Gabe sympathized, and more, understood. He reached out to cup her chin in his hand. “I have a feeling you’re going to get what you want.”
What she wanted, Maggie thought, was a real family. With a man who loved her—and the babies they had—for all eternity. But Gabe wasn’t offering her that, she reminded herself sternly. Nor, given the in-name-only union they had embarked upon, was he ever liable to do so.
Chapter Ten
“Is that rain?” Maggie asked two hours later as she and Gabe finished doing the dishes in the narrow galley kitchen off the stateroom.
Gabe cocked his head in the direction of the whisper-soft sound above them. “Sure sounds like it,” he mused, after a contemplative moment.
Maggie moved to the porthole to see for herself just as the clouds opened up. Big fat drops of water fell from the pitch-black sky in a pounding deluge on the deck. Maggie listened to the steady rat-a-tat-tat and considered just how damp they would get if they tried to make a dash to his sports car in that. Pretty darn wet, she figured silently. “That’s a lot of rain,” she noted. Not that she minded being here, in the lap of Deveraux family luxury with Gabe. There was something comforting and cozy about being inside the yacht’s stateroom with him, while all manner of hell broke loose outside.
Gabe nodded, looking no more disturbed by the unexpected tempest than she was. He wrapped his arms around her, testing the waters cautiously as he warned with a teasing grin, “If we go out in that, we’ll get soaked.”
The reckless part of Maggie wasn’t sure that would be all bad. If their clothing was drenched, she’d get a better look at Gabe’s strong, handsome physique. And there was no doubt about it. He had the build of an Adonis, with long limbs, beautifully sculpted muscles and a powerful chest. Lower still, he was just as beautifully and abundantly made.
Unfortunately, while the passionate side of her saw this as a perfect opportunity to make even more of her romantic fantasies come true with Gabe, Maggie’s cautious side was throwing up the red flags. Before, she’d had good reason to take him into her heart and into her bed. Now, well, whether Gabe knew it or not, the situation was different. So different it was bothering her conscience.
Maggie sighed and stepped back slightly.
She looked back out the window and winced as a slash of yellow lit the sky. It was immediately followed by a clap of thunder so loud, it had her jumping right back into his arms. Embarrassed by the quick and instinctive way she had turned to him for protection, she flushed self-consciously and said, “Not to mention, possibly struck by lightning.”
“Not to worry,” he murmured, kissing her temple. Looking all too happy to be her white knight, whenever, however, she needed him, he flashed her a sexy smile. “I’ll protect you.”
Suddenly Maggie was shivering for a completely different reason. As much as she wanted Gabe to come to her rescue, she didn’t want to be just another good deed in a long line of Good Samaritan pursuits. She curved her hands around the flexed muscles of his arms. It was late, and she was feeling far too vulnerable. “Gabe—”
Their gazes met, he regarded her in contemplative silence. “Hmm?” Not dissuaded in the slightest, he scored the pad of his thumb across her parted lips.
She hitched in a deep, galvanizing breath. “I’m not ovulating any more,” she told him honestly, wanting—needing—him to know, before this sexy interlude really took flight.
His glance unexpectedly affectionate, and unrepentantly sensual, Gabe cupped her face ever so gently between his hands. “So?”
“So,” Maggie elaborated, just as plainly, her low voice vibrating in the soft silence of the evening. Aware that with every touch, every passing moment, came the need to be so much closer, she looked deep into his eyes, and continued explaining tersely, “if we were to make love now, we wouldn’t be making a baby.” And that was the only reason they had gotten married.
Gabe smiled, apparently not the least bit upset about that. “There are other reasons—even better reasons—for us to be together,” he stated confidently.
Maggie’s heart took a little leap at the blatant sensuality in his gaze. Oh, how she wanted to do what he was so definitely encouraging and run wild with him. Determined however, not to make the same mistake twice, and let herself dream, even for one crazy moment, that he might be in this for the long haul with her, she caught his hands and removed them from her face. Then stepped back, slapped her hands on her hips and squared off with him.
