Breathless (5 page)

Dan’s eyebrows rose so high Gabe thought they’d fly right off his face and into his hair.

“Is that what you’re calling it? Suit yourself. If it was so much nothing, why’d you run away so fast?”

Gabe shot a dark look at him. “I didn’t run anywhere. I went to get your alcohol.”

The side of Dan’s mouth twitched, and it looked like he was trying hard not to laugh at Gabe. That just ratcheted his annoyance up to a higher degree.

“So you did. They took her, if you’re at all interested,” Dan said, pouring a beer and placing it in front of a customer. He turned and leaned against the counter.

Gabe frowned and paused in the middle of placing bottles of scotch under the counter. “Who did?”

Dan’s grin slipped free. “Our crazy sister and my wife. I’m guessing they went back to Darby’s, or home. Who knows what they’re cooking up now.”

She’d already left, and he couldn’t go running after her to apologize. He’d look like an idiot. He looked around to find Dan grinning at him like a fool.

“So, she still not your type? ‘Cause to me and the rest of this place it kind of looked the opposite.”

Gabe shook his head in disgust. “No, she’s not. I don’t care what it looked like. A guy’s got his pride, you know.” He glanced at Dan.
Gay. How on earth had Emma gotten that idea?
“I can’t believe she thought I was gay. That’s just…” He shook his head again, then narrowed his eyes as Dan’s smile widened. “You don’t have to look so amused. I didn’t think it was that funny.”

Dan chuckled. “That’s because you were on the receiving end.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Them? They thought it was hilarious. You gave us all the joke of the year. I ought to give her a medal or something to show our appreciation. I sure didn’t see that one coming.”

“You and me both. Damn Darby. The girl’s only known her for half a day, and she’s already running off at the mouth.”

Dan’s face lost its humorous expression. “It’s only because she likes her. I can see why. Emma seems like a nice girl.” His eyes saddened. “Don’t write off whatever you’re feeling. Half the town’s in here tonight, and I think 99 percent of the men are a little infatuated, and happy to admit it. She’s nice. She made an effort to meet everyone, as horrified as she was to be the center of attention. She’s kind. She sat down with Old Pete and had a drink with him. It made his night.

“If you weren’t attracted to her, I’d be really worried. At least you still appear to be human—I was concerned about that.”

Attracted
wasn’t the word Gabe would have used. More like in lust, but he was damned if he’d tell his brother that. Gabe’s lips twisted upward in a wry smile. “Ninety-nine percent, you say? I take it you’re the other one percent?”

“No. I’m right in there with them. I was talking about you.”

Chapter Six

Emma groaned at the presence of the bright light and stuck her head under her pillow. Daylight wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Perhaps she was really a vampire. At least that would give her a legitimate excuse to hide from the brilliant rays crashing through her floor-length windows.

Oh, my head.

It served her right, considering the abnormally large amount of alcohol she’d consumed the night before at Darby’s after they’d left the bar. Her new friend gave new meaning to the words
binge drinking
. It was out of character for her, but they’d been having such a good time somehow the three of them got through an entire bottle of scotch.

Or was it vodka?
Emma couldn’t remember. It had stopped having any flavor after the third drink. Usually she didn’t drink anything heavier than wine. She felt so seedy she lifted the blanket, checking her feet for roots. Darby had explained the reason behind Gabe’s strong reaction to her misunderstanding and what she’d meant by him not liking girls. At least partially. Apparently, she and Gabe had something in common—ex-partners who’d both been cheating bastards. Darby hadn’t gone into detail, but once Emma had heard the word
cheated
, she’d understood.

She rolled over and moaned into her soft blanket again. The bed felt too good to get out of, but if she didn’t take something, her head would explode and she’d only have to clean that up too.

Emma leaned up on her elbows and raised her head, squinting at the digital clock on her bedside table. She fell face-first into the soft duck-down pillows.

Eleven a.m.

She should be flogged for lying in bed this long. Her bones and muscles were having a hard time cooperating with her brain.

Emma dragged herself out of bed and stumbled toward her bathroom. She stopped and shook her head, trying to regain her equilibrium. This just wouldn’t do. She took a few breaths and tried again. The amounts of fresh oxygen seemed to help.

Turning the tap on full blast, she splashed cool water over her face and neck. Toothpaste was the next item on her list. Her mouth was dry, like she’d sucked on a mouthful of cotton wool. She avoided looking in the mirror because she just knew she’d look like death warmed over. She wasn’t that much of a masochist that she needed to dissect herself while in this condition.

Emma wobbled carefully down the hall toward the kitchen, trailing her hand across the wall to help hold herself upright.
Coffee sounds like a really good idea right about now.

Her hand touched the pantry door when a great booming sounded from the front door. Emma winced. Maybe if she ignored it, whoever it was would go away.

The battering ram sounded again.

Ouch!
Emma shoved the heel of her palm to her forehead. Couldn’t they see she wasn’t suitable company?

Emma had to grimace at herself. Of course they couldn’t. They couldn’t see through the flaming walls.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m coming,” she muttered as she shambled up the hall to the entry. She thrust a hand into her wild hair, pushing it back from her face as she opened the door.

Gabe stood there, his fist raised to knock again.

“If you so much as
think
about doing that again, I’m gonna hurt you real bad,” she growled.

Gabe’s grin enveloped his whole face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I see you’re in as good a condition as my sister. You don’t look so hot, kiddo,” he said as he glanced down from her face to the rest of her body.

Emma scrunched up her face at the bright glare of day through the doorway. “No shit, Sherlock. You always this smart on a Sunday morning, or am I privileged in some way?”

