I don’t remember much of what happened after
we arrived. Camera flashes burst around us like
fireworks as we walked the length of the press
gauntlet, but I scarcely paid them any mind,
smiling by rote. I was drawn into myself and
desperate to get away from the tension radiating
in waves from Gideon.
The moment we crossed over into the building,
someone called his name and he turned. I slipped
away, darting around the rest of the guests
clogging the carpeted entrance.
When I reached the reception hall, I snatched
two glasses of champagne from a passing server
and searched for Cary as I tossed one back. I
spotted him on the far side of the room with my
mom and Stanton, and I crossed to them,
discarding my empty glass on a table as I passed
it.
“Eva!” My mother’s face lit up when she saw
me. “That dress is stunning on you!”
She air-kissed each of my cheeks. She was
gorgeous in a shimmering, fitted column of icy
blue. Sapphires dripped from her ears, throat, and
wrist, highlighting her eyes and her pale skin.
“Thank you.” I took a gulp of champagne from
my second glass, remembering that I’d planned
on expressing gratitude for the dress. While I still
appreciated the gift, I was no longer so happy
about the convenient thigh slit.
Cary stepped forward, catching my elbow. One
look at my face and he knew I was upset. I shook
my head, not wanting to get into it now.
“More champagne, then?” he asked softly.
“Please.”
I felt Gideon approaching before I saw my
mother’s face light up like the New Year’s ball in
Times Square. Stanton, too, seemed to straighten
and gather himself.
“Eva.” Gideon set his hand on the bare skin of
my lower back and a shock of awareness moved
through me. When his fingers flexed against me, I
wondered if he felt it, too. “You ran off.”
I stiffened against the reproof I heard in his
tone. I shot him a look that said everything I
couldn’t while we were in public. “Richard, have
you met Gideon Cross?”
“Yes, of course.” The two men shook hands.
Gideon pulled me closer to his side. “We share
the good fortune of escorting the two most
beautiful women in New York.”
Stanton agreed, smiling indulgently down at my
mother.
I tossed back the rest of my champagne and
gratefully exchanged the empty glass for the fresh
one Cary handed me. There was a slight warmth
growing in my belly from the alcohol and it
loosened the knot that had formed there.
Gideon leaned over and whispered harshly,
“Don’t forget you’re here with me.”
He was mad? What the hell? My gaze
narrowed. “You’re one to talk.”
“Not here, Eva.” He nodded at everyone and led
me away. “Not now.”
“Not ever,” I muttered, going along with him just
to spare my mother a scene.
Sipping my champagne, I slid into an autopilot
mode of self-preservation I hadn’t had to use in
many years. Gideon introduced me to people and
I supposed I performed well enough—spoke at
the appropriate moments and smiled when
necessary—but I wasn’t really paying attention. I
was too conscious of the icy wall between us and
my own hurt anger. If I’d needed any proof that
Gideon was rigid about not socializing with
women he slept with, I had it.
When dinner was announced, I went with him
into the dining room and poked at my food. I drank
a few glasses of the red wine they served with the
meal and heard Gideon talking to our tablemates,
although I didn’t pay attention to the words, only to
the cadence and the seductively deep, even tone.
He made no attempt to draw me into the
conversation and I was glad. I didn’t think I could
say anything nice.
I didn’t become engaged until he stood to a
round of applause and took the stage. Then I
turned in my seat and watched him cross to the
podium, unable to help admiring his animal grace
and stunning good looks. Every step he took
commanded attention and respect, which was a
feat, considering his easy and unhurried stride.
He looked none the worse for wear after our
abandoned fucking in his limo. In fact, he seemed
like a totally different person. He was once again
the man I’d met in the Crossfire lobby, supremely
contained and quietly powerful.
“In North America,” he began, “childhood sexual
abuse is experienced by one in every four women
and one in every six men. Take a good look
around you. Someone at your table is either a
survivor or knows someone who is. That’s the
unacceptable truth.”
I was riveted. Gideon was a consummate
orator, his vibrant baritone mesmerizing. But it
was the topic, which hit so close to home, and his
passionate and sometimes shocking way of
discussing it, that moved me. I began to thaw, my
bewildered fury and damaged self-confidence
subverted by wonder. My view of him shifted,
altering as I became simply another individual in a
rapt audience. He wasn’t the man who’d so
recently hurt my feelings; he was just a skilled
speaker discussing a subject that was deeply
important to me.