“Like what, for instance?” she asked.
Ignoring her contentious stance, he stepped closer once again and anchored one arm about her shoulders, the other about her waist. His lips came down on hers, soft and sure. “Like the fact I want you in my life,” he told her firmly.
“As what, exactly?” Maggie demanded in a low, trembling voice as she tried not to give in to his tender, evocative kiss.
Gabe pressed a kiss on her temple, another across her cheek. “As everything,” he replied gently, looking deep into her eyes once again. “A friend. The mother of my child. My lover. My love.”
All those things sounded wonderful to Maggie. But, even though he had said them sincerely, he hadn’t uttered the one word she had yearned to hear—he hadn’t stated he wanted anything long-term, hadn’t indicated—in any way—that he wanted to make her his wife in anything but name only. And without that…
Gabe had only to look at Maggie’s face and feel the new resistance in her body to know he had screwed up with her once again.
Before Maggie could do more than take a galvanizing breath, Gabe swept her wordlessly into his arms, carried her resolutely across the hall, and set her down next to the bed.
“Stop fighting me, Maggie,” he said. “Stop fighting this.”
Her heart fluttered once in anticipation, then her lips were inundated with a kiss that was long and hard and deep, sweet and slow, soft and tempting.
She’d thought they could separate love and sex, baby-making from lovemaking, but as Gabe continued to kiss and caress her, for Maggie it all became one and the same. She couldn’t make love to him without loving him. She couldn’t have his baby without taking him into her life, into her heart. When she was in Gabe’s arms like this, all she could think about—all she wanted—was to surrender to the feelings, the possibilities, the future. Their future.
It didn’t matter that these lusty feelings were quite unlike her. Or that she had never behaved so wildly and wantonly in her life. All she knew for certain was that she wanted to be with him, and that the need deep inside her seemed to grow exponentially even as it was met. Standing on tiptoe, she returned his kisses passionately, knowing that no one had ever desired her in such a fundamental way. She shuddered as he swept off her jacket, her dress.
His eyes darkened as he took in her lacey lingerie, thigh-high stockings and heels. “Let yourself go, Maggie,” Gabe whispered as he fell to his knees in front of her. He stroked the tender insides of her legs from knees to pelvis and back again, slid his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, found and traced the dampness that flowed.
They’d barely started, and already she felt herself sliding inexorably to the edge. Not sure she could take much more, Maggie quivered and whispered, “Oh Gabe.”
Gabe released a sound that was part chuckle, part groan and all male triumph. Holding her fast, he brought her even closer, pushed her panties down, off. Using the pads of his fingertips, he traced the satiny petals. Made lazy circles. Moved up, in. Followed it all with the soothing ministrations of his lips, coaxing response after response from her, until she was swaying against him mindlessly, aware of the need growing inside her, by leaps and bounds, even as it was met.
“I wanted to wait for you,” she murmured, as he laid her gently back onto the bed.
“Not to worry,” he murmured confidently as he stripped off his clothes—and hers—and lay down beside her. “I’ll catch up.” He was hard as a rock against her as he stretched out over top of her, took her wrists in hi
s hands, pinned them over her head, making no bones about who was in charge. The softness of her breasts molded to the hardness of his chest, as her head swam with the scent and taste of him. Her abdomen felt liquid and weightless, her knees weak. The next thing Maggie knew, Gabe was claiming her body with the unchecked abandon they’d discovered the very first time they’d made love. Her heart was thumping so hard she could hear it in her ears as he kissed her over and over again. She wrapped her legs around him, reveling in the hot insistent demand, the deliberate thrust and parry. Sensations swept through her as she surged against him, taking him deeper and deeper inside her, closing tight, merging their bodies as intimately and intricately as they had begun to merge their lives.
Gabe had known that if they made love expressly to make love, it would change things, deepen their relationship. Which was, surprisingly enough, exactly what he wanted. Maggie in his life. Not just temporarily, or for a single reason—that reason being the baby they hoped they had already made—but forever. He could barely control himself as she moved against him. He heard her moan and felt her closing tight, and then it was just too much. He saw the tenderness in her eyes as she rose up to meet him. She arched her back, he plunged deep inside. And then they were one, in heart, soul, mind.