Gabe looked so shocked that Emma felt immediately ashamed. His eyes finally lifted back to hers. He looked like someone had socked him right in the belly.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. My head hurts so bad, and I feel terrible. If any rubbish comes out of my mouth, don’t listen, okay?”

Gabe looked to her right and stared at the flaking paint on the side of the doorframe. He scraped at it with a fingernail.

“It’s not that. I have a sister, remember? I’m used to moods. And hangovers, for that matter. Are you in the habit of answering your door in your underwear?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Emma looked down. She was standing in the doorway in her bra and panties. She vaguely remembered throwing her dress into a corner somewhere once she got home, but she obviously hadn’t taken off her underwear, or put on her pajamas.

The French lingerie stared up at her when she looked again. A highly padded balconette bra pushed her smallish breasts up and together, creating an impressive cleavage. The matching panties were boned and sat low on her hips, looking altogether far too much like a corset. Which was why she’d bought the ridiculously priced set in the first place.

Emma was beyond mortified. She didn’t even know how to cover up. He’d already copped an eyeful, so it probably didn’t matter anyway.

“I…ah…I’ll be right back. Come in… I won’t be long.”

Emma spun around and fled down the hall to her room, not waiting to see if he’d hung around. She sat down on her bed, her hands over her face, and fell back into the tumbled sheets. How the hell was she supposed to face the man now? She’d kissed him like a harlot the previous night, then she’d pranced around in the doorway in a costume the girls at Moulin Rouge would be at home in.

What was wrong with her? She never behaved like this. Alex would have been laughing his head off at her right now.

Alex.

Thinking of him brought reality crashing down on her. She sat up, her embarrassment gone. Her shoulders slumped at the thought of her husband. He was the reason she was here. The reason she’d left Australia. He and Sasha.

Emma stood up and tore off the offending underwear, throwing it through the doorway onto the bathroom floor. She dressed quickly in plain underwear, denim shorts and a tee-shirt.

That should do it. Nice and boring. No harlot in sight.

Emma walked toward her kitchen, dreading the upcoming explanation. Gabe had his back to her, doing something at the sink. A strange noise came from him. She moved around to his left, realizing he had a fork and was whisking something in a mug.

She came closer. He glanced up at her, noticing her presence.

“Hey. Just thought I’d help your recovery along a little.” He put down the fork and held the mug out to her. “Drink this. I made one for Darby not long ago.”

Emma craned her neck to see into the mug. It was green.

“Yuck. Surely you don’t expect me to drink that?” she said. “That’s plain scary. I don’t think I even
have
anything that color.”

Gabe chuckled. “I assure you, you do.” He held it under her nose. “Don’t sniff it, or look at it. Hold your nose and drink. You’ll feel much better after.”

Emma eyed him suspiciously as she took the mug between two hands. “How do I know you’re not poisoning me?” she asked, semiseriously.

Gabe shrugged a shoulder. “You don’t, but I wouldn’t risk upsetting my sister by bumping off her new friend. It’s a recipe I was given in college by a roommate. Works every time. Drink up,” he encouraged, pushing her hands toward her face.

Emma frowned at the bilious-looking concoction and sighed. What the hell. She felt awful now. How much worse could drinking it make her feel anyway? If Darby was brave enough to drink it, so was she.

She pinched her nose between two fingers and choked it down as fast as possible. A shudder shook her from head to toe as the slimy, acidic taste fired along her tongue and down to her stomach.

“Oh. What was that?” Emma looked at him, not liking the smug look on his face. It didn’t bode well for her, she was sure. Emma grabbed at her stomach, the contents somersaulting and churning. All of a sudden she felt worse. “What did you give me?”

Gabe smiled reassuringly at her. “It’s all right. It won’t hurt you, but I’d run for the bathroom if I were you.”

Emma’s hand went to her mouth as she gagged. She bolted down the hall to the main bathroom, making it just in time before everything in her stomach made an exit.

Emma leaned her head on the toilet seat, her whole body shaking from the effort of being sick. She’d never heaved so much in her life.

She stood up and washed her face, then changed her mind. She stripped and climbed into the shower. The cold water shocked her system awake. Emma slowly relaxed as the water heated. She stood there under the spray, letting it wash down over her. She’d stopped shaking, and as much as she hated to admit it, she did feel better.

Plus, her head didn’t hurt as much, which was a bonus.

Emma stepped out of the shower, dripping all over the floor and leaving puddles in her wake. She grabbed the bath towel she’d hung behind the door on a hook.

Emma emerged from the bathroom almost twenty minutes later. Her mood had soured, despite the fact that she felt better. She stormed into the kitchen, determined to give Gabe a piece of her mind. The bastard had made her sick on purpose and he was going to hear about it. But the incredible scent of bacon and eggs cooking hit her like a hammer as she came through the door, stealing her determination to take him to pieces.

Man, that smells good.

Gabe looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway.

“Feeling better?” he asked and flipped the bacon over in the pan.

“You bastard. Why didn’t you tell me that it would make me sick? That was really low.” She glared at him like she wanted to flay the flesh from his bones.

“Perhaps. Would you have drunk it if you’d known?” He looked up again when there was no answer. She was dying to tell him off, but he could tell she was feeling better. She’d lost that pasty-white pallor, and her cheeks were now a healthy pink.

“No, I wouldn’t have. That stuff was ghastly. Did you have fun pulling a stunt like that?”

Hell, she’s pissed.

Gabe shook his head. “Not particularly. I knew how you were feeling. I’ve been there enough times in the past, myself. I thought it was worth helping you out. Darby didn’t want to drink it either, if that makes you feel better, but she did because she knows it works.” He placed some bacon and scrambled eggs onto a plate and held it out. “Here. Consider this a peace offering. If you eat something really greasy afterwards, it makes a huge difference. By midafternoon, you won’t feel too bad at all.”