When he finished, I stood and applauded,
catching both him and myself by surprise. But
others quickly joined me in the standing ovation
and I heard the buzz of conversations around me,
the quietly voiced compliments that were well
deserved.
“You’re a fortunate young lady.”
I turned to look at the woman who spoke, a
lovely redhead who appeared to be in her early
forties. “We’re just…friends.”
Her serene smile somehow managed to argue
with me.
People began stepping away from their tables. I
was about to grab my clutch so I could leave for
home when a young man came up to me. His
wayward auburn hair inspired instant envy and his
eyes of grayish-green were soft and friendly.
Handsome and sporting a boyish grin, he lured
the first genuine smile out of me since the ride
over in the limousine.
“Hello there,” he said.
He seemed to know who I was, which put me in
the awkward position of pretending I wasn’t
clueless as to who he was. “Hello.”
He laughed, and the sound was light and
charming. “I’m Christopher Vidal, Gideon’s
brother.”
“Oh, of course.” My face heated. I couldn’t
believe I’d been so lost in my own pity party that I
hadn’t made the connection at once.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m sorry.” I offered a sheepish smile. “Not sure
how to say I read an article about you without
sounding awkward.”
He laughed. “I’m flattered you remembered it.
Just don’t tell me it was in Page Six.”
The gossip column was notorious for getting the
goods on New York celebrities and socialites.
“No,” I said quickly. “Rolling Stone, maybe?”
“I can live with that.” He extended his arm to me.
“Would you like to dance?”
I glanced over to where Gideon was standing at
the foot of the stairs that led to the stage. He was
surrounded by people eager to talk to him, many
of whom were women.
“You can see he’ll be awhile,” Christopher said,
with a note of amusement.
“Yes.” I was about to look away when I
recognized the woman standing next to Gideon—
Magdalene Perez.
I picked up my clutch and managed a smile for
Christopher. “I’d love to dance.”
Arm-in-arm we headed into the ballroom and
stepped onto the dance floor. The band began the
first strains of a waltz and we moved easily,
naturally into the music. He was a skilled dancer,
agile and confident in his lead.
“So, how do you know Gideon?”
“I don’t.” I nodded at Cary when he glided by
with a statuesque blonde. “I work in the Crossfire
and we’ve run into each other once or twice.”
“You work for him?”
“No. I’m an assistant at Waters Field and
Leaman.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “Ad agency.”
“Yes.”
“Gideon must really be into you to go from
meeting you once or twice to dragging you out on
a date like this.”
I cursed inwardly. I’d known assumptions would
be made, but I wanted more than ever to avoid
further humiliation. “Gideon’s acquainted with my
mother and she’d already arranged for me to
come, so it’s just a matter of two people going to
the same event in one car rather than two.”
“So you’re available?”
I took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable
despite how fluidly we moved together. “Well, I’m
not taken.”
Christopher flashed his charismatic boyish grin.
“My night just took a turn for the better.”
He filled the rest of the dance with amusing
anecdotes about the music industry that made me
laugh and took my mind off Gideon.
When the dance ended, Cary was there to take
the next one. We danced very well as a couple
because we’d taken lessons together. I relaxed
into his hold, grateful to have him as moral
support.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked him.
“I pinched myself during dinner when I realized I
was sitting next to the top coordinator for Fashion
Week. And she flirted with me!” He smiled, but his
eyes were haunted. “Whenever I find myself in
places like this…dressed like this…I can’t believe
it. You saved my life, Eva. Then you changed it
completely.”
“You save my sanity all the time. Trust me, we’re
even.”
His hand tightened on mine, his gaze
hardening. “You look miserable. How’d he fuck
up?”
“I think I did that. We’ll talk about it later.”
“You’re afraid I’ll kick his ass here in front of
everyone.”
I sighed. “I’d rather you didn’t, for my mom’s
sake.”
Cary pressed his lips briefly to my forehead. “I
warned him earlier. He knows it’s coming.”
“Oh, Cary.” Love for him tightened my throat
even as reluctant amusement curved my lips. I
should’ve known Cary would give Gideon a big
brother threat of some sort. That was just so like
him.
Gideon appeared beside us. “I’m cutting in.”
It wasn’t a request.
Cary stopped and looked at me. I nodded. He
backed away with a bow, his gaze hot and fierce
on Gideon’s face.