He was protecting her—even as they possessed each other. She was surrendering. Their joining was as tender as it was full of wonder. And somehow…it was exactly right.
MAGGIE WOKE on her side, with Gabe cuddled against her, his hand on her tummy. Loving the way he felt against her, so warm and strong and comforting, she put her hand atop his and snuggled even closer.
He kissed the curve of her bare shoulder, whispered in her ear. “I hope you’re pregnant.”
Maggie thought about the possibility of holding their baby in her arms nine months from now. Smiling, she murmured in reply, “I do, too.”
Gabe rolled her ever so gently onto her back and lowered his mouth to hers. “But if not,” he grinned down at her wickedly before kissing her so slowly and evocatively it set her body humming and her heart pounding, “I don’t mind getting some more practice in.” And to show her that was indeed the case, he made love to her all over again, every bit as sweetly and tenderly and erotically as he had the night before.
Afterward, they showered together, and took their time getting ready to face the day.
“Want to grab some breakfast before we head our separate ways?” Gabe asked, as Maggie finished dressing in the same outfit she had been wearing the night before.
Wishing they didn’t have to resume their normal lives at all, Maggie nodded. Hand in hand, they headed up the companionway, to the deck of the yacht…and came face to face with Gabe’s mother and father.
Gabe did a double take, as did Maggie. “What are you two doing here?” he asked, while Maggie gathered her composure around her like a cloak. It was clear Gabe’s parents hadn’t come for a happy reason. Both of them looked as ticked off as could be.
“This,” Grace said, handing over a folded section of the Charleston Bulletin to her son.
Gabe looked down at the article she had circled in red.
“Deveraux Heir Takes Secret Bride,” he read out loud.
Maggie glanced over his shoulder and continued where he left off. “Dr. Gabe Deveraux married local kitchen designer Maggie Callaway in a private beach-side ceremony in North Carolina earlier this week.”
“We don’t even have to ask you if it’s true,” Grace said, as she studied their faces.
Tom nodded, just as grimly, and continued in a low voice laced with disappointment, “We can tell by the looks on your faces that it is.”
Gabe edged closer to Maggie and put his arm around her waist. Although his action was casually possessive and protective, she could feel the tension thrumming through his body. “How did you know we were here?” Gabe asked his parents, while Maggie worked to get a handle on her own soaring emotions.
“Simple deduction,” his father replied, giving Maggie a brief, assessing look that only intensified her guilt over having unintentionally caused even more havoc in the Deveraux family dynamics.
“We called both your homes,” Tom continued briskly. “When we didn’t get an answer we figured you must have spent the night here.”
“Why would you do something like this without even telling us either before or after?” Grace cried, as she paced back and forth and wrung her hands.
“Marriage is not a game,” Tom scowled, backing up his ex-wife in the same way Gabe was backing up Maggie. Which just went to show, Maggie thought, that chivalry ran rampant in the Deveraux family, no matter what the circumstances.
“I take my marriage to Maggie very seriously,” Gabe said.
Tom looked at Maggie and assessed her bluntly. “What about you?” he demanded impatiently. “How do you feel about this?”
Maggie drew a deep, calming breath, and edged even closer to Gabe. “Believe me,” she told Gabe’s father honestly, “I’ve never felt it was a more serious matter than I do right this very minute.”
Tom sighed, swept a hand through the short, cropped layers of his dark hair. “If you two are serious about each other and want to keep the tabloids from digging for scandal—”
He’d lost her, Maggie thought. “Why would they be interested in the two of us?” she interrupted. She wasn’t a public figure. Neither was Gabe.
