of affection. They could go to a movie any day. But a night of Molly’s undivided attention was priceless. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the midnight show?”
Her blonde bob flared out like adorable wings as she shook her head. One strand caught on her cheek and she brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear, exposing a sparkly, star-shaped earring. “That dinner was worth all the time it took. You should have let me split the bill though. I'd have paid any price for that dessert.”
His gaze fastened on her as it had been doing all night. Looking vibrant and gorgeous, she took his breath away, just sitting there.
From the shiny cap of hair, to the slash of shimmery eye shadow, over the creamy skin of her bare back and fabulous curves, all the way down her smooth and shapely legs to the strappy-backless sandals and her rosy-painted toes and toe ring, Molly held him enthralled. She presented a bright and lively package designed to tantalize and frustrate him. And she kept him on the edge of a full-blown boner most of the time.
Closing his eyes, he shoved away the real-life fantasy of her and the memory of their kisses. He focused instead on her last comment
. She’d suggested they catch a movie another night. Relieved she wasn’t brushing him off and out of her life, he pressed. “Sure. Good, when? Where?”
She scrunched up her nose. Again, adorable. “Tomorrow? I’ll have to check the listing in the morning.”
He turned off the car and killed the lights, plunging them into shadow. “Okay, then.”
He suppressed the urge to check the information on his phone right this minute, since she found his command of the Internet less than impressive. Instead, he hurried around to open her car door. Walking up the drive, he hooked his hand through her arm. Her skin felt silky smooth, warm and soft.
She accepted his touch willingly enough again. But at some point during the evening, the mood had changed from the sizzling excitement that flashed between them to a more cautious, more subtle awareness. Something had happened to make her retreat.
Maybe he’d pressured her too hard about selling the Lotus.
Maybe he hadn’t been romantic enough for her, or spontaneous enough. But damn, he just wasn’t programmed that way. What was wrong with being well-organized and logical? Nothing. Probably. But maybe she found him boring.
And somewhere along the way, he’d disappointed her. After she’d been so pleased about the daisies. And about the choice of restaurant. And the soufflé.
And the kiss. Which had been great. Fabulous. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Maybe it had been too much. But no, he realized with a rare flash of insight, it hadn’t been enough. She’d enjoyed every second of the kiss. It was his response that had annoyed her. Apparently she’d found his hesitation, embarrassment, and withdrawal unappealing.
He thought fast about ways to regain his lost ground. She liked spontaneity. He could be spontaneous. As long as he had a minute to plan it.
“We don’t have to call it a night yet. Isn’t there a little park on the corner? Why don’t we walk down there?” He didn’t want the evening to end. He hoped she didn’t either.
“Sounds good.” She smiled up at him and turned around with a little bounce in her step, encouraging the hope that he’d redeemed himself a bit.
They strolled in silence, close but not touching. He pulled off his stupid, constricting tie and stuck it in his pocket. A perfect evening, with perfect company. Crickets chirped. An ambulance wailed in the distance. Air conditioners hummed and some kind of citrusy, flowery scent hovered nearby. Or maybe it was—yes, definitely—the scent of oranges.
Molly’s scent.
He had to get past his awkward reaction to her perfume. These days, he got a hard-on just walking through Kroger’s produce section. And down the ice cream aisle.
“You never talk about your parents.” Just like that, his step faltered, and his erection vanished.
Even though he didn’t have Sierra’s psychic ability, he should have seen the question coming. As close as Molly was to her parents, she’d want to know about his sooner or later.
“They’re gone.” This was a subject he didn’t share, period.
“How long have they been gone?”
He could sandbag her with vague comments all day long. But with all that honesty and sincerity beaming up at him from those oh, so curious eyes of hers, he couldn’t bring himself to lie, evade, or mislead. His throat muscles worked overtime to force a response out of his mouth. “My mother disappeared when I was a child. My father a couple of years after that.”
He felt her warm gaze studying him as she weighed his comment.
She slipped her hand inside his in a comforting show of support. “Disappeared, how?”
They reached the park and left the paved path. A circle of light surrounded a deserted gravel playground and they headed toward it. She took a seat on an old-fashioned merry-go-round, as if it were common practice for her. And it probably was. It didn’t take a genius to imagine her enjoying playground duty with her students.
Doffing his suit coat, he turned away to drape it across one of the bars while he composed his expression and his answer. “She disappeared. Literally. Without a trace. ‘Suspected foul play,’ according to the police report.”
Despite a momentary stillness, empathy oozed from Molly. “How old were you?”
He worked his throat in a swallow to manage even one word. “Six.”
The one word brought the memories rushing back. He remembered playing on the swings in the schoolyard. His buddies had left when their moms arrived to take them home. He’d had on a new Batman jacket his mother gave him for his birthday. One of the pockets had gotten ripped at recess, and he dreaded letting her know. Not that she would have been mad, just disappointed. Trendy jackets didn’t come cheap. Even as a kid, he realized she must have had to sacrifice to get him something special, something she knew he’d really like, even if it was something he needed, too.