Gideon pulled me close and took over the
dance the way he took over everything—with
dominant confidence. It was an entirely different
experience dancing with him than with my two
previous partners. Gideon had both the expertise
of his brother and Cary’s familiarity with the way
my body moved, but Gideon had a bold,
aggressive style that was inherently sexual.
It didn’t help that being so close to a man I’d so
recently been intimate with seduced my senses
despite my unhappiness. He smelled
scrumptious, with undertones of sex, and the way
he led me through the bold sweeping steps made
me feel the soreness deep inside me, reminding
me that he’d been there not long ago.
“You keep running off,” he muttered, scowling
down at me.
“Seemed like Magdalene picked up the slack
quick enough.”
His brow arched and he drew me closer.
“Jealous?”
“Seriously?” I looked away.
He made a frustrated noise. “Stay away from
my brother, Eva.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
My temper ignited, which felt good after all the
self-recrimination and doubts I’d been drowning in
since we’d screwed like feral bunnies. I decided
to see if turnabout was fair play in Gideon Cross’s
world. “Stay away from Magdalene, Gideon.”
His jaw tightened. “She’s just a friend.”
“Meaning you haven’t slept with her…? Yet.”
“No, damn it. And I don’t want to. Listen—” The
music wound down and he slowed. “I have to go. I
brought you here, and I would prefer to be the one
who takes you home, but I don’t want to pull you
away if you’re enjoying yourself. Would you rather
stick around and go home with Stanton and your
mother?”
Enjoying myself? Was he kidding or clueless?
Or worse. Maybe he’d written me off so
completely that he wasn’t paying attention to me
at all.
I pushed away from him, needing the distance.
His scent was messing with my head. “I’ll be fine.
Forget about me.”
“Eva.” He reached for me and I stepped back
quickly.
An arm came around my back and Cary spoke.
“I’ve got her, Cross.”
“Don’t get in my way, Taylor,” Gideon warned.
Cary snorted. “I get the impression you’re doing
a smokin’ job of that all by yourself.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “You
gave a wonderful speech, Gideon. It was the
highlight of my evening.”
He sucked in a sharp breath at the implied
insult; then shoved a hand through his hair.
Abruptly, he cursed and I realized why when he
pulled his vibrating phone out of his pocket and
glanced at the screen.
“I have to go.” His gaze caught mine and held it.
His fingertips drifted over my cheek. “I’ll call you.”
And then he was gone.
“Do you want to stay?” Cary asked quietly.
“No.”
“I’ll take you home, then.”
“No, don’t.” I wanted to be alone for a bit. Soak
in a hot bath with a bottle of cool wine and pull
myself out of my funk. “You should be here. It could
be good for your career. We can talk when you
get home. Or tomorrow. I’m going the couch
potato route all day.”
His gaze darted over my face, searching. “You
sure?”
I nodded.
“All right.” But he looked unconvinced.
“If you could go out and ask a valet to have
Stanton’s limo brought around, I’ll run to the ladies’
room real quick.”
“Okay.” Cary ran his hand down my arm. “I’ll get
your shawl from the coatroom and see you out
front.”
It took longer to get to the restroom than it
should have. For one, a surprising number of
people stopped me for small talk, which had to be
because I was Gideon Cross’s date. And two, I
avoided the nearest ladies’ room, which had a
steady flow of women pouring in and out of it, and
I found one located farther away. I locked myself in
a stall and took a few moments longer to finish my
business than absolutely required. There was no
one else in the room besides the attendant, so
there was no one to rush me.
I was so hurt by Gideon it was hard to breathe
and I was so confused by his mood swings. Why
had he touched my face like that? Why had he
gotten mad when I didn’t stay by his side? And
why the hell had he threatened Cary? Gideon
gave new meaning to the old adage about
“running hot and cold.”
Closing my eyes, I shored up my composure.
Jesus. I didn’t need this.
I’d bared my emotions in the limo and I still felt
horribly vulnerable—a state I’d spent countless
therapy hours learning to avoid. I wanted nothing
more than to be home and hidden, freed from the
pressure of acting like I was completely pulled
together when I was anything but.
You set yourself up for this, I reminded myself.
Suck it up.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out and was
resigned to finding Magdalene leaning against the
vanity with her arms crossed. She was clearly
there for me, lying in wait at a time when my
defenses were already weak. My step faltered;
then I recovered and made my way to the sink to
wash my hands.