“Because of my celebrity,” Grace explained unhappily. “The fifteen years I spent as co-host on “Rise and Shine, America!” made me a very familiar face in this country. Since the network let my contract lapse, interest in my private life has only increased. And unfortunately, that includes both of you, too. If you two had said your vows in a long-scheduled church wedding, it probably wouldn’t have been news. But the fact Maggie was once engaged to Chase, coupled with the fact that the two of you ran off to North Carolina to marry in secret…well, you can understand why the New York City newspapers jumped on the news. They’ve been wondering what I’ve been doing down here in Charleston while I was licking my wounds, and now they smell a juicy story. And where they go, the tabloids quickly follow.”
“We want to avoid a scandal at all costs,” Tom said firmly.
“So do we,” Maggie stated, just as fervently. The last thing she wanted to be was at the center of another Deveraux family scandal.
“Then we’ve got to embark on a P.R. offensive, fast,” Grace said authoritatively, looking every bit the seasoned news professional that she was. “And I have just the way to do it. Lane Stringfield’s TV station is hosting the “Rupert and Casey Show” out of New York City. They are taping today’s show live at 11:00 a.m. and I’m the first guest on the roster. I want you to go to the taping with me. And here’s what we’re going to do….”
“I’M NOT SURE I can do this,” Maggie murmured to Gabe as Grace—finished with hair and makeup—was escorted off to do a pre-show interview with one of the staffers.
“Sure you can,” Gabe said, as the two of them were ushered into the makeup chairs backstage. Looking handsome and sexy in a dark suit, light blue shirt and dark blue tie, he shot her a confident glance. “It’s not hard at all. I did it all the time when I was growing up.”
Trying hard not to think about how nice it would be to be a part of Gabe’s life—and family—all the time, Maggie leaned forward so a protective cape could be slipped over her shoulders. She kept her back straight, her head up, as the stylist began touching up her hair with a curling iron. Catching Gabe’s glance in the mirror, she smiled casually and asked, “What’s it like being the kid of someone famous?”
Gabe made a face as the stylist working on him spread mousse through his black hair and finger-scrunched the thick layers so they would look even wavier. He turned his eyes to Maggie. “Being the offspring of a celebrity isn’t really that different, except for times like this when I find myself in the limelight when I would rather not be.”
Maggie knew how Gabe felt. She’d rather be working on a remodeling j
ob right now herself. Lane Stringfield walked past. He stopped when he saw Maggie and Gabe in the chairs, and came in. He looked at the makeup and hair artists working on them, and said with the polite authority of a TV station manager who had been in his job a long time, “Give us a minute, would you please?”
They nodded and slipped out wordlessly.
Lane moved around to the front of the chairs. Although dressed as superbly as usual, he looked tired and stressed to the max. He leaned against the work counter, his back to the mirror. Folding his arms in front of him, he scowled at Gabe with unchecked resentment. “Did you really expect me to forgive her?” Lane asked.
Maggie didn’t have to ask who Lane was talking about—it couldn’t have been anyone but his estranged wife, Penny.
Abruptly, Gabe looked as grimly upset as Lane. “If you love your wife,” Gabe ground out, “then yes, that is exactly what I would expect you to do.”
A mixture of hurt and indignation glimmered in Lane’s eyes. “She was unfaithful to me,” he said.
“Nearly unfaithful,” Maggie corrected, just as hotly. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she wanted the Stringfields to get back together, too. “And given the fact Penny was very young at the time and targeted by a real pro, I’d think you would cut her some slack.” Maggie knew what it was like to make mistakes. To look back and wish you had handled a situation differently. For instance, if she had kept her attraction to Gabe to herself at the time she broke up with Chase, she might have been able to see Gabe later, without all the subsequent family angst and complications. Instead, she had worn her heart on her sleeve in the days before her wedding to his brother Chase, and caused a Deveraux family uproar that had left the two brothers barely speaking, and Gabe and herself feeling so guilty and confused they had decided not to keep seeing each other after all.
Now, of course, she and Gabe were married, but it was more a business arrangement for the sake of the baby they were currently trying to have together than an actual union of souls. And to make matters worse, today, because of his mother’s celebrity and his father’s inherited wealth and social position within the community, they were having to pretend to all the world they meant more to each other than they had ever promised they would.
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