After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, a policeman had shown up with Granddad and the school principal. The ripped pocket had turned out to be the least of his worries. Illogically, he’d carried a grudge against Batman ever since.
“A difficult age for a child to lose a parent,” she said quietly. “Were you in first grade?”
“Yes.” He didn’t intend to say anything else. Probably if she’d asked for more, he would have refused to elaborate. But in her restrained silence, he discovered an uncustomary need to pour his heart out, like some idiotic guest on Dr. Phil.
“She was on her way to pick me up from school, but she never got there. Sierra was found in a stroller between school and our house. Crying. Abandoned.”
He shrugged, trying to negate the painful memory. As if it wasn’t important anymore. But it was important. Still. Always would be.
Talking about it brought back everything. How he had felt. How devastated. How lost. Afraid. Nothing had ever been the same. But lots of people had it worse.
“Just one of those unsolved mysteries that happen in big cities every day.” Unfastening Granddad’s prized onyx cuff links and rolling up his sleeves, Gabe blinked hard.
Molly dug her heels into the packed, well-worn earth beneath her feet and idly walked the merry-go-round a few steps to the right. “What do you think happened to her?”
Slipping his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Don’t know. Granddad, Sierra, and I—we don’t talk about it. It’s the proverbial elephant in the room that gets ignored.” Gabe dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt while childhood recollections rushed to the surface, mostly bad ones. But there were a few good ones featuring his mom. And Sierra. And Granddad.
“Suspected foul play?” She asked it casually, like she was inquiring about the weather and not the single most important event of his life.
He ruthlessly shoved the idea away like a plate of bad tuna. “She would never have abandoned Sierra in the street, or leave either one of us unattended. But people do strange things all the time. Maybe something unbearable happened at home. Maybe something with my dad, and she just thought ‘That’s it, I’m outta here’.”
“But you don’t think so?” He heard the strains of understanding in her voice. She was a third-grade teacher, for Pete’s sake. Of course she’d be sympathetic to any child’s misery.
“I don’t.” He gnawed the inside of his cheek. “Dad did some sketchy things in those days, and he knew a lot of unsavory characters, but no connection was ever found.”
“Difficult. For you and Sierra.” Molly reached out to him again. She placed her hand on his arm lightly, a gentle touch of comfort that eased some of the tension. “Not knowing what happened to her leaves it hanging out there though, doesn’t it? No closure, as my dad would say.”
Gabe grunted, unable to form words.
“What about your father? Does sketchy mean unreliable?”
“That’s a polite way to put it. I guess you’d more accurately call him a con-man.” Gabe grabbed one of the merry-go-round’s support bars and shuffled a few steps, setting the equipment in motion. Just enough to remove him from the comfort offered by her
touch, before he came completely undone. “He’d only been around off and on before Mom disappeared. He tried to handle us on his own after that, but it wasn’t his style. He dropped us off with Granddad when I was eight, left to pursue some dumb-ass scheme, promising to come back and get us. But he didn’t.”
Putting some force behind it this time, he pushed against the merry-go-round, pushing away the bitterness at the same time.
Molly lifted her feet from the ground, tucking her skirt around her knees to sit Indian-style. The wheel spun through a few half-hearted revolutions. When it stopped in front of him, she spoke. “Devastating, but knowing what we know about the curse, kind of inevitable, don’t you think?”
He glared at her. “Don’t start about the curse.”
“Right, no connection at all.” She threw her hands up in surrender. “Did you ever see your father again?”
He gripped the bars and pushed harder. If he were smart, he’d milk the needy-child card. She was such a softy. He could see she’d be all over that one. But as much as he wanted to sell the Sleeping Lotus, as much as he wanted Molly in his bed—and somehow, the two wants weren’t as intertwined as they had been—he couldn’t stomach the thought of using pity to get what he wanted. Of using his past to get to her or the Sleeping Lotus. He’d worked hard over the years to leave that pitiful child behind.
Being abandoned by his parents, from intention or circumstance, had taught him who he could count on and who he couldn’t. It taught him to be tough and resourceful. He wanted to show her that toughness now, not the vulnerability of the child.
As the merry-go-round slowed, he stopped it with Molly in front of him. “There were occasional visits filled with empty promises. We learned early on not to believe anything he said.”
“So your grandfather raised you.” Molly smiled brightly, moonlight illuminating her face. “He’s a character, all right, and he’s crazy about you.”
“Yeah, he’s the best.” Just thinking about the old man brought a smile to Gabe’s face, too. “He’s all about that fun and spontaneity you like so well. Sierra thrived on it, but I always preferred things more orderly. And don’t give me that look. I went to enough therapy sessions as a kid to know what a psychologist would say about my need to control my environment.”