She turned to face the mirror, studying my
reflection. I studied her, too. She was even more
gorgeous in person than she’d been in her
photos. Tall and slender, with big dark eyes and a
cascade of straight brown hair. Her lips were lush
and red, her cheekbones high and sculpted. Her
dress was modestly sexy, a flowing sheath of
creamy satin that contrasted beautifully with her
olive skin. She looked like a fucking supermodel
and exuded an exotic sex appeal.
I accepted the hand towel the bathroom
attendant handed me, and Magdalene spoke to
the woman in Spanish, asking her to give us
some privacy. I capped the request with, “Por
favor, gracias.” That earned me an arched brow
from Magdalene and a closer examination, which I
returned with equal coolness.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, the moment the
attendant stepped out of earshot. She made a
tsking noise that scraped over my nerves like
nails on a chalkboard. “You’ve fucked him
already.”
“And you haven’t.”
That seemed to surprise her. “You’re right, I
haven’t. You know why?”
I pulled a five-spot out of my clutch and dropped
it in the silver tip tray. “Because he doesn’t want
to.”
“And I don’t want to either, because he can’t
commit. He’s young, gorgeous, rich, and he’s
enjoying it.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “He certainly did.”
Her gaze narrowed, her pleasant expression
slipping slightly. “He doesn’t respect the women
he fucks. The minute he shoved his dick in you,
you were done. Just like all the others. But I’m still
here, because I’m the one he wants to keep
around for the long haul.”
I maintained my cool even though the blow had
been a perfect hit right where the most damage
could be done. “That’s pathetic.”
I walked out and didn’t stop until I reached
Stanton’s limousine. Squeezing Cary’s hand as I
got in, I managed to wait until the car pulled away
from the curb to start crying.
“Hey, baby girl,” Cary called out when I shuffled
into the living room the next morning. Dressed in
nothing but a loose pair of old sweats, he was
stretched out on the couch with his feet crossed
and propped on the coffee table. He looked
beautifully disheveled and comfortable in his own
skin. “How’d you sleep?”
I gave him the thumbs-up and headed into the
kitchen for coffee. I paused by the breakfast bar,
my brows lifting at the massive arrangement of
red roses on the counter. The fragrance was
divine and I inhaled it with a deep breath. “What’s
this?”
“They came for you about an hour ago. A
Sunday delivery. Pretty and super pricey.”
I plucked the card off the clear plastic stake and
opened it.
I’m still thinking about you.
Gideon
“From Cross?” Cary asked.
“Yes.” My thumb brushed over what I assumed
was his handwriting. It was bold and masculine
and sexy. A romantic gesture for a guy who didn’t
have romance in his repertoire. I dropped the card
on the counter as if it’d burned me and fetched a
mug of coffee, praying caffeine would give me
strength and restore my common sense.
“You don’t seem impressed.” He lowered the
volume on the football game he was watching.
“He’s bad news for me. He’s like one giant
trigger. I just need to stay away from him.” Cary
had been through therapy with me and he knew
the drill. He didn’t look at me funny when I broke
things down into therapeutic jargon, and he didn’t
have any trouble shooting it back to me the same
way.
“The phone’s been ringing all morning, too. I
didn’t want it to disturb you, so I shut the volume
off.”Aware of the lingering ache between my legs, I
curled up on the couch and fought the compulsion
to listen to our voice mail to see if Gideon had
called. I wanted to hear his voice, and an
explanation that would make sense of what
happened last night. “Sounds good to me. Let’s
leave it off all day.”
“What happened?”
I blew steam off the top of my mug and took a
tentative sip. “I fucked his brains out in his limo
and he turned arctic afterward.”
Cary watched me with those worldly emerald
eyes, eyes that had seen more than anyone
should be subjected to. “Rocked his world, did
you?”
“Yeah, I did.” And I got riled up just thinking
about it. We’d connected. I knew it. I’d wanted him
more than anything last night, and today I wanted
nothing to do with him ever again. “It was intense.
The best sexual experience of my life, and he was
right there with me. I know he was. First time he’d
ever made it in a car, and he was kind of resistant
at first, but then I got him so hot for it he couldn’t
say no.”
“Really? Never?” He ran a hand over his
morning stubble. “Most guys scratch car banging
off their fuck list in high school. In fact, I can’t think
of anyone who didn’t, except for the nerds and
fuglies, and he’s neither.”
I shrugged. “I guess car banging makes me a
slut.”
Cary grew very still. “Is that what he said?”
“No. He didn’t say shit. I got that from his
‘friend,’ Magdalene. You know that chick in most
of the photos you printed off the Internet? She
decided to sharpen her claws with a little catty girl
chat in the bathroom.”
“The bitch is jealous.”
“Sexual frustration. She can’t fuck him, because
apparently girls who fuck him go into the discard
pile.”
“Did he say that?” Again, fury laced his quiet
question.
“Not in so many words. He said he doesn’t
sleep with his female friends. He’s got issues with
women wanting more than a good time in the
sack, so he keeps the women he bangs and the
women he hangs out with in two separate camps.”
I took another sip of my coffee. “I warned him that
sort of setup wasn’t going to work for me and he
said he’d make some adjustments, but I guess
he’s one of those guys who’ll say whatever’s
necessary to get what he wants.”
“Or else you have him running scared.”
I glared. “Don’t make excuses for him. Whose
side are you on, anyway?”
“Yours, baby girl.” He reached out and patted
my knee. “Always yours.”
I wrapped my hand around his muscular
forearm and stroked my fingers gently along the
underside in silent gratitude. I couldn’t feel the
multitude of fine white scars from cutting that
marred his skin, but I never forgot they were there.
I was thankful every day that he was alive, healthy,
and a vital part of my life. “How’d your night go?”
“I can’t complain.” His eyes took on a
mischievous glint. “I shagged that busty blonde in
a maintenance closet. Her tits were real.”
“Well, then.” I smiled. “You made her night, I’m
sure.”
“I try.” He picked up the phone receiver and
winked at me. “What kind of delivery do you want?
Subs? Chinese? Indian?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re always hungry. If you don’t pick
something, I’ll cook and you’ll have to eat that.”
I lifted my hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. You
pick.”
I got to work twenty minutes early on Monday,
figuring I’d skip running into Gideon. When I
reached my desk without incident, I felt such relief
that I knew I was in serious trouble where he was
concerned. My moods were shifting all over the
place.
Mark arrived in high spirits, still floating from his
major successes of the week before, and we dug
right into work. I’d done some vodka market
comparisons on Sunday and he was kind enough
to go over those with me and listen to my
impressions. Mark was also assigned the account
for a new e-reader manufacturer, so we began the
initial work on that.
With such a busy morning, time flew swiftly and I
didn’t have time to think about my personal life. I
was really grateful for that. Then I answered the
phone and heard Gideon on the line. I wasn’t
prepared.
“How’s your Monday been so far?” he asked,
his voice sending a shiver of awareness through
me.
“Hectic.” I glanced at the clock and was startled
to see it was twenty minutes to noon.
“Good.” There was a pause. “I tried calling you
yesterday. I left a couple messages. I wanted to
hear your voice.”
My eyes closed on a deep breath. It had taken
every bit of my willpower to make it through the
day without listening to the voice mail. I’d even
enlisted Cary in the cause, telling him to restrain
me forcibly if it looked like I might succumb to the
urge. “I did the hermit thing and worked a little.”
“Did you get the flowers I sent?”
“Yes. They’re lovely. Thank you.”
“They reminded me of your dress.”
What the hell was he doing? I was beginning to
think he had multiple personality disorder. “Some
women might say that’s romantic.”
“I only care what you say.” His chair creaked as
if he’d pushed to his feet. “I thought about
stopping by…I wanted to.”
I sighed, surrendering to my confusion. “I’m glad
you didn’t.”
There was another long pause. “I deserved
that.”
“I didn’t say it to be a bitch. It’s just the truth.”
“I know. Listen…I arranged for lunch up here in
my office so we don’t waste any of the hour
leaving and getting back.”
After his parting, I’ll call you, I’d wondered if he
would want to get together again after he settled
down from whatever trip he’d been on. It was a
possibility I’d been dreading since Saturday night,
aware that I needed to cut him off, but feeling
strung out from the desire to be with him. I wanted
to experience again that pure, perfect moment of
intimacy we’d shared.
But I couldn’t justify that one moment against all
the other moments when he made me feel like
crap.
“Gideon, we don’t have any reason to have
lunch together. We hashed things out Friday night,
and we…took care of business Saturday. Let’s
just leave it at that.”
“Eva.” His voice turned gruff. “I know I fucked up.
Let me explain.”
“You don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I need to see you.”
“I don’t want—”
“We can do this the easy way, Eva. Or you can
make it difficult.” His tone took on a hard edge
that made my pulse quicken. “Either way, you’ll
hear me out.”
I closed my eyes, understanding that I wasn’t
lucky enough to get away with a quick good-bye
phone chat. “Fine. I’ll come up.”
“Thank you.” He exhaled audibly. “I can’t wait to
see you.”
I returned the receiver to its cradle and stared at
the photos on my desk, trying to formulate what I
needed to say and steeling myself for the impact
of seeing Gideon again. The ferocity of my
physical response to him was impossible to
control. Somehow I’d have to get past it and take
care of business. Later, I’d think about having to
see him in the building over the days, weeks, and
months ahead. For the moment, I just had to focus
on making it through lunch.
Yielding to the inevitable, I got back to work
comparing the visual impact of some blow-in card
samples.
“Eva.”
I jumped and spun around in my chair, startled
to find Gideon standing beside my cubicle. The
sight of him blew me away, as usual, and my heart
stuttered in my chest. A quick glance at the clock
proved that a quarter hour had passed in no time
at all.
“Gid—Mr. Cross. You didn’t have to come down
here.”
His face was calm and impassive, but his eyes
were stormy and hot. “Ready?”
I opened my drawer and pulled out my purse,
taking the opportunity to suck in a deep, shaky
breath. He smelled phenomenal and looked even
better.
“Mr. Cross.” Mark’s voice. “It’s great to see you.
Is there something—?”
“I’m here for Eva. We have a lunch date.”
I straightened in time to see Mark’s brows
shoot up. He recovered quickly, his face
smoothing into its usual good-natured
handsomeness.
“I’ll be back at one,” I assured him.
“See you then. Enjoy your lunch.”
Gideon put his hand at the small of my back
and steered me out to the elevators, garnering
raised brows from Megumi when we passed
reception. I shifted restlessly as he hit the call
button for the elevator, wishing I could’ve made it
through the day without seeing the man whose
touch I craved like a drug.
He faced me as we waited for the car, running
his fingertips down the sleeve of my satin blouse.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see you in that red
dress. I hear the sounds you make when you’re
turned on. I feel you sliding over my cock,
squeezing me like a fist, making me come so
hard it hurts.”
“Don’t.” I looked away, unable to bear the
intimate way he was looking at me.
“I can’t help it.”
The arrival of the elevator was a relief. He
caught my hand and pulled me inside. After he put
his key in the panel, he tugged me closer. “I’m
going to kiss you, Eva.”
“I don’t—”
He pulled me into him and sealed his mouth
over mine. I resisted as long as I could; then I
melted at the feel of his tongue stroking slow and
sweet over mine. I’d wanted his kiss since we’d
had sex. I wanted the reassurance that he valued
what we’d shared, that it meant something to him
as it had to me.
I was left bereft once again when he pulled
away.
“Come on.” He pulled the key out as the door
opened.
Gideon’s redheaded receptionist said nothing
this time, although she eyed me strangely. In
contrast, Gideon’s secretary, Scott, stood when
we approached and greeted me pleasantly by
name.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tramell.”
“Hi, Scott.”
Gideon gave him a curt nod. “Hold my calls.”
“Yes, of course.”
I entered Gideon’s expansive office, my gaze
drifting to the sofa where he’d first touched me
intimately.
Lunch was arranged on the bar—two plates
covered in metal salvers.
“Can I take your purse?” he asked.
I looked at him, saw he’d taken off his jacket
and slung it over his arm. He stood there in his
tailored slacks and vest, his shirt and tie both a
pristine white, his hair dark and thick around his
breathtaking face, his eyes a wild and dazzling
blue. In a word, he amazed me. I couldn’t believe
I’d made love to such a gorgeous man.
But then, it hadn’t meant the same thing to him.
“Eva?”
“You’re beautiful, Gideon.” The words fell out of
my mouth without conscious thought.
His brows lifted; then a softness came into his
eyes. “I’m glad you like what you see.”
I handed him my purse and moved away,
needing the space. He hung his coat and my
purse on the coatrack, then moved to the bar.
I crossed my arms. “Let’s just get this over with.
I don’t want to see you anymore.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment